Day 9 - Franz Joseph to Christchurch

 Friday 22nd June 2012

Last full day in NZ :(

So another early morning for us again the dreaded alarm sounded at 7.30 to which got muted and then buried under the nearest pillow,  followed by Andrew getting up, once again kicked out of bed to make the tea and to start cooking breakfast. 

8.30 rolled around and we were stowing all loose items in the cabin to prepare for our long and windy road trip back to Christchurch, back to where our trip started from. It was then it dawned on us that our New Zealand road adventure was indeed coming to an end. The dawn light casting a pink hue over the distant snowy mountains appeared to send us off.

Dawn over Franz Josef

We dumped the waste water, the blue loo liquid and set off.

The Road to Hokitika - At this time of year it's particularly quiet around these parts. The road wound through small sleepy villages. All around were examples of village life -  waking and putting on the fire (chimneys smoking); nothing was open yet; almost no people out on the street; and certainly no locals travelling between towns at all. It was a stark contrast to any trips we've done up and down the coast roads in NSW, which are bustling at any time of day with locals and folks travelling between towns. No, here the roads were only plied with trucks and campervans. And few and far between to boot. 

Our tourism raido introduced us to a Maori fine art gallery in Ross. We arrived 9am to see owner and staff not quite ready to open up (bleary eyed and lighting up ciggies on the verandah out front). Let in to wander. Asked at least 3 times why we were awake so early. 9:30am. Fascinatig stuff,  jade and bone carvings. We decided on 3 necklaces after courteously being advised against our original 'girly' choices. 

Whilst choosing a more masculine set, received the observation that "gee I'm glad you're not buying a car" as a local way of saying "hurry the f$&@ up". Lovely woman though.

Scenery of tropical rainforests, temperate forests, open plains, tumbled stream beds and wide river beds with single lane bridges. Windy small hills with speed limits of 35 kmh.

Hokitika - not much doing here. Noticed the beach being ignored along the coast road here. Literally had farmland all the way to the sandy shore line trying to pretend the ocean wasnt there. Plus all houses are small or shed like. Nothing like the highly developed, million dollar, architecturally designed. sweeping glass and marble marvels along all along the NSW coast. It was a nice unpretentious change. Note to selves : buy land here and wait for developers to realise beach front will be massive sometime soon. After all, a house here would face the same sea as all the NSW coastal homes!

We turned off the coastal road to strike inland across Arthur's Pass through the mountains. Hungry from having no places open to stop and get breakfast, we came to a halt in Kumara town. Stopped into their general store/cafe/motel/post office/booking agent/tourism information centre/alcoholics anonymous meeting point (yes they had a sign up for that too). Apparently our arrival was a very jarring experience for the storekeepers. We asked a shocked-looking woman for some toasties (ham and tomato) and a coffee. Advised there were no tomatoes despite the advertising otherwise. We relented and settled on ham and cheese, and ham and mustard varieties, avoiding the 'cheese and onion' sandwich option that was proudly on display. Not quite ready to try that local delicacy.

Coffee was foul. Can beans go off? Judging by the length of time it took to operate the machine, we suspects she simply turned it on, then hid for a bit to pour some hot water on some instant coffee powder. All this while another staff member (the owner?) tried to pretend to not see us, his only customers for the day thus far, and the trouble the perplexed looking woman was having with our order.

Ready for a snowfight in
Arthurs Pass

If you can't go around it - go under it! Rein Waterfall

10 minutes later AG was handed the ham and cheese toastie. She explained without a hint of malice or regret that it had been burnt. Oops. By way of explanation, the cheese had fallen into the heating element snd caught fire, blackening a good quarter of the bread. No attempt to remake one (i guess this was good as we didn't have another 10minutes to spend watching the owner recount the 10c coins again). It was still graciously handed over at full price with the earnest reassurance it was still edible. This was somewhat comforting as we retreated to consume the charred sandwiches and a rock cake smeared with spray cream masquerading as a 'scone' washed down with gritty dishwater-flavoured coffee. She was lovely though, very eager to be of service if not a little incompetent.

