I managed to get my blog up to date by about 9.50, which was when my laptop’s battery was running out, so I went back to the room and got ready.
I got dressed in:
Boat neck merino
Polo neck merino
Blouse
V-neck merino
Jacket
Merino leggings
Travel cargo slacks
And put my rain jacket and waterproof over-trousers in my bag. Along with Kally, D.C.’s camera, my phone, torch, and insect repellent.
Pen was ready about the same time, and we walked around to Beaks and Feathers office in Main Street. Everyone else on our tour, and a couple on the 11.00pm tour, were already there and it was only just 10.30pm for a 10.45 start.
Our guide was Tomas, and he took us through what we needed to know. We were going out to the local airfield, and he would lead the way. Everyone else could follow a metre behind. Kiwi were almost blind but were sensitive to white light, so he was the only one to use their torch as his had the red-light filter. (Which was expected. Our torch was for getting us home again.) Keep noise to the minimum. Just watch and enjoy the first kiwi seen, as there were no guarantees that there would be any more. If you were taking photos, do it as silently and without any white light as possible. The runway was boarded by grass and beyond that was bush. Kiwi liked to come out and feed on the grassy area where it was easy for them to find their food like worms, but they were close to the safety of the bush.
And, when I asked, there was no need for insect repellent as sandflies were diurnal rather than nocturnal. (And, I guess, mosquitoes were blown away in the wind. Or, more likely, it’s too cold for them… for now.)
We all piled into the minibus and were driven up to Ryan’s Creek Aerodrome, where we got out into the near darkness. At this point I put my rain jacket on, but didn’t need my over-trousers. Tomas started walking, red light highlighting the grassy area around us, and we followed.
It was only a minute or two before we saw our first Kiwi. This was a female (beak was longer and slightly curved) and was totally unperturbed by this bunch of humans looking on in awe. We watched her as she prodded the ground and occasionally snacked on something yummy. We must have watched her for about five minutes before she retreated into the bush.
Of course, this was when I felt like sneezing.
Pen and I high fived each other.
We continued on, soon finding Kiwi number two. This one did something that no one seems to know why its done. The Kiwi, for no obvious reason, would suddenly flop onto its side and wave its legs in the air (like it just didn’t care.) People had postulated that it was to get rid of ticks and parasites, but they don’t get ticks. Tomas’ opinion was that it was a scent leaving behaviour. Whatever it was, once you realised they weren’t actually falling over, it was quite funny to watch.
One of the other people had a DSLR camera with a long lens, but unfortunately, it shone a white light so they weren’t able to get an photos with it.
I had D.C.’s camera and had already set it up on the handheld night vision handheld setting. I didn’t really hold out much hope of actually getting anything, as this setting involved getting four photos in quick succession and then overlaying them together to get a photo with enough light to see what you’re looking at – and the Kiwi rarely stopped moving. When I decided to try using it, I turned it on in my pocket, so the startup chime was muffled, and then pulled it up so the screen was pressed against my tummy and hiding the light, pointed it in roughly the right direction, and pressed the shutter button.
Taken with cameraTaken with phoneThe top photograph enhanced.
I also got a couple of photos with my phone, which was harder as the screen was larger and gave off more light – even though it automatically converts to night-mode after 10.00pm. Because of this extra light source, I had to try to take the photo with the case almost shut, which is difficult when the shutter button is on the screen. (I do prefer cameras with viewfinders.) But I did manage to get a blob.
We continued down the runway, red light tracing the grassy edges to the sides and behind, until we reached the end. At that point, Tomas said: “That concludes the tour, the bus is in that direction, so if you’d all like to make your way back…”
We all gave a quiet chuckle.
We followed Tomas back, still Kiwi hunting and occasionally finding, including one being observed by the 11pm group.
We were facing into the breeze this way and the cold was making my nose run, which could have made me sneeze, so I put my mask on to keep my face warm.
It was close to, if not a, full moon, and the clouds were parting to allow its light through. That made it more difficult to see the Kiwi. Put we did get to see the Southern Cross and the pointers.
But still no dark sky, pollution free, reveal.
Finally, we were back at the minibus, but before we got in, Tomas found one more thing to look at. A deer resting a few metres away. I couldn’t help thinking: “You’re pretty, but you don’t belong here. And I’d much rather be seeing a Kiwi.” And remembering the venison pizza that I’d had for tea tonight.
Tomas dropped us all off at our accommodation, which, for most, appeared to be the backpackers. Pen and I were too keyed up – and cold – to go straight back to our room, so we went to the lounge and had a cup of hot water. And listened to a German(?) guy who’d been talking on his mobile phone for almost all the time that we’d been blogging in the lounge before our Kiwi tour and was still talking!
He may have been homesick. And willing to pay a large phone bill.
We finished our hot drinks and retired to our room, deciding to hold off on typing up this blog until the following day… Or more correctly, later today. It was 1.00am when we finally got into bed.
It was simply amazing, and awe inspiring, to see these birds in the wild, totally unfazed by our presence. I kept thinking that D.C. would have loved it https://purupuss.kiwi.nz/2021/05/30/2768/ and hoping that she was with us enjoying the experience.
I did awake during the night because the radiator between us was “pinging”. Pen would snore, and it would ping in response. I felt it a couple of times to see if it was warming up, and it wasn’t, but I could feel the pings. About this time I discovered that whatever I’d done when I got off the boat yesterday morning, was affecting my middle finger’s lower joint whenever I straightened it. Aside from that, it wasn’t causing me any problems at all, and I’d forgotten about it until just now.
We finally got up about 9.00am and had our wash and then breakfast. Once that was all sorted, we went into town.
Pen had decided that, if she hadn’t forgotten what to do, she’d like to hire a couple of e-bikes so we could explore further afield. I wasn’t so sure because I like to be able to sit on the seat and have my feet flat on the ground. But, the bloke at the “Green Shed” had said that they could lower the seat to my level, so I was willing to give it a go.
But first, lunch. Pen went to the 4Square to buy a sandwich for us to share, and I went to The Snuggery and bought us each a $5 Southland cheese roll. They heated this for me, and I sent Pen a text to say that I’d be about ten minutes. Which she read about four hours later.
Rapidly cooling cheese rolls in hand, we went to the “Red Shed” for our bikes. We went here because the lady there had said that we could cycle to various points of the island and leave the bikes there whilst we went for a walk. Chances were the “Green Shed” would have offered the same freedoms, but since we already had this information, we went to the “Red Shed”. They only had one bike left so they rang up the “Green Shed” and got two similar ones and two helmets. So, I guess it was six of one, half a dozen of the other.
I tried the bike and could sit on the seat and touch the floor with my tiptoes, but I knew from previous experience that roads more often than not have cambers that mean that there will often be one side, usually the left, where the road would slope away out of reach. Still, I gave it a test run to the end of the wharf road, indicating as I did my turns, and found that using it wasn’t too bad.
Pen, not having ridden a bike since, possibly, 2013 (at least I’m used to balancing on two wheels, even if I don’t do it very often now), was equally as circumspect, but she had no problems either.
And so we paid up and set off. We started out by taking the relatively flat coast road, even though we wanted to go almost 180° in the other direction. And I was finding it easy, probably because I was used to going at (marginally) faster speeds. The only parts that I missed were having a rearview mirror – which I’d had on my old bicycle as well as FAB-e, and gloves. (Ditto. I’ve got a pair of leather palmed fingerless gloves that I would have brought with me if I’d known I was going to be cycling up hill and down dale.)
Pen was quite a bit slower than me, which was fine, except that I didn’t know how far behind she was until I’d pull over and look back. (See the aforementioned comment on review mirrors.)
We got to the first overtaking bay on the coast road and, when Pen had caught up to me, turned back and rode through town, dropping the gear ratings and raising the e-bike ratings from ECO, through TOUR, up to SPORT, and then maxing out on TURBO. This flattened out the hill nicely.
Until…
I got to the top of the hill and tried to “upshift” back into the higher gears. (Thanks for explaining this Google.) However, instead of smooth changes, the bike was clunking and jerking. I figured, and Pen said, that as the lady who’d explained the gear changes to us had said to downshift quickly to get the right gear to climb the hill. Naturally, I figured that if that was the case, then I needed to upshift just as quickly when I got to the top. Maybe the bike didn’t agree with me.
Anyway, I got it working and set off down the other side of the hill, once again well ahead of Pen. This didn’t matter. It’s better to go at a speed you’re comfortable with, rather than faster or slower than you want.
Every so often I’d get to a junction, or point of interest, and stop so Pen could tell me which way we were going. (I didn’t think of turning the GPS on my phone on until we were at the top of the first hill.)
When we reached the first picturesque bay, I had a toilet stop and then we found a comfortable ledge of sand to sit on and enjoy our not even luke warm cheese rolls.
Stewart Island Ferry
Then it was onwards to one of the walking tracks.
This one, we discovered, is the twin of Stirling Point in Bluff. If you remember, Stirling Point had a large, shiny, aluminium shackle and chain disappearing into Foveaux Strait. What we found here at Lee Bay was its counterpoint – a rusty chain and shackle holding Stewart Island to the rest of New Zealand. Māori mythology was that the demi-god Māui used the South Island/Te Waipounamu/Te Waka a Māui as his canoe (waka) when he hauled the North Island/Te Ika-a-Māui, (the fish of Māui) out of the Pacific Ocean. Stewart Island/Rakiura, is the waka’s anchor stone. Therefore this chain is linking the South and Stewart Islands and the chain at the anchor stone’s end, being underwater, is rusted.
