Driving into a Ditch and Other Adventures

The ferry from Wellington to Picton, the top of NZ's South Island, takes longer than expected. Three and a half hours to be precise, which meant that we drove The Crib off the boat at 11pm and went in search of a DOC site to park up for the night.

We know that in the last post we described NZ as an easy place to get around, where it's very difficult to get lost. Well, as we drove through the tiny (and we mean tiny. Blink and you'll have already driven out of the other side) town of Tuamarina, we couldn't find Hunter's Road. There were no sign posts, our map wasn't even close to that detailed enough and the fact that it was dark did not help matters. On a whim, we took a right turn and started making our way down it, only to decide a few minutes later that this couldn't be the way and perform a three-point turn. Richard drove forward locking the wheel to the right and pushing the front of the car into the long grass at the side of the road (one-point). He then locked the wheel to the left, reversing to the other side of the road and edging The Cribs booty into the long grass (two-point). The bonnet of the car went up at quite an incline and so Richard pulled the handbrake on, slipped into Drive and put his foot down on the accelerator. We didn't move.

We must be stuck in some mud. We did the sensible thing and let the car slide back a little more before quickly hitting the accelerator, hoping to create a rocking motion and therefore the momentum to get us out of our muddy crevice. This didn't work either and so we stopped the car and Richard got out to inspect.

"Ashley, we're not stuck in the mud. There's a stream hidden behind this grass and we're half way down its bank". 

There was no 'three-point'. The 'sensible thing' had in fact turned out to be the stupidest thing we could have done. We'd reversed into a ditch filled with deep, green, slimy water. At about four foot across, there was no way of either of us was getting behind the car to push. What's more, it was about midnight by this point so we couldn't wander over to the one farm on an otherwise empty stretch of road to ask for help. We were stuck and so, somewhat frantically weighed up our options; either Richard would go back to the main road on foot and try to flag down a passing vehicle, leaving Ashley in The Crib on her own, or Richard waits with the car and Ashley goes to flag someone down. Ashley really did not want to stay at the side of a dark, unlit road and so, despite Richard's better judgment, she went to flag something down.

The Crib in a spot of bother

As Richard stood outside the car, which was still running at this point, he was glad he didn't watch horror films. In trouble in the middle of nowhere, separated not because you want to but you have to...isn't this normally where we're introduced to the psychopath? All of the lights inside the were on - the engine light, the petrol light, the oil light - and so, worried it would overheat (or worse), he turned the engine off. He tried to start it again, but to no avail. Brilliant.

Meanwhile, Ashley stood at the side of the road waiting for a car to pass. All she got in fifteen minutes of standing in the cold and waving her arms were two trucks and a car, all of which flew past her. Giving up, she made the walk (or light jog) back to The Crib. This was much to the delight of Richard, who was worrying about strange truck drivers picking her up and other such eventualities. In fact, at one particularly pathetic moment, torn between leaving Crib and girlfriend unattended at alternative roadsides, he locked the car and began to run towards the main road to check Ashley was okay. Realising that he couldn't just leave the car sticking out of the ditch at the side of the road, he then ran back. 

With no alternatives, we had little choice but to call the police. We imagined the way it would be handled: we'd make our phone call of distress and, after being told to relax and that we were in safe hands, we would inform them of our situation and location. Then, heroes that they are, they would turn up dressed in blue and armed with a tow rope, ask us to step aside as they fetched us out and then send us on our way. Naive. What actually happened was that a very helpful policeman named Mark gave us the numbers of a few people in the local area that would be able to do the job. We reached one of them and, by about 12:45am, a pick-up truck was making its way down the road and, seeing us, did a u-turn (this, at the time, felt as though it was to rub salt into our wounds. Rather than go for a three-point turn, he went for a five-pointer, as if to say: "This how you do it, idiots"). Attaching a rope to the front of The Crib, the pick-up accelerated forwards aggressively. So aggressively, in fact, that Richard didn't even have a chance to take the handbrake off before we had four wheels back on solid tarmac.

The worst part of this episode wass undoubtedly the fact that, when we asked the call-out man how to get to the DOC site we were looking for, he pointed back down the road that we were now facing away from, having finally completed point three. We parked up in White's Bay DOC site and tried to get some sleep as the strong winds battered the side of the van to the point we genuninely thought it might knock us over (especially given our luck so far).

We discovered the source of the wind the following morning; with the DOC site located practically on a beach, the coastal winds were coming in hard and, in the late-night darkness, we had managed to park in a small opening between two big groups of protective, sheltering trees. Mystery solved, we drove on to Bleinhem - wine country.

Whilst here, we stayed in a rough-around-the-edges campsite called Spring Creek Holiday Park, which was run by a lovely couple, but left a lot to be desired. Case in point, whilst tucking into our lunch-time soup in the converted-garage-style kitchen, we saw a little mouse scurry behind the cooker. This explained the mousetraps that were littered around the room, which obviously weren't successfully fulfilling their purpose. The same mouse, building in confidence, made an appearance the following evening just after we'd finished cooking our dinner. It had somehow climbed its way to the top of the cooker and was poking its head out of the spiraled, electric hobs we'd just finished cooking on. Thankfully, we'd overseen the meal from beginning to end and nothing entered it. Neither did we drop anything out of the pan and put it back in. 

We did more than mouse-spot in Bleinhem though. We went out and sampled some of NZ's well-known (and not so well-known) wines with Na Clachan Wine Tours. Helen, our guide, grew grapes for some of the smaller wineries in the area and after an amazing lunch of NZ lamb, we visited five different vinyards, from those that bottled millions of litres per year and shipped it all over the world, to the boutique's that used organic ingredients and growing techniques. As well as the famed NZ Pinot Noir's and Chardonnay's, there were wines we'd yet to try and we quickly developed a taste for Gewürztraminer, Riesling and Viogner. 

Sampling a Pinot Noir at the organic Mahi

Also on offer, and equally delicious, were the dessert wines - a little sweeter in comparison - which one of our tour-mates was obsessed with. He hailed from Egypt and so was used to his date-based wine, which is fair enough. We understand that wine is not to everyone's taste, but each place we went, he would obnoxiously (and somewhat embarrassingly) ask for the sweet option immediately, looking to completely bypass the other white and red options. That, coupled with the incessant beeping of his phone throughout the afternoon as he took phonecalls and replied to texts, became increasingly annoying. Before our final destination, Helen actually took him home. What he was doing on a wine tour, we do not know.

