I got up this morning and had my shower, and then, whilst Pen had hers, went hunting for breakfast; starting with another garlic, cheese, and bacon roll (thing) from Maggie Bakery over the road from the Auckland City Hotel. I then tried to also find myself something suitable for lunch, but failed – even after visiting three stores.
So I went back to the hotel and we had breakfast. And I have to say that the baked apple flavoured, Skyr type-yoghurt is very nice. And unavailable at Pak’n Save according to their website.
We finished packing up, made sure we had everything (I nearly left behind my suction cup toothbrush holder) and asked if we could leave our bags – letting them know that I would need mine first.
Then we headed over to the Wētā Workshop Unleashed exhibition.
I’ve been to the Wētā Cave in Wellington, and associated tour(s) twice. (The second time had a Thunderbirds are Go tour, which I was dying to take Pen to, but doesn’t exist anymore – maybe because Wētā Digital has been sold, and Wētā Workshop and Pūkeko Pictures no longer had the rights to it? Or maybe because the show’s target audience are now in their teens and not interested.) Both time they showed off exhibits relating to Lord of the Rings (and Thunderbirds are Go), as well as other commercially released shows. This meant we weren’t able to take photos, which was really frustrating. (Especially with Thunderbirds are Go.) Accordingly, I left my cameras in the hotel.
This display was totally different.
We were told that we were going to be interns of Wētā Workshop and one of the first things we had to do was do a stocktake of boxes in a room. We did this, and then was asked if we could find the hidden door.
So I don’t spoil it for anyone else who visits, let’s just say that Pen is really good at spotting hinges.
We were led into another room where we appeared to be in a kind of bunker. One of the children moved a lever and three different “movie” synopses were displayed.
We moved on.
This was the entrance room and we got our first look at an animatronic creature – the head of health and security, Jeff , along with a video from Sir Richard Taylor.
Then, as the staff had gone on their break, we were admitted into the workrooms. The first explained about animatronics and how they had been used by Wētā Workshop over the years.
What’s good about this display, aside from the fact that none of this was copyrighted to other companies and you are therefore allowed to take photographs, was that you could actually get hands on.
The first room was based on the synopsis that was a “horror” movie. Looking into a camera (having taken your facemask off), meant that the animatronic skull mimicked your actions. But the one I liked most of all was the motion sensor that you waved your hand over and caused a hand elsewhere to move in the same way.
Then it was onto prosthetics and you could look into a mirror and have the computer superimpose horror makeup onto your face.
There was also an explanation on how silicone moulds were made and I got to hold Adam Savage’s (Mythbusters) hand.
We were invited to walk through a bit of a horror set (or could take a shortcut and miss it all together.) I didn’t find this two scary until there was a sudden noise, explosion of light, and a creature appeared before you. That was heart-stopping stuff.
Next was the (in my opinion), much nicer “fantasy” synopsis. This included a model of one of the Wētā Workshop sculptors, who’d “fallen asleep” at his desk when working on a plasticine model for this “film.” Step into the next room and you’ve stepped into an eight times larger scale version of him and his desk.
In the next room was a “bigature” of the model that he’d been working on which was a twentieth of the size of the one on his desk. We were allowed to touch (and crawl through) this one and all this showed how you don’t have to have purpose-made materials to create. The moss on the walls of this bigature had been made by blitzing up a kitchen sponge in a mixer.
Then we got to try things for ourselves. I had a got at sculpting with plasticine and tried to make a cat – although I think I was supposed to design prosthetics for the two heads provided. Whatever, it wasn’t very good in the time I had to work on it. But I could have also had a got a sketching, leather-working and foil modelling. Did you know that, with the appropriate decoration. you can model almost anything out of aluminium foil like you have in your kitchen?
A chat?
The final rooms were based on the sci-fi “film” and included a robot that had come to Earth millennia ago and had been trapped in a lava cave when Rangitoto erupted. I’m going: “I’ve got bach on Rangitoto, and I’ve never seen that.”
After that, we were escorted out (and towards the store.)
So, was it worth it? Yes. Was it what I expected? No. Should you go and see it? If you have a spare 1.5 hours in Auckland. And no, you don’t have to be a Lord of the Rings fan, or know of any of Wētā Workshop’s shows (including Thunderbirds are Go), as it explains and encourages creativity, rather than focuses on past creations.
After that, Pen and I tried the supermarket I’d tried this morning and they had some sandwiches, so I bought one, and then went back to the Auckland City Hotel and ate it.
And then it was to the SkyCity InterCity bus terminus and goodbye.
Not a lot to say here, aside from that it was the worst bit of the whole trip. Who knows when, or if, Pen and I, and Scott and Kally, will meet again in person.
I put my bag on the front seat and then stayed outside the bus for as long as I could before boarding.
And then waved goodbye.
As I’m typing this, Pen, who’s Boeing 787-9 Dreamliner (registration ZK-NZJ) took off from Auckland Airport at 8.09pm, is currently level with Norfolk Island and approaching the International Date Line. Which means that she left Auckland at 8.09 pm on the 22nd and will arrive in San Francisco at 12:50 pm on the 22nd.
I had a good trip home, and Janice and Rocky kindly collected me from the i-SITE.
I mucked about a bit, made myself two cold drinks, watched a little bit of “Would I Lie To You” to wind down, and then went for a walk. D.C.’s tōtara is looking great with new growth. (The Kikuyu’s growing as well, so I’ll have to do some weeding this weekend.)
Following that I made my dinner, (ready meal),some more TV to wind down, and then wrote all this. Now I’m off to bed to try to get myself ready for doing the pays at work tomorrow.
Thank you to the three people who followed me on my blog – Pen, Karen, and someone else. I hope you didn’t find it too boring and were able to enjoy the trip as much as Pen, Scott, Kally, and I did.
Until next time I feel the need to blog, whenever that is, this is the Scallywag team signing off.
One of the disconcerting things about this trip, is when I’d wake up during the night, hear someone else’s breathing in a neighbouring bed, and think it was D.C.
This morning’s plans weren’t finalised last night, other than, as there was a weather warning out for Auckland and the Coromandel Peninsula, and the ferry doesn’t run on Tuesdays, we weren’t going to Tiritiri Matangi.
So, we, me decked out in my waterproof over-trousers and raincoat, decided to catch the bus to SEA LIFE Kelly Tarlton’s Aquarium. For those who don’t know, the former Auckland sewerage holding tanks were converted to an aquarium that you pass through rather than look through. If I remember correctly, the original aquarium was just the acrylic tunnel that you passed through on a conveyor belt system. Now, you also get to see King and Gentoo penguins, stingrays (fins ripple), eagle rays (fins flap like a bird), turtles, seahorses, jellyfish, octopuses (which we didn’t see), and a replica of Scott of the Antarctic’s Hut. (Not the penguin, but the polar explorer.)
Two things we forgot. Me: my AA card (back at the hotel), which would have given me a 30% deduction to the entrance fee – and which I should have remembered because I didn’t have it last time. And Pen, her penguin T-Shirt. (She wore a Thunderbirds one for my benefit.)
Also, I didn’t get many photos of the displays as the lighting was low, I had D.C.’s rather than my camera (as it’s waterproof), and sometimes it’s just as entertaining to watch as click the shutter.
Our first stop was to hurry through so we could catch the penguin talk. This meant we had to miss Scott’s Hut and try not to be sidetracked by anything else of interest. Fortunately, the talk was done by a young lady inside the penguin enclosure.
“You’re meant to be giving ME all the attention, not them!”
In order to give the penguins some enrichment, one of the keepers was wandering around with a bubble wand and blowing bubbles for them to enjoy. I was waiting to see if they were going to freeze in the air. Answer: no.
The King Penguins do their full body moult before breeding and were all looking neat and regal. The Gentoos do their moult after breeding, and some were looking a bit motheaten. Especially the juveniles who were losing their downy fluff.
Pen got Scott (her Scott, not Robert Falcon) out of her bag and put him by the window to see the more active penguin’s reaction. One came over to check him out so quickly that he hit a surfboard that was in the ice and fell over. I didn’t see him do it, but did hear the bang.
She also tried this with where they swam underwater, but, with reduced lighting, photos of them checking Scott out were harder to get.
Having seen plenty of penguins, we went back and checked out Scott’s (Robert Falcon) Hut replica. This gives you some insight into the conditions in which the Terra Nova Expedition lived. And includes some of the more “unusual” items they bought with them. A pianola and a printing press, anyone?
After that you had to walk through a representation of whiteout conditions to reach the penguins. You are walking on a perfectly stable, unmoving bridge that is surrounded by a rough, white, tunnel that revolves about you. It’s totally discombobulating, as your mind is telling you that the bridge is moving, not the walls about you. Your natural inclination is to head off to the right as if the bridge is tipping you that way.
Having checked out the penguins again, we continued on to the jellyfish display. They are quite beautiful and fascinating creatures when you’ve got an acrylic barrier between them and you.
Moon Jellyfish
There was a tank filled with ice water, where you were challenged to see how long you could hold your hand inside. Pen managed 30 seconds by swearing (which is supposed to make it easier to withstand pain), I didn’t swear and managed 45 seconds on my third go.
Following this was Turtle Bay which contained a number of rescued turtles (one with only three flippers), eagle rays, and other fish including a puffer fish. This was fascinating to just sit and watch. And we got a talk on the display and its inhabitants by one of the carers.
This was where the café was, but it had pretty much sold out of everything when we got there, so we shared a single chocolate cupcake between us.
After that was the original tunnel aquarium and it was disappointing to see that the conveyor belt wasn’t working. But then we spied a woman with a microphone heading in the opposite direction, so we doubled back. She spoke about the type of fish on display and, when a couple of divers dove in and started feeding the sharks and stingrays, enlarged on this process.