Having taken a suitable number of photographs of this “chain” (Te Puka) we continued on, seeing in the distance what we assumed was Stewart Island. If it was, the winds here blew straight off the New Zealand Mainland, as evidenced by the foliage.
South Island?
This was another beautiful and someone mystical walk. Maybe not as much foliage and old trees, and definitely not the variety of birdlife; being regenerating growth; but it was still lovely to walk through.
Well aware that we only had our e-bikes for four hours, we walked until just before 2.00pm and then started the return journey. At one point I heard a shrill peep and stopped to see what had made that sound. It was Pen that saw the black bird with a white chest and white wing stripes. I had to think about what it may have been.
“A Tomtit?”
This was confirmed a short time later when one flew into the tree ahead of us and posed nicely whist I snapped off one or two, or three photographs.
We got back to where we had left our bikes, got some photos of Kally and Scott, and Pen and me riding them, and then began the cycling journey back to town.
This was fine, with no issues, until I started following Pen up a hill. I only got a few metres, tried to change gears, and nothing happened. I couldn’t move the pedals or anything.
Now what? Text Pen to tell her I’d derailed and to ask the bike company to come and get it?
Fortunately, someone came to my rescue. Maybe not International Rescue, but I was still happy to receive his help. He had a good fiddle with the chain and gears, getting greasy in the process – which I apologised for, but he said wasn’t an issue as he’d just been catching fish.
Pen sent me a text to see if I was okay. I had typed a reply, but didn’t actually get the chance to press send.
After a lot of pulling and trying to get the chain out from where it had jammed between the gears, and a test ride himself, my hero finally got it going again. With the suggestion that I try to limit changing gears…
“I’ll put it into turbo boost on the hills and leave the gears as they are.”
“Good idea.” …he gave me a push to get me started.
I managed to get to the top of the hill and sped past Pen saying my chain had slipped and I wasn’t going to stop again until I reached the Red Shed.
Which I managed relatively easily.
I got to the Red Shed, got off, and gave my nether regions a chance to recover. I don’t remember bicycle seats being that uncomfortable, and I wouldn’t really want to go any further.
I’d just bought a notebook and two postcards with lenticular printing of two Kiwi, two Tūī, and two Pīwakawaka and had managed to get the feeling back down below, and was about to start playing a game on my phone, when Pen arrived.
We returned both bikes, the Red Shed said they’d tell the Green Shed to check my bike out, and we went looking for either an ice cream (to sit on, in Pen’s opinion) and/or a hot chocolate.
We got the hot chocolate from The Snuggery, deciding that it was too cold for ice cream. Even for medicinal purposes.
After a look around town to find out where we needed to go this evening, (close by) and a quick look at the DOC centre which was closing so we couldn’t even get inside, we returned to the Stewart Island Backpackers and started processing our photos.
The regular Sunday evening quiz was on at 6.00 pm at the South Sea Hotel, so we thought we’d go there and have our evening meal at the same time. In the end, we got our meal (just), but arrived too late to be able to score some seats for the quiz. Fortunately, the restaurant is in a different section to the bar’s quiz. Also fortunately, they were able to squeeze us in, even though we hadn’t booked. Which we had tried to when we were getting our bearings for this evening.
We were told that the table was destined for someone and would we be finished in an hour and a half?
No sweat.
I had pulled venison pizza and then a Mississippi Mud Cake without the raspberry coulis as it had some kind of liqueur in it. As did all the desserts, I don’t know what non-drinkers were supposed to have other than ice cream sundae.
After this we came back to the backpackers and started typing up the blog.
I got up to go to the toilet at 6.30 this morning, and thought I’d be egalitarian and use the unisex loos. The first one the last man using it had left the seat up. The second one had paper all over the floor. I didn’t even check out the third one, I just went back to the women’s toilet (singular) and showers (three).
This morning we had to be at Golden Bay Wharf at 8.35 am, so there was the “am I going to sleep in…? Should I get up now…?” dilemmas. In the end, I got up just after 7.00pm, and went and had my wash. By the time I got back, Pen was up.
We knew from last night that a walk to the Golden Bay Wharf would only take us ten minutes, and we were got there right on time. In fact three minutes before the water taxi arrived. Even better, we were the only two booked in for this morning’s tour.
Our guide was Carly and the water taxi driver, Ty. We were the only ones on the tour, so we were taken on the ten minute journey across to Ulva Island. (I managed to bend my hand back as I was negotiating the way out because I didn’t let go of the handrail in time. It’s totally okay now, in fact I forgot about it for the day, but it felt a bit numb for a short time.)
Once ashore Carly guided us through the beautiful bush, and almost one of the first things we saw was a Rifleman/Titipounamu. These are New Zealand’s smallest birds and I’ve never seen one before. And I’ve never managed to photograph one. Unless this is it and not a cicada…
Carly is fortunate that her hearing hasn’t naturally deteriorated through age, so that she could still her the Titpounamu. Me? I couldn’t hear a dickie bird.
As we continued to walk through, Carly would point out various plants and birds of interest. The principal podocarp trees there were the Miro with its hammer-hewn bark and black ink; the Tōtara that tended to get hollowed out; and the Rimu whose bark looks like a “topical” map. And when you looked at a rimu, you could well imagine that it was embossed with a topographical map.
When we’d first decided that we were going to visit Ulva Island, Pen asked if we should get a guide, or if I would know enough to fill the role. I pointed out that the flora and fauna is different at the other end of the country to what I’m used to – plus, I can never remember all the facts I’ve learnt over the years. So, I was more than pleased to have Carly with us and I would never have seen half of what she was able to show us.
We saw and heard Kākā.
We were greeted by a Brown Creeper that had initially disguised itself as a Grey Warbler.
We saw and heard Grey Warblers.
The one Fantail we saw on the island, was hiding behind a bush, so I didn’t really get to see that.
We saw a hole where Kiwi often sleep
We saw Kakariki – principally the Yellow-Crowned, which is rarer than the Red-Crowned. (And which Carly was very excited about.)
We heard and saw Kereru fly about.
We saw Tūī squabbling
We saw a family of South Island Weka.
We saw a juvenile South Island Saddleback/Tieke. We know it was a Tieke, because it had its wattles. We knew it was from the South Island because it didn’t have its saddle. We knew it was juvenile, because unlike the North Island Tieke which are born with it, the saddle doesn’t appear for 18 months.
Yellow-Crowned KakarikiVariable Oystercatcher – that doesn’t catch oysters.
South Island Robins / Kakariwai
More South Island Robins / Kakariwai
Juvenile Saddleback – known as a Jack as it doesn’t have its saddle yet.
Still another Robin / Kakariwai
Carly also showed us some ferns that had been inhabited by leaf roller caterpillars.
We also saw Robin after Robin that knew full well that humans were quite happy to scuff up the leaf litter and reveal yummy grubs. We also saw juvenile Robins who were well aware of how to con us into feeding them and gathering their own food, and then the instant that mum or dad turned up, would revert to child “feed me!” mode.
And, we saw a juvenile Tūī that had yet to gain its parson collar and cloak. (I said it was pre-ordination.) At first, Carly wasn’t sure if it was a Tūī or a starling, but I thought it had a different head shape to a starling and still his the wider “feed me” mouth bits.
The Weka family, instead of consisting of two chicks, was made up of mum, dad, and three – THREE – chicks. And were totally unperturbed that three humans were nearby.
On the journey back towards the jetty, we stopped at a long drop and Carly gave us the option of using it. I decided to, and she asked for me to give it a rating as it was well looked after by the volunteers. Compared to our one at Rangitoto, it’s a ten out of ten, and if anyone wanted to airlift it to my bach to replace out one that’s falling down, I would thank them.
We were lead down to Boulder Beach and had a couple of minutes to enjoy the serenity as Carly went hunting for Tieke. (I think.) Following that we had the option of heading straight back to the jetty, or, if we were feeling up to it, continuing on the longer trail.
We were feeling up to it.
One tree supporting anotherUmbrella mossThe Rātā were just as glorious
The forest on Ulva Island has, unlike Stewart Island, never been milled. So we were walking through first generation vegetation. Carly said that if an adult male can get his arms around a rimu tree, then the tree was less than 400 years old. There were a lot of unhuggable trees. There were also a lot of gnarly trees, some of which had been ripped by Kākā, some of which had rotted, some of which had fallen over and kept growing, and some of which had just managed to get intertwined with other plants.
Accommodation belonging to the original owners of the island. The red roofed building is original Victorian.Golden Bay jetty
We loved the entire tour, which took about 3.5 hours. It was well worth it.
Afterwards, we sat in the shelter shed at Golden Bay Wharf and had our sandwiches. We were also going to have a muffin each, but Pen couldn’t find hers and was blaming Scott for eating it. He wasn’t confirming nor denying the accusation.
Once we’d had our lunch and a bit of a rest, we were ready to move on, and did so by taking the loop track to Deep Bay (they have original names down here) and then back. When we got to Deep Bay, we celebrated by me breaking my muffin in half and giving it to Pen.