Driving back on ourselves slightly, we moved away from the South Islands east coast and towards its west, passing the small, sporadically placed stone islands of Marlborough Sounds and stopping constantly for photos of them sitting out in the bay. Our next major stop was Fox Glacier and on our way there, we  made sure to stop in on a site that had come highly recommended from the couple we met on the wine tour: Pancake Rocks. The result of a thousands upon thousands of years of a particular kind of erosion from the sea - stylobedding - the limestone rocks have gradually taken on an unusual texture and shape, forming bumpy mounds that resemble tall stacks of pancakes, as well as mini-volcano-style blowholes. 

The inedible, but very interesting Pancake Rocks

Unfortunately, we timed our visit a little badly as, if we were there at high tide, we would have been able to watch the sea crashing out of the top of the latter, but it was a fascinating way to spend an hour and a great excuse to stop for an ice cream.

Once onto the coast, we were driving along the S6 highway, considered to be one of the Top 10 scenic drives in the world. With the sun shining on the white sandy beaches and blue sea, it didn't disappoint and made for what was undoubtedly our best driving experience of our time in NZ. The white tips of Fox and Franz Josef Glacier sat off in the distance, offering a stark contrast to the coast line we kept slowing down to admire.

Fantastic scenery along the S6

The small mountain town in Fox Glacier is reminiscent of any European ski town you may have visited in France, Austria or Switzerland and was not the last town we came across with this feel. Scattered around it were restaurants with burning fire places inside, bars with outdoor seating and enormous gas heaters and, of course, there were the locals walking around in their thick ski and snowboard gear. 

Day one in Fox Glacier was a quiet one, but we did manage to catch the royal wedding, Hue Edwards ongoing commentary of the days events as they unfolded bringing on a warm feeling of familiarity.  We saw the dress, we watched the kiss and we laughed at Harry standing and smiling boyishly at the alter. All that was missing was a miniature flag. We weren't surprised that the big day was being covered in NZ, but we were surprised at the week long buildup each night on the news. Interviews with Royal collectors, the people that didn't want it to happen, a NZ couple that had been invited - no angle was left unexplored or unexhausted. Then there was the awful drama, William and Kate, the storyline of which seemed to be patched together using articles from Hello, OK and The Sun. Was this aired in the UK too?

Our next couple of days were far more adventurous. We signed up for a day hike on the glacier, which took us on a 10 kilometre trek across the icy expanse that fluctuates in size from year to year and decade to decade; in the last ten years it has retreated slightly, but in the ten years before that it had been tens of metres smaller and so, in the grand scheme of things, is in fact proceeding. The trek was quite hardcore an we had to ditch our Converse All Stars for some more robust walking boots and some crampons - both certainly made it easier.

On top of the glacier

As we ventured inside moulains (we have no idea if this is the correct spelling, but they are essentially underground ice caves/tunnels. We tried Googling it, but all we could fin was information for Disney's Mulan on Ice Extravaganza), we were lucky enough to be exploring the glacier on a rare day of sunshine. The mountain range in which we were staying acted as a sort of rain barrier for the South Islands more central region and so tended to see rain for a good two thirds of the year as the warm air from Australia would make its way across the Tasmin Sea, cooling as it moved towards NZ and eventually turning into rain when it reached the mountains. It would have been a completely different, and no doubt less enjoyable, experience in the rain. 

Inside the moulian

The highlight of the day for us is rather cruel, but amazing to watch happen nonetheless. As we traipsed across the ice, Amanda, our guide, was carving steps and foot holes to make it a little easier on us amateurs. As we descended a small slope, however, a Japanese chap decided that he knew better and started to try and climb what was a short, but very steep iced slope. His feet immediately went from under him and, despite his attempts to save himself with his hands, they too slid off to his side redundantly. This left his face to take the brunt of the fall and, sure enough, it made hard contact with the ice and he slowly slid down into a crumpled mess at the bottom of the slope. Comedy. Gold. 

The next day was our second attempt at a parachute jump and, this time, we had picked a good day for it. We rolled The Crib into the car park of a small hanger that housed a small plane and had in front of it an even smaller run way and from the moment we stepped out of the car, time seemed to speed up.

Almost as soon as we'd said hello, we were being introduced to our respective tandem partners - Kitch for Richard and Lotty for Ashley - and dressing ourselves in what were essentially glorified baby onesies, adorned in a pastel purple and black combo. The baby connotations didn't stop there either; we climbed into a harness that was tight in all the wrong places and were taken outside to be given a demo on how this worked. 

What it did was make you look like an enormous baby hanging off the front of a parent in a baby carrier - think Minime being carried around by Dr Evil in the Austin Powers films. As we hung over the edge of our plane, we put our arms out and adopted the banana position, which meant pushing your hips out and curling you legs a far back behind you as possible. 

See the resemblance?

Brief lesson over,  the four of us, plus our pilot, bundled into the tiny plane and took off from the tiny runway. When we say the plane was tiny, we really mean it. We had visions a large, army style plane, lined with benches on either side where we'd sit and psyche ourselves up for the jump. In reality, with the pilot sat in the front, there was just about room enough for Ashley and I to sit on the laps of our respective tandem partners and it was strictly a case of last one in, first one out. 

The climb up to twelve thousand feet allegedly took twenty minutes, although it felt like far less as our instructors put us at ease on the way up. We tried our best to enjoy the incredible scenery as what we'd signed up for slowly began to dawn on us: the glacier we'd walked on the day before, enormous lakes, Mount Cook and the west coast - all of this was going to be hurtling towards our face at two hundred kilometres per hour in a matter of minutes. 

A view from 12,000ft

The time came and the tiny door of our tiny plane flew open. Thanks to the order we'd entered, Ashley was to jump first. She hung herself out of the side of the plane - head back, legs banana-like, arms across her chest. There was a three second countdown and then - WHOOSH! It didn't so much  look as though Ashley and her partner jumped out of the plane, but more as though they'd been sucked out, as she flew off to the right of the plane and out of sight. Richard's, we imagine, looked somewhat similar. 

