Day 53, 54, 55, 56: Arthur's Pass: train and hiking

Wednesday 27th, Thursday 28th, Friday 29th, Saturday 30th, January 

Took the scenic train through the mountains to the wee village of Arthur's Pass, which sits in the National Park of Arthur's Pass, amid the region which is a gap in the mountains called, would you believe, Arthur's Pass.

Then a few days hiking before returning to Christchurch.

Distance: Train, 150km, Hiking, 50km, Train, 150km

Total Distance: 6169km

A lot of people have told me that the best way to go to Arthur's Pass is on the train. It's not the cheapest way to do it, but the buses aren't cheap either. With the train one gets a huge seat, commentary, wee cafe, and the ability to walk around seeing both sides whenever the view opens up into the grand vistas.

In the morning I hefted my bags through the rain and down to the station. There were a number of large coaches present discouraging Chinese and aged tourists out onto the platform. I got my ticket and handed in my rucksack at the luggage carriage. The staff seemed very pleased to have found someone who was not going with bags all the way through to Greymouth, but stopping off at Arthur's Pass.

The trains are luxurious. Each person gets a huge amount of leg room, headphones for the commentary (in English or Mandarin Chinese), and a window seat unless travelling as a couple or group (no sitting next to strangers). The cafe is relatively cheap (compared to British trains, aeroplanes, and road side cafes). There were a couple of viewing carriages that have no windows or seats, just a tall railing, so people can take better photos as the landscape speeds past. 

The terrain we went through was beautiful- on a good day. My outbound trip was not so good on the weather front. Mountain tops were concealed by cloud and everything was damp. However my return was much more pleasant, with clear blue skies showing off the great ranges about Arthur's Pass, the glacial valleys, and brilliant blue rivers.

To much an extent I've already been spoiled with New Zealand's mountains. These were larger than much of what I've seen on the bus or walking, but I'm not sure how much it is worth the trip for those already well traveled around the South Island, compared to getting to the Pass via bus or hitchhiking.

Having said that I'd definitely tell my parents to go via the train. It's prefect for anyone slightly older giving a chance to see a huge amount of landscape in comfort. They do a number of other train journeys in similar style, showing off the coasts.

Arthur's Pass 

My first afternoon in the Pass was miserable and wet. The weather was potentially going to improve over the next few days so it seemed most sensible to chat with people in the hostel and visit one of the two cafes in the village.

My hostel was once the hut used by Mountaineers travelling through the pass and used as a based to climb the local mountains. It reminds me of the older huts one finds up in the ranges which are maintained by the Department of Conservation. However "The Sanctuary" is far more hospitable than the huts, having a proper kitchen and bathroom. The place has a rustic, handmade, feeling, with much of the pipe work being exposed and the toilet having been converted from an outside to an inside affair only recently. The boiler has on the blink during my stay but with all the old radiators we were kept very warm in the 8-bed dormitory. Everyone loved the bathroom. The shower is just a shower head with its fixture attached to the roof above a bathtub. But the roof is made of glass! During the rain or on a clear day having a shower was a bizarre and interesting time. Just wish the roof was six inches higher.

That night I sat with the only other two guests in the dorm, one from New Zealand/Britain, the other from Australia/France. We chatted about the usual array of traveller topics, life in NZ, and I got useful advice on what to see here.

Once the weather looked better I decided to walk to the west side of the South Island. The village is nearly at the top of the pass. Going an extra few kilometres west one reaches the point where the rivers start to flow west instead of east. I found "Misery Lake", which was as cheerful as it sounds. The rain had caused a flood. Even the boardwalks over the marshes were flooded. I gave up after a little while. Time to visit something else.

Back at the hostel I met a new roomy, Anna from Germany. We were both planning on going to see the Devil's Punchbowl that afternoon- a magnificent waterfall (I heard 170m high) that drains a mountain valley. I'd been told of a path that we should/shouldn't use. The one beyond the viewing platform. Behind the "Warning: Rock Falls" sign. The one that goes to the base of the falls.

Let's do it!

The basic path is easy enough. From a roadside car park in the village, across a bridge over clear, blue, ice cold waters, and up through the forests. At the platform we found a small group of guys with a similar, but better plan to us. Using a tripod and camera on the viewing platform they stood as close to the base of the falls as one safely could with dignity intact, giving them a photo of themselves and the waterfall.

You know me. I have an abstract, liberal, view of both safety and dignity.

Hence I now have an atrocious video of the falls taken from far too close. Anna was sensible enough not to follow. By the Devil's Punchbowl the waters thundered around me like a hurricane to the point where I could neither see nor hear. It was magnificent. I was only 15 feet off and drenched. Head to toe. As if I'd been swimming. 

We happily retreated to the hostel. Everything on the radiators, me in the shower. I made coffee and we  huddled in the kitchen. Slightly damp, but now warm.

That evening we were joined by Tal from Israel. We chatted away through the evening until Anna fell asleep, at which signalled bedtime.

The next morning the weather had dramatically improved, thank goodness. Our plan for the day was the "must do" in Arthur's Pass: Avalanche Peak. It's an understandable name when you're at the top though. 

There are two tracks up to AP- the Avalanche Peak Track and Scott's Track. The Department of Conservation Wardens suggested going up APT and down ST. 