When we’d finished seeing everything (we thought. We missed the octopus), we headed out into what was a very light spit of a shower. We caught the bus back into Custom Street and then walked down to the souvenir shop on Prince’s Wharf, where she bought herself an oven glove, since she hadn’t managed to find one by itself elsewhere.
Following this success, we took the shortcut up Hobson Street and down to the Countdown supermarket. Here, I bought a dish brush, as the ones I buy in Thames all melt as soon as I put them into boiling water to wash the dishes. I also bought some Skyr for breakfast, which I’ve never tried before but is supposed to be similar to yoghurt.
Our other option for something to do today, was to visit the Wētā Workshop Unleashed display in the SkyCity complex. So we figured we’d hunt that out and see if we’d have time to look at it tomorrow morning before we go our separate ways. I took us up to Federal Street through another couple of shortcuts that I’m aware of and managed to inadvertently stumble across it. So now we’re booked in for the tour at 10:10 tomorrow morning. Whilst we were there this afternoon, we had a look around the shop, but there’s nothing Thunderbirds are Go related.
Having offloaded our purchases (Pen = three blocks of Whitaker’s chocolate), and transferred today’s photos from our cameras, we went downstairs for dinner. I had the Stir Fried Tofu with Vegetable & Rice, a Virgin Mojito, and, for dessert, a Cholate Liégeois (Having inadvertently having a coffee one that was made with pure espresso in September, resulting in a sleepless night, I wasn’t going near that one.)
And then it was back upstairs to pack and type up today’s blog.
Today was an interesting one, albeit one tinged with sadness, knowing that we’ll be going our separate ways tomorrow afternoon and that we don’t know when, or even if, we’re going to meet up again.
I got up at 7.30 am to have a shower, and nearly fell off the ladder as I tried to negotiate my way down – which probably woke up the other, still sleeping, dorm users (including Pen). That’s if they weren’t already awake from the earlier risers clearing out.
My shower was nice enough, once I worked out what setting to have it on. There were no hot and cold markings, so I had to guess, as well as reduce the power of the shower so it didn’t wet my shoes. The cubicle is good and long and they supply plenty of hooks, which, after previous communal wash facilities, was very much appreciated. But, the lady in the cubicle next door, put her shower onto full power, which must have been lovely for her, but left my legs getting splashed as I tried to stand at the far end of the cubicle and dry them.
Once again we made up our breakfast in the kitchenette on the first floor and then ate on the 4th/top floor. And watched the paragliders and gondolas as we planned our day.
We decided that the best, most relaxing thing to do, was to store our bags at Lylo and just go down to Lake Wakatipu’s edge and enjoy the view.
I don’t know that we relaxed. There was a bloke singing with his dog howling in accompaniment. The TSS Earnslaw was just getting read to set sail, so we had to get photos of that. There’s a concrete/plaster moa and we had to get photos of it with Kally and Scott, and then a couple came along and offered to take photos with us in it as well.
We also watched some of the watercraft too. Like the “Hydro Attack” team. To quote:
Reaching speeds of 80 kph on the water and 40 kph diving under the water, experience a one-on-one ride with one of our friendly and experienced pilots in our semi-submersible shark.
You’re inside what feels like a cross between a fighter jet and a torpedo. It’s skimming across the top of the lake at 80kph then it dives under the water, surrounding you in serene liquid blue. Next, your pilot points the shark at the sky and it blasts back out again, straight up into the air before shattering the lake into a million crystal shards on a screaming re-entry.
Whatever else you’ve done in the name of extreme excitement, nothing has prepared you for a ride in the shark. Hydro Attack is the world’s first commercial operator of these unique semi-submersible machines so while you’re in Queenstown don’t miss your chance to have a go.
I did want to do that as a slide show, but I couldn’t in a short space of time
As Pen said: “Queenstown: 18 ways to lose your breakfast.”
We bought ourselves some sandwiches from the same bakery we did yesterday (still no Ferg’s Burgers or anything) and headed back to collect our bags. Then we caught the bus to the airport. There we ate our sandwiches and chatted to a couple of sisters from Australia who were out here for the Cold Chisel show.
I’ve brought my D.C. pillow with me (the case has photos of her and the pillow is a comfortable height) strapped to my suitcase, and I had been concerned that I wouldn’t be able to take it on the plane. In the end I put the pillowcase in my bag and was prepared to leave the pillow behind, if need be.
We found a very helpful Air New Zealand lady, who said that I could take the pillow into the cabin with me, no problems, and sorted out our boarding passes and directed us to the baggage drop-off.
No one asked about our carry on luggage. The limit was 7 kg. Pen’s was 3 kg. Mine: about 7.9. We decided that if there was an issue, she would take my camera and then give it back to me when the time came.
We weren’t game enough to weigh ourselves.
Going through the scanning system was slightly more problematic, as I put my belt bag (phone, spiral bound notebook, pens, coins, notes), hat, handkerchiefs that were in my pocket(!), and camera bag (DLSR camera, zoom lens, pancake lens, D.C.’s camera, spare battery, tripod, Kally’s bear bag, Kally, carabiners, laptop, tablet, powerbank) into the tray to go through the scanner. Pen’s bag went through, stopped, and then continued on its journey. Mine went through, stopped, and did a slide to the left.
“Would you mind coming over here please?”
“Not a problem.”
“Please stand behind the red line.”
“Okay.”
“Would you mind if I looked through your bag?”
“Go for it.”
In the end, the things that they were concerned about were three, probably expired, AAA batteries in with my earphones. I gave them permission to throw them out and everything was good.
We waited in the holding cell until we were given permission to board; doing so by going up a long zig-zagged ramp, whilst the passengers at the rear of the craft had to climb stairs.
Photo Pen
We were seat in 18A (Pen) and B (me) and the young man in C, who was a lot taller than me, kindly put my pillow in the locker. There was a short delay as we waited for planes ahead of us to take off and land, and tourist helicopters and seaplanes to get out of the way. And then we were airborne into the clear skies.
Photos: Pen
Photos taken by Pen with my camera. Lake Wakatipu?
Skies that got thicker and thicker with cloud the further north we flew. We did manage to see Farewell Spit, and get the briefest of glimpses of Mount Taranaki’s peak poking through the clouds, but from then on, much of the ground was obscured. Not that I could see much from the middle seat, anyway.
But, best of all, I did get to see Rangitoto! And Pen got a photo. Maybe not a great one, but Rangitoto’s still there.
We let almost everyone else get off the aeroplane before us, which meant that had a skybridge rather than steps to negotiate, and then our bags were almost the only ones remaining on the conveyor belt, so there was no rugby scrum to get them clear.
Then we headed outside (having checked where to go) and waited for the Skybus, which took about ½ hour to arrive. I chatted with an elderly lady from Wanaka whilst we waited.
We got off at the Skytower, walked to the Auckland City Hotel, were warmly greeted by Mat, who I’ve dealt with several times, and were informed that we had separate beds!
Cheers from us both.
When I’d booked, the only had a room with a double bed available, but this room (700) has a disability bathroom, and I think they must hold it back in case someone needs to use it. No one did, so they set it up for us as we’d requested a twin room. (Firstly, when I’d made the booking online, and then again when we were here last time.)
Checking my emails, I discovered that there’s an orange rain warning for the Coromandel Peninsula tomorrow. It’s also in place for Auckland, so trips to Tiritiri Matangi are off… If they were running on Tuesdays.
Pen wanted to do some washing, (so that’s one thing she won’t have to worry about when she gets home) so she set off the washing machine and we went downstairs to the restaurant, with a detour to get a 10% off for staying in the hotel voucher.
The restaurant’s closed on Mondays.
So we went to Dennys and I had a Cajan Chicken Skillet and a Bundaberg passionfruit drink. Dessert (which we should have been strong and not had) was a Churros sundae with Hot Fudge sauce.
It was starting to rain when we came back, did some blogging, and got the clothes from the dryer.
St Matthews in the City – Sad, but true.
We came back, put the washing in the dryer, and went out looking for breakfast foods.
Why did 11.00 pm find us standing in the middle of a cemetery? Read on, to find out.
Pod report: I had a good night’s sleep. So did Pen. So, whilst it’s a bit awkward outside the pod, the most important thing is that you awaken refreshed.
Right, so how do these pods work?
With Lylo, (part of Jucy campervans), you receive an email with a QR code, and when you check in, you scan that code and it either instantly allocates you a room, or you have to fill in further details. The information you receive will come in the format of: Floor 0, Dorm POD R07, Bed R7 – P4. You take a bamboo covered key card, hold it over the card reader, and it programmes it for that particular bed.
Then you go to floor 0 (ground), room 7, pod/bed 4 and let yourself in using the keycard. (As mine was a bottom bunk and Pen’s P7 was a top one, and her knees aren’t the best, we swapped). There is a decent-sized locker with your bed’s number on under the bottom bunks and one of the first things you do is programme this with your own private pin number.
Then you’ve got to get yourself settled in. This is probably easier on the bottom bunk than the top, but the ladder is good and solid and there’s a strong handle for you to hang onto. You clamber inside and spread the provided duvet out over the already in place bottom sheet and pillow. Slipping your keycard into a slot in your pod provides you with electricity to the two power points, two USB jacks, light, and/or a cooling fan. Once you’ve done everything you’ve got to do, got yourself sorted and ready for bed, then you climb in and pull down a blind that blocks your bed from the other seven people sleeping in your dorm.
The mattress is soft, the bedding clean, and the experience is quite pleasant. It’s just a hassle having to climb in and out of your bed, open a lock whenever you need anything, trying to work within a confined space with seven others, and use shared facilities. But despite all those inconveniences, I would recommend it for a one-night stay when you’re not planning on spending a lot of time at your accommodation.