Ed looking impressed that he had to drive for
2 hours

On to Arthur's Pass...

Up steep hills climbing to 950m from sea level

Covered bridge diverting a waterfall over the road - spectacular

Back above the snow line with thick mounds of snow on either side of the road

Arthur's pass township. Stopped to have a bite and a snow fight. 

Back towards Canterbury downhill. Into the most amazing terrain we had seen yet. In the middle of a whole parkland of mountain range, peaks all around covered in snow. Tumbling rivers snd great rocky valleys. Utterly gobsmacked for about 30 minutes of the drive at the spectacle.

Passed Castle Hill and numerous ski fields

Our windy pass - gale force winds shuddering Bertha

Stopped for a cuppa at the windiest pass possible (can't remember pass name). Undermeath Foggy Peak.

Bertha rocked by the winds. Enough to freeze ones face in seconds and take the wind out of your lungs. The pass marked the end of the snowies. AG attempted to climb a nearby hill after imagining what it would take to try walk up a normal hill here. but could not physically get past 20m before it became too steep, too brush- and thorn- covered, and too slippery from shale and broken rock. 

Under Foggy Peak at the pass

Short drive (100kms) from snowies to Christchurch through farmland. Bit depressing after the spectacular scenery before.

Ruminated on how many times that day we had been viewed slightly oddly as being two boys travelling together. "are you buying for your girlfriends?" "so... Are you two boys .. Sharing .. That burger?" "Yes" "Oookay then, would you like another set of cutlery?" "Are you paying .. together ?"  

I guess they'll chalk it up to us being those weird types from Sydney and think nothing more of it.

All are welcome at this Christchurch church ... with jackets
and raincoats and hard hats

Visiting the demolition site of central Christchurch. Eerie. Abandoned buildings on one side of the red partitions, with broken windows and caved in roofs. A rubble manufacturing zone on the other side with busy bulldozers and cranes strewn over the debris. A church with its steeple pegged to the ground in its front yard, as if to claim that Yes, they still had a steeple. Another church which was little more than a roof on stilts, proclaiming it was open as normal on Sundays - despite the wire fence barricade surrounding the property and the fact there were no solid walls. All it needed was a "Condemned" sign, but i'm sure that would send a confusing message to the visiting parishioners.

Revisited the Countdown supermarket for dinner and Mel's request for chocolate 'fush'. 

Yes this church kept it's steeple! Maybe not
in place though

Memories of the whole trip as we take up the campervan spot immediately adjacent to the one we had on our first night in NZ.

We decided to try our hand at the local nightlife a little later. The casino was the first stop - and seemed to be the stop for almost everyone else in Christchurch. We hadn't seen that density of people anywhere else in our trip! The tables and the pokies were heaving. The collapse of the local churches in the earthquake has obviously taken its toll on the levels of vice in the city...

After a little while in the glitz and glamour of the pumping heart of the city. we walked across the road to the island's only gay bar, the Cruz lounge. Interestingly enough, since its original location was earthquake damaged, it shares its space with a cafe during the day. Tomorrow's specials were on the wall, with a coffee machine and tables pushed to one side. Quaint. There were all of about 15 people in there, a stark contrast to the hundreds across the road in the casino. 

Late by the time we got back to the campsite, it was all we could do to watch a little of Ferris Bueller's Day Off ( ... anyone? anyone? Bueller? Bueller?) then hit the hay, exhausted.

Past Arthur's Pass - the road to Canterbury progresses from
plains to snowy mountains and back again... 