APT is very steep and requires some climbing using hands and feet to scramble up the route. For me this was an entertaining relapse into what I have learnt through years of climbing. For the girls it was somewhat more arduous. 

For 1 1/2 hours the wet, green, forest encroached upon the well warn route as we passed cliffs and waterfalls. Suddenly the bush line appeared. This is the point above which trees don't grow. Due to the cold in winter above this line there are only grasses and hardy little flowers. I've always found it a fascinating sight. That suddenly the dense forest stops. A stark change from dark green canopy to bright blue sky. Yet the summit was still not visible.

We walked for another 1 1/2 hours up and over small rocky hills. We were disturbed on occasion by the cries of birds. Suddenly the Keas descended.

Keas are the world's only alpine parrot, living in the high regions of New Zealand. They are far too clever, once having learnt to rip holes in the sides of live sheep to extract the nutrient rich liver or to disembowel live limbs to get at a stomach full of sheep's milk. Hence Kiwi farmers, over 100 years ago, putting a bounty on their heads.

Now there are only 5000 left. The sheep have been extracted from their territories. As a unique, endangered, species, they are now protected. Numbers are steadily improving, but the birds still remain annoying. They destroy cars during the ski season, begging and stealing from tourists in the summer.

They're still beautiful, intelligent, entertaining birds- and they know it.

We saw them throughout our journey, and they gathered around us atthe point were APT met Scott's Track. From here we had to scramble along the ridge (cliffs on either side weren't THAT big) and along to the summit at 1833 metres

We were lucky to be there on such a perfect day. The view was spectacular. To the North Arthur's Pass ran West to East. Across its far side we could see the  Devil's Punchbowl, still looking enormous, and the basin it drains formed by scree and snow covered mountains. To our East and West the floor quickly fell away toward scree slopes, cliffs, and grasses, eventually finding the rivers that drained each valley. And to the South ran, West to East, Crow's valley. The base of the valley was in the dark, deep beyond the cliffs. At its head we could see the magnificent sight of Crow Glacier. It was large, with a fern leaf pattern of blue cracks running across the white surface. Beyond it all stood grand mountains, many topped with snow, all showing eroded rocks with small marks of green.

At the summit we joined every other tourist in Arthur's Pass. And amazingly for New Zealand most of them weren't German! They were primarily Israeli. Anna and I learnt from Tal that there is an unwritten, informal, guide for all Israelis visiting NZ. People inform each other of great places to stay and visit, including certain trails that evidently the wider world should be more aware of, but isn't. Avalanche Peak is one of the major Isreali destinations, and I heartily agree. 

Granted, like much of NZ, you are a slave to the weather. In anything but a sunny day even just leaving the bush line is unadvisable. The weather changes quickly. Should the cloud cover come in you'd be lucky to keep to the path. Should the rain come in whilst scrambling over the rocks one slip could be fatal.

But we had all been lucky. The summit was surrounded by people taking a well deserved break. And Kea. Looking cute and harmless for photos, maybe a treat. Then, when someone's back was turned, they'd sneak in to steal whatever took their fancy. 

Finally we decided it was time to go. Scrambling back along the ridge didn't finish were we met both tracks. Nearly until the bushline Scott's Track proved to be all rock and big drops. However once amongst the trees we were not beset by the same amount of climbing as on the APT. Instead the descent was mostly switch backs with only the odd monkey act required.

At the bottom Anna and Til had to quickly pack up to catch a ride back down to Christchurch. I stayed on another day before getting the train back for another night in jail in Christchurch.

Photos!

Crow's Glacier

Sexy beast

Cheeky

P

P

Devil's Punchbowl

Arthur's Pass Village

Day 51 & 52: Christchurch

Monday 25th & Tuesday 26th January 

Christchurch was set up as an Anglican town on the marshes of the Canterbury plains. For a long while it was considered one of the most stable places in this earthquake prone country. Yet in 2011 a series of devastating earthquakes hit, along with aftershocks. After all these years Christchurch has gone from having to demolish all of its old, damaged, buildings and is working towards rebuilding.

Distance: Bus, 224km, walking, ~20km

Total Distance: 6019km

Getting out of Tekapo was somewhat easier than getting there, although some how I got the seat next to a guy who smelt of rotting chicken manure and decaying chicken corpses. Don't ask how I know what that smells like. Atleast I have a cold so I could only smell him through one nostril.

Arriving at Christchurch our driver dropped me just outside my hostel. It has been rated for many years as the best in the city, but made by the driver, speaking to the whole bus, made it sound far more sinister.

"My father once took me into Christchurch Jail. He was a warden there. Really creepy place. Spooky. Strange people. I wouldn't want to go in again."

I'm staying in Christchurch Correctional Facility! AKA Jailhouse Accommodation. The inside is lovely, white, clean and plain. Everything from staff tshirts, signs, bedspreads, and mugs are in the there of prisons- staff and signs are in jumpsuit orange, the rest being black and white striped. Three cells are maintained. The ground floor cell is filled with items from a standard cell, as well as a mannequin dressed as a warden. The cell above it contains artwork (graffiti) produced by the prisoners. Finally, at the far end of the building Solitary Confinement is kept, now embellished with cobwebs.