Photo by Pen
After that walk, we went to the Red Shed, and I bought one of those pens that have something that slides up and down in a water capsule. This one was of the Stewart Island/Rakiura ferry, so I bought it to add to the collection built up over the decades. Pen did some shopping in the 4Square, and I went ice cream hunting, but the place that did fresh fruit ice cream (i.e. where we had tea last night) was closed. So we stopped off at the Snuggery for a hot chocolate, before we returned to the Backpackers, and started going through our millions of photographs. (Or maybe 199.)
Thinking that it would be less crowded, I had my shower at 4.30/5.00pmish, after Pen. She borrowed my towelling slippers (that D.C. had got when we’d stayed in some hotel), but the way that the showers are set up – one cubicle per shower, with plywood doors to the outside world and a shower curtain behind which you hang your (hopefully) dry clothing), meant that the slippers were inadvertently wettened. And were even more wet after I wore them to the shower.
I left them outside to dry.
Following a bit more blogging, we went over to the Kai Kart for Fish and Chips (chicken burger in my case) for tea at about 6.30 pm. We were going to eat outside, but then it started clouding over, the wind started picking up, Pen went to buy some apple pie for dessert (and ended up with Aunt Betty’s self-saucing chocolate pudding) and it started to spit. So we took it back to the backpacker’s dining area.
And now we’re waiting for it to get dark enough that we can go and see if we can find some Kiwi.
10.30 we went out and traipsed up to Traill Park. We could already see some hopeful red lights on the other side, as well as some less hopeful white lights. – Which, unfortunately, was what we had, as I didn’t have a red filter for my torch to protect ours and any Kiwi’s night vision.
The other lights were moving along the edge of the park, but I figured we’d have just as much chance of seeing a Kiwi if we were to stay still, so we didn’t frighten it, and wait to see if it would come to us.
I don’t think it worked for anyone.
We did come across a couple of young ladies who’d been down Fushia Track and were sure they’d heard one, but had felt it was too creepy. So Pen and I walked down the path, me holding my torch at my hip to restrict its beam to just in front of us and Pen keeping her hand on my shoulder, until we reached the first lot of steps. These we sat on and waited, and had several people walk past.
Eventually, with the light drizzle and increasing breeze, we decided to return to the backpackers. We got back at 11.30pm and put the light out at midnight.
Can’t be late tonight as we’ve got to be on the road early tomorrow.
This morning’s breakfast was porridge, made from my sachet by our hostess as they had a commercial kitchen and had to be careful about contamination. Plus, some Greek yoghurt and two slices of toast.
We left our bags at the Foveaux Hotel and went for a walk. Our first ports of call were at various places that might be able to direct us to the Bluff Lookout. We eventually decided to walk back to Stirling Point and then see how the time was going and maybe continue along the coastal track until it branched off up the hill.
So, off we went.
Naturally, I had been to the toilet before we left the hotel, but my bladder seemed to forget that, and I really wanted to go when we were 1.2 km away from Stirling Point and public toilets. I told myself that that was as far as home to Thames Post Office and that I could deal with that.
Which, you will be glad to hear, I did.
Bluff clearly was a Victorian town, which had a boom period during the 1920s, when they pulled down all the Victorian edifices and replaced them with Art Deco ones. But there were more modern houses, with giant picture windows facing out to…
The Tiwai Point aluminium smelter. I’m not sure that this is something that I’d want to spend my time looking at. And me, being me, I could imagine a story where there being an explosion at the smelter sending shockwaves, and/or a tsunami in the direction of these flash houses.
That’s the way my mind operates.
The toilet, when we finally and happily reached it, was very odd to use, (in that I’m not used to something so high tech), and I ended up having a conversation with it. It was fully automated, so you didn’t have to touch anything. Hover your hand over the door opener and the door would (eventually) open – provided the toilet wasn’t already occupied as I found when I got there. Then you got inside, and the door would close behind you and the toilet proudly announce that you were locked in and had ten minutes before you would have to get out again. You did what you had to do and then discovered that all that remained of the toilet roll was a tatted end, and nothing you did, nor anywhere you searched, could you find a replacement. That was until you realised that, above head height, was another hover pad. Hovering your hand over that, released a mile of toilet paper.
I think this contraption must have been designed with the assistance of the Cirius Cybernetics Corporation.
Then it came to washing your hands. There was an alcove in the wall that housed the hand basin which had three nozzles. The first, when you placed your hands beneath, delivered soap. The second, water, and the third airdried your hands. Except that it also blew the remaining water in the base of the sink out of the handbasin and onto the floor. (Which was why I’d chanced leaving my camera bag outside.)
When it was time to finally escape, you hovered your hand over the exit button, the door unlocked and slid open, and you were thanked for using the convenience. With a “you’re welcome” I was out of there.
But at least the rest of the walk was more comfortable.
$CoMmEnt??
Having finally got a photo of me next to the Bluff signpost and some of the other local landmarks, we set off along the waterfront track. This was pleasant and offered occasional views of the islands to the south – including Stewart Island.
Then we came to a junction and had to decide whether to turn back, continue on the current trail which ended up at the Bluff Hilltop and then back to the township, or take a shortcut through what was called the Glory Track (2137m). This was named after a ship that sank off the coast. But, as it headed back in the direction of Bluff and was a different track to what we’d just been on, we decided to head this way.
It was Glorious.
Sure, the first section was an uphill slog, which wasn’t a huge amount of fun, but the bush that surrounded us… Be-u-ti-ful! Especially the track beneath where rātā had been flowering. It was like walking the red carpet, and every now and then above us, we’d see a patch of brilliant crimson.
The track was well named, but for the wrong reasons.
Eventually, we had to make the decision to leave all that beauty and head to Walker Street, which must be close to Baldwin Street in steepness – But not as steep as it’s tar-sealed and not concreted. We carefully made our way down Walker Street, Pen stopping to make friends with a couple of dogs, and then back along the waterfront to the 4Square where we bought today’s lunch. And then back to the hotel to eat and collect our bags.
And then it was (almost) over the road to the ferry terminal.
This is markedly smaller than Bluebridge’s ferry terminal, but in some ways more efficient. We dumped our bags (Pen had left her “new” suitcase with unwanted items at the hotel) into the big tin crates outside the terminal, went inside and checked in…
RealNZ representative. “I see you’re travelling with your little friend.”
Me: “Yes, she’s back there.” Points at Pen.
Her: “I meant the one on your bag.” Points at Kally.
We were given our boarding passes which were basically credit cards without the magnetic strip, and then we waited. When it was time to board, we handed our boarding passes to the crew member and were allowed on board.
The sailing only took about an hour, and, because I was sitting one seat in from the window, I couldn’t see much of the scenery changing. So I closed my eyes and daydreamed… Until my head would drop and jolt me awake.
We pulled into Oban on Stewart Island (which I’ve never been to before) and everyone disembarked, leaving those who’d dumped their bags in the crates to wait for them to be retrieved from the catamaran. Mine was on top and I was most grateful to the man who asked if I needed help getting it out.
“Yes, please.”
We walked around to the Stewart Island Backpackers and signed into room 31. And that’s all we’ve got – room 31. Two twin beds. Two bath towels. A little stool. A couple of crates to put our stuff in. And that’s all we’ve got. The toilets and showers are communal.
Well, I was trying to save money when I booked us in.
We went for a walk, initially to find out where we’ve got to go tomorrow. We’re going to Ulva Island at 8.45 am (Pen’s set her alarm), and we have to get to the jetty where the boat leaves from. This afternoon it took us twelve minutes to walk there, including a stop to replace a reindeer that had been riding on the back of a kiwi at the police station, and another to photograph a kereru – except I didn’t have a good lens for that.
It so happened that the water taxi came in which contained our guide for tomorrow, Carly. As of that time, we’re the only two on the tour, so, if that continues, it should be good.
We walked back and then carried on to the Red Shed, which is not “The Warehouse”, but a rustic brown information centre. There we were given details of various walks we could do. Following that, we went to the 4Square, since I was hanging out for an ice cream and all the shops that may have sold one were closed.
That was nice and refreshing and we now also had our breakfast for tomorrow.
If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it, does it still need clearing from the path its fallen across?
We offloaded that and went and checked out other parts of Oban. Including a pounamu carver who gives you the chance to carve your own piece. According to his website, it’s $250 for the lesson, but you do end up with a unique reminder of your trip.
We went out to dinner at a place suggested by the Red Shed. It only supplied limited offerings and we decided to try the meal of the night – tacos – and, whilst that was nice, it was nothing compared to last night’s meal. (We had pulled pork with a little sauerkraut and sauce in one little taco.) For dessert we had caramel slice, and a rather watery iced chocolate.
I don’t think we’ll try them again.
We came back to the backpackers and rested for a bit before blogging.
Tomorrow, Ulva Island! And I think I can hear rain.
Firstly, Pen wants me to tell you that she may sleep longer than me in the morning, (only because I’m used to waking up for a 6.30 rising for work), but that she’s frequently still fighting and cursing Facebook because it refuses to cooperate and upload her photos after I’ve cuddled down to sleep. Except for tonight.
Whilst the Victoria Hotel is a lovely four-star hotel, it’s quite airless at night, so I put the air conditioning up to 21.5° and left it on all night, which was a lot more comfortable. And, whilst it was comfortable and I’m enjoying this trip, I’m ready for my own bed.
But we’ve still got some fun and amazing things to do.