Day 8 - Queenstown to Franz Josef Glacier

Thursday 21st June 2012

Woke early again with less vigour than usual.. Perhaps due to the previous night's bar hopping around Queenstown. C'est la vie! Call it the cold, call it the holiday feeling or trying to re-enact that other famous NZ movie Once Were Warriors - but there has been a modicum of alcohol consumption most days this trup. Probably shouldn't be admitting that with clients listening..

We pulled away from the lovely Lakeview Holiday park and had a fab breakfast on the go from FergBakery, neighbour to our regular haunt FergBurger. Our mission - Hokitika on the West coast, taking in Haast and Fox and Franz Jozef glaciers on the way.

We bid a fond farewell to Queenstown to face the reverse version of the perilous road descent of a few nights earlier. Winding steeply up hairpin turns to the lookout at 1076m - worth it for the amazing dawn view this time.

View from the top of the Gibbston highway (the treacherous climb), between Queenstown and Wanaka

Today was a driving day. Not much to report besides some of the most beautiful drives ever. Even if it was in a bus.

Passed back through Wanaka - still our most loved town of the trip. Still the postcard image of lake Wanaka and the mountains behind, though today we got it with the latter in blue rather than grey. 

Lake Hawea

Then onto Lake Hawea, Lake Wanaka's smaller cousin. Perfect views from the roadside, all the elements of an idyll. Gently rolling green foothills, a postcard lake nestled amongst steep mountainous slopes in the distance.

Continued up towards the Haast Pass, a passageway through the Alps which separated the east and west parts of the island. The West is more wild and wet apparently, a relatively narrow strip of fertile land in between the Tasman and the 2-3km high alpine barrier. The moist air off the Tasman chills and freezes over the mountains, meaning somewhere like Milford gets 5-7m of rain per year, whilst higher up on the slopes it gets to 10m per year (that's a good 300mm per day on average... Imagine that Sydneysiders when we start to drown in 30mm!) and near the peaks, about 15m per year. Wet, bro! 

Anyway, as we approached the Haast pass from the east, in the shadow of the mountain range the ground started to freeze over like some evil spectre had passed by. Fields of green kale were increasingly interspersed with fields of frost. Perhaps it's a popular crop here. Still there were sheep and cattle grazing amongst the ever-whitening meadows.

At the head of Lake Wanaka the lake gave way to its inlet glacial streams, braiding their way east downslope, and a series of farms. A few kilometres further up and the light frosting over the fields and road verge had turned into packed snow drifts. We had the eerie but magnificent vista of driving through snowfields only minutes after driving past regular farmland. And without any increase in elevation. It was odd but reasoned that it was the shadowing effect of the mountain range that didn't allow the sun to reach the narrow valleys.

Snow fields leading to the Haast pass

Bit scared as the snowdrifts got deeper. Have never driven through snow before and snow chains freak me out. As for the road, all I could see was panes of black glass where matte black bitumen should have been. You're not apparently supposed to see black ice but once again when you're looking for it the mind works overtime. Scary!

To the roadsides, wherever a ray of sunlight pierced the mountains and trees around, the air began to steam with melting snow. Signs, fences, the road itself, all steaming in the patchy sunlight.

Plunged past forests up towards the pass, littered with snowfall. Cresting the pass (bit uneventful) we began the descent into Western NZ. The frozen road and forest didn't let up, but the rivers gushing green down glacial beds were something to behold.

Haast river just past the pass

Came out at Haast after a long windy descent. Complete change in environment again. We were now seaside and surrounded by lush temperate rainforest to one side, palms and ferns to the ocean side of the road.

NZ west coastline ... utterly different to the alpine
roads we'd just driven on

Couldn't get sick of driving here. Utterly different worlds in only 100km.

Knights Lookout on the west coast

Stopped at Knights Lookout, awed at the semi-tropical coastline. Completely wild around the west coast though, apparently only linked up by road to the rest of the island in the 1960's due to the treacherous seas rolling in from the Antarctic, high winds, constant flooding and rains from the natural windbreak of the mountains so close to the ocean.