Terminal velocity

Exiting the plane, we span, flipped and rolled a few times before our bellies pointed straight towards the earth and we went into freefall, reaching terminal velocity (the aforementioned two hundred kph) and remaining that way for around sixty seconds. After a few short seconds, it hardly felt as though you were falling, the feeling more akin to floating (if you discount the considerable g-force trying to push your flesh into the back of your skull). As our screams and squeals continued, our instructors pulled on their release chords and we felt an almighty tug at our shoulders as the 'chute opened and pulled us upward. 

Just like that, the jump went from the adrenalin-fuelled to the seemingly serene and we had a chance to take in our surroundings as we floated at what felt like a slow speed back to earth. Kitch was brave enough to let Richard take control of the parachute for a few minutes and he tentatively pulled at the chord he held in each hand to guide them left, right and in and out of spins, the sound of his instructor shouting "come on, pull it! Don't be a pussy!" continuously ringing in his ears.

Floating towards the ground

As we came into land, we realised that our gentle descent was faster than we'd anticipated and the green fields and sheep sped past our feet in quick succession. And then - bumph - our backsides slid along the ground and we had done it. We had not only survived, but loved every single second of what had just happened. Just two hours later, we were sipping on a cappuccino in a nearby cafe, trying to overthrow the tiredness brought on by an enormous adrenaline come down. Without doubt one of the highlights of our travels so far. 

We eventually found the strength to get in the car and move on and, stopping briefly past the aptly named Blue Lakes (they really are incredibly blue), we arrived into another Alpine-style town called Wanaka. Here we met up with an incredibly easy-to-get-on-with couple we had got talking to in Fox Glacier called Mat and Ellie. We went to try out the towns tiny, but well-renowned Cinema Paradiso and it was a great way to spend an evening. 

The Blue Pools

With just one screen, it's fair to say that Cinema Paradiso is boutique and it certainly does its best to live up to this reputation. Rather than the formulaic, characterless seats offered by the usual chains, Cinema Paradiso's screen is filled with comfy armchairs, couches and even an old Morris Minor, making you feel like you're at home in your lounge (well the sofas do anyway). The fact that you can order yourself a meal before you go into the film and have it ready for you during the interval (green Thai curry, burgers, pasta, pizza - all really tasty), wash it down with a locally brewed beer and finish it off with a freshly baked white chocolate and ginger cookie only serves to add to that. 

Cinema Paradiso

As we sat curled up on our sofa, waiting for Limitless to start and chatting to Mat and Ellie about a friend they had randomly bumped into whilst skydiving in the North Island, Ashley looked over towards the door, sat up and said "Richard, isn't that-" 

"-Jack!" Richard shouted across the room. Completely by chance, one of Richard's housemates from first year of University had walked into a tiny cinema in a small NZ town. We had no idea he was even in the country, but soon found out that he had been living in Queenstown, our next stop, for over a month. After a brief catch-up in the foyer after the film, we swapped numbers and arranged to meet in his temporary hometown.

As well as it's cinema, Wanaka also has a couple of other attractions up its little sleeve. The first is Puzzling World, a fun place to spend half a day regressing back to the age of seven as you do your best to conquer its bloody difficult maze, in which you have to find four coloured towers in a particular order, marvel at optical illusions and spend some time becoming nauseous in it's sloping room (where things go down that should go up and vice versa). We've not even mentioned it's 'incredible' leaning tower either! Jumping from pre-adolescence to post-eighteen, we also visited Wanaka Beerworks, a microbrewery that creates great tasting ales and lagers (a malty black beer with hints of caramel and chocolate anyone?) with eye-catching labels. As it was Richard's birthday, he picked himself up a six pack.

We completed the maze!

That wasn't Richard's only birthday treat though. Arriving in Queenstown early in the afternoon, we booked a meal at a lovely restaurant called Gantley's. Set in an historic stone building, they provided a minibus that picked you up and took you home (meaning we could both enjoy a celebratory drink or two). It was posher than we've become used to in the last few months and our well-worn clothes (which we considered our 'best') probably stood out in a restaurant that had a wine library within it. In case you're interested, we went for the Degustation Menu, a six course feast that included NZ lamb, duck and a wine to match every course. If anyone is desperate to know the ins and outs of the menu (I'm sure there are one or two of you), we can provide it upon request. If you ask nicely. 

An amazing Birthday dinner at Gantley's

We spent three nights in Queenstown and, whilst we were a little early for the ski season, we spent our time exploring yet another picturesque Alpine-style town. We caught a cable car to the top of Bob's Peak, which offered spectacular views of the surrounding mountains and valley below. Whilst up here, we also indulged in a spot of luging. We associated luging with lying on what is essentially a tray and hurling yourself down an iced bobsleigh run, an activity reserved for Olympians and people with a death wish. It happens that it's also a tourist-friendly activity. The principle is still the same: you still start with what is essentially a tray, but it has wheels and, rather than lie on it, you sit on it, steering with a set of handlebars as you fly down hill runs of different difficulties. It was great fun. 

We know we look ridiculous

We also met up with Jack and it was brilliant to catch up with him and see a familiar face. As unofficial guide, he covered the most important area first: the local drinking holes with drinks deals. There was Cowboy'sm (a real favourite of ours), a cheesey Western themed bar that had firmly committed to its theme. There were stuffed beats and moose heads, stetsons-a-plenty, bar stools made to look like saddles, beer taps in the shape of guns, non-stop country am western and, of course, a bucking bronco in the corner. There were also two for one 'handles' (a proper beer glass) on draught beer and free food before 8pm. We ended up going here two nights on the trot, meeting up with Mat an Elie once again and eventally graduting from 'lady handles' to man handles'. There was also World Bar, serving cocktails in teapots, and Buffalo Bar, which had a themed night every night ('Topless Tuesday's', 'Sunday Sessions'...), but we turned up on 'Ginger Wednesday's - two for one drinks and a t-shirt for ginger-haired people all night. 