My room for the night

If you want age and spooky go to the prison in Napier, one of the first prisons in NZ and used for around 100 years. This one is much younger, and far less spooky. I enjoyed visiting Napier Prison, but not sure I would have stayed there. Christchurch, on the other hand, is one of the best hostels I've ever stayed in. It's well run, clean, friendly, the beds are great with a little shelf for a book and phone and 2 power sockets (some hostels are a nightmare for recharging equipment) . The toilets and showers have thankfully been upgraded since prison days (don't drop the soap!), as has the kitchen. 

Sorry, taken on phone when too dark...but look, prison mugs and table cloth!

Having performed an exorcism and the rites of Hades it was time to explore the city.

I quickly made for the train station. I'm leaving from here at 7:45am , so it's worth knowing where it is before a cold wet morning. From here I headed towards the museum, but wouldn't make it that day.

Firstly on my travels I hit the park and stumbled into the cricket oval, a site where they were clearing up from the weekend and where last year some of the Cricket World Cup was played. 

From here I went further and decided to take a short cut through the Botanic Gardens.

Hands down best Botanic Garden in New Zealand. 

I've been to a lot of them, nearly everywhere seems to have one. Dunedin's was lovely, but Christchurch was far better. The glass house is nearly the size to the one in Edinburgh, with smaller areas for rainforest, desert, marshland, and temperate displays. Outside is the large rose garden with each variety having its own bed, and surrounding borders including the large Dahlia border which was in full bloom.

Much of the garden is lawn and various trees, but also there are rockeries and native plant displays, a water garden, a long mixed border with plants from all over the world, a maple garden surrounded by Hydrangeas, and decorative plots by the road surrounding a painted fountain.

The visitor centre shows off how this is still a working botanical garden. Behind the cafe and shop stands a glass warehouse with rows upon rows of plants each in a pot ready for transport or to be transplanted. The area must be getting on for 200m by 50m, and that's just the nearly fully grown big stuff that they show off. 

View from the balcony in glass house

By this point it was 5pm so I had a quick wander to get a rough idea of where to start tomorrow, then went back to find milk for tea and Dominoes next to the jail for dinner. $5 for a pizza! I can't make a hot meal for that little (well, I can, but I like to pay myself minimum wage).

Next morning my first job was to find a library with computers so I could transfer my Canyon Swing photos from the USB stick to the Internet, then post the USB stick home. I grew up in Britain, I don't trust the post not to lose the parcel.

The useful thing about this excursion into non-tourist areas was that I could walk through the back streets of Christchurch, seeing normal life and what remains after the quakes.

In some areas they're having a complete revamp. Having torn out everything they're well on their way to getting shopping malls, multi-storey car parks, and offices built up to quake proof code. Many stretches of the street and pavements are fenced of as busy crews of skilled workmen, both local and European, work away or have tea breaks. 

On the other hand there are stretches where there's nothing but one wall and a stack of shipping containers. The area isn't very old, hence historical buildings might have stood for less than a century. Many of these buildings, if they didn't collapse, were condemned as unsafe. Yet the front face is a piece of local heritage. A dangerous piece.

Thus the buildings were demolished, but the front kept. Shipping containers (invented to enable the US military to transport supplies and vehicles during WWII, now used in their millions, celebrated for their simplicity and strength being entirely made of steel....I'll stop now)... Shipping containers are immensely strong, resilient, and relatively cheap so have been used extensively in the city. One use has been stacking them in front of old buildings. Stacks are about 6 high, with a stack of 3 on the roadside, held together with cables and attached to the building. Being so thick and strong this both protects the public in the event of a collapse, whilst maintaining the building.

Another use for shipping containers is the Re:Start Mall. 

Before I left the UK there was (another) flood that destroyed a towns shops in Yorkshire. The town set up a shopping centre made out of shipping containers. A rectangular enclosure was made of them, each containing a shop, with a gap for an entrance, an arch made by spanning 2 containers across the entrance. It was basic but worked well and everyone was happy enough. 

That's what I expected here. Something basic. Not what I found.

These are nolonger just shipping containers. They have glass fronts, proper doors, several containers joined together in a manner so you can't see the join. The interior looks like any other shop. There's even a container on the top of each with a sign for the shop it sits on. And everything's been painted in bright technicolour. Just looks like a create idea for a shopping mall, not an emergency measure to keep shops open. George Clarke would be proud.

(Check out George Clarke's Amazing Spaces, he sees as well as building some phenomenal things. He did a whole program on shipping containers, as well as people converting planes, boats, swimming pools, tree houses, trains, old buildings from the war.)

Most of your average shops are there, including the post shop, so there's now another wee parcel sent off to my parents.

Also, there were statues

Afterwards I visited the Cathedral. This was one of the oldest buildings in Christchurch, the city having been set up by staunch Anglicans, yet it was also one of the worst hit by the quakes, as were many of the city's churches. Stone edifices of 14th century design are not built to withstand an earthquake. 

This isn't the first time the cathedral has been damaged by a quake. 100 years ago the tip of the spire was broken off. Back then it was an annoying novelty. This time the damage is virtually irreparable.