Got to Fox Glacier about 2pm after 5 hrs of driving and stops. Parked near an info kiosk that the navWoman had pointed out. Walked down to get info and prices on some tours or helicopter rides. Returned to Bertha only to find someone had clamped the wheel. In 10mins! 

Gut-wrenching holiday sight #12 - some dickhead clamping
your wheel

Turned out to be the jerk owner of the hotel and competing info kiosk whose carpark we had parked in, believing it to be the place signposted for public campervan parking. Berated by this bored and self important Kiwi for parking on his private property, how would he like it if he parked in our driveway. $40 to remove the clamp. AG fuming, argued for a while then stalked off to take photos of the van and the clamp fully intending creating a big furore to other tourists online later on. Ed nicely intervened and offered to just pay it and be done with it.

Eventually Ed's niceness got him down to $20, then after we had paid, then stayed to discuss options for looking at the glacier, realised that the man just wanted to feel important. It was a pretty dead town with hardly any cars on the road during our 5 hour drive, so we think he was just bored and wanted to talk to people. Odd way of going about it! And who in their right mind owns a wheel clamp?? After chatting for a whole he told us to wait around, and returned with our $20 saying we were good blokes. An odd fellow and odder experience. We were no poorer except for the amount of time we had left to actually explore fox glacier.

The terminal face of Fox Glacier up close - it's not pretty

The sign speaks for itself. One day that Fox Glacier will just
all melt at once and sweep you away...

Some fools in front of the glacier. It stopped moving long
enough for us to take this snapshot.

The glacier itself, from the head of the 30min walk to its terminal face, is this dirty block of twisted ice sitting in a steep  valley strewn with gazillions of rocks. It sat in its frozen splendour and did little to entertain our demands for it to move, crack or at least indicate some form of excitement at our being there. It was not to be. Forming between 1700-2800m above sea level over many years, the compacted snow that makes its way 12km down to end up melting 300m above sea level into a temperate jungle, cared little for our insignificant presence. It did make a teasing cracking sound for a short spell before resuming its deliberate cold silence.

The road home  - well, to Bertha from the glacier

There were helicopter and plane options for seeing the whole expanse of the glacier and its neve (upslope feeding area covered in snow) plus Mt Cook again, but they were going to be a big dent in the budget. We made do with the free view of its very base then headed off to Franz Josef glacier about 45 min away.

By the time we got to the FJ town it was getting dark again, with no real options left to see the glacier.

Decided to drop anchor and stay in the campervan site in FJ town itself. Tomorrow back to Christchurch and another day in the car.

Day 7 - Queenstown - Milford Sound - Queenstown

Wednesday 20th June 2012

Woke to Ed's fire/police/nuclear disaster alarm on his iPhone at the ungodly hour of 5:30am to get ready for our 6:45am bus. Equates to 3:30am Sydney time, just to share the concept of that pain.

Almost Jurassic Park-like...

Our impending bus trip was to Milford Sound, the most visually dramatic and stunning fiord of the massive world heritage area called Fiordland that takes up the southwest corner of NZ. Voted best destination in NZ by Kiwis according to some statistic printed on most of the travel brochures to the area. Funny that. But it was supposed to be absolutely 'maguc' so we had booked in for the day trip. Coach trip around lake Wakatipu to the other side from Queenstown, where Fiordland started. Then a 2 hour cruise along the waterway out to the Tasman Sea. Then another coach trip back to Queenstown. 12 hours total.

Pounded out the door and down to bus stop just on time. Bus full of eager weirdos. Who does this at this time? It wouldn't get light for another 2 hours.

Mitre Peak, 2000m above sea level straight
out of the water.

Obvious tourist in front of Homer
tunnel

Falling asleep to the dulcet tones of the Kiwi bus driver. Spoke exactly like AG with broken, meandering sentences. AG right at home. Ed rolling eyes. AG thought if only the man looked like himself as well as sounding like a Kiwi version of he, he would be the most excellent of individuals. Magical charm of such a style of speech is that everyone in the bus fell asleep almost instantly out of town.