We packed up this morning and left our bags with the hotel for the morning. We also left Pen’s old bag, telling them that it was perfectly usable if someone could fix the tyre on that wheel.
We couldn’t keep away from the Dunedin Railway Station, and carried on past to the Toitū Otago Settlers Museum. As this is free entry I gave them a donation of $10. It was a very interesting museum, especially with being able to get close to Josephine, something that I don’t think we’ve ever managed to do.
The building itself is interesting too as it’s a Victorian Art Nouveau building, attached to a very Art Deco former NZ Railways building, attached to a modern purpose-build museum building. Inside, they concentrated on quality, not the quantity of items. We did notice the odd bit that didn’t work and a couple of things that needed further explanation, but otherwise it was worth it.
Following that, we had half a mint slice each and I had a ginger limoncello tea at Maggie’s Café. Then we returned to the hotel, after which I ducked back out and bought an on-special-because-it’s-close-to-its-best-before-date chicken and cranberry sandwich, which I ate there. Pen had the other half of the huge sausage roll she’d had for lunch yesterday.
As it was about an hour before our bus was due to leave at 2.15pm, we collected our bags and wheeled them around to the bus stop. And waited.
A bus for Invercargill arrived, but it was a Ritchies’ branded bus travelling for InterCity. We were going with Book A Coach. But we checked just in case. Nope, we weren’t on board. (Which we weren’t informed of in a particularly caring manner.)
So, we waited.
And waited.
And, since she was concerned that we were meant to be on the InterCity coach, Pen checked with the driver of the bus again.
We definitely were not due to ride on that.
This left me concerned that either we were at the wrong bus stop, or, as it was already 2.15, we had the wrong time.
So, as she’d been the one to book this trip, Pen rang Book A Coach. Yes, we were at the right stop and yes, we had the right time. The driver was on his way, in his minibus with orange arrows, and we were definitely at the right stop.
It turns out that Book A Coach is a door-to-door service, and he’d already picked up one lady who makes the trip regularly. I sat kind of next to her, with our gear taking up the middle seat. Pen sat behind and had the three seats all to herself. We picked up one more seat, a young teenager, and we were off.
The driver, Stuart 97, asked if I was Australian. I said that was offensive and then, of course, thought that I should have said that I’m from the North Island, not the West Island.
And I have to say that this was a much more comfortable trip than it would have been with InterCity. More leg room, better music (since my noise cancelling headphones, which were D.C.’s, don’t seem to be working) and better company. We also stopped off at Clinton for a toilet stop and I bought myself a Popsicle Fruit Stack ice block, since I knew we’d be stopping for a coffee soon and I’d been anticipating buying a slushy… Once I got my seatbelt off. It was a lapbelt with the catch in the middle and I was looking for a catch on both sides. Stuart 97 asked if maybe I actually was Australian.
This service also acts as a courier for the various medical establishments, and we stopped off at the Medlabs of Gore, Balclutha, and Invercargill.
The lady next to me was set down at the Rowena Jackson Retirement Village – I commented that it was named after an auspicious individual and then told Pen that Rowena Jackson was a world class ballet dancer who held the world record for performing 121 fouettés sur place. That’s a spin on one leg whilst flicking the other out to maintain your momentum for non-ballet people.
The young lad was dropped off next and then, after the final courier drop off our driver, Stuart 97, said he had to pick someone up from Bluff. Up till that point he hadn’t been sure whether he was taking us through or if we’d be travelling with someone else. But now that he knew that he had to go through, and, as the individual to be picked up was at Stirling Point where the world famous signpost is located, would we like to go there first and then be dropped off at our hotel?
We said, “thank you very much.”
And just as well as it turned out to be several kilometres away from where we were staying. I’d planned on asking “where the signpost is?” confident that our host would know which signpost. It was a rush though, as we didn’t want to hold anyone up. I got photos of the signpost and photos of Pen holding Kally under the signpost, and then we returned to the minibus. As the new passenger hadn’t arrived yet, we went back with Scott and got a photo of him at the signpost and I used another couples DSLR to get a photo of them with the signpost, but we didn’t actually get a photo of me with the signpost, when I realised that the new passenger had arrived.
My second question was going to be where’s the best place to get a cheese roll. (Since the only ones we’ve had were made by Cantabrians on the TranzAlpine and couldn’t possibly be as good as genuine Southland ones.) Our host told us the best cheese rolls were probably to be found in Invercargill.
So that was no good.
And then we were dropped off at the Foveaux Hotel, which looks to be an original Art Deco Hotel. We were greeted by our host, who gave us our key and a rundown of the hotel’s workings. We asked about a meal, and she gave us a long list of establishments that were no more due to owners’ illnesses, and then suggested Hayz@The Anchorage, which was a couple of blocks away, but that it could be closing any moment. So she rang them to see if we could have a meal and we left our bags in the foyer and hightailed it down there.
They were still open… Just. The closed sign went up about ten minutes after we’d arrived. But the staff were very friendly and helpful and when said that I’d prefer the half size chicken schnitzel but would be happy with a chicken salad if it was quicker, and they made the schnitzel.
Half size?!
But it was a lovely meal. The salad was light with a delicious dressing; the chips weren’t greasy and overcooked; if you like mushrooms, the mushrooms were nice (I tend to just eat them because they’re good for you); and the chicken schnitzel was perfect.
We ate as quickly as we dared, but eventually had to wave the white flag when the meals, as tasty as they were, proved too much for us to eat. We promised we’d return when we’re next in Bluff.
We returned to the hotel, discovered that our bags were already in our rooms, and offloaded everything we didn’t need. Then we went for a walk along the waterfront… For two reasons. One, to confirm where the ferry terminal is. And two: to walk off that meal.
The bathroom’s as big as the bedroom!
Carving of a ship – for Bluff’s port and the fact it’s New Zealand’s earliest settled town, inside a Bluff Oyster shell
Thames could do something like this.
I got a bit worried there. I prepare which photos I’m going to post in my blog before I start posting and realised that the photos of Dunedin were interspersed with photos of Bluff. As I’m not convinced that my new camera is recording all its photos, I took this as a sign that something was definitely wrong. That was until I remembered that the Dunedin photos were taken on D.C.’s pocket-sized camera and the Bluff ones on my DSLR. It’s a fluke that their file numbers of both cameras are, at present, all in the same format and within the same range IMG_3915 to IMG_3940.
But I’m still concerned about the missing photos. Camera or card?
I woke up a little later than usual this morning, and blogged whilst Pen continued to sleep. When she did awake, we decided to have a lazy, no commitments day. Which seems a waste when you’re in a city far from home with lots of interesting things to do, but we’ve been busy so far and we’re going to get busy again. But, today, we hardly did anything except blog and blob.
Breakfast was “homemade”. i.e. I had Hubbards’ microwave porridge and Kapiti Fig and Manuka Honey yoghurt.
Then we did a load of washing, which had two interesting results. One, I think the towel I’ve got leached blue dye. Which I wasn’t expecting as I’d washed it when I bought it. So now my T-shirt, which I was very pleased with because it was pure white, has a blue tint. And the other thing was the tissue that had been left in a pocket and stuck to the towel and everything else. So, I suppose that’s just desserts.
We blogged while we waited for the washing to go through its cycles.
I said how Pen’s suitcase had a blown tyre. We tried to fix it with duct tape but had our doubts that our repair would last to Invercargill, let alone Invercargill, Bluff, Te Anau, Queenstown, Auckland, England. She also had a waterproof jacket that had a tendency to snow bits of lining whenever she put it on, so we went op shopping.
Penguins or Wombles – you decide
The first place we found was the Red Cross second hand shop. They had some possible jackets, but they weren’t exactly what was wanted. I found what we thought was an excellent case – bright purple for visibility and all the zips worked. $25, so Pen bought it, with them letting her leave it there until we’d done a bit more shopping.
Then we checked out the Salvation Army Family Store. Here I managed to find another case that was of similar size, but only $10. Oh, well. At least $25 wasn’t a lot of money and it was a donation to the Red Cross.
Pen found a Kathmandu Jacket that was purple, $25, and fitted, and I was joking about how it matched her new suitcase as we returned to the Red Cross to collect the case. Pen planning that the first thing she was going to do was tip out all the confetti that was in it… The mind boggles.
Our next plan was to head back to the hotel to drop off the case.
For some reason, on the return journey, Pen checked the wheels. One of them was starting to split along the seam where the two plastic halves were joined together. What we didn’t want was to be going through the same wheel saga all over again, so she successfully returned it to the Red Cross – pointing out that a jacket that she’d had an eye on had had a note saying it had a hole in it, when there was nothing to say what was wrong with the case.
Then it was back to the Sallies, a good examination of the case and one other, and the purchase of a second case for $10. Tonight she’s successfully managed to transfer all her clothes from her old case to the new one, without even having to use the extender section.
Lunch at some point in the day, which has all become very confused, was at a café – I had a Breakfast brioche, which was very nice – even if a bit of the chilli bit back. Afternoon tea was at some point after the cases saga and was at Coffee Club in Meridan Mall (which looks old but is relatively new), where I had a lemon tart and fruit slushie. Pen had chocolate, but I wanted something refreshing.
After that we had a look at the most lovely railway station in New Zealand – Dunedin Railway Station. I just wished we were going to be leaving from there in a train to go somewhere like the Taieri Gorge, but none of the excursions were running today.
