Goodbye yellow brick road

Sunday, 26/08/2012 - 72 A.D. 

  

Sunday, bloody Sunday!

Really don’t have much to write home about today. Essentially our time was spent getting as close to Christchurch as we could and camping up in the wild for the last time. We did a lot of driving, which was a shame, because it was the warmest day so far in NZ and the type of weather that would have given both Invercargill and Dunedin a visual boost. One highlight was when we stopped for gas and I finally worked out the mechanism that you click on the pump to leave it automatically filling the vehicle, leaving you free to do other things. It’s taken me four weeks to work it out. Like I said, it was a slow day.

We’d been hoping to use a free campsite down by Lake Ellesmere, but when we turned up we drove straight into a swarm of sandflies. We’d been warned about these way back in the first campsite we stayed at – the lady there, when on holiday in the south, had forgotten her insect repellent, so what did she use to deter the flying pests? Hairspray. Unfortunately that’s far too precious a commodity on this expedition, so we did a big volte-face and drove back in the direction from which we’d come. The piccy below probably doesn’t show many of the blighters on the windscreen, but there were countless numbers of them swirling about in the air. We did not leave our vehicle to get a closer look, though some did sneak inside through the air vents.

I know I’ve shown you countless photos of beaches that we’ve mucked about on, but here’s the final one (at Rakaia Huts)…

…this one will always stay notable in my memory as Tim finally strayed too close to the waves and got a soaking around his lower regions (his subsequent impression of Canute didn’t manage to push back the waves!)

 And that really was about it for the day. Can’t all be as exciting as the petrol pump thing and Tim getting wet, can it??? The Camping Gods smiled on us this evening and gave us a dramatic spot up on Summit Road overlooking Diamond Bay, with our ultimate destination, Christchurch, nestled behind in the distance. Oh yes, it's the Emerald City alright, and it's been a long and winding Yellow Brick Road that's brought us to it!  And we’re parked with the front end of The Chariot significantly higher than the rear…should provide some interesting dreams as all that blood rushes to our heads while we sleep!

Monday, 27/08/2012 - 73 A.D. 

Our final full day in New Zealand was blessed with fantastic early Spring weather, the clear air helping to clear our heads after we finished off our respective boxes of wine the previous evening. There was only one place on the agenda for today and that was the city of Christchurch, also known as “the most English city outside of England”. For added authenticity, they even put Hereford Street next to Worcester Street!

Any visit to Christchurch in the last two years is dominated by the aftermath of the earthquake that killed 182 people. I’d already learned there were some parts of the CBD that were off-limits, but it turned out to be pretty much the whole of the central zone east of Hagley Park.

What was once a bustling office hotspot is now all but deserted, save for the contractors engaged in rebuilding or demolishing, and the casual tourists like us. I felt a bit uncomfortable taking pictures, as if I’d stumbled uninvited into a private funeral, and I duly limited my video footage.

The photo above shows the state of the city’s cathedral and the square in front of it, both mentioned as big draws in any guidebook (supposedly where the “Christchurch wizard” casts spells and pontificates – no sign of him today! Or of the wizard of Oz - we might meet him in the next country). If the earthquake hadn’t happened then this area would be full of people (the main information kiosk, also behind the fence, is just out of shot). Now they have army personnel on hand to make sure over-curious visitors don’t stray past the barriers.

On the street in the last photo above, the traffic lights were stuck on flashing amber. Had they been like that since the earthquake struck? There was nowhere to go to find out. Even the central shopping mall had been decimated and they had set up a new temporary series of shops nearby, made out of shipping containers. The various banks were also temporary structures that could be towed away quickly if needs be. The spectacle was made all the more eerie by the fact that it was such a fine day – when seeing sights like this you expect grey skies, drizzle and a cold, biting wind. But no, it was warm and serene, nowhere more so than on the River Avon which winds through the city and advertises tranquil punts along its waters.

Despite it being the largest city on the southern island, we didn’t spend a lot of time in Christchurch's centre. We had plenty of things to sort out before tomorrow rolled around, such as trading our NZ guidebook for an Australian one and filling The Chariot’s gas canister. And maybe we’ve simply seen enough NZ cities on our travels, so one that was designed to look like a typical English town wasn’t going to hold much of an exotic draw!