Queenstown drinks with Jack

This guy greeted you at Cowboy's

Jack also introduced us to what we believe is a Queenstown phenomenon, but something that should be taking the world by storm: Frisbee Golf. In Queenstown Gardens, scattered around are what to the untrained eye appear to be skeletal bins - a pole with a basket attached with chains. These are in fact holes and there are eighteen of them. A stump of wood in the ground denotes the hole number and par and all you need is a frisbee (which Jack kindly provided us with) and your throwing arm. Grab a couple of bottles of beer and this is a fantastic way to spend a sunny afternoon, although some people take it pretty seriously. There are frisbees made specifically for this and so you see people speeding through the course carrying two or three frisbees - one could be a putter, another a driver, each being a different weight, size or thickness. We know, who'd have thought? But this is something that needs to take off in parks in the UK. 

Ashley tries her hand at Frisbee Golf...

We could have spent far, far longer in Queenstown, but our time was almost up and so on we went to the University town of Dunedin. As we're always so happy to do, we indulged in the city's cool and abundant cafe culture, but our main reason for coming here was for the wildlife. Located within the Otago Peninsula, there was lots of it to see and, signing up for a tour, we started, to our utter astonishment, with the albatross.

Now, when we signed up to the tour, we had no idea that viewing albatrosses on Taiaroa Head was an optional extra and, when we found out that we were doing it, we were surprised. This surprise turned to slight embarrassment when we found out that we were the only two on the entire bus going to get a closer look at them. If we'd been asked if we wanted to upgrade, we'd have no doubt said no, but we're glad we did it. Have you ever seen an albatross up close? They are enormous. We could see them nestling their beaks into their wings to protect themselves from the cold as they sat on the hillside and the can grow to up to four feet in height. That's almost as tall as Ashley!

We're no ornithologists, and Richard usually finds birds pretty boring, but we were told an interesting bird fun fact: before NZ was first inhabited by Maori and Pahia (Europeans), there were no land mammals on either islands - or at least none that threatened the avian population in any way. There was therefore no need for birds to evolve with the ability to fly and so they either didn't or, if they could, they eventually stopped. This meant that when outsiders turned up, bringing with them rats and larger mammals, much of the bird population found itself becoming either endangered or extinct. 

On to the main event. We were led down to a beach where we were introduced to proud and pretentious-looking yellow-eyed penguins, tiny fur seals and a group of gargantuan sea lions. We were able to walk within a few feet of the latter as they heaved themselves around the beach, dipped in the sea and fought with one another (those teeth are pretty big and pretty sharp).

One of the sea lions we came into contact with

It had been raining pretty relentlessly for most of the afternoon and so, as we made our way down the wet grassy slopes towards the beach with just our worn Converse All Stars, we did so tentatively. Within a couple of minutes, the group heard a high-pitched "Whoooop!" and turned to find Ashley on her backside. She tried to play it cool, getting up as quickly as she could, but was straight back on the floor before she'd even taken one complete step. This happened five or six times and so she ended up sandwiched between our guide and Richard, our arms linked as we descended the slope. Out of context, the brown marks all over the back of her trousers looked pretty conspicuous...

And that, folks, is pretty much NZ in a really big, long-winded, many-paragraphed nutshell. From Dunedin, we went on to Christchurch, stopping only to stay the night before we flew out as a large chunk of the city was inaccessible due to the recent earthquakes it's suffered. It was eery to drive through. Buildings and houses were fenced off with 'do not entre' sprayed in red on their fronts. Parts of towers from old buildings had crumbled away and sat sadly on the pavement. There were some homes whose fronts had completely come away, making them look more like dolls houses. The strangest thing was, you could take a right or left turn and you wouldn't know there had even been an earthquake.

With these sobering scenes fresh in our minds, it was back to Asia. 

"To Be a Poly, Oh My Golly"

Okay, so the blog is currently a little behind. Sorry about this. We've had the best intentions for keeping it up to date, but we seem to be doing more and more as time goes on, giving us less and less time to keep this filled with our most recent goings on. In an attempt to get back up to speed in the next few weeks, this is quite a long post and perhaps one to sit with whilst enjoying a cup of tea and a biscuit (or a coffee if you're that way inclined). Enjoy.

Allow us to introduce you to The Crib. After more than 30 hours of sitting on planes and in departure lounges and stopping through Dubai and Melbourne before finally landing in Auckland, New Zealand, this was the bright green, reliable beast that awaited us. It was also our home for four weeks and so, before we get into the details of the trip itself, The Crib deserves a description.

Also known as an old Toyota Lucida, this automatic spacewagon had been painted lime green and purple by the company Jucy Rentals, ensuring that absolutely everyone would see us hurtling down New Zealand's highways. The front was the normal set-up; two seats, one for the driver and one for the passenger, a steering wheel...you get the gist. In the back though, all of the seats had been removed and replaced with a cushioned bench running the length of the car on either side. There wasn't much room for Richard if he was sitting upright on these, but if it was raining and there was nowhere else to go, they certainly served a purpose. At the foot of the car, in the area which you opened the boot onto, were a sink, a small fridge which ran off the cars secondary battery and a butane-powered gas hob which was housed in a discreet white box. We also had a DVD player on board, for those long, cold nights in the middle of nowhere. 

The reliable Crib

Inside The Crib by day...

...and by night

Picking this up on the afternoon that we landed, we were good to go in spite of our excessive jet-lag and checked in to a nearby Top 10 holiday park, which we'd soon find out were a chain of campsites across NZ. First stop: Auckland.

We arrived after dark, having had to drive around in circles a few times before we were able to find the site. Once there, we did little more than cook up some spaghetti carbonara (pasta!) before literally making our bed, slotting the right planks of wood into their corresponding spaces and ensuring the pillows-come-mattress were in the right order. With everything in it's place, we passed out for around twelve hours straight, save for Ashley's decision to wake up in he middle of the night and christen our camping spot by vomiting out of the side of the van. Richard is adamant that this was a reaction to the tiredness as opposed to his cooking. He ate the same and was fine.

Taking care to avoid the small patch of recycled carbonara as we got out of the van the next morning, number one on our list of things to do was to buy a hoodie. We'd packed in preparation for Asia and, having come from temperatures in the late twenties and, in some cases, well into their thirties, we were utterly unprepared for NZ's descent from Autumn and into Winter. An exciting first adventure in Kiwi-land, we're sure you'll agree, but it was quite the novelty to be venturing into actual shops with windows and concrete walls rather than shacks on the side of the road. The switch back to Western prices was going to take some getting used to though.