Talking to wardens the parish wants a simple rebuild- even that totals over 60 million NZD though (£30m). Better that then the proposed rebuild by 'others' though (I didn't ask who the 'others' were. Not local parishioners by the way she said it.) would cost well over 200 million NZD (£100m) 

Either way the present site looks lamentable, waiting for a plan, whilst getting overgrown with weeds.

There is a shiny new cathedral though, and it's the largest building in the Southern Hemisphere made primarily out of cardboard! Had to go see it.

Imagine this. 12 shipping containers lined up in 2 rows, parallel, 12 yards apart. 6 tubes about half a yard in diameter and 4 yards in length, made out of a type of card board, are then placed into an arch, 3 forming each side. Repeat 98 times. Then put interlocking tough clear plastic over the outside. Add a wall at one end, doors at the other, and above the doors glass painted with images from the Windows of the old cathedral. And that's roughly what they built, helped by German engineering. 

It's an impressive structure with lots of additional features they are very proud of. The containers are all used for offices. The doors at the back can be completely opened out, useful when the place is packed out. There's a side chapel with a cardboard tube screen that opens out for use, or is closed to conceal during larger services. The enormous English oak lectern, altar pieces and Cathedra (that's the Bishop's big chair) were all rescued from the cathedral by a quake rescue team (after they'd saved as many people as they ever could).

It's all very impressive. I'm always impressed by the older churches here, in Europe we spent generations getting them up. Here, on the South Island, they did their best to build replicas in a few years, and many have lasted. Buildings of such complexity, weight, and size are increasingly difficult to build for us today- even here, such as in Dunedin, a hundred years ago people ended up taking short cuts due to time and money.

The temporary cathedral was one of the first buildings erected after the initial quake- they were finishing as the second quake and aftershocks hit. Yet they had congregations packing the place after each event, giving the local people the support and community they needed.

Time to finally hit the museum- mostly just a quick run through though.

First to the cafe though as it was 2pm and I hadn't eaten since I'd found a place that did chips and gravy that morning. Nothing to remind me of trips to York livestock market with my parents as a child like chips and gravy.

At the museum I found the cafe.

"Good afternoon, Sir, how are you today?", asked a very cheerful waitress. I had to stifle a laugh as I thought of Homer Simpson: "For once someone will call me 'Sir', without adding 'you're making a scene'"

I got some tea and was given a decent sized slice of date and honey cake, warmed up, smothered in butter. Yum. I do deserve the calories, honest. A read, a wee nap, and back on it.

The museum is huge. They even have an Allosaurus, plus an Edmontosaurus skull, Triceratops skull, and sauropod forelimb! 

Christchurch being the starting point for many Antarctic expeditions there's a big display showing their history, including much of the equipment they took, from clothes to exploring vehicles, such as the first tractor onto Antactica. A fine collection of stuffed animals too, both Antarctic and from New Zealand. 

There's the usual displays about Moari and Pakeha settlement, history, and culture, though larger than many.

There was an art exhibit of Jeff Thomson, showcasing his work and his talent. He works with corrugated steel, building everything from life sized giraffes, pigs, hens, dogs, and even a car, to bouquets and miniature houses.

Finally, my favourite, but not a fixture, Leonardo Di Vinci! A special exhibition showing his notes including, importantly, working models of his drawings! Well, working as in many could move. The flying machines still weren't going to fly, not the "robot" walk, but the ideas were all there. Flying machines, pulley systems, gearing ratios, pumps, levers, war machines, bridges, robots, musical instruments, ball bearings, ways to measure time. There were also a few of his paintings and a video about his life. 

Oh, and body bits. Well, very detailed models of bodies. Di Vinci, as an artist, and then as an engineer-scientist did a lot of research into anatomy. It was important as part of Renaissance art for students to understand the human form so as to draw and paint bodies appropriately. He went further however, looking beyond the superficial right down to the cranial nerves and the action of the heart. He did much that was against the doctrine of the church, which would eventually helped us all.

I left through the mock up of a Christchurch street from a hundred years ago...which was basically York as it is today, but with less neon.

Day 50: Travelling problems to Lake Tekapo

Sunday 24th January 

A screw up by the Kiwi Office leaves me desperately trying to leave for Lake Tekapo.

Distance: Bus, 256km, Walk, 6km

Total Distance:  5775km

A couple of weeks ago I rang the Kiwi Experience office to organise my buses for the rest of the trip. Normally this is a relatively straight forward affair, me giving them dates and them answering "yes". Easy.

Instead this time I got

"That should be fine"

"Erm...does that mean I'm on the bus or not?"

"Yes, you should be fine and all set"

"But what does 'should' mean? There's a list for the bus, am I on it or not?"

"Well... We're sorting out a lot of people's itineraries at the moment."

"So, do I need to call back later?"

"No, you should be on the bus, that should be fine."

THAT MAKES NO SENSE!!!

There are lists on each bus for who should be there. This normally limits the numbers on the bus to the number of seats and stops random people getting on. A sensible, simple system. That today got ignored.

I had to get up early to get from my hostel, down through the streets of little Queenstown, and out to where the bus was waiting. There I was met by a horde of 18-25s, looking slightly confused and worried, as 3 different Kiwi Buses waited. On of these was going to Milford Sound, but the other two were both for Lake Tekapo.