One thing we discovered, fairly late into our stay, is that when you have your keycard in its pod slot, a light appears outside the pod, above your bed. This is a sign to other dormitory users that, if the blind is down, someone is at home and possibly trying to sleep.
I did have to get up at 6.00 am and go to the loo, and remembering to take my keycard to let myself back into the room was a bit of a pain. (As was clambering down a ladder without waking anyone else.) So was finding someplace to store it during the process as my PJs don’t have a pocket.
But it was all good.
I think I told you that our plan for today was to ride the Kingston Flyer, and how that fell through because we couldn’t get there. So we had to find a plan B.
This involved going to the local i-SITE, which was only a block away and, just in case we were going to be lucky, we did ask about transportation to the Flyer. As this definitely wasn’t going to work, so we went second best and booked places on the TSS Earnslaw.
That was at 3.00 pm, so we had to find something else to do in the interim. That’s easy in Queenstown. A five-minute walk and we were in the glorious peace and quiet of the Kiwi Park. We got there just in time for a talk at the Kiwi House, which gave us information about the five Kiwi present, and in general.
The one problem with this talk was that the Kiwi House was at the other end of the complex and we kept on seeing things we wanted to stop and look at. Like this absolutely magnificent Karearea/NZ Falcon and some skinks.
When we finally got to the Kiwi House and the talk started, we were told that the five housed in the complex were all North Island Brown Kiwi. This was because, for some reason, they are the only sub-species that is happy to breed in captivity. Naturally, the display area is darkened to keep the Kiwi happy and it took some time for our eyes to adjust, but once we could see them moving, we were as close as a pane of glass to some of them. One even tapped on the glass to get Pen’s attention. (Her light sensitive specs hadn’t cleared yet.)
A short time after that talk, another was due to happen on conservation at the other end of the complex, so we “hurried” over to that arena.
Aren’t Karearea just gorgeous? And imperial.
This was equally entertaining and even showed off genuine animals. The first was a Ruru/Morepork owl called Molly. Beautiful. I love them. It did a little bit of flying, and then allowed its carers to carry it amongst us so we could get a closer look. Then it was carefully taken away by another carer.
The next animal revealed to us was a Tuatara. If I remember rightly, this one was in its early twenties and, therefore, still a juvenile. It didn’t have the white spines reminiscent of the adult males of its species. It’s unknown how long Tuatara live for as no person’s lived long enough to know one from hatching to old age. They think they could live in captivity as long as 200 years and there’s a Tuatara in Invercargill called Henry who became a father, possibly for the first time, at age 111. He now has two girlfriends, both fifty years his junior.
The next birds we were introduced to were introduced: Rainbow Lorikeets. These were displayed as an example of how easy it is to upset the balance of nature. They were originally bought as pets. The family soon realised that they had the personalities of a four-year-old and would rip up and dirty everything, AND that they lived for 25-years. And so, thinking they were being kind, they were released into the wild, where they upset the natural balance and out-competed with native fauna.
These two had been trained to fly between the two carers and both Pen and I had them brush the tops of our heads as they flew.
Next up was Terri the Kiwi. Naturally, they couldn’t bring a real nocturnal kiwi out to show off, so Terri was a (rather motheaten) specimen of taxidermy. But she did give us a chance to see a Kiwi’s vestigial wing – which is still evolving to be smaller and smaller and my completely disappear within a couple of hundred years. Later, we also got to touch Terri and feel how different her feathers were.
An x-ray of a Kiwi due to lay its egg within 24 hours was also shown off. The egg filled the bird’s abdomen, and its organs were squashed to the front. For the last day or so, then mum can’t eat or even drink. Just as well it’s the male that takes over the incubation duties.
And, just so we got an idea what the female Kiwi had to deal with, an “egg” of the size and weight of a real egg was passed around. There’s some heft to them!
The next critter was an Australian Brush-tailed possum. Terror of the New Zealand bush. And cute. One thing that I learnt that was interesting, was that the possums in New Zealand were evolving to be bigger, stronger, and darker than the Australian variant. This means that, although the Aussies are an endangered species and there has occasionally been talk of repopulating them with “our” possums, the reality is that the New Zealanders would just overpower the Aussies.
Next guest was a Kereru/New Zealand wood pigeon. He wasn’t so keen on flying between the posts, although he did leave a deposit behind the man sitting next to me. He also had a bit of a crush on one of the carers and did a dance for her approval. Their heads are the size of a two-dollar coin and they can swallow seeds and berries the same size. (That would be the equivalent of us swallowing a melon.) This means that they are important seed dispersal mechanisms in the wild and that the loss of the Kereru would mean the loss of some of our plant species.
Pen’s photo of the Kereru dancing for his carer
When that very interesting talk was over and we’d introduced ourselves to Terri, we went for a wander through the park, seeing juvenile and “newly hatched” Tuatara.
We then went parrot hunting. The Kea’s enclosure was being revamped, so they aren’t in a great space at the moment, but we did have to hide Kally and Scott away in case a Kea took an interest in them. This was unlikely to happen as two of the Kea only had interest in each other.
Following one parrot, we went to see another – the Kākā. When we’d been heading to the Kiwi talk the pair of them had been having an argument with one another. By the time we got back, about midday, one was having a preen and the other a siesta.
About now we realised that we had to get moving – which was a disappointment, as we could have happily spent the rest of the day in the Kiwi Park. So we were only able to have brief encounters with other residents like the Buff Weka.
More Kereru and Red-crowned Parakeets caught our attention, before we finally managed to escape. (After I’d bought a Hoiho magnet for Pen and a Pīwakawaka keyring for myself.
For lunch we went to a bakery (where I bought a chicken salad) and we went down to Lake Wakatipu’s edge to enjoy it. Followed by a simply divine chocolate ice cream from “Patagonia” a place that made its own ice cream and chocolates. It was the smoothest, silkiest, ice cream I’ve ever had. And very chocolatey.
It was time to head to the RealNZ office. (They really have a monopoly down here, but they deserve it with the quality of their products and services. And they are definitely equal opportunity employers.) We checked in, were directed into a queue that snaked back upon itself a couple of times, and then waited, and watched, as the TSS Earnslaw sailed in. (TSS = Twin screw steamer)
She’s beautiful and, we figured, a good comparison to the modern Milford Wanderer. One being the original and the other a copy.
We spent the outwards trip sitting at the bow and enjoying the scenery.
When the TSS Earnslaw got to its destination, a forty-five minute journey across Lake Wakatipu, it unloaded some of its passengers who were going to enjoy the experiences of the Walter Peak High Country Farm, and picked up those who had.
While we waited for the return journey to start, we chatted to one of the engineers. This is how he spends his retirement, and he loves it. But, boy!, it must get hot in the engine room during the heat of summer.
For the return journey, we did a bit of exploring of the ship’s interiors. Lovely. All brass and Kauri wood, although the saloon may not be quite as comfortable as the Wanderers. But they did have a bloke playing the guitar and singing (the piano was playing earlier). He started on “Sweet Caroline” and a whole heap of people joined in. But, the way most of them were raising their glasses, they had probably had some of the inhibitions lubricated away.
We disembarked back in Queenstown, and I thanked the skipper for a lovely, extremely smooth journey. You weren’t even really aware of the movement of the ship unless you were below decks and could hear the throbbing of the engines.
I bought another of the “floaty pens” with the TSS Earnslaw chugging along, and then we headed into town and bought a “Tank” smoothie each and sat in another park and chilled.
I’d been determined that, whilst in Queenstown, I was going to have a Ferg Burger. But the queues have always stretched for miles and we’ve got better things to do, so instead we went to Pog Mahones’ Irish pub and restaurant. I’m not sure how Irish the Chicken Parmigiana was, but it was tasty. (I do have my doubts about places that have a full drinks menu and then in the small print at the bottom add We also have a range of non-alcoholic drinks. Then tell us about them!
It was the Sunday Irish traditional session, so we had a little band of fiddlers, drummers, and other instrumentalists playing away. They were loud, they were repetitive, but they were not obnoxious, and we were far enough away that it added to the ambience (not ambulance) of the meal.
Following that we returned to Lylo and did some blogging in the lounge. This is one slight disadvantage of Lylo Queenstown; their communal area was too small to be really useful. But the only other option was to sit in our pods and type, so we, and everyone else, made do.
Naturally, because this was our last night in the South Island and was (cities aside) the most urban place we were staying at, it was the only clear night we had for star gazing. We’d been to two internationally recognised dark sky locations, and of course you couldn’t get much further from light pollution and still be on the New Zealand “mainland” than Doubtful Sound, yet it’s Queenstown that we finally get the chance to do some star gazing.
But where to go where there wasn’t light pollution to cloud the view?
We asked at Lylo’s reception, and the lady on duty suggested the stadium – if there wasn’t anything on. Not really knowing where that was, we decided to simply head for the hills and hope for the best. Perhaps the Kiwi Park would be a good place to start?
It was locked. (Of course.)
Over the road was the original town cemetery. (You may remember in the news about a slip beside the gondola taking out some graves? This was the place.) Being an old cemetery, and despite being the dead centre of town, we decided that it had potential as an observatory, and so we stood amongst the dead and looked at lights that were emitted millions of years ago.
It wasn’t as intense a spectacle as it would have been if we’d been further south and with less light pollution, but it was still pretty. And we saw a couple of satellites and a meteor. And Mars and Jupiter, and probably Venus.
And we heard the TSS Earnslaw blow its horn as it returned to port.
About 11.10 we decided to head back to Lylo and then had the fun of trying to get ready for bed without waking up our bunkmates.
I got up and had a shower, and had my breakfast before Pen woke up. As the hills were clear, I toyed with the idea of getting my camera, but it was a little past sunrise.
The sky, however, was overcast, so I packed my raincoat and strapped my jacket to the top of my bag.