Whilst on our jumper quest, we managed to get chatting to a Kiwi guy in a skate and surf shop called Amazon. He'd just got back from his own travels through South East Asia and sat down with us for twenty minutes recommending all of the places we should try and visit whilst driving around. It was great to get the perspective of a local as the Lonely Planet only goes so far.

Before this however, we'd managed to drain The Cribs minuscule battery the previous night by having an internal light on to help us see as we made the bed. With no jump leads, we approached a couple we had spoken with last night called Warren and Barbara. Thankfully, they had a set of jump leads and so we were back up and running pretty quickly, despite the fact that we wouldn't actually be driving The Crib for the next couple of days, opting instead for the local bus to save money on parking in the city centre. Warren and Barbara, two almost strangers, offered to look after the keys for the day so that the car could remain running for fifteen minutes or so and regain its juice. On nothing more than a hunch, we said yes. They seemed like a trustworthy couple and we were right. Despite paranoid visions of our home and transport for the next month speeding into the distance whilst being driven by a couple of elderly con artists, both our keys an The Crib sat waiting for us upon our return. Over the three days we stayed in Auckland, we got to know Warren and Barbara pretty well, discovering that Warren had actually been living with cancer for the past thirteen years, having been given just three years to live. He and his wife had sold their house in NZ and were, in his own words, "gypsying it" around the country, stopping in the odd place for treatment and living out of the back of their van. Despite his situation, Warren was one of the most upbeat, enthusiastic and energetic people we've ever met. He even harboured plans to scale Kilimanjaro later this year. We have no doubt that he will do it either.

We went into Central Auckland a couple of times and, outside of the pant-wettingly exciting experience of buying a jumper, we also had a chance to see some of Auckland's sights. There was Auckland Museum, whose building was a sight in itself: a Greek-style, pillared building with carvings on it's facade - reminiscent in some ways of the New York Post Office, which sat inside Auckland Domain, an expansive park complex complete with sports fields and gardens. Inside was an excellent Maori and Pacific Islands exhibition, which took you through each Islands way of sustaining itself, their dress and spiritual beliefs, eating habits, weapons and so on (and where better to learn about such things than in the most densely Polynesian populated city in the world?). Also on display were some Maori totems, which we discovered represent and embody a particular tribes ancestors, as well as a twenty-five metre, hand-carved war canoe, and green Tikis - carved human figures made from jade stone and worn around the neck to represent the first person on earth and to bring good luck. There was also a fantastic earthquake simulator in the museum. You sat in a mocked-up lounge, on a couch watching fictional news reports of a volcanic eruption in Auckland (which is not so much a possibility as it is an inevitability due to the cities being built on as many as thirty dormant volcanoes). You're then suddenly being thrown around as pictures fall from the walls and ornaments hit the faux oak floors. Scary given the recent events in Christchurch and NZ's ongoing relationship with earthquakes because of its location on the boundary between both the Pacific and Indian/Australian plates. In fact, it was actually an earthquake that brought NZ as we know it to life as, until the plates collided six million years ago, a vast majority of the country was still in the sea. But we digress.

The impressive Auckland Museum

We also payed a visit to the top of the Southern Hemispheres tallest structure, the three hundred and twenty-eight metre high Sky Tower. We took the incredibly fast lift to the UFO-shaped viewing deck just before sunset and were treated to three hundred and sixty degree views of Auckland's skyline as it slowly lit up for the night before treating ourselves to a glass of wine each in the Sky Bar.

Auckland's Sky Tower

Enjoying our first glass of wine in a while in the Sky Bar

We managed to get out of central Auckland before moving on (having slept off the jet lag during our three nights there), visiting two dormant volcanoes, the first of which was Mt Eden. At the top of a large hill is a fifty metre deep crater with almost vertical walls and which cannot be entered as it is considered sacred by the Maori people (slightly unfortunate as the child in each of us just wanted to roll sideways down to its bottom. The child in both of us is also laughing at the word 'bottom'). From its top we gained another great view of Auckland's skyline and were also able to see our second stop, One Tree Hill.

One Tree Hill

Inside the beautiful Cornwall Park, One Tree Hill is a thirty minute, uphill walk (surprisingly) where you zig-zag and weave through sheep to get to its top. The name is a slight misnomer, with no actual tree sitting at the 'peak'. The first was chopped down by the British in the mid-1800's and the second existed until 2000, but is now no more. A NZ fun fact: U2 immortalised this sacred Maori sight on their Joshua Tree album, with the inspiringly title One Tree Hill. It was only released as a single in NZ and went straight to number one. Mmm, knowledge. 

The sheep we had to contend with

Impressive views from the top

With only twenty-nine days and a hell of a lot of ground to cover, we needed to move on, despite there being much more to do in Auckland. Our original intention was to go a little further north to Poor Knights Island Marine Reserve to do some scuba diving, but Ashley had developed a cold and, with congested ears, this wasn't really an option. Plan B then: go a lot further north - over 500km - to the Bay of Islands.

This was our first bit of proper driving since we'd landed and the scenery along the way was nothing short of jaw dropping, driving past rugged beaches on the east coast and pootling our way up winding hills (arguably mini mountains in some cases) only to freewheel down the other side, singing along to cheesey and respectable music in equal measure. Driving in NZ was also incredibly easy. When we first picked up a road map, we thought it was a basic one as it wasn't overly detailed. However, it turned out that that's just the extent of NZ's road network. Generally, theres only one road from one place to another, thankfully making it difficult to get very lost.

We rolled into a quaint seaside town called Pahia, which was quite similar in its set-up to St Brelades Bay for all the Jersey readers. Here, we spent two nights at the Beach Side Holiday Park looking out onto the sea, whilst being surrounded by woods. It was slightly confusing and, if you don't know better, you'd have assumed you were looking at a lake. 