I jumped on the first bus, giving my name and handing over my ticket.

"Your not on the list... Can you see your name on the list"

She was right I wasn't on the list.

There were a few of us, as it turned out, all promised seats that weren't there. But we had two buses when usually there would be one. Surely there were loads of seats? Ah, but at the other end we'd each need a bed. Kiwi promises everyone on the bus a bed for the first night of every stop. With this many people the hostel was booked out beyond capacity.

"I can let you on if you have accommodation organised for this evening."

So began 5 minutes of panicked googling and calling hostels. The third had a spare bed! Saved! I informed the driver.

"Sweet. Now we just have to make sure you can leave for Christchurch."

"Oh, no worries, I have accommodation booked there already."

"That's fine but there's only one bus leaving Lake Tekapo tomorrow and it's not smaller than this one."

Who the heck as organising this circus?!?

At the first stop, along with a few other orphaned travellers, called the office to find out where in the system we were. No where, apparently. Thankfully, by good fortune, we were all able to find seats on the buses we wanted.

Crisis over, time for Tekapo.

The sky above Lake Tekapo is said to be the second darkest in the world. As such it is advertised as the perfect place to see stars, planets, and the Milky Way. Canterbury university has a telescope on top of Mount John by the lake for international research and pays some of the bills by showing the universe to tourists.

As ever, the weather came into play, however. The sky was white that afternoon, threatening rain and not shifting. During the afternoon I climbed Mt John. The view was spectacular (standard New Zealand) showing the great, wide, glacial valley, deep blue lake at its centre, huge mountains surrounding. Off to the south these mountains were becoming engulfed by the clouds and impressive amounts of rain. Reaching the circuit around the top of Mt John I was hit by the winds the township was sheltered from. Yet a scrap of blue sky wasn't to be seen. Star gazing was off for tonight. 

Day 49: Ride of the Rings!

Saturday 23rd January

Let's go ride horses! Had to do it at some point and a Lord of the Rings (and many othe films) tour seemed the best opportunity. The Dart Stables have many horses used in various films, the local area being used for a significant amount of filming.

Distance: Bus, 50km, Land Rover Discovery, 20km, Clydesdale McLeod, 8km

Total Distance:  5519km

The weather isn't predictable here, but it is plentiful. Today's weather was occasional downpours, with the odd flash of sun. There was some uncertainty as to whether we would ride for a while before there was enough of a break to give it a try.

Thankfully my sister and various stables have given me some training in horsemanship so I wasn't a total novice. Still, I want going to go on the 3 hour gallop though. Instead I went for the 1 hour ride, which would be followed by an hour in the shiny Disco down the valley to see where Boromir died and Wolverine's wife was found unconscious, as well as Saruman's vale and Beorn's home.

McLeod, an 8 year old Clydesdale was mine for the morning. He's the youngest of their herd of 60, not very big for a Clydesdale, bottom of the pecking order, whilst also being the greedy guts of the outfit. Hence the need for me to yank his head away from the foliage we passed so as to tell him who's boss. He wasn't best pleased at first, but we got to know each other over the hour.

We were taken around part of the valley by an English girl leading us through ice cold streams and across the pastoral lands. About us were the grand mountains and forests of Middle-Earth, Narnia, and Wolverine's Canadian life. W passed by a few older horses used in Lord of the Rings and Narnia. 

It was depressing to be told that the Lord of the Rings was filmed here 17 years ago and most of the horses in it are either dead or well into retirement. It's logical, but still sad. Also, I'm only 25, and that fact make me feel old. 17 years. Blimey.

Just as I figured McLeod out (and had a tiny trot to catch up the group) we were back at the stables. 

From here I was the only one on the part of the tour involving the 4x4 trip through the rivers and streams down into more of movie land, including the region known as "Paradise"- there's even a sign. Thankfully my driver was a great guy who I'd been chatting with as he drove the bus all the way from Queenstown. 

As we drove he told stories of both the filming here. 

Sean Bean hates helicopters, he walked for hours to the top of a mountain dressed as Boromir whilst everyone else flew for the scene when he picks up the ring as Frodo drops it.

Liv Tyler hates horses, so she sat for 10 minutes on a horse someone was holding and the rest was done with stunt riders or close ups of her on a barrel decorated to look like a horses trunk. 

When Prince Caspian was filmed here the big black horses brought from Australia wouldn't cross the ice cold rivers, so for those scenes they were swooped out for some of the stables horses. In the film you can see it as the horses are smaller and one suddenly develops a white star. 

Much of Wolverine was filmed here, mixed in with Canada. At times they are driving on NZ roads but as if they were in Canada. However, at filming and post production they didn't remember NZ drives on the left, and there are a lot of signs to remind the tourists. Scenes such as when the old couple who lake in Logan drive over a long bridge still retain the Kiwi signs and arrows on the road.

The weather still wasn't improving, and the rain came in with the clouds that blanketed the tops of the mountains, so the views weren't perfect. Has to be said though the reality never looks like the film-  a huge amount gets changed at the time of filming and postproduction, such as different horizons, or moving rocks and plants. Plus it's been 17 years since LotR was filmed- between storms, floods, landslides, earthquakes, and time things have changed.

