Simon & Caroline's World Tour 07/08

Mum and I had fun hurtling down a flying fox at the campsite that night, it was great until the tree at the end got close and you just weren't sure if you'd stop this time. Well if the other kids can do it, so can we, and I did have parental supervison!

Not far along we passed Nins Bin, promising freshly cooked crayfish, and green lipped mussels, New Zealand delicacies. The crayfish is like a small lobster, and the cook (Nin?) had helpfully sliced the beast down the middle, revealing the egg sacks. The mussels were huge, three times the size of others I'd eaten, but they went in the mouth whole! Now I'm not one for shellfish, but Mum and I had a good crack whilst Caroline nibbled and prodded, and Cat and Ian stayed at a safe distance. Here's hoping I avoid any food poisoning!

Back on dry land we treated ourselves to a last supper at The Flying Haggis, a Scottish pub that served surprisingly good Haggis, Neeps and Tatties, as well as a tasty Irn Bru (at one stage it looked as though we might not be able to drag Cat away!)

After all that excitement we were expecting to just settle down for the night at a campsite. But Smith's farm was no ordinary, run of the mill campsite! We were greeted with warm, freshly baked muffins for a start! And then despite it being almost bedtime, Chris the owner took us out on a guided walk up into the hills, past sheep and some shy calves, across streams to see glowworms. Not a bad start to the week.

With the glorious day ahead of us we drove the windy road back to the campsite, stopping at every other corner to photograph the Queen Charlotte Sound, and for me to scare Caz and Cat each time I parked near the cliff edge. We took a walk along the Queen Charlotte track, a 3+ day hike through forests with views over the sounds, we managed about an hours walk before dipping our toes and heading back, well the best views are meant to be at this end, so that'll do for us!

To compensate, we detoured on our drive to Nelson and visited Happy Valley Adventure park and their Skywire, essentially a gondola ride with no brakes Great fun, but not quite on a par with a skydive!

With all that rowing and walking we deserved that cuppa at the end, and it does mean we've done a fair bit of Abel Tasman, so time to move on tomorrow!

The drive on to the coast was spectacular, the road hugging the deep, churning Buller river and reverting to single track as it cut into cliffs. Camp for the night was next to the sea in Charleston, our first free campsite, complete with long drop toilet, the things we'll do to save £10!

After we had been carrying our inner tubes for what seemed like an age we were finally allowed to get in them. We all linked ourselves together in a long chain in preparation to paddle down the tunnel of love. We had all turned our head torches off by this point so it was pitch black inside the cave but then as we turned a corner and looked up we were treated to the most impressive array of glowworms twinkling away like stars in the night sky. Pretty cool.

We drifted past two awesome cave entrances where it was quite beautiful to see daylight after so long underground. Next came the fun part. The reason for carrying those inner tubes all morning. We got to ride the rapids of the river back to our changing room and the train. With bums lifted to avoid a river smacking, we all made it safely back to dry land with only one capsizer amongst us (done in style Cat :) It was all quite an adventure and very good value for money, we were even provided with photos without paying the fortune usually required on these kind of trips. Fantastic! (You can actually check these out on the website if you wish; www.caverafting.com Just follow the links to the pics for Underworld Rafting, morning of the 6th of April.)

After a slap up lunch to refuel we were on the road again. Next stop pancake rocks. An impressive rock formation set amongst a coastline not too dissimilar to the Great Ocean Road. The rocks themselves are made up of layer upon layer of thin rock which looks like lots of stacks of pancakes. Hence the name. Some more spectacular winding road later (including two very narrow one lane bridges also used by trains) we pulled up the van in our campsite for the night. What with all our adventures and the clocks having gone back an hour we are suddenly in need of a kip! Good night.

By lunch we'd made it to Franz Josef, and booked ourselves in for a couple of tours over the next two days, which will be unlike anything we've done before. I'll not spoil the surprise, you'll just have to see if we have enough energy tomorrow to write about it!

From where the helicopter landed we could see a huge ice fall, making the glacier really like a frozen river. The ice was even clearer and bluer than yesterday, and although solid it was so clear that it looked like thin ice on water and could break at any time. Jeff the guide meandered his way across the ice and found us caves to climb through and up, getting only slightly muddy in the process, as well as freezing ourselves onto the glacier. Before long it was time to climb back in the chopper, in what is the first time we've used helicopters as a means of getting somewhere instead of scenic flights, cool! Well, that's the last glacier blog for a while, I think wearing the same woolly socks for two days straight is pushing it!

The Kiwis proved a match for the Aussies naming skills with the Blue Pools, ice cold, clear and blue, and a wobbly swing bridge on the way too. The scenery continued to amaze for the rest of the drive to Queenstown, and it's easy to see why the area is home to loads of the Lord of the Rings film sets. Queenstown is also activity central, so as a warm up we booked on to a paraflight, a parachute towed behind a boat, but alas the wind again put the stops on us, so there's only one thing to do - wait until tomorrow...