And then we checked out and sat in the hotel’s lounge working on our blogs.
At 11.30 we picked up our gear and headed out.
It started spitting.
But we made it to the CBD without getting overly damp. It started spitting again as we walked down the road, but we made it to Fiordland Escapes. The instructions by the doorbell were to ring and then wait up to two minutes for someone to answer. It was about three minutes before a man rode up on a bicycle and let us in.
We’d chosen the “Blast from the Past” game. “Step back in time to when hardy men and their families braved the harsh Fiordland conditions, isolation and avalanches, to build the Milford Road. Join the Homer tunnelling team, crack through the harsh environment and blast a hole through to the Milford Sound.” We were given clear instructions, especially about the different types of locks we were going to be facing – standard key lockes, combination locks with numbers and words, manual directional locks, and digital directional locks. (These were interesting as we hadn’t seen them before.)
After a little synopsis of our scenario – The Homer tunnel is nearly complete, but we have to watch out for the threats that could stop its completion and break through to the other side – we were let into the room. This was fairly bare, aside from a desk, a forge, and a work bench. The first thing to do was relatively easy, but then it got harder. Especially, as the lighting was low for atmosphere, and the only additional light we had was a flickering “kerosene lamp” (aka a fake with LEDs for the light), which made reading the numbers and letters on the combination locks difficult.
Once we’d worked our way out of that room – with a little help from the mysterious voice watching over us, we were faced with another room with crates of explosives and scientific equipment. We needed help a couple of times with this one. Firstly, the digital directional lock refused to play ball, and the mysterious voice actually had to come in and open it for us, and then we had some wooden pieces that we were interpreting as one big domino set and not several.
Finally, the last door dramatically slid back, revealing the walls of the tunnel. We had to unlock this last manual directional lock, step through, and then place the dynamite. When the last stick slid home, there was an explosion of light and the door to Milford Sound (aka the finish) opened.
We’d done it in 78.22 minutes, which wasn’t too bad for two people working on a game that you were supposed to complete in 60 minutes. The record, for a group, was 30 odd minutes.
We had our celebratory photo taken, and then left to offload our bags and get our lunch.
The bags were left in Kiwi Country, which is right alongside the bus stop, and we had lunch in Kea Café. I had chicken salad and, what sounds like an odd combination but was very yummy, a lemon and mint smoothie.
Then, because the rain was still threatening, we just did a circuit of the main street, stopping off at 4Square and then the Fresh Choice supermarket for sandwiches for tea tonight, and then returned to the Kea Café. I got my camera bag and typed up everything you’ve just read, and at 4.00pm got myself a banana and manuka honey slice and another, because it was so yummy, lemon and mint smoothie.
And we waited for 5.30 for the bus.
It’s now 11pm and I’m encased in a pod, writing this.
It was starting to rain heavily when we got on our bus at Te Anau, so we were more than lucky with the weather we enjoyed whilst we were there.
It was a good trip, although after I’d pointed out where the Kingston flyer was, Pen remarked that she was glad that she wasn’t driving as she wouldn’t have liked negotiating all the curves much. She would have been doing about ten kilometres per hour, tense, and then have spent the train trip contemplating the return journey.
And then, just now, I’ve checked my emails and there’s a reply from the i-SITE requesting that we call in to see them for advice.
We walked the short distance from where the bus stopped to Lylo and checked in – without too much bother from the digital check in service. Our room is on the bottom floor. Room seven, pods four and seven.
Yes, pods.
Because Queenstown didn’t have anything in the way of hotels that had twin rooms, or even, for that matter, any rooms available, our only option was hostelling or backpackers. I told you about this saga at the beginning, and how we changed to Lylo when in Auckland. Well, we’re here.
And it’s very odd.
The beds are comfortable, and private, which is better than where we were going to be sleeping, but I’m in the top bunk, which isn’t the easiest to work with. (Mine should have been the bottom bunk, but Pen’s knees can’t handle the climb) The kitchenette’s quite small and there’s nowhere to sit and eat. And, of course, it’s shared ablutions. Still, it’s only for two nights. (We’ll have the hang of it by then.)
So far, I’m not liking Queenstown, it’s noisy and crowded. But then it is a Saturday night, and we are in the backpackers’ district with lots of young people. We’ll see how we go tomorrow.
I woke this morning to the sounds of rain and tried to work out what I’d need to wear and take with me when we went on today’s adventures.
And then I realised it was the fan I could hear. This is a really stuffy room, and we had the windows open and fan going all night.
I got up, got my breakfast and Pen got up 8.25.
Today’s plan was to go to the Te Anau Bird Sanctuary for the bird feeding at 10.30, but as it was, we were told when we booked over the phone yesterday, a twenty-minute walk from town, we wanted to make sure that we had plenty of time to get there.
Which we did. In full sun.
We were fortunate to discover a walkway that followed the shoreline and meant that we didn’t have to worry about walking on the road towards oncoming traffic. All we needed to worry about was being bowled by passing cyclists.
We reached the bird sanctuary and worked our way through, trying to find the carpark where we were to meet our guide. This was also the location of the toilet and I thought I’d make use of it before the walk started.
This was a longdrop. Remember how I gave the Ulva Island longdrop a ten out of ten and wanted to pinch it for Rangitoto? This one rated probably a two… If that. It seemed clean on the surface, but you wouldn’t want to be locked in there too long – You’d be overcome by ammonia fumes. And there was no water or hand sanitiser to sterilise your hands afterwards. Fortunately, I had some sanitiser on my belt bag, and I got Pen to squirt some onto my hands. I also let a Canadian lady have some after using it.
Our guide, who I think was called Ross, looked to be about 80, but I’d say that was 80 years of experience, as he used to be a ranger on the Milford Sound track. He definitely knew his stuff.
We started out by looking at the Whio/Blue Duck. This pair had had a pair of chicks, but they were being looked after in a separate area and were due to be put on display shortly. The enclosure used to be fish breeding ponds and had been adapted for the Whio, with a stream running through that could be adjusted to simulate faster flowing water. Ross said that even a couple of days after hatching, the chicks were capable of negotiating water that would knock a human being down.
My camera wasn’t that keen on focussing on the duck because of the mesh keeping them safe, but I did get a couple of photos.
And then it was on to the Takahē.
They weren’t that keen on cooperating at first, and the Canadian couple proudly showed a photo of the bird they’d seen when they’d initially walked through the sanctuary. (She was a bit loud, so we were glad when they left early).
There was an area that was fenced off from the Takahē, but was within the full encloser and was therefore lower than the main protector. As we’d paid for the tour, we were allowed into this area and had the joy of watching two adult Takahē and their foster chick, feed and be feed. They definitely appreciated the food supplement that Ross laid out for them.
When we left this enclosure, Ross showed us a genuine Takahē egg, as well as a demonstration nest, which was little more than some grass. Normal birds use feathers for warmth. Takahē line their nests with moss and then the parent’s body heat warms the moss which retains its heat when the parent moves away.
Ross explaining about how Takahē feed on tussockGenuine Takahē egg. Fake nest.
And, as an aside, because Takahē feed on fibrous tussock (about the bottom four inches of a stem) they excrete a lot of roughage. About nine metres worth a day.
Having held the egg, we moved on to the scaup enclosure, which was open to allow the birds to fly free. We were enthralled by the cute fluffy chicks, and the ease with which both parents and chicks could dive. My camera was less enthralled and found it difficult to focus.
I don’t know what kind of bird this is.
After this, we moved to the Kākā cage, which was empty as both birds have been moved to Dunedin for the breeding programme. The female, Charlie Girl, is causing some consternation and concern as some think she’s showing distressed behaviour and should be brought back to Te Anau, whereas others think she’s fine and it’s normal Kākā behaviour. Ross was hopeful that they would return.
Finally, we were shown the Antipodes Island Parakeet/Kākāriki, and were allowed to feed them bits of fruit on toothpicks. But we were warned to keep our fingers clear as they enjoy a good nibble and would draw blood.
After that, the tour was over (at $10 each, it was worth making a point of getting there in time for the feeding), and we had a wander around the complex.
Kally the KeaPen the Red AdmiralScott the Takahē Kally the Takahē
Back when we were on the bus to Manapouri, Chris said that the Haast’s Eagle had a wingspan of 2.5 metres. Gabe, on the other hand, said it was three metres. There was a sign here that said that it was four metres…
I don’t think I want to know any more about the Haast’s Eagle.
But that bastion of information, Wikipedia, says the bird’s wingspan was 2.6 metres to three metres.
As we were walking back along the walkway, my watch started vibrating.
It’s interesting, this smart watch. It tells the time (naturally), but also the number of steps taken, breaths per minute, quality of your sleep (not sure about the accuracy of this one), blood oxygen levels, intensity of workout, heartrate, body battery, stress level (always high, according to this), upcoming events, weather and temperature, can operate basic controls on your music player, and do a countdown if you’re timing something. It also tells you when you need to move and suggests actions to take, which I thought that, with my sedentary job and hobbies, would be handy. Except that it tends to tell me to move, when I’ve just moved. Often to the toilet – which I don’t think is the motion it’s looking for.
Another thing that it does, is show texts received. Very handy when, like during this walk, I received a text from Jan B. that the Historic Kōpū Bridge container was being shifted into position, and that she was going to go out and get photos. She didn’t have Carolyn’s mobile number, so could I let her know in case she wanted to see and record the action as well. If I’d been relying on my phone, I wouldn’t have known all this until much later, but as it was, I was able to fish out my phone and copy and send this message to Carolyn. The watch does have the ability to reply, but only with pre-programmed phrases like “Yes!”, “No”, “I’m on my way”, “Great!”, “OK” – which don’t always work if that question is something like: “Would soup be all right for tea?”
“Yes!”
We got it all sorted, and it was very strange to be having a conversation with two people on a totally different island and part of the country than them.