I’d taken a series of photos of the stained glass window, planning to piece them together in a panorama. This was how it came out.This is what it should have looked like.
Adjacent to the railway station is the JA 1274 steam locomotive, and attached to the Otago Settlers Museum is the loco, Josephine. I remember her and her green paint, and I remember here being attached to the museum, but I don’t remember the museum, which I think must be a fairly new building.
We nipped over the road to the Dunedin prison, which is the site of an escape room which would bookend our stay in the Jailhouse Accommodation.
Dunedin Prison – Very much “Old New Scotland Yard” vibes.Dunedin Courthouse – Very much “Old Bailey” vibes.
I bought us a “John Candy” pizza from the Pizza Bar and took it back to the hotel to meet up with Pen who was getting herself a drink from the supermarket. (I can’t remember what in the pizza, but it included apple sauce and chicken, and cranberries, and was very nice. The Tom Hanks had thousand island dressing.)
For Christmas, Pen gave me some Tūī Aotearoa fudge that she’d bought in Whakatane. It was lovely, but I’m so glad that we’ve finally finished it and I don’t have to cart the box around the country anymore.
After all that it was more blobbing and blogging, and I’m more or less up to date, other than that I haven’t downloaded today’s photographs. That’ll be tomorrow morning’s job.
Last night, we photographed the buildings on the east side of Thames (THAMES!) Street, this morning I, put my jacket on over my t-shirt/PJ top, put my slacks on, and went out at 5.55am and photographed the buildings on the west side. And the east side. And the waves rolling in. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky above the town, just a thick line of it along the horizon. I was out there to see the heritage-style lights get switched off. In other words, I was out there long enough that I had to let myself out of the hotel through a locked door, but the automatic door was unlocked in time let me back in.
On Thames!
And Pen didn’t even realise that I’d gone.
I don’t know what cultivar of pōhutukawa they’ve got down here, but ever here in Oamaru, well away from its natural zone, I’ve seen flowering trees… In January!
I came back and did some blogging, but still didn’t manage to get through all my photos from the TranzAlpine.
Once Pen was awake and had showered, I had my shower and then we both went down to the restaurant for breakfast. I had porridge.
The Brydone Hotel is clearly made up of two buildings, a very opulent, palatial front, which houses the restaurant and hotel reception, (and I don’t know what upstairs) and the rear which is more modern, but houses most of the hotel rooms. It was a lovely place, one that finally gave us enough towels (although another hand towel would have been appreciated); and the only complaints that I would have were that the toilet wasn’t a very efficient flusher, and the toilet roll holder was attached to the handbasin cabinet so it was side on to the toilet. This meant that when you went to pull off your square(s) of toilet paper, you would pull the whole roll off the holder and send it rolling along the floor.
The hotel was good enough to mind our bags while we decided to make the most of our last few hours in Oamaru.
The last time that Pen was here, she stood on the top of the cliff overlooking the penguin colony, and vowed to come back sometime, which she did thirteen years later. Because of this, she was keen on taking the path back to the top of the cliff. It was quite funny letting an Englishwoman show me around in my own country. Except…
Steampunk playground
We got to the arena in the penguin colony where we’d been last night (and got the daylight photos in yesterday’s blog), only to discover that the way onwards was blocked. Pen asked in the shop if the track was still accessible and we were told that it was closed for the breeding shags and shearwaters. The lady behind the desk was very helpful, though, and gave us a map that showed the longer way to the cliff. This was an option, but it was longer and via a number of roads, and, although we set off with the intention of doing it, or at least walking until my watch’s timer told us to turn around, we came to realise that we just wouldn’t have time.
So, as it was fine and warm, we mooched around Oamaru instead. Checking out the variety of shops, crafts, and seeing what activities were on offer.
I enjoyed Oamaru except for one thing. It just made me so mad at the opportunities that Thames is missing out on. We’ve got the historic buildings, and we should be utilising them to the maximum. But we don’t. We just moan about the town. And when I attempt to do something on a small scale to improve things, the idea is either dismissed or changed into something totally different to what I envisaged. (And less successful.)
When it was time to head for the bus stop we returned to the hotel and got our bags, before I set out to find a pharmacy… And forgot my hat, I returned to get it, only to find that Pen already had it in her gear for me. When I set out proper ahead of Pen, I found the pharmacy and bought some Gin Gins. These are ginger lollies and are supposed to be good for your stomach when travelling. Hopefully, I won’t need them. However, there was a bakery near to where we caught the bus, so I bought what was called a “muesli bar”, which, I was assured, wasn’t sweet. It had golden syrup in it.
This time, because we were getting on board mid-journey, there weren’t any seats together, so I sat about five rows back and Pen about eight.
There was one bloke that I was glaring at inwardly for vaping at the bus stop, but he scored one of the front non-Gold seats before me and then, and this put him up in my estimation, offered his seat to an elderly man who looked like he’d had a stroke, and headed to the back of the bus.
It is the law in New Zealand that, if fitted, you must wear seatbelts. Most, if not all, of the InterCity buses have seatbelts. (It feels odd not wearing them nowadays.) I had mine on and had just about nodded off when all of a sudden, when we were on a downward incline, the driver had to put his brakes on for roadworks. Everyone kind of slid forward which, as I said to the lady next to me, is exactly the reason why you should wear seatbelts.
The other time I’d nearly dozed off (it was hot in the bus) and was woken unexpectedly, was when someone sneezed.
And it was just as well that I woke up, as the woman next to me got out before Dunedin, and I had to get out of my seat, dragging my camera bag that had been at my feet with me, to let her out. I did wave to Pen, but by the time she’d worked out what she needed to do to gather her gear together, the bus was moving again.
So I had both seats to myself for the rest of the trip.
Our stay in Dunedin was the Victoria Hotel and upon arrival we were proudly informed that we had been upgraded. This meant that instead of a standard twin room we had two king beds. (I asked Pen if she wanted the “window seat” or the “toilet seat” – i.e. the bed by the window or the bed closer to the toilet. It wasn’t until I said it that I realised what I was saying.) And a full quota of towels, which made a lovely change.
But… (There’s always a but, isn’t there?)
We were sitting here, blogging, and could hear something that sounded like the shower dripping. As neither of us had used it, this seemed unlikely, but Pen checked it out and there was no evidence of any water leakage. But, when standing in the bathroom, it seemed to us that the dripping was coming from the ceiling. Concerned that this meant that there was a leakage in the floor above (and me with visions from TV series of something nefarious happening in a bath which isn’t discovered until the water overflows to the floor below), I rang reception who said they’d check it out.
Of course, that was when the dripping sound stopped.
We didn’t hear any more about it.
Pen’s suitcase, which she, naturally, had bought in England, was getting a blown tyre. That is, the covering over the wheel was slipping off. (The irony is that the hotel’s right next door to a Bridgestone Tyre repair place. We did talk about asking them for help, but I don’t think they deal with plastic tyres that are only about 50 millimetre in diameter.) The question was, how to fix it. The best we could come up with was duct tape, so when we went shopping for food we tried to find some. We didn’t, but the hotel gave us some and a loan of the scissors. We carefully made repairs, but goodness knows how long it would last.
While we were shopping for food, I bought some tweezers. My brand new drink bottle with Virgil Tracy and Kally on it, has a lid that doesn’t seal properly. The company I bought it from are sending a replacement to home, but that’s not a lot of use. I think there was probably an O-ring that was meant to seal the bottle, but this had slipped and I, not knowing where it belonged and being mid-doing something more important, had put it where I thought it should be. But now I think I’m wrong and I wanted the tweezers to try to extract it.
Fail.
Following our shopping and repairs, we went for look around. We called into the local i-SITE and asked what we could do tomorrow. They had “Support our local hospital” badges and T-shirts, so I bought a badge for $5.00. As the problem is with our government suddenly deciding that they don’t have the money to build the hospital that the people of Otago and Southland had been promised, I took a postcard stating my opposition to their plans to downgrade Dunedin Hospital (amongst other things) for sending to the Health Minister – Dr Shane Reti.
I also bought a $10.50 “Mackenzie” coaster for Carolyn McKenzie, to say thank you for watering my garden.
On the way back, we realised that the flags on the police station were half-mast. We had a discussion about whether it was an error (we could only see one at that stage), when I remembered that there was a police officer in Nelson who’d been run over by someone who “used the car as a weapon.”
That’s so sad for all concerned.
After that, realising that I only had yoghurt for breakfast, I went back to supermarket and bought porridge and a couple of bottles Zing water drops – including a flavour I don’t think we have in Thames.
I’d booked a table at Cobb & Co in Dunedin’s Railway Station for 6.30 and we made it there at 6.34. (I was even threatening Pen that I was going to turn the light off if she didn’t leave in 30 seconds.) Not only were we four minutes late. We were wet. It had been fine all day, and decided start raining just before we left the hotel. I was glad that my slacks were quick drying, even if my shoes weren’t.
It’s been years since I’ve been to a Cobb & Co and I was determined that I was going to have a Cobb Schnitzel. And I did. Yum. Pen had an adult sized Traffic Light. We used the provided pencils to play the games on the back of the menus. People there to celebrate birthdays got the special treatment.
Are these bringing back memories?