So it was with this newfound (at long last) self knowledge that I chose my method of swing for the Shotover Canyon Swing (think bungy but without the pinging up bit!). There were ten styles to chose from but the 'Cutaway' was only one pant on the pant scale of scariness and best of all it didn't involve me having to propell myself off the ledge. I would be placed in a harness and sit in a swing like position and someone would then push the button that would make me go. Too easy!? How wrong can you be. It may only be a one panter but it was an adventure too far for me. Of course the crazy Kiwis running the show were a bunch of jokers and seemed to take far too much pleasure in scaring me even more than I already was. They pushed me off the ledge, left me dangling there for a while and then dropped me unexpectedly mid-sentence. It was 109m high with 60m of freefall which trust me is a long time when you are plummeting towards the rocks at the bottom of the canyon. There was a brief moment at the bottom when I braved an eye opening to experience the fun of swinging at the bottom (why we chose this and not one of the five available bungies) and then I was hoisted up and the whole thing was thankfully over. Or so I thought.

I actually found it more traumatic watching Si and Cat do their jumps than I did doing it myself, especially since both of them did it Pin Drop style (a whopping 5 pants on the pantometer!) which involved them stepping of the ledge of their own free will. Crazy dudes. Si (a.k.a Slyman) then continued to age me even further by doing a second jump, this time in 'the chair' (a mere three panter!). For this he was tied to a garden chair which he then swung backwards of the ledge to back flip his way to the bottom.

Several hours later the whole ordeal was over and could be forgotten about. Oh, if only it were that easy. The constant reliving it will give me nightmares for days and as for the dvds... (You can check them out for yourselves on the links to the right, look out for Si's legs in the Pin Drop and the expression on his face as his chair leans back that final time, which is also on the blog photo) I have to point out that in Cat's dvd that is my scream that can be heard, she was as cool as a cucumber!

With that in mind, we high-tailed it out of Queenstown, to save our hearts and wallets from all the excitement. The sun beat down as we drove through to Te Anau, and started up the Milford Road, the easy option to get to the Milford Sound, compared to the Milford Track!

The Milford sound, or more accurately Milford Fiord can only really be seen by boat, and from the plethora of tours, we chose the one that went the furthest and had free soup. As soon as we left port, the Mitre Peak dominated the skyline, all 6000+ft (that's 1.5 Ben Nevis') of it that rises nigh on vertically from the sea. Heading out to sea, the hills were lower and rounder as we had passed over the fault line between the Pacific and Australian tectonic plates (could be wrong there...), with the sharp tall peaks on one plate, and the lower hills on another - geology in action! The whole of New Zealand is geologically new and has loads of earthquakes - can't wait to experience one, as long as it's not too big!

The next stop was Slope Point, the most southerly point on the south island, so of course a flag photo was required. It was pretty cold and blustery on the cliff, but then it would be when the next point of land is the Antarctic! It's not often you can say that!

Lunch at Porpoise bay introduced us to the smallest and rarest species of dolphin; the Hector's dolphin. Aparently this is the only place in the world where dolphins live permenantly so close the shore. There is not much of them to see from a distance as their dorsal fins are small and only occasionally pop out of the water, but they were spotted doing their dolphin thing, swimming around the bay and doing wee acrobatic jumps every now and then.

Our next stop involved a pleasant walk through a very moss covered forest to get to McLean falls, followed by a much needed (it was cold and overcast!) cafe stop for coffee and scones. By now time was getting on and we would have to pass all the other waterfall stops and hightail it to Nugget Point so that we might be able to see another rare species.

Darkness, or greyness at least was beginning to set in on the long and rough gravel road to Nugget Point. But it was worth the effort and enduring Si's strategy for coping with all the bumps in the road - just drive faster! As soon as we got to the beach we walked down to a hide and were just in time to see several Yellow-Eyed penguins come ashore for the evening. Considered the most ancient of all living penguins these guys are endangered and the rarest of penguins. They are bigger than the Little Blue penguins and much much shyer and more wary. They took a very long time to make their way to their nests with several changes of mind and direction along the way. They also entertained us with a tummy slapping greeting, which thanks to the photographic skills of Si have been caught on video. The return drive on the gravel road in the dark was pretty hairy but we made it to a campsite in one peice where we could enjoy the luxury of having a powered site by keeping the fan heater on all night.