We got back to the CBD just after midday and discovered that the temperature was 34℃. It felt it.
We bought lunch from The Olive Tree and I had a lamb & mint panini, which, disappointingly, didn’t have as much mint as the lamb and mint pie that I had at Oliver’s Bakery in Thames.
And then it was back to RealNZ to catch the ferry across the lake.
We were going to the Te Anau Glowworms.
This time we had a Noisy American woman with us, and I was pleased when we were divided into groups of ten and she just missed the cut for our group.
We were led, by Mereana, through a short bushwalk to the mouth of the cave, which I don’t even remember being a big deal, and told that silence would be needed. (Yay! No noisy American!). There was a boardwalk we followed through the cave and saw some amazing rock formations eaten away by the underground river. We were the first group (of four), so we were quicker through these chambers, but had the advantage of being longer in the boat with the glowworms.
The noise of the river was deafening and somewhat overpowering, and I this was after they’d had little rain this past week. I wouldn’t want to hear it at full roar. But it did mean that when we got to the underground punts, and Mereana pulled us along through the water with the assistance of chains, that the silence was equally overwhelming, but in a different way.
We went out what seemed to be a short distance, sat in silence underneath this constellation of little stars, and then returned to the underground jetty.
There was a slight detour to an underground waterfall, which was just as awe inspiring, but, for one boy, who appeared to suffer from acrophobia, too much to handle. (The noise of the rushing water probably didn’t help.) Luckily for him, we were on the way out.
It didn’t seem to be very long, but we were told we were underground for about 35 minutes.
Since we couldn’t take photos inside the glowworm complex
While we waited for the other groups to complete their tour, we enjoyed a talk and videos on glowworms. As you’re probably aware, they’re not worms, but fly larva. “And what else pupates into flies…?”
“Maggots!” I said, when no one else did.
Our guide said I was correct, but that glowmaggots didn’t sound as appealing as glowworms.
You’re probably also aware that they drop down long sticky threads that act as fishing lines, and that the glowing bioluminescence at the end of their tail is the lure. They entrap moths, spiders, and each other – as evidenced by a video of one juvenile that didn’t get the message and, having already been tossed off the wall for getting too close to an older maggot and climbed back up, was eaten.
Also of interest, was that moths are hard for glowworms to eat, having scaly wings that shed and an exoskeleton. There’s only one way for the glowworm to break through and start eating… And no, it’s not what you’re thinking. It’s the eyeball.
Collective squirming from everyone present.
What makes this worse (for our sensibilities) is that the glowworm injects its digestive juices into the moth through the eye and then takes a few days to suck the moth back out… And the moth is alive and supposedly aware of this whole process.
After that stomach-churning bit of information, we caught the boat back. And discovered that at, just after 4.00pm it was 32℃. So we bought ourselves and ice cream. (I had two scoops of Gold Rush with a chocolate shell. Yum.)
Once we’d washed our hands after our snack, we went to supermarket and bought our tea for tonight. We decided to keep it easy and bought ourselves ready meals.
Yesterday, I emailed Queenstown i-Site to find out what we needed to do about booking transportation to the Kingston Flyer. I hadn’t heard anything by lunchtime, so I copied the email to Lylo where we’re going to be staying. They were very quick with their response, but said that the only options were hire a car and self-drive, catch a taxi, or hitch.
A tourism hotspot like Queenstown doesn’t have a way of getting people to see one of the longest running tourist attractions in the region?
Pen spent a bit of time researching all options, including her having to drive, which she wasn’t that thrilled about, but we eventually decided that the cost of the car would be as much as forfeiting our booking fee. (You got your money back if you gave them two days notice, but it was less that that.) So, we’ve cancelled the Kingston Flyer and we’re going on the TSS Earnslaw instead. (Which is disappointing as, as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to ride the Kingston Flyer. But whenever I’ve had the opportunity, there’s either been no transportation or it hasn’t been running.
With that saga sorted, we had our ready meals, with chocolate mousse and strawberries for dessert, in the lounge. To show you how “substandard” this place is, the customer use microwave hasn’t been cleaned since we’ve been here, and the breakfast dishes hadn’t been washed.
We listened to the episode of the Wellington recording of the No Such Thing as a Fish podcast as we ate, followed by Dan Snow’s history podcast on “How to Survive the Great Fire of London”… Which I still don’t know the answer to.
We were woken up at about 7.00am by “The Wellerman” sea shanty being played ever so quietly over the intercom.
As comfortable as the bed was, we both had a bad night’s sleep. In part it could have been that after all the king and decent-sized singles we’ve been sleeping in, this was narrow and quite high, and there was a fear of falling out. Plus, there was the continuous hum of the generator. This may have been lulling, if it didn’t drone at one pitch and then drop to a more comfortable pitch. I’d just be thinking, “ah, that’s nicer”, when it would increase the pitch again. They had supplied us with earplugs, which I should have used, but I kept thinking, “I’ll get used to it and fall asleep soon…”
Nope.
Plus, it was quite stuffy. We should have worked out how to open the porthole before it got dark.
Pen got up during the night and tried to see the stars, but didn’t get anything more exciting than a couple of satellites and a meteor.
One issue with the communal, unisex, ablutions block was that if you wanted to have a sponge bath, which I’d intended to, you were not only exposed to other users of the facilities, because there was no door to the room, you were exposed to anyone walking past. So, as I was already au fait with the setup, I had a shower, even though I hadn’t intended to.
I popped in to see the captain in the pilot house this morning and said that I wasn’t planning on having a shower, (until I had to warm up after the swim), and said I’d been concerned about water usage. He said, as he casually steered the ship with his feet, that they filled up the tanks from the waterfalls. (I’m wondering now if he was for real) And that they hold so many thousands of litres, the number of which went straight in one ear and out the other. And that they have good filtration systems.
For breakfast you had a choice of either continental or cooked. Cooked was bacon, hash brown, boiled egg, cooked tomato and I don’t know what else as I didn’t partake. The continental meal was a choice from a large variety of cereals (which were stored under the saloon’s seats), and fruits. I had Weet-bix, melon, grapes, kiwifruit, yoghurt, croissant, Vogels’ toast, peanut butter, apple juice, lemon and ginger tea. I was well fed.
And a couple of times whilst eating, I had to go outside to photograph the sunrise.
When I’d finally finished eating and photographing, I cleaned my teeth. I’d only just finished that when they started putting out pastries for morning tea.
We were not going to starve.
Instead, I went back outside to enjoy the view. Pleasingly, they shut down all the systems on the boat, including the generators and motor, and we just floated in the water, not photographing, just enjoying the silence. It was complete, aside from when people would move and their jackets would rustle. Or my Thunderbirds keyring that’s attached to my camera strap to use as a key so I can remove the strap from the camera, was clanking against the camera when I moved. I tucked it out of the way.
No photographs here, but we just managed to see a NZ Fur Seal in the distance. Gabe, who was our onboard natural expert, said it was probably a bachelor male who hadn’t had any luck with the ladies and was therefore hanging out in the fiords.
Apparently, you’d only have a day like this on Doubtful Sound about once every 200 days. So I think we missed the dramatic fiord, with the wild weather, choppy seas, and roaring waterfalls, but we got the placid millpond seas and stunning scenes.
Sadly, we were back in Deep Cove about 10ish. Then the crew offloaded all the dirty laundry. They’d asked us to consolidate our belongings this morning, so the crew could strip and change the beds whilst we were still on board. This meant that the laundry bags were hefted over the side and the rubbish taken off before we were allowed off. Then the crew had about one hour to get things shipshape before the next load of customers would be boarding.
It must be an interesting but draining job, having to be upbeat and personable for 22-23 hours, and then only having that short time to relax, but not relax because you’ve got to get everything shipshape again. The captain told me, as he sat back and steered the vessel with his feet, that they’re pretty much at work from 6.30am until 10pm, for two weeks. Then he gets a week off. He’s got three weeks off next break as he’s taking his week’s regular leave, plus two weeks annual leave.
We boarded our bus and this time we were with Yuka. She told us that she is the smallest driver in the fleet. Also, that she’d Japanese and her name meant good. Also, that her name wasn’t Yuki, which meant cold. We were sitting behind her and were able to reassure her that she wasn’t cold.
Once again, we saw a Weka crossing the road.
We had a short wait at Pearl Harbour, which was useful for a pitstop (I still don’t think anyone managed to get the sensor operated hand towels to work. I was waving everywhere around the unit and ended up having to wipe my hands on my slacks.)
This time we were on the other ferry as we crossed Lake Manapouri, and the mountains were in the main lovely and clear.
Rounded shape caused by glaciers grinding over granite
We got to the end, all piled off, and we said goodbye to each other and auf wiedersehen to the German couple.
Most of the others had their own transportation, but we had to wait for the 3.00pm bus. That was okay. We had yesterday’s sandwiches for lunch and then went for a walk up to an old church that is now a restaurant. There was a café/dairy next door, so I had an ice cream.
There was a nice little beech forested track that ran alongside the road and Pen stopped. “Is that a mushroom?”
I looked at the base of the trees she was pointing out. “Where?”
“There. It looks like it forms a half circle.”
Me (expecting to see something akin to a fairy ring on the ground): “I can’t see anything.”
Then I realised that she was talking about a couple of large bracket fungi that were on the trunk of a dead tree. So, after the ice cream, I checked it out.
When I got back to where Pen was working on her tablet and waiting for our bus to arrive, I did some typing of my blog. When it got to 2.30, I’d just packed up my laptop so I could go to the toilet before the hordes arrived, when the day trip cat returned. I still made it.
I think these are Black-Billed Gulls. Rarer than the endangered Red-Billed gulls that we tend to see around Thames and Auckland.