Our final campsite is the grandest so far – it has a drive-thru check-in, which is something we never knew existed for these places, let alone experienced. Plus there’s a movie room, but we’ll be too busy scrubbing the floor and picking the rogue bits of food out from behind the seats to hit the flicks. And so, it is with heavy heart that I present to you, dear readers, the last ever shot of BKA559 parked up in a campsite:

I suppose, leaving aside tomorrow’s mad dash for the airport, it’s the end of our time in New Zealand and time for a few recollections and reflections. It’s been four whole weeks of fun and games on the road and, just as I felt 28 days ago, it’s now time for a change. We’ve come across (and posted pictures of) hills, streams, mountains, lakes, jungles, rivers, beaches, mud pools, cliffs, fields, coves and the ocean. Plus a few thousand shots of our camper van parked up in various locations.

Despite living in cramped conditions (which we quickly got used to), the sense of freedom was amazing. But you can go camper vanning in any country…yeah, but not always somewhere as beautiful and spacious as this one. Or anywhere so unspoilt, which is the key thing to remember when it comes to the landscapes of NZ. And the people, well, they may not have had the warm, intrusive curiosity of the Americans, but a friendlier bunch of folk you’d be hard pressed to meet.

If I ever do find Miss Right and embark on the typical human courtship rituals, I’d definitely consider bringing her here (though I wouldn’t share a motorhome in winter). Everywhere I went, I saw couples smiling, laughing, happy to let their love flourish in this most romantic of lands. And then I looked at Tim, and his beard.

However, I enjoyed the way Tim and I had to work as a team to make things happen or else we didn’t get anywhere. By the end we had it down to military precision – no more standing around watching what the other was doing, we worked in tandem like an efficient, well-oiled machine. If I was turning on the gas, he’d be plugging in the electrics. If I was getting out the coffee mugs, he’d be handling the cereal packets. If I was filling the tank with water, he’d be organising the dump. What’s the secret of living like this and not killing each other? Warm up first with seven weeks on the road in North America. And it helps if you’re related and therefore stuck with each other for life.  

So, how to sum up these last four weeks? It seems apt to return to a quote from Malcolm – he may have been conscripted to fix our computer, but he was probably also the resident New Zealander with whom we had most contact. And you may remember that he said the following:

“The good thing about New Zealand is that it’s small. The bad thing about New Zealand is that it’s small!”

And in my humble opinion, the great thing about New Zealand is…simply that it’s great. Go and visit it any time, even in winter. You'll love it.

So, you’re next, Australia…THE G’DAY GRAYBOYS WANT YOU NOW, MATE!!!

The heat is on

Tuesday, 07/08/2012 - 54 A.D.

52 Northcote Road Camp Site does not like you taking showers for more than nine minutes at a time, so they make you buy special tokens for a dollar each. I hadn’t realised that the timer starts as soon as you insert the coin in the meter, rather than when you get the water running, so that countdown began while I was still fully-dressed. Cue a scramble to get buttons undone, etc. And is it me, but why do blokes of a certain age have to make the most disgusting sinus-based noises in a communal cleansing area? They should also sell Vics at reception for a dollar.

Getting out of our campervan bay was a bit of a tight turn so I decided to reverse her back into the bay behind, then swing around with a hard left. Reversing went fine, but the clearance wasn’t great and The Chariot got a little stuck. She wouldn’t start for the next few turns of the ignition and I got the feeling the whole campsite was watching us, but with a few revs applied she got going again. Apply revs - might have to remember that on a cold morning on an incline of a mountain sometime! Oh, forgot to say that the official make of our vehicle is a Toyota Hitop, which is essentially a Hiace with stuff built into it and a coffin put on top to give it a clearance of 2.3 metres (no good for most inner-city multi-storeys). The good news is the guidebook says they just keep on going and going and going (a bit like this blog).

Getting The Chariot through Auckland city centre wasn’t too taxing, given that there was daylight and it wasn’t rush hour. We parked up at Auckland Domain Park, just south east of the city centre, and pumped the meter for the maximum four hours available. Now, four hours is not a great deal of time to see a city of 1.2 million inhabitants (the whole country numbers barely 4 million), but we weren’t really clued-up on the 14 or so attractions that the official tour company mentioned. We only really wanted to see the Sky Tower and stroll around the streets. It had been a while since we’d been in a metropolis – go past one week ago and we were in a new city every few days! So in a way this was like a return to our roots.