The view from outside The Crib

As well as finding a small, secluded pebble beach on a woodland walk, we also went on a boat tour, confusingly and somewhat disturbingly named 'The Cream Tour'. This took you through the Bay of Islands, giving you some facts and history on its crystal clear, blue lagoons and picturesque islands, of which there were tens. For instance, we passed the ominously named Assassination Cove. The story goes that the owner of the island to which the cove's attached died, leaving its possession to his wife, with a Maori servant helping with its upkeep. However, an English chap quickly rolled onto the scene and became close friends with the wife, but the Maori neither liked nor trusted him. The Englishman and the wife were both found dead on the island and there are two versions of the story. The first is that the Maori lopped off the head of the Englishman and then murdered the wife after she witnessed the decapitation. The second is that the Maori discovered the Englishman was manipulating the woman into giving him the island, but got fed up and killed her. The Maori avenged her killing with a decapitation. Either way, the Maori ended up hanged.

We also stopped into the bay of a small island called Urupukapuka for some lunch and were taken to Motukokako, or Hole in the Rock. Unsurprisingly, the latter was just that, an enormous hole 15m in height that had been created from thousands of years of erosion from the relentless sea. Unfortunately, due to rough sea conditions, we didn't drive through it, with not even the prospect of catching a drop of water from its ceiling on the top of the head (considered the height of good luck) warranting such a risk.

Hole in the Rock

Perhaps the highlight of the tour, however, came fairly early on. We'd signed up to swim with wild dolphins and, so long as the following conditions were met, we would be able to get in the water with them:

• Dolphins must not be mating (fine by us, we don't want to get caught in the crossfire)
• They must not be feeding
• There must be no babies in the pod (i.e. below 18 months) as they're prone to disease, with only 40% of new borns surviving in the first place.

The first pod of dolphins we saw, which was about twenty to thirty in size, did have newborns in it, meaning we couldn't get in, but did get some great photos.

A couple of photos Richard caught of the dolphins

We soon approached a second pod and this time we were allowed to swim with them. We got down into our swimming gear and were given a snorkel, mask and pair of fins and were also expecting a wetsuit given the fact that it was NZ's autumn. However, we were assured by the crew that the water was still warm and so we didn't need one. Debatable, as when we jumped off the side of the boat and into the net (more on that in a moment), we, and everyone else, let out a gasp or squeal.

So, the net. Rather than burdening us with the responsibility of jumping straight into the sea, we stepped off the deck of the boat into a large net attached to the side of the boat and which was partially suspended in the sea. Us and the twenty or so people that had signed up to do the swim sat in this like the catch of the day, holding on for dear life as the boat continued to speed towards the pod. The time eventually came to unleash us on the porpoises (Porpoise? Porpoi?) and we sat poised for the signal to swim towards them like horses in their stables waiting for the starting pistol. The suspense was palpable.

We suddenly heard the call from the boat: "Go! Go! Go!" we all frantically released ourselves from the net and splashed, kicked and spluttered towards them in what was more of a scrum during the first thirty seconds. Away from the maddening crowds, we made strange noises and movements (clicks, twirls and high-pitched impressions mainly, exhausting our dolphin impression repertoire) to get them interested. The result was the amazing sight of seeing one swim right under our feet. Incredible!

From cold water to boiling hot, having visited our most northerly point, we drove back down through Auckland and into the Coromandel Peninsula where we were introduced to a NZ phenomena we would soon become pretty familiar with: geothermal activity (go science!).

The drive to Whitianga was long, taking the best part of a day, breaking only for a stop for (incredibly cheap) sushi, a pause for petrol and a excited swerve into a lay-by to capture a photo of the ellusive double rainbow ("what does it mean?!"). Out of Auckland, there are roads called highways, but whilst the name implies a certain busyness, they are in fact just one lane roads with a passing lane every ten kilometres or so (much to the satisfaction of those motorists that chose to drive up our arse as we slowed past various sights). Not a dual-carriage way in sight and it's not surprise. At one point in the journey, we didn't see one car for over an hour and a half, so congestion isn't a huge problem.

Double Rainbow!

Twenty minutes from Whitianga is the confusingly similarly named town of Whangamata ('Wh' is pronounced 'F' in Maori by the way), where we were able to dig our own spa on Hot Water beach. On a specific part of Hot Water Beach, if you dig a hole deep enough, it fills with hot water from below an so, hiring a spade from a beachside cafe, we went to find ourselves a spot on the beach. It took us a few attempts to strike the right water temperature, with our first hole filling with cold sea water. Taking just a few steps to the left and trying again, our second hole filled with water that was too hot to stand in. If you were in there for more than a second or two, your feet would start to burn. Just like Goldilocks, we eventually found a spot with sea water that was just right and marveled at the wonders of nature as we sat back and basked in what was essentially an outdoor bath.

Relaxing in our homemade thermal spa

Everyone was doing it

That evening, we happened upon a small 'fush und chup' shop called Craigs. Yet to indulge in one of NZ's most beloved takeaways, we had a fishermans basket between us: a piece of cod, crab sticks, calamari, fish cakes and oysters, all of which were, of course, coated in a crispy batter. It was glorious and writing that sentence has brought back fond memories. We sat in a car park above a beach to devour this treat and, popping to the loo before we left, we discovered what might just be man's greatest invention.

Every bit as good as it looked

First there was fire. Then there was the wheel. Sliced bread came along and everyone was pretty impressed. All of this, however, was just a drawn out epilogue to...the Excelloo. Once the door was locked, a voice came over a pair of speakers: "Door locked. You have ten minutes before this door automatically unlocks". Introduction over, an instrumental version of 'What the World Needs Now' began to play and, once you were done, the loo was even nice enough to say goodbye. What a charmer.

Kiwi 360 on the way to Rototorua.
Cheesiest attraction ever.

More geothermal action occurred in Rotorua, which was full of bubbling mud pools and hot water springs. Whilst the steam drifting from these areas looked rather mystical, the result was the smell of rotten eggs (sulphur) lingering in the air. An excellent (and free) place to see such things was Kuirau Park.

The source of Rotorua's eggy smell. 