It turned out that we were travelling with Tony driving again. This time we scored the second row seats, but at least this bus was a high-decker, not a single level or double decker.
We got back to Te Anau and glanced at the service station over the road from where the bus let us off. The time was 3.03 pm and it was a very hot 32℃.
We traipsed up the hill and re-booked into the Fiordland Hotel. They’d given us a new room (226), which was one down and on the other side of the corridor from our room two days ago. She also discounted this rate, so we were charged what we were charged for the day before yesterday’s stay.
It was so hot and I was glowing so much after the walk wearing my camera bag/backpack, that I had a shower. Even though I hadn’t planned to.
Having dumped our gear, we went out again to book tomorrow’s takahē adventure, and get tea and breakfast. This evening, we had planned on having pizza on the foreshore, but it was a bit windy. Most of the establishments we tried were either $65 buffets, and we doubted we could eat $65 worth, or full for at least five minutes. So we went back to the Italian restaurant where we’d eaten the night before last and had a four cheese pizza, along with a very tasty salad that contained pear.
Because when you book accommodation or activities online, they want a credit card number, I’d been transferring $500 a week to my ANZ credit card this past month. But, as, when you come to pay for real there’s a surcharge on credit card payments, I’ve been using my Kiwibank debit card. But, because I haven’t wanted to risk using non-secure Wi-Fi to cancel the AP, and it was only tonight that I realised that you could use a secure browser if you went through my new anti-virus programme, I discovered that my spending account was getting a bit low. So, I sent ANZ a message to ask how I could transfer money from credit card to my Kiwibank account, and got a very prompt reply and an offer to do it for me.
This evening I should have been typing up today’s blog, but I was so tired I just surfed the net, recharged everything, including ourselves, and blogged.
This morning I got up before Pen, had a shower, and packed away the clothing that had dried over the night. She got up and was getting dressed when I went down to the hotel’s guest kitchen area, which had a toaster and microwave, cutlery and crockery, and nothing else. Because I was having Hubbards’ porridge and it needed a sachet of water, I had to go into the restaurant where those who’d paid for their breakfast were feasting, and pour some water out of one of their carafes. Then I went back to the “kitchen” area and microwaved my breakfast.
And I have to say, that I think I’ve found a contender for a shower that’s worse than mine. Mine’s not bad – when you don’t know any difference – but most of the ones we’ve had have been higher pressure, and lovely and massaging. This one had reasonable pressure when only running on cold, but get it up to a reasonable temperature, and it lost a lot of the flow. Plus you kind of had to lean over the bath’s taps in order to wash your hair.
Still, at least it left me clean.
The hotel has kindly allowed us to leave our suitcases in our room, and were planning on moving them into storage later. We wouldn’t be surprised if they leave our bags there, change our linen, and we find ourselves in room 223 again.
We checked out, with our overnight bags for Doubtful Sound, and then headed into town for the Real NZ office. They allowed us to leave our bags, freeing us up to wander the streets. First stop was the i-SITE information centre to see if we could leave our cases there on… We had to work out which day. “Today’s Wednesday. We come back from Doubtful Sound tomorrow, so that’s Thursday. We’re spending two nights in Te Anau, so that’s Thursday night and Friday night, so… Yes. We need to leave our bags on Saturday.”
The i-SITE couldn’t help with the bags, but, after a phone call to check, apparently the InterCity office could. As we’d only seen a stop, we hadn’t realised that there was an office there. So that was that sorted.
We bought some sandwiches from the 4Square, as our trip today required us to bring our lunch before the trip. What a waste of time that was.
For the nth time this morning, I decided that I needed to go to the toilet, so I took off to the nearest, which was a very swish, and large, building just for the task. It even had an attendant on hand. On the way back I saw a ginger cat (wearing a collar) cross the road across to the foreshore. This attracted the attention of a passing dog, who was more interested in telling the cat what it thought of it than walking the way its owners wanted to walk.
I got back before the bus driver was ready to load up, and when he was, we managed to score a front seat. The driver’s name was Chris and he used to work on the Franz Josef Glacier, and before that had a degree in Biology and Geology, so he was pretty clued up on the former glacial country that made up the area around Te Anau and Lake Manapouri. Which was as far as he took us, as we were unloaded at Real NZ’s dock.
As he said he could tell us about “the birds, and the bees, and the flowers…”
“And the trees… And the stars up above,” I chimed in.
He laughed. “Someone else knows that song. I’ve got it on a 45. In the North Island, I think.”
Pen’s just reminded me of what I said yesterday. I was taking photos of the heritage boat and I was saying that the swan pedalos in front didn’t match the ambiance of the scene. At least that’s what I wanted to say. What came out, and I knew full well it was wrong as I was saying it, was that “the swan pedalos did nothing for the ambulance of the scene.” That’s similar to the time that I was at work and we were discussing Covid-19. I was saying how it was possible to have it, yet be “asymmetrical”. (Asymptomatic.)
Because Pen and I were booked into the 1.00pm tour, but had to join the 12.00pm tour to get to Lake Manapouri (that was a mission and a half to organise), we had time to kill. So we booked in and got our boarding passes, from one of yesterday’s ladies, bought a cheese scone (as recommended by Chris – so long as you didn’t suffer from high cholesterol) and then took ¼ hour each to explore. I jogged up a steep walkway (I can still jog upwards!) to the carpark, which gave lovely views of the Waiau River.
I then retraced my steps, went to the toilet (just in case), and returned along the river’s edge. And all the time I was thinking of John Hanlon’s protest song “Damn the Dam.” Damn the dam cried the fantail, as it flew into, it flew into the sky. To give power to the people, all this beauty has to die.
Thank heavens it didn’t.
We were finally invited on board by our young, female, skipper and handed over our boarding passes. Most of the passengers headed to the top deck, but we stayed in the cabin. Until we started off and discovered that it wasn’t as unpleasant up top as we thought it may have been.
I stayed up there for a time, but was concerned that I wasn’t wearing a hat, and came back downstairs and enjoyed the scene from the rear of the boat, in the shadow of the top deck.
The islands are all similar shapes because they were ground down by a glacier
The berth for the catamaran was the same dock as that that supported the Manapouri Power Station, and we had a clear view of this above ground level. The plant goes 100m into the cliff and then 100m below ground level are the turbines. Water pours in the… What did Tony call it. Something that seemed a little odd. Traps? Anyway, it drops down past the turbines and is ejected out into Doubtful Sound.
The original plan for this generation unit was to raise the level of Lake Manapouri 30 metres, which would have flooded Manapouri township, much of Te Anau, and wiped out another town further downstream. This so raised the ire of the New Zealand public, especially since that power was only going to be used by the Tiwai Point aluminium smelter at Bluff when there was enough to power the entire South Island, that a quarter of the population of the time signed a petition against it. (Hence John Hanlon’s song.)
There was an election, a change of government, and for once a government kept its election promise, and that plan was amended so the river levels weren’t drastically changed.
Our new coach driver was Tony, and he was playing the dour Aussie role. Starting with trying to find the phone of the people who’d been in the bus before us. It couldn’t be found, so we went off anyway.
For such a rough, metalled, road, it was a lovely trip. Especially, as we’d managed to score the front seats. I had the window seat, and I was able to look forward, out, and up, and, yes, the scenery is majestic… Or magnificent as Microsoft’s auto-suggest suggested.
Shortly after we set off, we came across the only STOP sign in Fiordland – according to Tony. He also reckoned that he’d never had to wait for another vehicle. But, the other day, he did see a big red stag in the middle of the road.
As we continued on, he showed us a number of sights, some unintentional. Like the Weka that crossed the road in front of us. Because we were in the front seats, we were probably the only ones to see it.
He told us about how when Peter Jackson was preparing to film Lord of the Rings, he spent six weeks in Fiordland taking photos of the gnarled trees to replicate into Ents. Or, as Pen just said, which was a combination of a malapropism and accent mangling, “Michael Jackson coming to Fiordland for Ants.”
As least I’m not the only way getting my words mixed up.
We stopped in two locations. The first gave us a chance to look into the valley… Which was pretty awesome, but, according to Tony, was nothing.
The second stop allowed us to look down into Doubtful Sound… Which, admittedly, was more than awesome. However, at that point, there was a plaque to a young surveyor who’d died at that spot. Although, the remoteness of the location offered more questions about how he died than answers.
He also showed us the sign pointing the way to the Golf Course. There is no golf course, but there is a sign showing where to go.
When we finally arrived at Deep Cove we had to wait until the crew and finalised the finishing touches before we boarded the Milford Wanderer. As we weren’t in a hurry, I let everyone else disembark the bus first. One passenger stopped, withdrew a phone from under our seat and asked if it was ours. I said it was probably the one Tony had been looking for and hung onto it until I was able to give it back to him – for which he was grateful and the owner even more so.
We were asked to board the Milford Wanderer and wait in the saloon whilst we were welcomed aboard by the captain and given the safety instructions, before Hilary, the purser, came around and gave us our cabins, and took our dessert selections for tonight. We were given room 5, and promptly went down the wrong set of steps. (Numerous times. Even after 24-hours I still had to stop and think about which way to turn.
The Milford Wander, built in Invercargill, is a 32-year-old pseudo-sailing ship is based on a coastal trading scow, but one that, despite the mast and “sails” can’t actually move under sail. The original scows had retractable keels, which, in this vessel, had been replaced with our cabins. If they tried to sail under sail, they’d keel over.
There were four cabins in our section, and there was a bathroom attached. I’ll let them off calling it a bathroom as it was made up of four showers, four hand basins, and two toilets. One of which, rather unnervingly, also contained a ladder that led the fire exit.
We’d no sooner dumped our bags when we were fed cheese muffins, freshly baked by our in-boat cook.
Naturally, as soon as I had the opportunity, I started taking photographs.
We were also fed grazing platters.