The Sky Tower is the tallest building in the southern hemisphere. Mainly it’s used for telecommunications, but you can go up to the viewing platforms and look out across the city. You can also freejump from the top, albeit while guided to the platform at the bottom by a wire. We just stood around and took pictures like tourists, craning our necks upwards and hoping the grey skies would be merciful until 2.50 p.m. when our time on the meter expired.

We pottered around Auckland with no further plan of attack, just taking in the atmosphere rather than the attractions. It was just good to be in a big city again after a week on the road, almost akin to being civilised for a little over four hours. Plus we’d had our nine minute showers that morning, so at least we could stroll around without feeling like the Stinky Grayboys after a night of freedom camping.

Speaking of freedom camping, that was the plan for this Tuesday evening. We took to the road again and left the Auckland region, heading for Central North Island, i.e. the big chunk of area in the centre of the northern island. According to the good old guidebook, “If New Zealand were a cinema, Central North Island would be its blockbuster film.” Does that make us highly-talented actors? Puh! Anyway, Rotorua was our ultimate destination on Highway 2, followed by 27 and 29...

An aside – I may have moaned a little about how NZ town names all sound similar, at least in the Northland region. It sits better with me to know now that they all have their root in Maori dialect and they’re not just made-up words. Examples of words used are “wai” (water) and “puke” (hill). Therefore, the following settlements could exist:

Nui-manu = big-bird

Hau-rua = windy-hole

Iti-kare-ika-whanga = small-rippling-fish-bay

Bombing along the road doing 100 (kilometres an hour, unfortunately) and battling against the setting sun has become a new game. It’s as if we’re vampires trying to get to our coffins on the eve of destruction. In reality, we just need to find somewhere to park The Chariot before nightfall, otherwise it gets a bit hairy navigating those raised hairpin bends with only our headlights for guidance. But we’re getting better at it, and we get somewhere before twilight.

We’re up in the jungle hills on a road that went off the map. No one can see us here. Sweet dreams are made of this.

And sweet dreams to you, Rest of the World. 

Wednesday, 07/08/2012 - 55 A.D.

Bit of a weird one this morning. We’d found last night’s little secluded glade by following the route taken by a school bus, at least according to the road signs. When something drove past and disturbed me from my slumbers, I assumed it must be the bus and that morning must have arrived. Then something else drove past, right past the van in fact, and parked up close by. How dare they try to share our little corner of the southern hemisphere! I asked Tim if he’d seen who they were and, while peering through the crack between the curtains, he informed me they were two blokes with rifles. Rifles? Hmmm. Really hope they’re hunters, not poachers, because poachers might be angry that someone has witnessed their little racket. And, errr, really hope they are hunting animals and nothing more sinister! Wisely we chose not to get out of our sleeping bags at this point, lest our new companions see the van rocking from side to side and start assuming all sorts of things. After a little while they mooched off down to the river and we never saw them again. And they left their lights on, but we couldn’t be bothered running after them to deliver the news. 

[The sinister rogue van.]

[Note the body language between vehicles.]

Not sure if it had anything to do with relief from the aforementioned incident, but over breakfast we found ourselves fervently discussing the big bang theory (not the TV show, the sciency ting). It was a highly interesting chat and beats our normal topics of conversation over coco pops and cornflakes. Apparently there are four outcomes for the fate of our universe:

1.      All matter suddenly stops expanding and explodes again in another big bang.

2.      All matter keeps on expanding infinitely forever.

3.      All matter suddenly stops expanding and then contracts in a reversal of the previous process to form nothingness.

4.      We wake up to find it was all a dream.

Tim tried to throw his banana skin out of the window and into the undergrowth, but somehow it landed on the roof. We drove towards Rotorua with it still up there. One of the guidebooks claimed Rotorua is the most visited tourist destination in the whole of the north island. It’s famous for the volcanic activity in its vicinity and there are lots of geysers and mud pools blowing out smoke and hot air. In fact, the first thing that hits you as soon as you get out of the vehicle is the strong smell of sulphur that comes and goes in varying degrees of strength. I didn’t mind it, but Tim claimed it turned his stomach. If you’ve never come across sulphur before, it reeks of eggs gone bad.