We also payed a visit to the Lady Gnox Geyzer, which was discovered in the 1800's by a group of prisoners that were clearing the surrounding area of gauze. Discovering that the water within it was hot, they began using it to wash their clothes in. One day, however, as one of the prisoners scrubbed at what were no doubt a pair of filthy undercrackers, he dropped his bar of soap into the geyzer, which, moments later erupted high into the air, sending the prisoners running in fear. This is how the geyzer is made to erupt each day at 10:15am, but instead of soap, an eco-friendly chemical is dropped in to create the eighteen foot stream of water. 

Acting our age as we wait for the geyzer to erupt

What we were waiting for

Arguably far more impressive though were the two geothermal pools we visited. The first was a well hidden secret that we would never have discovered had it not been for a group of Americans and one NZer who had been touring the North Island during their Easter break. The NZer was using an obscure, local guidebook and in order to find this little slice of paradise, they had to decipher some sort of riddle. Thankfully, having done the brain work, they kindly gave us the directions and we were able to find the isolated hot pool (complete with waterfall) down a small dirt path not far from Lady Gnox. The second was bigger, better known and therefore had a name: Kerosene Creek. This wasn't so much a pool as it was a part of a river, but it still had the obligatory waterfall. and we sat here for a good while, floating on our backs and digging our feet into the unbelievably warm silt on the river bed. In fact, probably spent a good couple of hours bathing and paddling in the two pools and, despite the strong smell of sulpher on our skin, we felt suitably relaxed.

The unnamed pool

Another hot water pool: Kerosene Creek

It wasn't all lazing about in Rotorua though. There were plenty of chances to an adrenaline fix through activities such as skydiving, bungee jumping, zorbing, luging and mountain biking. We opted for a spot zorbing and some mountain biking through the expansive Redwoord Forrest (over 100km of Mountain biking track organised, mapped out and graded by difficulty like a piste map). For those unfamiliar with the concept of zorbing, it involves being put inside a large, inflatable ball at the top of a hill and being pushed so that you roll down to the bottom. We opted for two in a zorb, which meant that they filled it a few inches with warm water before closing us in (slightly claustrophobic) and giving us a good shove in the right direction. 

A fun twenty seconds

It was over in a mater of seconds - fifteen? Twenty? We're not sure how many exactly - but was excellent fun. We laughed from top to bottom as we slipped back and forth and bashed into one another, before ungracefully vacating the ball at the bottom of the slope only to find a photographer capturing our exit frame by frame.

"It looks like it's given birth to you" - Alice Coombs

YEAH!

Given NZ's strong Maori presence, which pervades almost every aspect of the country's history, culture and even its politics (for instance, there are Maori-specific political parties and Maori language TV channels), we wanted to learn more about it. We therefore chose the fun but  informative Mitai evening, where we got a look into what a traditional Maori camp would have looked like. Greeted with a powhiri, a traditional and  intimidating Maori welcome that included lots of screaming and oar waving by heavily set men covered in traditional Maori tattoos (moko) in a canoe (waka), we also bore witness to the incredibly intimidating haka. This was not the same haka as that performed by the All Blacks as each tribe has its own distinct version of the war dance. There was still lots of psychopathic chest slapping, foot stamping, eye bulging, throat-hoarsening screaming and tongue protruding nonetheless. It's easy to understand why this was such an effective deterrent until people started showing up with guns.

These guys can still do scary

Educated, better informed and our minds full of facts, it was time to fill our bellies. For the best part of the day, a hangi had been buried underground cooking on the embers of a fire. The chicken, lamb, stuffing, potatoes and sweet potatoes (kumara) were served up buffet style along with other accompaniments and so were able to wander along the long tables and pile our plates high. Which we did. Twice. We also got dessert and, as Richard was considering a second helping (before having finished his first) we were called for our late-night kiwi tour. We downed our cups of tea (hardcore to the end) and spent an hour waddling around on a guided tour of Rainbow Springs, the highlight of which was seeing the long-legged, long-beaked, spiky feathered and surprisingly cute nocturnal kiwi.

Two of these for Richard (plus dessert)

We had been toying with the possibility of doing a skydive since before we left in February, but given Richard's morbid fear of heights, he wasn't sure he'd be able to bring himself to throw himself out of a plane hundreds of feet above the ground. However, Ashley really wanted to do it and, not wanting her to do it on her own, we decided to bite the bullet and book ourselves in to do a skydive in Taupo, our next stop on our journey south. The town is apparently the unofficial skydiving capital of the world, with around thirty thousand jumps taking place there each year, so we figured the odds would at least be with us. We arrived the day before the jump to begin psyching ourselves up. However, after an anxious and therefore restless night of little sleep, we called ahead to ensure the conditions were good only to discover that the jump wouldn't be taking place due to excessive cloud coverage. We were genuinely disappointed that we wouldn't be throwing ourselves out of a plane (as surprising as that sounds), but it was encouraging that the companies weren't willing to take any chances. We moved on and would save the jump for another day. 


Rather than go back on ourselves, we thought it would be more time efficient to stop and fill The Crib up with petrol on our way down to Napier. The petrol light was on, but, we thought, we'd be sure to see a station in the the first few miles of driving. 


An hour and a half and one hundred an thirty kilometres later, we had still yet to fill up and the gauge was under the empty symbol. Running on what must have been no more than fumes, the roads transpired against us, throwing steep, winding hills in front of us every few miles. Richard was probably looking at the petrol gauge more than he was looking at the road and we both were mulling what we'd do when (not if) we ran out of petrol. 

"We've just passed a farm back there. They must have petrol", we said. Richard would have to walk there and leave Ashley and the car parked up somewhere. Anything not to have to call someone out!

We pulled into a cul-de-sac where we saw two elderly couples habit a conversation on the pavement. Pulling in alongside them, we asked if there was a petrol station nearby. "Just ten minutes away. Come out of here, keep going straight and then hang a right", replied one of the old boys. Ten minutes! We could make that!