I got back into Queenstown and visited The Fat Badger- the best pizza place in the area. Afterwards I investigated the few art galleries I'd been told to explore, before sitting on a wall in the afternoon sun to watch some street magic. 

Everyone had left when I woke up. Apparently I'd missed most of the show due to the comfortable spot I'd found. Sleepily, I headed back to the hostel, finding someone I'd met on Stewart Island there for a good catch up and tea.

Day 48: Shotover Canyon Swing and Nevis Bungy Jump

Friday 22nd January

I jumped off a cliff, then got pushed off the cliff in a chair, then jumped out of a cable car in the middle of a canyon. 

"LOL", "YOLO", etc.

Distance: Bus, 100km, free fall 0.8km

Total Distance:  5431km

I won the Canyon swing after a fancy dress party (turns out that phrase doesn't translate well- it's British English for costume party) at Lake Mahinapua where I dressed a Gandalf the Grey, complete with light on the end of my staff.

A group of 5 of us got a minibus from the centre of Queenstown out to the Shotover River Canyon, where we would be jumping, and the place where canyon swings were first commercialised.

The idea of a canyon swing came from the glorious sport of rock climbing. When we climb we are attached to a rope, which has a small measure of elasticity to it, the rope being attached the the wall and running down to a friend on the ground. Thus, when one fails and falls, the rope pulls tight (but with enough spring so as not to jolt and cause spinal damage), and hangs one from the wall, controlled by the well grounded friend (hopefully). We do like a good overhang for climbing though- where the wall's gradient hangs over head, such that the climber is not just holding onto the wall but hanging. There is still, if not more so, still the problem of falling. Because we are normally climbing above the last point we attach the rope to any fall pulls us backwards, towards that point, creating a pendulum as one falls, with a small free fall at the start.

Multiply this up a few hundred times.

That's a canyon swing. Starting on the cliff we each jumped off, free falling 60m, before the rope caught up and we swung along the bottom of the canyon, just above the river and rocks.

Great fun!

There's a whole bunch of styles and ideas- forwards, backwards, sideways, on a chair, on a child's tricycle, with a ukulele or a friend. As you can see my the photos I posted a few days ago I went with the no hands sideways pin drop and the leaning backwards on a chair over the abyss.

The guys there are very nice and very cool, with good music often changed to suit the jump if you're doing something particularly stupid- resulting in the jump seeming far less daunting. They laughed in amazement as my cool exterior when jumping fell away as I jumped, me screaming "like a dying cat" as I fell. I've got some great photos of them laughing their heads off as I fall.

In the afternoon I was off to New Zealand's largest Bungy, the Nevis, at 134m above the canyon floor. Just getting in the cable car taking us out to the platform gave me the jitters as it has a mesh floor. I could see all the way to the valley floor. When I'm climbing heights don't tend to worry me. Falling is a different matter. 

Once geared up I stood on the little plinth, well worn from countless jumpers, staring out, down, to my apparent doom.

Behind me they shouted.

"3...2...1...go!"

"No" I quietly replied, and without thinking took a step backwards.

The jump master came to my rescue.

"Look right a head", he told me, "into the mountains. Then jump"

"OK", deep breath

"3...2...", I jumped. Well, technically I just fell of the edge. Just like my bridge jump there was no finesse to it. I just fell off. Screw jumping.

I plummeted down, barely able to see, air rushing past me as I took in a breath...only to scream my way down. And up. And down. And up. And down.

There was a little tag to pull which would bring me to lateral by releasing my feet (waist still attached) to make the ride up more comfortable. I'd met a girl who hadn't managed it and came up feet first. All the blood had rush to her head, leaving her red faced and with a day long head ache. I was potentially going to be in the same position as the tag became caught around my ginormous hiking boots. It took some effort to release it, then release myself. Thankfully I got it and was able to enjoy the rest of the journey up and the beautiful view.

Back at the top the adrenaline and endorphins kicked in generating euphoria and a giddy sensation resulting in me jumping up and down on the glass floor section of the platform and telling all the people yet to go that it was amazing and not to be worried. 

'Cos clearly a nutter telling you to chill out is extremely reassuring.

Afterwards I went for a wee walk whilst the hormones dwindled, leaving me tired but happy.

My dreams that night were a strange breed of heights, falling, flying, terror and joy.

Photos! New Zealand's Biggest Bungy Jump, The Nevis! 134m

Photos from the Nevis Bungy Jump, again, I can't jump properly. Who the heck can? This is a stupid activity and I love it :)

Again. Screamed. And chickened out of the first count down. 

Photos! Canyon Swing!

Just a couple of photos from my 2 Shotover Canyon Swings

I screamed. A lot. Again.

Photos! Kawarau Bridge Bungy Jump

Here's the photos from me doing the AJ Hackett Kawarau Bridge Bungy Jump from 43m, and hitting the water!

(NB much too scared to jump properly)

Day 46-47: Milford Sound- I'm being lazy with this post

Wednesday 20th- Thursday 21st January

Less than interesting days, read another post like the next day or search Milford Sound on Google Images

Distance: Bus, 560km, ferry, 25km

Total Distance:  5331km

Invercargill for a day, then off to Milford Sound, which was a great trip, but took far longer to get there than time we spent there. If I went back I'd stay for a day and go kayaking around it. 