9am and dawn breaks as we slowly reawaken. Dulcet Kiwi man on PA again. Something about deer and hunting and a lake. All rather interesting in a sandy-eyed kind of way. Nothing but grey coloured fields in the dawn light for another half an hour.

Stopover in Te Anau, a southerly village bent on irritating tourists with lacklustre service. Had to stock up on the day's food as there were no more stores anywhere on the trip. We panicked and bought about 12 kilos of snacks, sad looking supermarket sandwiches and drinks.

View from the river port at Milford

A little further down the street we popped into a little cafe, again with little surprise this place was as dead as the rest of the shops on the street, after ordering two coffees and asking for a bacon and egg Turkish roll, (a slight variation to their egg,bacon and cheese tostie) that had to be run past the chef as the women was a little confused to whether their calorie loaded option could be changed slightly, we jumped back on the bus and continued on to Milford. 

Falls at Milford

More waterfalls at Milford

On the way the coached stopped off at some amazing lookouts where we all piled off the bus, took some happy snaps at the soaring mountain, vast plains and magnificent waterfalls and streams (the water being completely blue and safe to drink) to then passing through a 2km man-made tunnel (Homer Tunnel) that went directly through the side of a mountain an out the other side. We were allowed out briefly before entering the tunnel to take a few more shots of the snowy cliffs before being told it was the most avalanche prone area in the region, after that lovely bit of info we all ran back in to the bus and strapped ourselfs in to our seats. 

The view down to Milford was just amazing, the bus we were in was equipped with a glass roof so we got a great view of what was above us while we were being chauffeured to our destination 

Sea lion hanging out in the Sound

Once we arrived at Milford we all scrambled on to a boat, feeling brave from all the skiing the day before we decided to take the "weather exposed" option and grabbed a seat on the in covered upper deck. (we did however, luck out with the weather, on average Milford sound gets a whopping 5 to 7m of rainfall a year!  But we got one of the 165 days a year that It doesn't rain) Once  the boat took off an got around the corner from the jetty we knew we had made the right decision, the view was just AMAZING! Picture a mountain as high as you can see to your left, now mirror that to your right and imagine them continuing on for about 3kms, add some of the most amazing waterfalls you can think of, put about 900m gap between them, fill that gap with deep blue water and plunk a boat in the water- bingo! On that boat was us.

The sign says it all ...

The cruise continued until we reached the opening to the Tasman Sea and came in sight of a lighthouse that as the Captain mentioned had been replaced 3 times due to severe weather, we were a little greatfull we  had indeed lucked out with the great weather for the trip.

on the way back to the jetty we Almost ran over three seals swimming and playing in the water alongside of the boat, they quickly became aware of our presence and started posing for photos. 

Thar be more scurvy water, arrr!

We got back to the docks again after being on the boat for the last two hours and jumped back on the bus again to the long trip back to Queenstown. We made a pitt stop at Te Anau again to get a coffee and to stretch our legs, it's quite obvious that the cafe we stopped at gets most/all it's business from passing tour buses but the staff getting in their 'battle stations' as soon as our bus came in to sight. 

So after a quick "wrong brack" and a protein drink we jumped back on and contined the journey.being a good tour guide the bus driver whacked on a great NZ movie " The Fastest Indian" to help pass some time.

After disembarking from the coach and slowly managing to gain blood flow back to our legs we made a quick pit stop at the campsite to shower and grabbed the passports. We once again indulged in FergBurger, this time we had one each and decided not to "overdo" the sides and only got one serving of onion rings. With the night still young we decided to venture out and take part in some of the night activities- going to the casino and having a slap! Somehow we managed to blow $45 in a 10 minute period and Ed decided to tighten the purse strings and refuse to spend any more money. Even though Andrew was jumping up and down demanding his pocket money to blow on the blackjack tables- not happening! 