Then, how about the fact, that the food is now brought out by robots? And that the children’s play area (which, to be honest, I don’t remember) is now all i-Pads? This bit of astonishing information was supplied to me by a dad who, with his adult male friend/brother(?) was taking his five-year-old daughter out for her birthday. (He took his son to Cobb & Co six months ago and they had toys then, so he was gobsmacked.)
But, I have to say that I felt pretty happy sitting in the Dunedin Railway Station, eating a Cobb & Co meal, and with ABBA Playing in the background. The only way that things could be better was if I had dry feet.
By the time we’d had our fill (finishing up with dessert – I had Chocolate Indulgence and Pen donuts that were more like the holes), the rain had eased off enough that we didn’t get so wet walking back to the hotel. But we still gave the three fire appliances that passed us a wide berth.
$CoMmEnt$CoMmEnt??$CoMmEnt$CoMmEnt$CoMmEnt
Pen’s photos. I don’t know why it’s got the $CoMmEnt comment on them.
Okay, now that I’m actually writing this on the 7th, I’ve got to remember what we did on the 6th…
Ah, yes. It was a good evening.
You may remember that we’d bought some chocolates whilst in Riverside Mall in Christchurch, and that we’d stored those that we hadn’t eaten in the communal fridge. When Pen went to get our drinks last night, she couldn’t see them. I asked the “warden” if the fridge had had a clear out, as we’d properly labelled the food, (name, room number, date leaving) but they hadn’t.
This morning, because everyone was delving into the fridges to get their breakfasts, it was easier for us to check if the chocolates had been tucked behind something. Which, I discovered, was exactly what had happened. I held someone’s bag of groceries, whilst Pen hauled our chocolates out.
My breakfast this morning, was the yoghurt/fruit salad combination that I’d bought from the New World. Which was quite nice.
What wasn’t so nice was that the hand towel roller ran out again. I told the (new) warden and she said that the cleaners would be in action in ½ hour, so they’d do it then. (Not good hygiene in the meantime.)
Onion walking away from the scene of the crime…
Pumpkin and Onion
When we finally left the Jailhouse Accommodation, having got more photographs, it was overcast but, fortunately, not raining. Which was good as we had to wait for the bus to take us to the Bus Interchange where we were going to leave our bags, do a bit of a look around, and then catch the bus to Oamaru.
As I thought, the new nationwide EFTPOS ticketing service hasn’t been rolled out in Christchurch yet, so I had to pay cash. Using my emergency $5.00 note to buy my $4.00 bus fare.
However, it was once we got to the Bus Interchange that the fun really started.
I’d rung up that morning to ask if the Bus Interchange had locker storage. I was told that it didn’t, but that a store called “Zesto” would look after your bags for you.
Okay. That seems daft, but simple enough.
It seems simple…
Firstly, we had to ask at the information desk where the bags were stored. We were directed to a convenience store.
The lady behind the store’s counter was very helpful. Could we show her the QR code we’d received, so she could scan it and associate it with our bags?
What QR code?
So I spent the next ¼ hour, firstly, showing her our bus ticket (on my tablet), which didn’t have a QR code, then trying to access the Internet so I could show her the unremembered QR code on the InterCity bus ticket email. I ended up tapping into Joe’s Garage since the citywide free Wi-Fi wasn’t talking to my tablet, but we still didn’t have a QR code. It turned out that the bag storage is run by some outfit called “Radical Storage” who have an app for the customer to download and book storage space. All well and good if you know that Radical Storage exists and have access to Internet for downloading. Eventually, I had to hotspot my tablet off the shop assistant’s phone to get the QR code and we were finally able to leave our bags.
This evening, I found an email from Radical Storage asking for a review. This is what they got: We had never heard of Radical Storage. The information kiosk directed us to the shop that stored bags and, once there, the shop assistant kept asking for the QR code. She didn’t realise that we had no knowledge of Radical Storage and we thought she was talking about our bus ticket. I had to log onto the Internet by hotspotting off her phone to get the email from Radical Storage. A terrible experience with Radical Storage. (But not with the assistant.)
We were so frustrated that we had our freshly found chocolates as we walked along the road to make us feel better.
Now that we didn’t have bags to worry about, we finally were able to walk to our destination: Quake City. This is a museum about the 2010/2011 Canterbury Earthquakes and Pen was a little concerned that it would be kind of trivialise and have a fun fair element to it. (Te Papa has a simulator representing the 1987 Edgecombe Earthquake and she thought it would be triggering to the locals to experience their earthquake all over again. There is a sign up at Te Papa warning Cantabrians about the simulator.) But it’s not like that. It tells the story of the earthquakes, along with radio broadcasts and a very young-looking Hillary Barry reading the TV3 news. It has items that were damaged in the ‘quakes – e.g. the cross off the spire of the ChristChurch Cathedral. It demonstrates liquefaction. It has the stories of those who came to help – the “Student Volunteer Army” (with New Zealand Wheelbarrows’ Constructor wheelbarrow) and “Farmy Army”. (Farmers who volunteered feed, water, and heavy equipment for digging out liquefaction.) It has the stories of the people who were caught up in the earthquake.
It was very sobering, remembering what happened and relearning how it affected people.
Spire from Christ Church CathedralFrom Catholic CathedralAbout the only time that anyone’s seen one of the four bells of the Catholic CathedralConcrete reinforcing from the Hotel Grand Chancellor – the leaning building
I’ve only just discovered how to do captions
We didn’t have long enough there, but did at least manage to go through once and see a couple of the ten minute videos. If we’d gone to the other option, Canterbury Museum, it had such a diverse range of topics that we wouldn’t have been able to see it all.
When time was counting down, we went and got our bags, before buying a toastie from the Muffin Break, so I had something in my stomach before the trip. Then I needed to go to the toilet.
There was a queue. Fortunately, the last two ladies in the queue were waiting for someone to come out of the toilet and let me go before them. There are six unisex toilet cubicles in the Bus Interchange. The one at the far end had a sign saying: “Use toilet next door.” The one I ended up using had a hand dryer that wasn’t working.
Guess that’s why you wear longs and not shorts. So you can dry your hands on them.
Because we hadn’t bought the Gold Class tickets on our InterCity bus, we ended up in the fifth row. I didn’t even think of Gold Class when I bought the tickets, because there’s a double-decker bus on the Thames to Auckland run and I prefer the cattle class where you go upstairs and can actually see where you’re going – especially if you score a front seat. But these buses are single-decker and the front three rows are Gold Class with leather seats, more legroom, USB ports, and probably other luxuries. Because we were getting off at Oamaru we weren’t the first checked onto the bus and had to take the first free seat closest to the front.
Despite this, it was a good trip. He was an excellent driver and this bit of State Highway 1 was largely straight, so I didn’t have any problems.
The further south we went, the clearer the skies became and it was quite pleasant in Timaru (which should be Te Maru) by the time we stopped there for a ½ hour break. One guy ordered Dominos Pizza, which arrived just as we were being allowed back onto the bus. Of course, because of the smells, hot food isn’t allowed on the bus, so he gulped down what he could in about two minutes. I noted that he was eating pizza again when we got off the bus at Oamaru and everyone hopped out for a break, so the driver may have let him store it in the luggage hold.
As this was our last stop for the day, we walked along Thames Street (nice of them to make me feel at home) to the Brydone Hotel. This is quite possibly the best place we’ve stayed at so far. The Art Deco interior and chandeliers certainly felt special. They had a good restaurant too, so we had tea downstairs.
Pen – BANGERS AND MASH $30 (GF)
Lamb and herb sausages with green onion and potato mash and caramelised onion gravy
Bundenberg Lemon lime and bitters
Me – PULLED PORK PAPPARDELLE $20 (DF optional)
Slow braised pork shoulder with cherry tomatoes, garlic and paradelle, topped with parmesan
Ginger beer
Very enjoyable.
As the sun was setting and lighting up the historic limestone buildings from one angle, we did a walk along Thames Street and got some photos. Our plans were to get photos of the other side of the street, when the other side was being lit up, the following morning.
Christmas Tree was taken down the following day
Oamaru – NOT the Christchurch Bus Exchange
Waste of a good train!
It was what followed that was the day’s highlight.
We were in Oamaru, so we wanted to see some Little Blue Penguins – known as Fairy Penguins in Australia. We were advised by the hotel manager that there was always a chance of seeing them along the foreshore, or we could pay and see any that chose to come ashore at the dedicated viewing “arena”. I fancied this as I figured this would increase our chance of seeing them.
The only photo of a penguin I got that night.An Asian lady asked me if they were penguins. I had to tell her “Shags… Cormorants.”
Being written on the 8th
And so we walked along to penguin colony viewing station, where, admittedly you had to pay to use. We got into the queue…
At least I got into the queue. Pen made use of the facilities, and got back just as I reached the door, so that worked well.
They’d just started the introductions when we were escorted through to our seat, which was the bottom one of a terraced arrangement of concrete platforms. This was fine. Whilst the higher seats were able to look down onto the action, we were almost at penguin eyelevel.
Or NZ Fur Seal eyelevel. Just beyond the fence that kept penguins and people apart lay a very unconcerned looking seal. It just lay there, with an occasional scratch, or shift of position to try to get more comfortable. As it was lying on a flat bit of concrete, and probably did so frequently, I figured that it was enjoying the warmth the concrete had retained from the day’s sun.
And then we waited. Watching the seals’ activities, including a couple of youngsters frolicking on the rocks and in the water.