At the end of the peninsula, the Royal Albatross have been nesting there for the past 80 odd years, oddly choosing the site once the Kiwis had put a few huge cannons on it, and also having their hefty (500g) eggs used to make rather large omelletes! It is just coming to the end of the nesting season, so there were a couple of chicks waiting to be fed, although they are larger than their parents and look like huge lumps of cottonwool in the grass. We'd seen different Albatross back in Tasmania, and you know they are big, but seeing photos of these huge birds next to humans puts it into perspective, as their body is about the same size as a human torso, and they have a wingspan of 3 metres. Whilst we watched the chicks, a young Albatross was gliding around, taunting us all with how easy it was for him to fly (I don't think I saw a flap of wings), and how hard it was to photograph - as you can see!

First up was Signal Hill, at the top of a very high and steep hill, but fortunately with a road all the way up. The memorial celebrates 100 years of colonial rule, but more importantly there is a lump of the real Edinburgh there, from castlehill itself. Next sight was also on the same steep hill, well it actually is the steep hill. Baldwin Street is the world's steepest street, and we walked/ran/staggered up to the top, then watched the Japanese tourists do the same, along with a few cars at high speed. The walk down gave us chance to get more silly photos in the same style as San Francisco, as well as an excuse to run uncontrollably to the bottom.

The drive up passed by the turquoise blue glacial lakes which contrasted nicely with the autumnal orange trees. There were a few wisps of cloud hiding the peaks of the Mount Cook range as we drove up the huge glacial valley to the base of Mount Cook. It's hard to imagine a glacier so large that it could fill the width and height of the valley, nevermind stretch more than 50km back to the mountains. Rounding the final bend we were treated to the face of a mountain with four glaciers clinging to the almost vertical rocks. It certainly is good to be back in glacier country again, although first call was the visitor centre to get more woolly clothing and have some hot chocolate!

The DoC campsite was literally walking distance to the Mueller Glacier, the second largest in New Zealand. (as I found out by accident after going for a short stroll, not something you expect!) So, unsurprisingly it was fairly cold that night, and as it's the DoC, there's no electricity to be leaving the fan heater on all night to keep warm!

The valley glaciers around Mount Cook are unusual as they have huge lakes at the bottom, and as we've already walked on glaciers, we took to the water. Coming over the terminal moraine rocks, the huge murky grey lake spread out in front, and was dotted with icebergs huge and small that have broken off the front of the glacier, about 2kms further up the lake. The lifejacket made the layer total 7, and me look like the michelin man. Our little boat poked up to the icebergs, that look like ice islands, and to think that 90% of the iceberg is submerged! The ice itself is a strange patchwork of building blocks as it originates in the glacier where the ice cubes tumble over each other on the way down. Each iceberg is slowly dissolving, tipping up and occasionally turning over, although fortunately the one we had a little walk on stayed very still!

That evening, after a walk up to another iceberg lake at the foot of Mount Cook with views of at least 17 glaciers, we retreated to the Old Mountaineers Cafe and planted ourselves in front of the roaring log fire. Seriously contemplating a warm room in a lodge somewhere, we dragged ourselves back to the chilly campsite with it's crystal clear night sky and moonlit glaciers. I think it'll be another cold one tonight.

Taking to the air with me in the copilots seat, (and quietly trying to remember how that flight simulator game worked, just in case) we took to the air, flying up the glacier from yesterday and over the névé (the snow "lake" that the glacier flows from). The snow was pristine, untouched and ripe to jump into. Although it looked close, it was probably a long way down as the névé tend to be a few kilometres across, and those little cracks were probably a few hundred metres deep. New Zealand is meant to have about 3,000 glaciers, and up there it's a lot easier to believe it as the mountain ranges stretch off to the horizon with peaks as far as the eye can see. The plane flew over the Fox and Franz Josef Glaciers, around a few peaks and then headed back. We also got some pretty awesome and up close views of Mount Cook, which left us feeling even more impressed with anyone who has ever climbed it.

I think it's now safe to say that we've done glaciers, and they are surely the best thing to come out of getting water cold!

The showers at this campsite were not the stuff of dreams but at least we were clean again and able to hit the road without the clothes pegs on our noses! We had planned another scenic drive for ourselves today, this time crossing the country east to west on the Arthur's Pass. The drive promised to be a belter from the off with views of snow-topped craggy mountains calling us from a distance, we just had to dodge the two escapee sheep causing havoc on the road first.

By now we have grown used to the expectation of encountering something unusual and unexpected around the corner and today was no different. Today's round the corner surprise was a plethora of stone monoliths randomly sitting on the hillside. Think Stone Henge x10. The guidebook didn't really explain how they had got there so that just made them all the more mysterious. The drive up to the village of Arthur's Pass was pretty spectacular but a quick visit to the DoC centre proved quite alarming as it turned out that we were in an area surrounded by at least twenty fault lines and which had experienced several serious earthquakes in the not so distant past. Probably better to not hang around too long then. A quick hike up to the Devil's Punchbowl Falls and we were off. Just a little further along the road and we saw some of the effects of those earthquakes. Up on the hill was the remainder of a road that had been rebuilt several times before they gave up and built a very impressive viaduct complete with rock slide deflectors!