Somewhat pucturesque, right?

We then visited the Tardis bar to take part in their advertised lucky raffle they were having for $23,000 worth of prizes, after locating this stylish dump and having a shot each whilst having a chat to the bar tender ( the only other person in the whole place except from us) we discovered you actually had to be at the bar when they called the prize at some hideous time of 4am. Which apparently is when the bar became somewhat busy. Admitting that this was well past our bed time we headed to the "pig & whistle " and had a $6 English Pint each served to us by a less than friendly barman. We took them outside to drink them by the outdoor gas fire place to avoid any un wanted attention from any of the rough backpackers inside.

Pints by the fireplace ... outside!

The (street) sign says it all again...

Day 6 - Skiing in Queenstown

Tuesday 19th June 2012

Started with a "planned" 6.30am wake up to be able to catch the first bus up to Coronet peak ski fields after collecting our skis and boots that we hired the night before. 

Little did they know the icy fate that
awaited them on the slopes...

So 7.30 came and went and we were still deciding on how many layers we should wear, and deciding what to take up to the slopes with us we shuffled down to the ski station where we grabbed our lift passes and bus tickets and hopped on the 9am bus up to the fields. 

Rising above the cloud "sea"

Andrew being the butch man that he is was convinced that he could of driven us and Bertha up to the ski slopes himself, this was before realising the road up their - was a direct 'up' so far up in fact we went through an then above the clouds leaving the glum, misty and wet weather below us under a thick layer of cloud with only the huge mountain peaks left to be seen.

Above the clouds!

After getting the boots fitted and attached ourselves to our skis, we took off! As per usual I was too eager and jumped on the first lift in sight.

Gut-wrenching - the options available for our first attempt
at skiing in a decade. Black or double black?

First ski lift - long, steep. All the way to the highest point in the park. Ended up being black, double black and one blue run only. Now both of us have skied before, albeit about a decade ago. For those familiar with the terminology, we were now admittedly at the level of a newbie snow plower, though without the skill to manage even that move very well. Green runs we could maybe have managed as long as there were no bumps or slopes over 3 degrees of decline. Blue and black runs were not even a glimmer of a thought of a possibility.

Skiing above the cloudline

However the view up there was something to behold. Glittering white peaks soaring out of a sea of flat white clouds. Clear blue dome of sky above. And the brilliant snow around us dropping in steep slopes, gulleys, half pipes, tussocks and groomed piste below. It was a heaven of white above the cloud line. The top of Coronet peak is about 1650m or so, and the base of the skilifts around 1300m.

We literally hemmed and hawed for about 20 minutes in a state of advancing panic before deciding to brave the first death-defying downslope of the blue run. Notwithstanding the beauty of the place, we launched in terror. It was immediately the worst decision we could have made. Our first fall occurred a good 3m from where we had compacted the snow by standing on it so long. Only another 497m to go.

A common sight at Coronet Peak that day !

Somewhere between 45-60minutes later, umpteen crashes, more snowploughing than the run had seen in its history, using the grassy verges as crash barriers, we arrived sodden exhausted and terrified at the base. Small children could be observed lapping us. Ed took his skis off to walk downhill for a while. AG had to check with guest services to ensure no one matching Ed's description had been picked up by an emergency snow mobile for the hour it had taken him to reappear. Not an auspicious start!

2 coffees, some overpriced snow food and a pep talk later, we decided to only stay of the greenest of runs for the rest of the day

Meadows ski run - a dream by comparison. Fluffy, shallow, it could have been coated in marshmallow for all we cared, it was safe. Ish. 

After half a dozen green runs we dared try half a blue run which crossed into our beloved green. It was 30 m of pure ice. AG swerved down only just barely holding onto life and limb. Turned to behold Ed snowplowing straight into the raised bank at the side and losing both skis. It was a safety manoeuvre, which I commended owing to the treachery of the icy run.