Still lovely trip though- beautiful scenery even before we got to Milford Sound. It's totally worth going if you're down here anyway, even just for the short trip of 2 hours, but it was a very long day. 

We set off from Invercargill at 8am, met up with a larger Kiwi Experience bus, went out to the Fjord (it's a fjord, not a sound, but the name has stuck due to the Rule of Cool) and weren't into Queenstown until 9pm.

The fjord, like all fjords, was formed by a glacier that created a valley which reached the sea, before retreating after the ice ages. This one happens to be special as the surrounding mountains are so high, the fjord is enormous, and the entrance from the sea is both narrow and at an angle, hence the water is relatively still.

The catamaran we were on had a PitaPit, bar, and free tea, which made us all very happy.

I managed to get to the front of the boat when we went into the spray zone of one of the waterfalls, so I have a video of me getting soaked for later.

Anyway, tired now, and have a busy day tomorrow, with lots planned.

Go to Google Images. Search, Milford Sound.

Yes, I'm being lazy, but others haven't, and they've taken great shots of the place.

Special Broadcast: I saw a Wild Kiwi!!!

Sunday 17th January

I stumbled into a wild kiwi!!!

On my last day of hiking through the forests of Stewart Island.

I was into the last hour of the track. I'd been making good time since the hut. Most of my food was gone- I'd finished the last of my bread for breakfast, leaving me with a couple of cereal bars and an old bag a gummy bears. I needed to get back for lunch, preferably for some of the Kai Kart's beautiful, fresh, fish n chips. I was steaming along. The last to leave the hut, again, I wasn't due to be the last to reach Oban. I kept passing small groups with each kilometre. 5 hours to get to Obam? Nah, I can do it in 3. The route is relatively flat, and much of it is quite straight, if muddy.

Minding my own business, just thinking of stuff, trundling along... then something brown ran off the track and into the bush.

This area was straight for 200 yards. If I'd been looking at the track I'd have seen it long ago. Yet clearly neither of us was concentrating- we'd been a few feet from one another.

And there she was, under a log. I whistled a couple of bird calls- I've been using that trick a few times here, to make the birds think it's safe. Make it sound as though someone else has been brave enough to be the first to emerge after this strange man appeared. 

The she began to look around at the ground. She started prodding her beak into the ground, sniffing for insects in the muddy ground. In truth, at first, I'd wondered if she was a Weka- I've seen plenty of them, and they've a similar size, shape, and colour to a kiwi. But not the nose, they're smart and adaptable, but not so specialised as a kiwi (maybe why there's so many of them), scratching at the ground like a chicken in search of grubs. Once I saw this behaviour from the dark silhouette under the fallen tree I finally knew I was seeing my first wild kiwi.

Becoming more confident she emerged, as I filmed, from under the tree, prodding around for her lunch. Occasionally she would toss her head back, swallowing a delicious find with glee, before returning to the hunt.

Yet as she moved there was something wrong.

The first kiwi I ever saw was in Wellington zoo. Here they have a kiwi that only has one leg. He hops around in a manner that still worries me (he deserves a prosthetic), foraging in his enclosure as the public watch.

Equally I've seen lame chicken and ducks, even treating a few.

My kiwi was walking in a similar manner. Her right foot was swollen and she wasn't putting weight on it properly. Above the swelling was a small metal ring- an ID ring, evidently made too small for her eventual large size. She was quite big for a kiwi.

I would later go and tell the Department of Conservation officers. Next week there's a team coming in to look at the local population and treat any as necessary. Having a rough idea of were she was, and being territorial, it shouldn't be too hard for them to pick her up in the nearby area. 

She looked to be eating well and was still getting about on the foot so I'm not too concerned, DoC will sort her out. 

(NB- normally seeing a naturally nocturnal animal, such as a kiwi, in the day time, means it's in real trouble. Yet on Stewart Island they frequently come out during the day, particularly after heavy rain when the ground is soft and the insects are more active. It a feeding frenzy and they're not energy going to let the sun stop them!)

As time went by she happily carried on eating from a fruitful patch of leaf litter. In my view, however, along the path, appeared a number of my fellow walkers, from either direction. Thank goodness the path was straight here. I quietly waved my hands, put a finger to my lips, mouthed 'Kiwi', before pointing to the little brown fluffy volley ball rustling through the undergrowth.

Getting the message each party gathered cameras from pockets quickly but quietly, tip toeing towards me smiling. Muted gasps followed before cameras were raised and shots taken. Everyone was quiet, slow, and no one used a flash- we were all on our best behaviour to keep the little delight amongst us. She look it all in her hobbling stride, mooching about, scouring the mud for more crunchy snacks. We all shifted as she moved, no one wanting to leave. The group had grown to 11 people all staring in amazement.

Eventually she wandered off into the forest, though not with much grace. A fallen sapling of many branches barred her way. She took a leap at it, attempting to get through the branches. Most of her made it. But not the giant feet. They were lodged for a moment and wiggled, reminding me Yoda jumping head first into Luke Skywalker's supplies the first time they meet, or when the chickens get sent head first into something in Chicken Run. She wiggled through and went off on her way to see what else the damp weather had brought up.