"Have you got enough to get you there?", they asked. "We think so", we answered, the car engine still running. The conversation continued: "how long've you been on empty?". "Over an hour", we said through gritted teeth. "The cars still running and so we're still burning petrol", we wanted to point out as they asked us where we were from. One of them then told us that he had a couple of litres in the garage if we wanted it. Whilst tempted by what was an extremely kind offer, we were willing to chance it on the ten minute drive and so thanked them all before making a final dash for it. When we saw the neon red and yellow glow of the Shell emblem, we starting cheering like crazy. We may have even wept a few tears of joy. In 1931, Napier was hit by an earthquake that reached 7.9 on the Richter Scale, killed two hundred and fifty eight people and all but flattened the town. Perhaps a silver lining, however, was the fact that the town grew by forty square kilometres in a matter of minutes as the quake heaved a former lagoon two metres above sea level. With the town leveled, there was a need for a quick, cheap, easy and safe means of rebuilding the town and the solution created an enormous  and impressive array of Art Deco buildings that were thrown up between 1931 and 1933. This made for an interesting afternoon walk around the town and a great place to find a good cafe (Ujazi in our case) and do some serious people watching.

A couple of bits of Art Deco architecture from Napier

We have a confession to make. We've been going to McDonalds. Not to fill up on burgers, but to take advantage of the free wifi that they offer. Their set-up in NZ is actually rather good, each McDonalds having an attached McCafe, which is pleasant in comparison to the ones you find at home - the tea even comes out in a pot. It was during these visits Macca's (as it's known here) that we begun to plan the next stage of our travels, Southeast Asia, and it is also here that we made the difficult to decision to cut Laos from our plans. Whilst we really wanted to visit, we are limited by both cost and time and, unfortunately, both were against us. Instead, we decided to split our five weeks evenly between Thailand and Vietnam. 

When we booked The Crib, way back when, we naively thought that the NZ$55 we'd be paying each day would be travel and accommodation, end of. We didn't factor in the fact that we would need to pull up into campsites and pay anywhere between NZ$30 and NZ$40 per night. We were therefore ecstatic to find out about DOC sites, simple, no thrills campsites offering little more than a toilet and a stunning location (next to a lake, river or forest) that usually cost nothing. We stayed in these as often as we could, but eventually had to shower and wash our dirty dishes. Our next stop, New Zealand's capital, Wellington, was quite a drive and so we decided to split it up by stopping overnight at one such site in the little town of Featherston. 

Preparing steak sandwiches

As we prepared our dinner on our butane hob in the boot of The Crib, a man with long, scraggy, slightly greying hair wearing an Iron Maiden t-shirt tucked into a pair of jeans and holding a mug of coffe wandered over. We believe the NZ term for such a person is a 'Westie', 'Bogan' or 'Munter': "a rough-edged fellow, probably wearing a black t-shirt, drinking beer and listening to AC/DC". His name, he soon informed us, was Eric and it turned out that this is where he lived, as he pointed over to an enormous house bus in the corner of the field. In fact, this was his job and had been for eighteen years. At the beginning of any given summer, he would buy an old bus, do it up and "kit it out" whilst living it through the winter before selling it the following summer. On his latest project, he had spent NZ$10,000 and, he assured us, he would sell it on for NZ$40,000, having put in an XBox 360 and a wood burner. That's right, a wood burner. In the back of a bus. Actual fire. He pointed to the smoking chimney sticking out of the roof of the bus. Eric was quite the character and was big into his drag racing, pointing to a large circle of mud and saying "that's where I was doing doughnuts last week. I've got a V12 engine in there at the moment". The bus was a good fifteen foot long. At the end of our introductory chat, he invited us over for coffee after dinner so that we could have a look around. We said we would, but when we heard the heavy bassline of some happy hardcore blaring from his direction, we decided we didn't want to interrupt. 

The next morning, however, we wandered over after breakfast, during which we some how managed to set the butane cannister powering the hob on fire. Panicking that the can would explode, Ashley sensibly ran to grab the water, whilst Richard irrationally grabbed and poured the closest liquid to hand - a carton of milk. 


Disaster averted, we knocked on Eric's door and were enthusiastically invited in to what was...a bit of a tip in all honestly. Eric sold the bus quite well, boasting cabinets and sideboards made from old oak from school tables, a cosey fireplace and a big widescreen TV. In fact, the wood was a mish mash of the old faux-wood school tables I'm sure you'll all know or remember, which he had salvaged from a dump, the carpet was straight out of the 1970's (a faded mauve/pink) and the bed looked incredibly dirty. He'd even got a shower on the bus, although technically this was outside and connected to a battery. He'd made himself a little hidey-hole, complete with shower curtain, so he could clean himself up whenever the mood took him. Perhaps it's one redeeming feature was the wood-burner, which had been sat at the bottom of his friends garden for years ("we just set fire to it and it got rid of all the rust"). We were doubtful he'd shift this for NZ$40,000.

We sat down on the questionable couch and chatted for about an hour. Don't get us wrong, Eric was a very nice, very friendly guy. He was just a bit of an odd ball. He'd managed to assume Richard was in some way interested in cars and so kept showing him photos of sooped up Fords and Mitsubushi's, saying "Ah! You'll enjoy this". He did his best to show some sort of knowledge on engines and the like. Eric was not a finger in one pie kind of guy though. Not only did he have his house bus venture, he also sold weed out of his van. He dug an enormous bag of it out of a draw and held it up, before a shocked expression spread across his face, as if to say "where are my manners?". "Did you want a joint by the way?", he offered, as casually as if it were a cup of tea and despite the fact that it was 09.30am and we had mentioned two or three times that we were about to drive on to Wellington. We politely declined and set-off on our way.

Despite being NZ's capital, as well its political hub, Wellington is a wonderfully small city with a lot of character and is easy to cover on foot. We visited the big sights, the Beehive being one of them (NZ's Houses of Parliament) and the Government Building, which is rather surprisingly made completely of wood. The most enjoyable street on which to spend an afternoon (or a day. Or two) was Cuba Street, where the shops were unusual and botique-y and the coffee was easy to come by and incredibly good in the many cafes that lined the street.

Wellington's political powerhouse: The Beehive

Government House: genuinely made
of wood.We knocked on it

We also visited Te Papa museum, an  excellent, sprawling museum offering similar exhibitions to the Auckland Museum (Maori and Pacific Islands, Volcanoes and Earthquakes and so on), but if we had to choose between the two, Ta Papa would probably take home first place as it was more interactive and engaging (and housed a preserved colossal squid).

One of many cappucino's

Ticking off Windy Welly, which more than lived up to its name, we boarded a late car ferry that would take us on to Picton and the beginning of the South Island.