We then regrouped, tried some more short blue runs then remade our way to the summit again for the long blue runs. The first was the Million Dollar, bringing to mind one of our favourite Whitney Houston songs Million Dollar Bill.  But Whitney herself couldn't have managed that much white powder or that many icy baths (too soon?). One section seemed to simply end in a dizzying cliff face with what seemed at least a kilometre of vertical face down to a frosty demise below. This was not the stuff a beginner skier's dreams are made of.

This was taken whilst falling
down the mountainside on
our backs together.

The definition of crazy seems to be suffering repeated blows and beatings, then getting to the bottom of the hill and immediately getting on the next lift up to do it all again. And so it went until we had to finally cease our incessant controlled tumbling down the slops of Coronet Peak.

Admittedly we both became quite adept at falling over in order to brake a too-rapid descent. On one particularly vicious blue run, where I had lost control over some dastardly precipice and slid no less than 30m downslope face first - that Ed, teetering over the same vile edge decided it was more prudent to remove skis and slide down on his bum. Inspired.

Battered but not bruised, we took the bus again down to Queenstown. It was all we could do back in Bertha's sweet embrace to simply sit and stare. With a vodka. 

After 2 hours of recovery position on the campervan lounge, we decided to head out. After booking a Milford Sound all day adventure for the following day (once again another luxury of no itineraries - though it did mean missing out on Nelson and Blenheim up the north of the South Island) we hit the local Mexican eatery -quite good- and walked around the delightful lakeside shopping and entertainment district. 

The Man St stairs - 4 flights of agony after a
day on piste.

By night, Queenstown really does enchant. It has that holiday resort town feel, but at this time of year, when the ski fields are just opening but all the winter high season staff have been hired, we felt like stars wherever we went. Great service, near-empty bars and restaurants, and a winter wonderland feel in the air, we fell in love with the place and started planning a return trip!

Day 5 - Wanaka to Queenstown

Monday 18th June

Waking to the sound of light snow/icefall

Taking a moment to adjust (and
hold down stomach contents) in the
leaning room

Waking to the scene of the lake down below which was hidden in darkness when we arrived

Cloud-strewn mountain ranges in the distance, dimly reflected in the choppy steel grey waters of the lake below. Nothing but trees and empty caravan spots around us (apart from the creepy caravan that was still there). 

Lazy brekkie in with The Simpsons, tea, crumpets and cornflakes. Breakfast of champions! Made up for having to shower and toilet 200m away in the pitch blackness through forest, the night before. (Think scenes from the Blair Witch Project).

Today was about the sights and fun things to do around Wanaka town, introduced to us by the helpful Tourist Radio unit in the campervan.

Puzzling world - Wanaka

  - arriving before anyone else

  - thank god it was not school holidays, this place looked like a kid's paradise. Big kids included!

Hard at play in the puzzle room. 

Ed pushing the tower over onto
hapless unsuspecting tourists

  - coffee and a puzzle in the large common room

  - hall of illusions, holograms and faces that watched you

  - Ed's favourite - the sloping room. 13 degrees above horizontal but made to look like a real room, tricking the brain. Nausea-inducing, didn't feel right for hours!

  - the Ames room, with the two sides making us either looking gigantic or tiny. V funny

-maze , doing it backwards and getting completely lost on the "exit" trip after finding the 4 coloured towers. At least we beat the Korean couple who had started just ahead of us. (in actual fact we saw them cheating and using an emergency exit to escape at the end anyway)

Ed in the Roman bathroom afterwards with a few
fellow Romans doing their business - Puzzling World

Fore!

Tea and sammiches in the Puzzling World carpark courtesy of inbuilt fridge and LPG tank for boiling a kettle. Love the campervan life!

Off to the shooting range - the "Have a Shot" range in Wanaka

  - archery, driving range and rifle range in one

  - very cool, got to feel masculine!