On the other side of the viewing area are the premium seats. Here was a smaller stand where those who’d paid the extra were able to sit on more comfortable plastic seats and watch the penguins scurry through the specially designed holes in the access boardwalk. I don’t know that they really got any better view than us, except for maybe being able to see the penguins climb the quite steep and rocky bank to the flat nesting area.
Premium seats – The seating may have been more comfortable, but I don’t think the view was a whole lot better.
Sorry, cameras or any type of electronic recording equipment weren’t allowed, so I had to put my camera away. In fact, Pen was just opening her bag so that I could put my camera into it, when one of the announcers came over to apologetically tell me that photography wasn’t allowed.
A shame, but it would have been too dark for photographs for much of it anyway.
The ladies doing the commentary (one in English, one in Mandarin(?)) were right in front of us, but they weren’t the easiest to hear. This was understandable as they were speaking quietly, and the speakers were broadcasting quietly, so that they wouldn’t upset the stars of the show. The lights that were on were of a red and orange hues, that didn’t upset the penguins, but did give us humans a chance to watch what was going on.
There is a watch tower where someone stands spotting the arrival of the penguins, and this information is relayed to the announcers. They, in turn, told us that a raft of penguins were seen approaching, so to watch out for the black dots in the sea.
And then we could see them! We watched as the penguins porpoising towards the shore in a tight group. This was a case of safety in numbers, in case a predator was lurking nearby.
But we didn’t see any.
We also couldn’t see the approximately 25 penguins haul themselves out of the water or clamber up the rocky bank (for the most part). But we got a clear view when they reached the top. They sort of clustered together for a bit as if they were getting their bearings, and then they hightailed it through the boardwalk openings and found their nesting boxes.
And then we had to wait for the next group. These seemed to appear out of nowhere, as I didn’t see them arrive. There must have been more than four of such groups, with a total of about 200 birds that arrived. Aside from the one that I think may have tripped, tumbled a short way down the bank, and then decided that it didn’t like this altitude lark and had run the rest of the way down to the water’s edge – to the accompanying gasps and “awws” of the audience, and shushes from the announcers.
All this was great, but we had the best bit.
The Penguin People had built the arena to enable the penguins to go through the specially prepared (and monitored with counters(?)) access holes under the boardwalk. However, some of the penguins had quickly learnt that there was a shortcut through the entrance to our concrete viewing area. These eight penguins marched up to the fence in front of us (ignoring the lazing fur seal) hesitated a bit, and then scrambled underneath and down the passageway between our seating!
It even got better.
A few decided that they didn’t fancy going the expected way and clambered over the rocks on the other side of the fence right in front of us to their nesting boxes.
Then…
One, having decided that this was the way to go but why make it difficult for yourself, walked along the footpath barely 1.5 metres in front of our feet. There was nothing between us and it, so we were able to see it and its plumage, still wet from the swim.
The whole $45 entrance fee was worth it just for that.
Pink arrow’s where we were sitting. Blue arrow’s where the Little Blue Penguin walked. (Photos taken 7th January)
All in all, some 200 Little Blue Penguins made their way up the rock wall and to the nesting boxes provided by the Blue Penguin Colony team.
We were also entertained by watching the seals. At one point a bull seal came over to a younger one and butted chests with it to clear out of his space. The younger one took the hint and made like a tree.
And then it was time to leave. Even then we took our time as some penguins had decided that they quite liked being under the stands and were sitting there. Some were still making their way to the nesting boxes, so we were able to watch them. And even when we left the cordoned off area, we still saw penguins on the way home. At one point we had to stop about ten metres away (two car lengths, as the signage helpfully tells us, whilst neglecting to say whether the cars are minis or SUVs) whilst two penguins decided when to make a dash across the footpath and into the cliff beyond – or under the sheds that were there.
We saw more than penguins. The sky was clear and the stars and planets bright and we were easily able to see Mars, Jupiter, Venus, and Saturn… With the help of the Stellarium app on Pen’s phone to confirm that we were seeing what we thought we were seeing. I was the one who saw Mars, and I only recognised it because it was really red in colour.
Sorry, this is so late. I had 888 photos and video to go through, (and I still haven’t checked them all), which is why it’s taken me so long to update. We’ve been doing, not writing!
According to the weather forecast last night, it was supposed to be fine today. We awoke to a wet view outside and a weather forecast saying morning showers. Heavy morning showers as we walked to the railway station.
I got up when my alarm told me to, but I let Pen sleep for another twenty minutes. This meant that, in the main, we had plenty of time to get ready, without bothering one another.
Ready for a ride on the TranzAlpine train!
We had to be at the train station at 7.55 am and Google Maps was telling us that it would take us 23 minutes to walk there. I was planning on buying my breakfast on board, whish saved a bit of time, but not really knowing where we were going was a hindrance. So, I wanted to leave early enough that if we took a wrong turning, it wouldn’t be a problem.
As we hadn’t been expecting rain, we only had our raincoats with us, and I wasn’t wearing my waterproof over-trousers. I was also using my mobile phone to give us directions to the station… Which was a bit disconcerting as I was expecting to walk out of the Jailhouse accommodation and turn right and it told us to turn left. But it should know what it was talking about… In theory.
It was doubly difficult because, due to the rain, we were having to keep our heads down, so we weren’t really able to take in local landmarks… like street signs. Not that Christchurch is any better at telling you where you are than any other town in New Zealand, like Thames.
It turns out that Google does know where its going, and we arrived at the station in sodden slacks and shoes at 7.55. Pen went to try and blot herself down in the ladies, and I, glad that my slacks were a quick drying material, (I wish I could say the same for my shoes), stood in the queue so we could check in.
We were given our tickets for both the outward (Carriage B, seats 15A & B) and return journeys (P 14A & B), and then we were permitted to climb aboard.
Obviously, our seats were side by side, but this time we had a table, and we waited for someone to sit down across from us. There was an announcement that the café carriage was open, and so I headed down there to get my breakfast.
There was already a queue, so I worked my way down to the end and waited. By the time I got to the food cabinet, there were only two fruit salads left, so I grabbed one, and a beef, cheese, and pickle sandwich for lunch, and told the train staff that there was only one fruit salade left went I got to the till.
By this stage the train had already set off and I was pleased to see, when I got back to our seat at the far end of the train, that no one was sitting awkwardly across from Pen. So, I took that seat, which meant we both had a window seat and room to put our gear on the seat next to us. Which was very much appreciated. So, I was able to eat my fruit salad and watch the world go by, and Pen was able to eat her Marmite swirl and do the same.
Both Pen and I love being able to travel in the observation carriage, and being right next door to it meant that we were able to see when there was room for us to nip back and enjoy the sights – and the chance to air dry our bottom halves.
And the scenery is pretty spectacular. So much so that I don’t think there is really much point in typing more about the outward journey, and I’ll just let my photographs speak for themselves. Sorry I can’t tell you about the locations of each photo. My camera doesn’t have GPS.
Arthur’s Pass
I see why they have seatbelts on the baby changing table.
The Southern Rata was just glorious this year. This is probably what the north of the North Island was like when Pōhutukawa forests blanketed the landscape.
We got to Greymouth and Pen was keen to buy herself some lunch. (I’d got hungry and had eaten my sandwich about 11.00 am.) So I left her at a Robert Harris Café looking for the great Kiwi pie, and went hunting for a pharmacy. I want to get some Gin Gin sweets for all the bus travel (bleurgh) that I’m going to have to do from now on.
What I should have remembered, from when D.C. and I did the TranzAlpine in 1992 (along with travelling by train from Auckland all the way to Invercargill) and stayed overnight in the town, is that Greymouth is dead on Sundays. I guess Thames isn’t much better, but at least we seem to have cafés keeping the place alive.
Not having managed to find a pharmacist, let alone one that was open, I rejoined Pen at the Robert Harris where she was getting herself a filo and a drink. When she received that, we went over to the bund that runs the length of the Grey River and sat up there, in the SUN(!), and she ate, whilst I checked out a memorial to all the miners who have perished down the mines since mining began on the West Coast. Including the Cave Creek 29. It was actually a “nice” memorial, having three miners standing in the middle of a constantly rotating, water coated ring.
Working for a surveyor, I’ve learnt one or two things about Deposited Plans. This is the site of DP 1!
Someone had laid a wreath and some flowers at its base, which were now dead. Another lady came along and removed them so she could take a photo, which I thought was a bit disrespectful. But then she carefully replaced them when she’d got her pictures, so that wasn’t so bad. Yet another lady, wearing a cerise pink lei, got out of a car, posed in front of the memorial so someone in the car could get her photo, told us they were on a scavenger hunt, and then scampered back into the car.
It was a short time later on that we decided that the outward journey was for the scenery. The return journey was for the experience…
We returned to the Greymouth Railway Station and positioned ourselves at the far end, anticipating that we were about to enjoy something a little bit special. The train pulled in and we still had to walk a couple of carriages until we got to Carriage P.
That’s “P” for posh.
WOW!
We’d decided to splash out and travel back on the “Scenic Plus” as opposed to “Scenic” service. Scenic isn’t cheap, it’s $249 per person, and the Scenic Plus is even more expensive at $499, but boy were we glad we did it this way!