4.54pm we passed Stephen’s Island, the tallest island in New Zealand, outside of the North and South Islands. It was totally pest free, aside from two stoats. With traps every 50 metres hopefully it WILL be totally pest free.
5:02pm we anchored in Blanket Bay.
Here we had an option to either climb onto the tender and be motored around the bay, with the opportunity to take photographs, or go kayaking.
I was leaning towards the tender.
Pen wanted to go kayaking. (Since she’d missed out on doing so at Abel Tasman National Park.)
Okay. I’ll give it a go.
Naturally, I wasn’t going to take my “new” DSLR camera, so I slipped D.C.’s waterproof point-and-shoot into the pocket of my waterproof trousers. (I can’t call them over-trousers as I took off the ones I’d been wearing.)
Both Pen and I were surprised that some form of “how to paddle your canoe” training wasn’t given, although the process wasn’t that hard. We were able to step into the kayak on a flat platform at the stern of the boat and then were pushed off into the water. The kayaks were pretty wide, too, which meant they were unlikely to overturn – although a little more reassurance in this matter would have been reassuring.
There were three crew members in kayaks with us. One at the front, one at the rear, and one floating around in the middle. I didn’t enjoy it that much at first as there was a bit of a chop and it made it more difficult to steer. (Pen was told by tail-end Charlie that if they’d realised it was this choppy, they would have found another bay.) As it was hard going with the chop pushing you around, I took the viewpoint that the closer to the front you were, the closer you were to reaching the end and getting out again, so I powered forward. Pen, for some reason, couldn’t get any speed up and managed to enjoy a private tour with tail-end Charlie.
I did enjoy it a little more when the chop died and I had a bit more control over the direction that I was going. That didn’t stop me from thinking that if we’d been worried about the aftereffects of cycling the other day, then this was going to be worse! And hoping that the leader would start heading back to the Wanderer.
We did find some very nice spots, beside a waterfall was of note, and where the current let me, I just sat and drifted – which was much easier on the arms, back, legs… (We were near the end when I discovered a couple of footrests that I could just on reach. That made it a lot more comfortable.)
I’d take some photographs and then decide that I was NOT going to take anymore, because I didn’t want to risk losing my grip on the camera. And then I kept on seeing photographic scenes that I just had to take. Like the Wanderer at anchor in the lee of the mountains. So it was tuck my oar into my kayak so I wouldn’t lose it, unzip the pocket, haul the camera out (hoping I had a good grip on it), try not to get it too wet, take a photo as best as I could when the kayak was moving in the wrong direction and swinging around, click a few times, and then try to get the camera back into my pocket and zipped up without losing it or getting it wet.
I also had to prove that I’d done this, so I tried to take a selfie. But, because this is a proper, if more old school, camera, it’s not set up for taking selfies, so I had to face the lens in my direction, press the shutter button, and hope.
I didn’t hear anything.
I tried a few more times and eventually decided that I was too close for the camera to focus on. Another lady did take my photo, but I haven’t got her details.
But I did get some of Pen, even if she was getting further and further behind.
However, this evening, when I downloaded my photos…
But one thing that I know for sure, is that I’m no Dame Lisa Carrington.
After we’d finally, happily, got back to the Wanderer, I went to get changed. I’d just got some dry clothes on when there was an announcement at 6.00pm that anyone who wanted to, could go for a swim in the Fiord. I wasn’t sure that I did want to, but, as I’d carted my swimming togs the length of the country, I decided it was time to find a use for them. So, I arranged with Pen that she’d get a photo of me in the water – not with her camera, which only takes good photos in certain lights, but with her phone, and got changed.
She wasn’t with me when I reached the stern of the boat, but, as there weren’t too many people there, I couldn’t really hang around losing the will to do it. So I stepped up to the jumping in platform and the captain reminded me of the bragging rights I’d have if I’d swum in a fiord.
So, I jumped in feet first and went right under.
It wasn’t as cold as it might have been, certainly not as cold as it could have been, but it wasn’t tropical. What was really daunting was the knowledge that there was no bottom to push off and that the sea floor could have been as much as 420 metres beneath my feet. I swam out a short way to get clear of anyone else who wanted to jump in, and then decided that I’d done what I set out to, and that I’d get out.
It’s been a while since I’ve done any swimming. Plus, my arms had just had a workout with the kayaking. With that, and the current pushing me sideways, I began to have serious doubts about whether or not I could reach the boat unaided. But I did make it to the platform, grabbing hold with some relief.
I pulled myself out of the water, the captain congratulated me and said I could go and have a warm shower.
I was seriously miffed when I got back to my room to get my clothes to find Pen still mucking about with whatever she was doing.
So, I have no visual record of me swimming in a fiord.
But I did have a warm shower. Something which I hadn’t planned on doing whilst on the voyage, as I didn’t want to waste what had to be the boat’s limited water supply.
They were starting to serve dinner at 7.10pm, when we had notification that a pod of dolphins had decided to join us. Naturally, dinner, no matter how tasty, was going to take second fiddle to this, so we all crowded the bow instead.
These were bottlenose dolphins, and the members of this pod were about a metre longer than most others because they needed extra warmth from the icy waters of the fiords. I had my DSLR camera with me, but it only had the wide angle lens on it (which pretty much lived on it for this entire voyage) and Pen had the only key to our cabin. She was jammed in at the bow of the Wanderer and I couldn’t get to her, nor could I ask her to leave her place, so I had to get what photos I could, through the boat’s infrastructure, using D.C.’s camera, which is small enough to fit in the leg pockets of my travelling cargo pants. So, they’re not great photos, but they are a record.
Finally, after having a joyous time surfing our bow wave for about ten minutes plus, and doing so awesome jumping out of the water, the dolphins left us and we left to have dinner – lamb, pork, duck, with gourmet potatoes, mix steamed vegetables, mustard cream sauce, and a collection of salads. Dessert was a choice of chocolate nut brownie with mango or Honey Pannacotta with berries and shortbread – both with ice cream. I had the Honey Pannacotta and, like the mains, it was delicious.
We shared our table with a couple of German men who were travelling together. One spoke good English, but the other evidently didn’t speak any. As it felt mean that he wasn’t really involved in our conversation, I was frantically trying to remember my fourth and fifth form German and failing as much as I had when I sat it for School Certificate. This was translated to the non-English speaker and then I got to try out some words on him. Like remembering how to count from one to ten, which he approved of. He (translated) said that he was looking forward to being rocked to sleep by the boat, and I said he needed some Brahms (Brahms Lullaby), which he seemed to get and find amusing.
After dinner, a cheeseboard was on offer, which we didn’t partake in as we’d already had plenty to eat.
Then Pen and I sat up in the saloon, and typed up our records of the day, hoping that the clouds would stop closing in and we’d see the southern sky without any light pollution. There was a brief interruption in lights when the crew swapped over from the noisy, but more powerful generator, to the quieter, but less powerful (not enough power for showers) generator.
I went up on deck and looked at the skies and decided that it was very pleasant, very cloudy, and very disconcerting to see the silhouettes of the mountains around us when there was no motor running.
And so I went to bed, hoping to get a good night’s sleep…
Did you know, any of you who are Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy fans, that there is a fish in Fiordland called the Slartibartfast Fish?
I should have written up today’s blog today, but didn’t have the energy after a busy couple of days, so I’ll do it tomorrow.
Pen feels like she’d enjoyed a week on Stewart Island and has emerged refreshed. My watch gives a “body battery” readout, whatever that means and however it’s calculated, and I feel that if you were to graph my body battery readings it would be a downward curve…
There’s not a lot to report about today, aside from almost literally being mown down…
We had breakfast downstairs at the Foveaux Hotel, had a chat to the proprietor about the legal perils of owning a place like that (they’re all there to protect the proprietor and their guests, but put a lot of onus on the proprietor – which can seem like overkill, especially when it’s also their home.)
Whilst I was talking with the lady, Pen got a phone call from Gazza 42 of Catch-A-Bus (not whatever I called it the other day – Book a Coach, or something,) to say that he’d be outside our hotel soon. Soon turned out to be about five minutes, so we hustled outside and loaded up – scoring the “front” seats in the minibus, despite the rest of it being almost full.
He then drove on to Stirling Point, and everyone else got out. We’re going: “Was it something we said?” “We did have a shower.”
So, it was only the two of us on the journey all the way out to a place in the almost literal middle of nowhere that, according to Google, was Lowther, home to the Five Rivers Café. Gazza 42 told that the bus would pick us up from the other side of the road, and that if we weren’t there they wouldn’t wait, but also that we had plenty of time if we wanted to make use of the café.
So we did; using their facilities and Pen getting a hot chocolate, and me a cheese roll (I’m guessing we were still in Southland) and a Dilmah cinnamon and peppermint tea.
We made sure that we were over the road at 11.30, ready to be picked up some time between 11.45 and 12.15. There was another guy waiting, but he was hitching, so he was asking how much the bus was. That was until another couple who’d been at the café asked him if he wanted a lift.
So then it was just us two.
And a mowing crew.
We watched with some interest, as they mowed with a tractor further down from us, and as another tractor unit with an extendable mowing arm negotiated the road markers on the other side of the road. Then they trundled past the café to the corner, did a U-Turn, lowered the mowing arm, and started coming for us.
It was like being threatened by a Pod Vehicle, so we made a hasty retreat to where they’d already mowed. And then returned to our first place after the mowers had trundled down the road.
And then we waited.
It was quite pleasant, actually. Aside from the traffic that seemed to drive past all too often, it was quiet and peaceful. The low cloud that surrounded us made it seem like it should be cold, but it wasn’t.