After a quick saunter around the town, we went over to a small park where there was a “public thermal area”, i.e. you can enjoy the tiny eruptions from underground without having to pay for the privilege. At this point it was time for our regular third shower of the day and it was quite a strange experience to feel heat and smoke coming up from the ground and cold water hitting me from above. I’m enjoying the changing landscape of this country – the green, rolling hills and valleys of the far north were great, but now it’s good to have a change with this new volcano zone. And we saw in the newspaper that there’d been a large eruption in the south west, but plenty far away not to trouble us. The south west, however, is where we’re heading next.

When Tim could stand the sulphurous fumes no longer, we jumped in The Chariot (can’t do Dukes Of Hazard-style hood slides (coz there ain’t no hood)) and went to look at a couple of lakes – The Blue Lake and The Green Lake. There was a viewing point between the two and it was possible to see the different hues of the waters. Both were formed around 13,500 years ago and the Blue Lake gets its Maori name from a princess who supposedly lost her favourite gemstone in it. Should have kept it in her money belt. The Green Lake is privately owned by Maoris and it sacred to their people, so no swimming, boating, waterskiing, etc. was allowed. Spoilsports.

[Blue Lake - gemstone not pictured.]

[Green Lake - watersports not pictured.]

The campsite for the evening was on the edge of town, name of The Cosy Cottage Campsite. Sure, there was a cosy cottage there, but we wouldn’t be staying in it! Also staying on the site are the wading birds pictured below. They are all over the place and I’m bound to end up crashing into one in the dark passageway that leads to the shower block. We’ve seen them constantly during our time in NZ, but we don’t know what the correct name for them is – answers on a postcard if you do.

The main feature of this campsite is that it’s built on hot springs, as is the fashion in Rotorua. That means there are hot spa pools for guests to loll in and forget their cares of the world. And we did the same.

WARNING – THE FOLLOWING PHOTO CONTAINS PARTIAL NUDITY

[What you can't see here is...the steam.]

Feeling totally refreshed after that little dip (I say little, but we easily exceeded the pool rule of a maximum of 20 minutes), we retired to The Chariot for tea, where I knocked up my signature dish of noodles, bacon and egg – the taste of home!

Full tum = satisfied Grayboy #1.

A forest

Saturday, 03/08/2012 - 51 A.D.

The rain did stop, then came back again, then stopped, then came back again, etc., etc. Still a lot like England, right? Our night at the Trounson Kauri Park was like luxury compared to the previous evening and we bought a card with 24 hours of wi-fi (or a 500 megabyte download limit) and settled in to send out some updates to the folks around the world. Still not sure when the next update will be, but that’s all part of the fun, isn’t it? As nomads we worship The Road, and if The Road wants to give us internet access, The Road will do so.

By the end of the evening four other vans had turned up at the park to make us feel less like out of season tourists. The on-site TV room remained deserted, however, and I stuck my head in to get my fix of US shows The big bang theory and Two and a half men which became favourites on the previous leg of the journey. Who needs to watch the Olympics anyway??? Pretty much everyone back home, from what I hear!

We swapped sleeping quarters to see how the other half lives – me in the top bunk and Tim down in the “lounge area”. It should be noted that both of these beds have to be constructed prior to sleeping. Someone can sit and amuse themselves down below if the top bunk is occupied, but if the lower level bed has been built then there ain’t a lot more to do in the van! When we picked up Our Chariot we’d been told that it can feel a bit claustrophobic up top, but I had no worries and was gently rocked to sleep by Tim’s movements below as he built his bed. Because there’s a bit of condensation that comes from the roof, I awoke with a slight sniffle, thinking I’d caught a cold in the night (the sensation soon passed). It turned out that we both had a better night’s kip in our new quarters, and so they would be the order of the future, unless one of us needs to slump off to Snoozeland a lot earlier than the other.

Once up, beds packed away and breakfast had, we tried to skype our parents, but got the times and days totally wrong – it’s now you lot over in England who are behind us whereas previously we were always playing catch-up to you! It’s a shame we didn’t get to chat because it was a real good sunny morning. The man at the gas station said it would be just as sunny for the next couple of days...do we believe him? Kiwis are known for being very underestimating, e.g. “It’s not far at all, just over the hill,” where the hill can be a huge mountain that takes three hours to drive around. But so far the natives we’ve met have been extremely friendly.