Day 41-43: Stewart Island 3 day hike

Friday 15th-Sunday 17th January

My three days (well, nearly, didn't take that long) around the forests of Stewart Island with some really weird, annoying, people.

Distance: 42km

Total Distance: 5175km

Ok, what's that racket? How can you all be such terrible people? It wasn't so bad in the morning or the evening when you were all just grumpy and unsociable. But now...

Is that ticking? Who TICKS in their sleep. Seriously. Ooh, they've stopped. No they've started again. They're like a human metronome. It would be impressive if it wasn't so F!@£?ing annoying.

And not one but two snorers? One normal, rhythmic, quieter snorer, the other an occasional hippo impression thrown in for good measure.

Then there's someone whispering in their sleep. Some how load enough to hear, but not enough to understand.

And evidently you can't sleep through this either, eh? The man apparently sleeping under 3 sleeping bags, made of alternating layers of tin foil and crepe paper who insists in turning over every 5 minutes.

Add screams and gnashing of teeth and this would be a soundscape for an Hieronymus Bosch painting. I'm tempted to complete that ensemble...

Sod it, I'm going to the toilet. Maybe the cool breeze outside will refresh me.

Stewart Island's a lovely place. There are plenty of birds here- many that are rare in the rest of New Zealand. The terrain and forests aren't all that so different from many other parts of the country though- maybe muddier in places, but that's about it. Hence, if we're honest, I'd suggest not doing the long 3 day "Great Walk" here and instead staying in the lovely hostels and hotels of Oban and doing some day walks, or going out fishing on a boat. Two older ladies just came into the hostel having caught 20 blue cod and a shark between them in an afternoon!

But I'm probably biased. Here's my "Great Walk" experience.

Day one was cold, slightly windy, and pretty wet. I wasn't really in the mood, but the walk was due to be short so I could wait until lunch time, when the worst of the weather would be gone. 

As I started out from Oban the skies were grey and dull. Over roads and along beaches I headed for Lee Bay where I'd start the true walk.

From here it was just all forests, small hills, and coast line. Plus sand flies. I hate sand flies.

Not much to report, I'm afraid. 

Tired and wet I was glad to get to the first hut, Port William. Up on the white board there were reports of Kiwi sightings nearby- this is the real reason to come here. There are supposedly a few that appear around the hut, as well as on a beach 20 minutes north. 

A few small groups were sat around the communal tables as I entered. I smiled, said hello, made a joke about how grateful I was to get away from the sand flies... And was met with stoney faces or grumpy boringness. What a crowd. I miss the hostel.

I read for a little while, wrote a little, ate some bread and cheese, then went to bed. Not much else to do.

At midnight I awoke and went out to brush my teeth. On the higher land where the grass met the sand 4 young Germans sat in the dark, waiting for Kiwis to appear.

"Seen anything yet?", I whispered.

"Just Possums", they moaned.

As I made my way to the sink I realised what they meant, damn things are everywhere, right by your feet. Doubting I'd see any kiwis I went back to bed.

The next morning I had less than 6 hours of walking to do. Thus, unlike everyone else, and unlike my usual morning, I had a long lie in. It didn't matter when I left.

As the rest exited I began breakfast (bread, cheese, nutty cereal bar), repacked everything, filled water bottles. Once set I ran outside, slammed on my boots and gaiters as the sandflies descended, then took off before they began to bleed me dry.

A simple muddy stumble over a hill into the forest today.

I do like walking at these times. When one learns to let go of trying to control everything, realising one can't think it all through- my spinal cord kicks in and my legs tell me that they work better on auto pilot. They create a rhythm of their own, I don't have to think about it. I'm orchestrating events, but not controlling them. A rider, not the steed. The world goes by as my legs pound along and my mind is free to think about other things.

By 4 o'clock I was at the second hut, having passed a few groups on the way, climbed a fallen tree, done a little sunbathing, taken photos, seen old timber mill sights, watched the birds, and eaten the last of my jelly babies.

Hmmm...6 hours until bed time. What to do?

I finished my present book, read two more short ones, and started another, whilst finishing my cheese and most of the bread. There were a few less grumpy and boring people around, a mature family having joined us, but it wasn't much of a change.

Eventually I went to bed.

Hut beds are just two large platforms between three walls, one above another, with mattresses for each person, most usually with each having their head closest to the edge.

I'd secured a spot next to the wall, so I'd only have another person on one side, leaving me near to the well insulated wall and ceiling, as well as giving space by the wall for my necessities- light, kindle, phone, Walter Knitty.

Here I slept in my thermals, too warm to need my sleeping bag, listening to the cacophony that was my neighbours. 

In the morning there was only "5 hours" to do back to Oban. Again I was the last to leave the hut, but I passed many groups as I ranked up the gears on the flatter ground, heading towards lunch, a shower, and clean clothes.

Then I stopped.

Kiwi!!!

As documented in my previous post, I stumbled, with every bit of luck I could conjure, upon a kiwi. Well done me.

So in the end it was all worth it. I'd been hoping to see more of the island's birds, and whilst this wasn't true for much of the trip in the end I got my kiwi.

Some say it's the journey, not the destination that's important.

This weekend the journey wasn't fun, but the destination was worth it. 

I've seen a kiwi that lives wild and free.

That's good enough for me.