I was expecting to have the same carriages, but with white linen and to be waited one with a preordained menu. It was so much more than that. The carriage was white with tasteful aqua lighting picking out the embossed relief reflecting the Great Journeys of New Zealand logo in the ceiling. The seats were grey to represent the stones of the river. (That was all I heard of the talk about the carriage.) I’m just thinking that I don’t even remember looking at what the flooring was like. The tables, already laid with white tablecloths, carafes of water and glasses ready for us to take a sip, and white cloth napkins and a knife, were hinged upwards, so that you could slide into your seat with ease.
Carriage B for “Basic Class”
Carriage P for “Posh Class”
The other three/four carriages had two people serving them in total, and you had to get up and go down to the café car if you wanted something to eat. Here, we had four ladies waiting on our one carriage, and they brought our meals to our table.
We spent the first half hour behaving like country hicks overawed by Buckingham Palace. Getting photos of everything (except the flooring) and marvelling at what we’d walked into.
Especially the observation carriage. The one we’d been using this morning was supposed to hold a maximum of twenty people, and when you were passing something of scenic interest a whole lot crammed on board and tried to get photos. We had an observation carriage of our own for the use of about a total of maybe twenty to thirty people.
Wow.
Once again, we were supposed to be sitting on the same side, and, once again, we sat opposite one another so we had a window seat each. This did mean some rearranging of the silverware, but I’m sure the staff get this all the time.
Soon after leaving Christchurch, we were served a complimentary drink. Pen treated herself to some Oyster Bay white wine, whilst I was more than happy with orange juice. (With lemonade added for that extra sparkle.)
Throughout this trip, I’ve done my best to wear a mask whenever in confined spaces. I have no plans to get sick part way through the journey if I can help it, and at the end of January I don’t want to have to have sick leave when I’ve already taken a week and a half more of leave than everyone else. I’ve got one mask that I can easily pull on and off when wandering through shops; and for transportation, I’ve got a 3M over the head type, like they use in hospitals, that should offer greater protection.
I decided that, if I was going to be forever taking it off to eat on this journey, there was no point in wearing it. So, fingers crossed!
A short time later, we were offered our starter. Southland cheese rolls. Well, one cheese roll cut into three for ease of eating. Plus green tomato relish. Cheese rolls are a slice of white bread rolled around grated cheese and sometimes other fillings and condiments and then toasted. It’s a Southland/Otago delicacy/staple, so I don’t know why a train travelling through Canterbury is offering it.
When that had had time to digest, we were offered our “Afternoon meal”. A “Grazing platter to share” of a “curated selection of local cheese, dips and hummus, dried fruits, cold cut meats, seeded crackers (these were yum!) and a warmed mini bread loaf.
The fence on the viaduct is to disperse the wind so it doesn’t blow the train off.
After a couple of hours of enjoying the scenery – and the observation car, we were given our dinner: West Coast inspired braised lamb shoulder – Served with seasonal green vegetables, garlic agria potatoes mash, and Monteith horopito jus. Actually, there wasn’t much in the way of “seasonal green vegetables”, just a sprig of watercress.
Dessert, served a reasonable interval later, when we’ve had the chance to digest our main course, was “Bush Honey Cheesecake” with ANZAC Biscuit base, topped with rhubarb compote and dried raspberries.
We finished off our repast with a hot chocolate. Plus a square of birthday cake which had been presented to one of the other Scenic Plus passengers
We didn’t need dinner that evening.
Yes, this was an expensive journey, but boy was it worth it. Kally and Scott were fawned over and we were made to feel special. The only complaint I think we’d have is that the lady explaining everything didn’t use a microphone and we didn’t hear everything.
I guess that, after that, we were nicked for impersonating toffs and sent back to jail.
Okay. Having got up to date with my blog, now I’ve got to try to stay up to date. Wish me luck everyone.
This morning, I had to go to the toilet about 6.30. Does everyone remember those roller hand towels in public toilets? The ones that you had to pull on both sides so the wet & dirty towel was sucked up into the rear of the holding unit and you revealed the sterile(?) clean one to dry your hands on? They’ve got them here in the Jailhouse Accommodation. So, this morning, I washed my hands, pulled on the towel, and pulled the end out of the holding unit.
Okay. So this is a problem. Not a major, but still a problem. So I went down to the reception desk. Naturally, there wasn’t anyone there. There was a telephone with instructions on what to do in case of an emergency. This wasn’t an emergency, but it was important for hygiene reasons. If they’d had another way of leaving a note or something, I would have done that, but I rang the urgent line and got a very tired sounding “warden” on the line, who, for some reason, didn’t think this was urgent and said that the cleaning clue would change it when they did their rounds between 10.00am and midday.
I did feel bad about waking him up.
Except…
I went to use the toilet early this afternoon, i.e. after midday. And the towel hadn’t been changed. So I went back down to the reception desk and told the guy there. It turned out that he was the one I’d woken up and I was able to apologise again, but also tell him that the cleaning crew hadn’t done what he’d said they’d do. So he went and changed the roll.
I didn’t feel so bad after that.
These toilets are communal and seem to follow the jail ethic, whilst actually being suitable for modern living. They are stainless steel, but with plastic seats for comfort. And the cubicles are cramped with only just room there for you to sit. Except for the one just inside the door which, as it was dedicated to smaller people I used the first day. This one has the door recessed from the rest, which means that even someone my height almost has to sit side-saddle. I only used it the once.
Today was a quiet day, but it didn’t mean that it wasn’t an enjoyable one. Firstly, we were due to meet my friend, Mary, who’d managed to free up her very busy diary from 10am to 11.15. We’d arranged to meet her at a café that was close by and I, not wanting to hold her up or cut into our chatting time, was eager to get moving at 9.50. So much so that, when I realised that I didn’t have my sunglasses (they were in my raincoat, of course), decided that I’d better squint rather than go and get them. Pen, infuriatingly, kept on “mucking about” and doing things.
Finally, she was ready to go, and I started looking at Google Maps as we walked along the road to find out what direction we needed to be headed. That was until we got to the corner and Pen told me that the café here was the one we were looking for.
Mary was already inside, and we said hello and I was able to thank her in person for all she’d done for D.C. She said that she still has D.C.’s number in her phone and that, even though she has a couple of other Frances’ in there, she doesn’t want to delete D.C.’s number because she wants to keep thinking about her. Which was lump in the throat stuff.
We had a good chat, catching up on what we’re all up to and then Mary offered to give us a ride to the CBD and show us the highlights. This was great because I wasn’t expecting such an offer, since Mary had to get away, plus, it gave us the opportunity to get the lay of the land.
But all too soon our get together was at an end. Mary, having been on night shift, needed to get home and get some sleep. She dropped us off at the Jailhouse Accommodation, and we headed in to get some much needed laundry done.
This meant that we had to hang around the hostel for a bit, so we got photos of the building whilst the laundry was going through its washing cycle.
There are two cats here, Pumpkin the calico, and Onion. This one’s Onion.
Then, whilst the laundry was drying, we watched the new Aardman stop motion Wallace and Gommit film, “Vengeance Most Fowl” on the Jailhouse’s Netflix connected TV.
Lunchtime was after 1.00 pm and we went to a very nice café over the road and bought a sandwich and some kombucha back to the jailhouse to enjoy in the sun.
This afternoon, now that we had a better idea where we were going, Pen and I went for a walk back to the CBD. This was basically mooching and sightseeing – aside from when we went into the Riverside Market and found a chocolate shop, and then spent the next ten minutes trying to decide what to buy.
We walked along the Avon River and came upon the memorial to all the 185 people who died as a result of the 2011 Canterbury Earthquake. It was quite a sombre feeling, reading all those names, some of which were recorded in the victim’s native language.
Further on is a statue. Naturally, Pen had to get photos of Scott of the Antarctic alongside his namesake cast in marble. (Sir Robert Falcon Scott. Funny how the guy who failed is commemorated and remembered, but, in this country, you hardly hear about the guy who won. – Amundson.)
Then poor old earthquake-damaged Christ Church Cathedral is looking really sad, all propped up and with scaffolding and protective coatings all around it. I hope it doesn’t stay mothballed for too long.
Following this route meant that we also followed the tram tracks and trams rumbled past on occasion. We were keen to get have a ride, but it is $40 per ticket. Admittedly, you can get off and on as often as you like, but by this stage it was starting to get too late to get full value for the ticket. The Tramway Restaurant would be great too (D.C. and I did it last century and I think you do about three loops of the track whilst you have your five course meal), and at $149 per person, including welcome drink, in some ways was better value.
But we didn’t do that.
We came back to the hotel, offloaded our gear, and went hunting for dinner. We did a bit of phone surfing and decided that Maxine’s Palace sounded like a good (if odd) place to get Chinese takeaways.
I had a distinct sense of déjà vu as we walked in, and I wonder if that’s where D.C. and I had dinner after a trip on the TranzAlpine once.
We ordered a half-sized fried rice, sweet and sour pork, and chicken noodles (sadly, not with a lot of vegetables) and then brought them back to the Jailhouse. The three dishes were too much for us to eat, so we left them out with a note that anyone else was welcome to take the leftovers. When Pen went down to tidy them away at 9.00pm, the pork and noodles had gone – hopefully to a grateful “inmate”.
After tea, we watched more highly intellectual viewing. “Shaun the Sheep – the Flight Before Christmas” as I hadn’t seen it before.
Purupuss's Purrings 