Our daily search for a campsite was a bit more interesting and time consuming than normal. We contemplated staying round the back of an old abandoned community centre in the very strange town of Blackball. Apart from the dodgy looking yocals/rednecks who looked like they might shoot us in the middle of the night, the newspaper article declaring this building as the most haunted building in the South Island definitely sent us packing.

Luckily it was ok. We had all made our joint pact to retire (er, I haven't! - Si) from those sort of adrenalin pumping activities and to hang up our harnesses! I was safe for another day. That left only one activity with which to occupy our time and I'm talking about my kind of activity. Turns out that relaxing in the glorious heat of a 40 degree pool is just how I like to spend my time . Even the stinking sulphury one was quite nice if you could just ignore the smell and I'm sure it has done wonders for our tired old bones!

Not really knowing what I was letting myself in for I agreed to cycle the twin passes of Hamner Springs. The bike hire shop offers a deal where they drive you to the top of the first hill and then you cycle the easy bits. Simon reckoned he was too much of an experienced cyclist to be getting lifts up hills and in the end we thought we would be cheap, load the bikes in our campervan and get them up the hill ourselves.

Now we expected the road up the hill to not be of the best quality and probably a little bumpy and gravelly but we were not prepared for quite the steep, muddy and pot holed affair that greeted us. So the plan changed, we would leave the van at the bottom and cycle up (or Si would and I'd push mine!). Finally after much huffing and puffing we got the bikes to the top of the hill and were looking forward to the prospect of freewheeling downhill. And it started ok, a little steep, narrow and bumpy for my liking but I was doing it. Then came the stream. Then came the uphill. What? Already? This was not what we were expecting! Maybe it's only for a little bit. Half an hour later we were still pushing / carrying (Si) our bikes up. I began to realise that this was not just me, even the most serious mountain biker would not be able to cycle up this path. So that's when I consulted the map and yes we had gone the wrong way! We could see the nice gentle gravel road across the valley that we were supposed to be on. The thought of going back the way we had come was not an appealing one so we carried on up and up and up. Si was an absolute star and my hero as he carried his bike up and then came back for mine, I struggled just walking up the hill (it was very steep!).

At last we made it to the top of the hill, which luckily joined up with the road we were actually meant to be on. However we were so exhausted that the thought of getting on the bikes we had pushed/ pulled/ heaved and carried (thanks Si) up the hill was more than we could bear.

After our sandwiches and a much deserved half muffin each we were feeling like we might be able to face a bit of downhill action. After all we were now at the top of the hill (the bit we could have been driven to if we were so tight with our cash!) and had been promised that the rest of the bike ride would be easy and mostly downhill. And at first it was. A bit bumpy but I would actually go as far as to say I was having fun. There was a little more uphill but that was ok, I managed to stay on my bike for most of that. And then came the extreme downhill. The very bumpy, very steep downhill that had me squeezing the brakes so hard I thought my hands would be forever stuck in the same position. We were belting down the hill so fast that there was only one thing that would stop us. The sight of two HUGE bulls in the middle of the road! One of them was staring at us in a very menacing manner and looking like he might charge at any second (I was pretty glad I wasn't wearing red!). In the end we braved cycling past them (with no squeaking of the brakes so that we would be too fast for them to catch us!). Several hours later two weary cyclists returned their bikes with one of them swearing they might never get back on one again (no that wasn't Si, although even he may be aching tomorrow!)

After four or five drops into the water, it was time to head back to shore, our thirst for swimming with marine life, cold water and wet suits well and truly quenched!

With a fried breakfast in our bellies we set off with a spring in our step, rounded the headland and started the climb up to the saddle between the mountains. The climb continued up and up, and our blood sugar and resolve started to drop, not forgetting we were getting to the lowest point between the mountains. But we made it, and as you can see had some difficulty getting somewhere to rest the camera for a group photo.

The rest of the walk was downhill, and as our tired little legs rounded the final corner we were greeted by the ramshackle sign of our "eco lodge". Expecting the worst, our hippy host showed us to our little wooden cabins that were actually new and as nice as can be. Home brewed lager and freshly caught green lipped mussels and flounders followed for dinner, all cooked on an open fire barbeque. I guess tramping has it's upsides.

The viewpoints over the Marlborough Sounds, when not completely covered in cloud show thin whisps of rain cloud floating over - even when the heavens open, this country still has a charm to it!

Campsite for the night was Smiths Farm, a favourite from the last time we were in Picton, even though they still gave us the fresh banana muffins. With the rain not showing any sign of stopping we got the log fire going and planted ourselves in front of that for the night. At least we've got our tramping done!