Finally, our minibus arrived, towing a luggage trailer. The driver got out, greeted us, and said he only had a booking for one. Pen offered to let me sit on her lap, but fortunately he had the spare seats, so I didn’t wind up walking. What had happened was that we’d booked this trip with Catch-A-Bus, and they’d arranged it from this drop off to Te Anau. At some point, the point that there was two of us had been missed. Pen’s just been checked the web site (so we can book with Catch-A-Bus to go from Queenstown to Kingston), and she says that it’s now saying that if you are going to make our journey, you have to book with Tracknet yourself – which definitely wasn’t on the web site when Pen made the booking. So, I think we’re responsible for some changes.
It was a good, if little cramped and in different rows, trip to Te Anau. Once there, the first stop was to the Department of Conservation headquarters, so that those going on one of New Zealand’s Great Walks could sign in and do the necessary paperwork.
The Fiordland Hotel was the third stop, and we got out.
The Fiordland Hotel is an interesting setup. I’m guessing that it was once a four-star convention centre. Now, it still has the appointments that give its rooms an opulent energy, (Large, plenty of seating, king size and double bed with a partition between, fridge, a toilet/bathroom that’s smaller than the one at the Foveaux Hotel…), yet it’s tired. The carpet’s threadbare and lifting; there’s no lift, yet we had to climb three flights of stairs to get to our level (and two to get back down again), and the hallways look more like a jailhouse than the Jailhouse.
But’s it’s fairly close to town, fairly quiet, and not too expensive.
We went into town for lunch and found a place that did toasted sandwiches and apple crumble cake. Following the quickest of looks around and some breakfast purchases, we bought an ice cream each which we ate in a park. We then returned to the hotel and did a load of washing. And, just like last time, the driers didn’t do a good job of drying our clothes. And it’s not as if the machines were overloaded, as I’d taken out the things that I wanted to hang dry.
So, if you were to walk in here now, you’d see underwear and heavier items draped about all over the place.
Once that was done; and I’d discovered that by accessing the Internet through my anti-virus software, I’ve made it safe from hackers (I wish I’d found this earlier), and was able to do some bank checking; and we’d watched Stephen Le Reviere’s latest YouTube article on Thunderbirds, we went back out to get something to eat.
I last stayed in Te Anau about fifty years ago, and, although I can’t remember, I’m pretty sure that it wouldn’t have had a Chinese Restaurant, next to a Thai Restaurant, next to an Indian Restaurant and about six different pizzerias (and even a “pizzeria and spaghettiria” which I didn’t even know was a thing, but I confirmed with Carolyn who’d lived in Italy for years.) There was probably a fish and chip shop and maybe some basic restaurant with a lot of fried foods. Remember back when we arrived at Kaikoura in the rain, with that Israeli family? The mother commented that everything in New Zealand seems to be fried, something that I was, even at that stage, beginning to think was true. (As an aside, I hope they enjoyed their stay in Kaikōura. They arrived in the rain, the next day – the day we did the ziplining – had perfect weather for their whale watching, and then they headed south to Christchurch that afternoon.)
We were expecting to eat at a carvery, but it turned out that it was shut. (I cannot believe that restaurants would close in Te Anau on a Tuesday. The other eating establishments were packed!) We eventually found a pizzeria (not a spaghettiria) and I had fettucine bolognaise with venison and an Italian sparking blood orange.
Following that, we had a quick wander along the foreshore (the wind was cold and the service station was saying it was 14℃. It was 24℃ earlier in the day and, according to Carolyn, 25℃ in Thames.
Then it was back to the hotel, trying to pack what we weren’t going to be using and was dry, and then it was blogging.
So, that’s today. And if anyone’s looking for a blog entry tomorrow night, don’t panic if you don’t see one. We’ll be “cruising” on Doubtful Sound and probably won’t have access to the Internet.
Today is our last day on Stewart Island, the furthest south Kally and I’ve ever been. (Pen and Scott have been inside the Antarctic Circle.
Although I’d planned on sleeping in, (My watch says I only got 5 hours 11 minutes of sleep) I still woke about 6.30 – to the sound of the radiator pinging. I’m wondering if it’s designed to heat shower water in winter when it’s on, and when people shower, the water flows through.
Having lain there for a while, wondering if I could get some more sleep, or if I should type up last night’s blog, I decided on the blog. So that’s all typed up, but I haven’t downloaded my photos yet – other than the red/yellow blobs that are on my phone.
Eventually we got up at 8.30 and got “washed” (sponge bath. We’ll have a proper shower when we don’t have to share a wet floor with others), dressed, and breakfasted. Then we packed our bags and left them in the storage shed here at the backpackers.
Then we set off on a walk.
When we were in Bluff we talked with a couple who had visited Stewart Island four times out of the last five years and absolutely loved the place. Their recommendations were to make a jade piece (we considered this, but at $250 for something that doesn’t have any use when I’m low on money seems pointless), do the Fuchsia (spelling, correct this time, Pen?) track, go up to the Observation Rock, and a couple of other things I can’t remember.
As we hadn’t done the Observation Rock, and it was only a few hundred metres up the road from the Stewart Island Backpackers, we did that first. And it was worth it.
The Rātā are still flowering, and the Tūī were enjoying them. We saw about five, possibly from the same family, as they were a bit more tolerant of one another than most groups of Tūī.
Photobombed by a Tūī. I managed to get my photo manipulation software to sharpen it.
We were just thinking of leaving when I nearly broke Pen’s arm. I’d just seen a bellbird and I was drawing her attention to it. So that was something special that we hadn’t really seen yesterday.
When we’d finally made the descent from Observation Rock we cut across Traill Park to the beginning of the Raroa Reserve Track. (After a chance for Kally to add another entry to her “toilet’s I’ve visited but never used” book.)
This track was absolutely beautiful, and we both enjoyed mooching through, enjoying the scenery, and taking the occasional photograph.
Fuchsia tree
This track came out at the junction between Golden Bay and Thule Bay and we headed back to Traill Park and then down through Fuchsia Track. (Finally! I’d seen Fuchsia trees. I’d seen Fuchsia flowers. But I hadn’t seen Fuchsia trees flowering – until I finally saw one flower!)
Pen seems to have a knack for seeing Tomtits and was able to point one out. But it was too quick for a photograph.
When the walk, sadly, came to the road, we headed back to The Sunggery for lunch. Being determined to have a hot cheese roll, I ordered one of these, plus a chicken wrap, which were tasty. I also bought a homemade lemon, Rakiura honey, and ginger tea – and it was definitely homemade!
After our fill, we checked out the Beaks and Feathers office and Pen bought me a Pīwakawaka mug to say thank you for “being her guide”.
Over the road was the DOC visitor Centre and Pen bought a Kākāpō sponsorship as a donation to New Zealand’s conservation effort. She’s now sponsoring “Waikawa”.
As we didn’t have long enough to do anything else, we went back to backpackers and did some blogging.
3.00 pm we dragged out bags (well, I dragged mine as Pen had left her case in Bluff), around to the ferry terminal and checked our bags in and got our boarding passes. That is, Pen got the boarding passes. Then when the time came for boarding, we were told that everyone had to make sure they had theirs and I said that Pen still had mine. She was adamant that she’d given it to me… Until she checked her pockets and found two.
We sat in the middle of the boat as, in theory, that should have the least amount of sway. Not that we knew how rough Foveaux Strait was as we’d only seen the tide in Half Moon Bay. We started out and I felt like writing to our Transport Minister, Simeon Brown, that he shouldn’t worrying about the potholes in the roads and should, instead, be focusing on the potholes where Foveaux Strait met the bay.
Except those potholes continued on into the strait.
With nothing much to see from where we were sitting, I closed my eyes, and listend to the Elton John song earworm in my head. “Reach out, for the healing of hands. Reach out for the healing of hands. And then focussed on my breathing. In – one thousand and one, one thousand and two, one thousand and three, one thousand and four. Out – one thousand and five, one thousand and six, one thousand and seven, one thousand and eight. In – one thousand and etc.
There were a couple of times where I wasn’t sure if I was about to burp or something else, but I managed to remain intact. What was irritating was all the people around us who were laughing and joking with no issues at all.
There was one point, about fifty minutes into the one hour journey, when I heard a rustle of paper to my front and right. Then I heard further rustle to my right. And then…
At least I’m not the only one on this holiday to be less than impressed by the motion of the transportation of the moment. But I was not going to check if Pen was okay, because I knew that if I did, I wouldn’t be.
Fortunately, we were nearly in harbour, so when we were in calm waters and were docking, I said to Pen that she go ashore and sit down, and I’d take care of the bags.
She seemed to perk up quickly enough and took charge of our booking in, whilst I wrestled my case through the door.
Once we were upstairs, we did a bit of rearranging our gear so my stuff came out of Pen’s suitcase and her stuff that had gone to Stewart Island, replaced it. Following that was a very welcome shower to wash away the backpackers’ grime.
Then it was time to consider tea.
We’ve been looking forward to going back to Hayz @ The Anchorage and, on the boat trip, I was envisaging not feeling well enough to be able to enjoy their meal again.
I needn’t have worried. I checked their web site for their opening hours, only to discover that they were closed on Mondays and Tuesdays. (Maybe Thames isn’t quite as bad as Bluff.) So I told Pen she had no need to hurry and went down to reception. He said that on a Monday we had two options. One was Oyster Cover – about 1.8 kilometres towards Stirling Point. The second was Stella’s in Bluff, which had been closed as her child had had a heart operation, but that today’s Facebook post had said that it was open.
So, as Stella’s was only next door to the 4Square, we went there and bought a chicken fried rice (me) and chicken fried noodles (along with some breakfast) and brought them back to the Foveaux Hotel and ate in the lounge. Then we did photo downloading and blogging. And watched the Auckland Aces get beaten by the Northern Districts Braves, and listen to a Dan Snow’s podcast on Charles Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol” Victorian Christmas.
Purupuss's Purrings 