  - we took on the challenge of all activities

  - Ed got to relive his old archery championships days, AG his rifles-shooting-rabbits-on-the-farm-in-Mudgee days

  - Ed told he looked funny sighting the rifle not being able to close left eye. Did not take kindly to the comment. Sour mood until coffee saved the day!

Little did AG know but Ed
had replaced the target with
a photo of him

AG lets loose a flurry of feathers

Back to Wanaka town. Coffee and brownie by the lakeshore. The most stunning backdrop ever - glass smooth lake and towering snow capped peaks surrounding it. Most beautiful scene so far.

Shopping. AG refused alcohol even with an Australian licence. Don't they know this is another state of Australia? Ed got mobile data. Health food shop! AG all over it. Whey protein bag - check.

Haulin ass to Queenstown in the beast. Man at shooting range had advised us not to take a particular road as it was treacherous in a campervan. I paid scant attention, registered there was a bad road. Convinced I was on the good road out of town. 

If that was the good road, hell only knows what the treacherous one was.

Started out innocently enough, running through empty country roads and past abandoned gold mining towns. Striking through stunning brown valleys and gorges, surrounded by misty hills and soaring mountains. Then the ascent began.

Lookout point at 1076m - highest sealed road in south
island. Ready for snowfight after hectic drive up.

Should have noticed by the fact there were so many "snow chain bays". AG terrified of having to use snow chains, never had to before. Plowed on up icy roads steeply winding their way up the mountain to the mountain pass at 1076m. From 300m. 

Remember, this is a nearly 8m vehicle built like a tin box on wheels. It doesn't corner well and we had been frightened by the stories of breakdowns and accidents near the campsite that morning owing to 'black ice'. Naturally that's then all we imagined we saw from that point on.

Finally reached the pass, the highest sealed road in NZ at 1076m. Greeted with the most spectacular vista you could imagine. Sunset staining the distant jagged horizon a deep flamingo pink. Bronzed ravines creasing the faces of the mountain ranges sweeping away in a crescent to each direction. Splatters of frosting and snow. And peeking through a valley in the distance, the twinkling reflected lights of a lakeside city. Just stunning. We stopped and stood up there until a van slightly smaller than ours stopped and unloaded 5 earnest young travellers. We hopped back into our mansion, just we two.

Both of us looking both happy and excited to have survived the drive up the mountains.
Wait ... there's a downhill as well??

The white knuckle drive up the mountain was nothing compared to the descent, much to AG's dismay and Ed's lurching stomach.

View from the pass with the beginning of the winding
road down hill just visible.

Where the road signs up had advised cornering at 65 or 55 kmh, the road signs down suggested 35 and 15 kmh. More hairpins than a drag queens dressing room, but so much steeper. I'm sure we were at about 45 deg of tilt to the sides as we tried cornering around180 degree bends. On black ice. With a queue of traffic building behind us. Ed petrified of black ice providing an earful of driving advice, but demurely deferring taking the wheel. Required all of my concentration and Ed's suppression of screaming to get through it. Total distance - 5 km of torturous turns in a lorry sized vehicle with sedan gears and brakes. Loved. Every. Second.

Queenstown itself just gorgeous - from a distance. In here feels like a built up tourist trap compared to the wilder parts we've been. Street lights, traffic, one way streets. Still, it has a European or USski resort feel to it, with ski jackets and beanies de rigeur. 

Tried the FergBurger here. Amazing burger (we shared). Long wait.

Campsite so full of powered sites - very much more commercial than we're used to.

2 Shots of vodka to wind down after the nerve wracking drive (including not just the death-defying mountain ice-drive, but also driving through narrow city streets trying to find parking, getting to an abandoned campsite firstly, then missing the turn off to the actual campsite and having to reverse in a steep private driveway)

Early night to be up for skiing tomorrow!!!