Before leaving the campsite we gave The Chariot a drink of water and emptied the waste pipe into what is known as the “dump site”. That could be quite confusing if you weren’t clued-up. Then we hit the road, and these are some of the places we drove through - Kaitui, Waipou, Waimamaku, Waiotemarama, Okaihau, Whirinaki, Mangamuka and Maraeroa. Don’t exactly roll off the tongue, do they? Which makes trying to navigate and tell the one who's driving where we’re heading for quite difficult. Northland, which is the region we’re in, was where the Maori peoples originally settled, hence the traditional place names. Still, I’d love something simple like, I dunno, Big Leaf Village or Blue Water Lake. And, as mentioned in a previous blog, they rarely do road signs here, nor do they have anything like, ‘Welcome To Waitilikimarero – Please Drive Carefully’. With the settlements being so small, you can blink and miss them.

The morning continued to be bathed in a golden sunny haze as we drove towards the Hokianga river, grooving along to the sweet, summery sounds of Finley Quaye. There was a scenic viewing point called South Head at the mouth of the river, but we turned off too soon and ended up at a disused garage along a muddy track. Doing a 180 degree turn was difficult, but not impossible, although I had to give The Chariot a push to help her out of the mud...and I really, really hope it’s the last time I have to do that! We found our road for South Head at the next turn and the view was well worth the earlier cock-up. The Tasman Sea, for that’s what it was, looked oh so fine-fine-fine.

My camera probably doesn’t do justice to many of these scenes (which I’ll have to start labelling soon, lest I forget where they were, what with the similar-sounding place names). You’ll have to take it on trust that New Zealand scenery is incredibly spectacular. We stopped a little further down the road from South Head to enjoy a picnic lunch beside the sea, and the photo below probably doesn’t do justice to the incredibly tasty sandwich I’d made.

We continued our trek to the far north through hilly forests up steep, winding roads. I say “forests”, but it looks more like jungle to me. Given that we’re two English lads a long way from home in a vehicle built for exploring, there’s very much an Apocalypse Now feel to it all, and at any moment I’m expecting Martin Sheen or Marlon Brando to burst out from the undergrowth in a hail of bullets and napalm. To complete the theme, I have just started reading the Joseph Conrad story Heart of darkness, upon which Apocalypse Now was based. How dark will my heart be after 28 days in a camper van with my younger brother? Only time will tell...

At some point in the afternoon there is a frustrating / amusing incident in which Tim gets his seatbelt caught for ten minutes, but far from amusing is the crash we see on the highway – paramedics everywhere and police telling us to drive by cautiously. It may be highway #1 in New Zealand, but it’s still pretty isolated by English standards. That said, this country’s roads are all in excellent condition, especially when you consider how little traffic they get on them.

On the very tip of Northland is 90 Mile Beach, its name an immediate giveaway as to its size. We just want to see it (we’re not allowed to drive along it anyway – hire contract say no). Although Tim mutters, “Looks like Crosby,” as we pull up by the dunes, and there is a bit of rubbish here and there, it’s a damn fine expanse of sand and water. Plus there is no breeze whatsoever, making it very pleasant just to stand there and watch the waves. I don’t think I’ve ever stood by the Irish Sea and not had to shiver and scrape my hair out of my face, but here I’m comfortable in just a T-shirt and ill-fitting black jumper. And it’s the equivalent of February!

In the nearby village of Houhora is “New Zealand’s Most Northern Tavern”, and we fancied a pint (for a change!) However, the daylight was against us and we had to drive through the Aupouri Forest to get there. On paper it looked like a quick(ish) trip, but once again the logistics outsmarted us. Turning onto what we thought was the rough gravelly rack that would get us back to the highway, we found ourselves driving for longer than we thought we should. But what was that up ahead and darting into the trees? Horses? Wild horses? How cool is that! Didn’t even know New Zealand had them roaming its forests!

Eventually the track came to an end...at a gate...to a field...where they kept horses! A dead end! Oh well, live and learn. Twilight was closing in and the chance to make it to the tavern had gone, so we drove back down the track and parked up at a suitably secluded (and level) spot. And we’re there now as I write this, out in the middle of nowhere, “freedom camping”, as they call it round here. Night came down very quickly and Tim has made the mistake of lying down on the seat and going to sleep at 7.30. I hope he’s not in a bad mood when he wakes up...