Day 312-319: The only way is up (baby)

Well it's been a while since I let you lovely people know what we've been up to...apologies, actually we've done a fair bit. First we hit up the Coromandle – the smaller peninsular that stretches out at the north of Rotorua. Our first port of call was Tauranga, a lovely seaside town that sits in the shadow of Mount Manganui. It was getting late in the day so we opted for clambering on the rocks that afforded beautiful views of the sacred mountain and the South Pacific Ocean stretching out in front of it instead of a strenuous climb up the mount itself.

Next on our whistle-stop tour was Katikati, which was particularly exciting for Rob whose taken to calling me Kati / Katikati / Katikatikatkat /Kaaaaaatikatikatkat etc. and to see his chantings in writing was, as you can imagine, almost to much to bear. For me the tiny town was wonderful because it is covered in murals (below)...what a brilliant idea to cover any empty walls or shop-sides with portraits and old-fashioned vistas. Even if it did come with a soundtrack of my own name ringing in my ears.

The rest of our trip up the Coromandel was sort of rained off, we made it Forest Park but weren't really in the mood for walking around in the drizzle, so we departed shortly after. And this was a pattern that then repeated itself for the next few days in various locations.

[insert days spent in coffee shops / the back of Emilio / rinsing free wifi in McDonalds' in the Hamilton and Raglan area here]

After a brief stop in Auckland (which I will write about properly in it's own right) Rob and I took a few days out to continue of journey north. At Goat Island (not, I note, a goat in sight here) we did some snorkelling before camping up for the night just above Tutukaka on a gorgeous sandy beach that came with the added bonus of a beautiful sunset and a family skinny dipping. Good times.

Back in Highway 1 we were soon at Paihia – gateway to the Bay of Island, which is, as the name would suggest, a bay with many islands. We decided to indulge in some more snorkelling on Roberton Island since a company was running day trips there for $50 with all the gear included. And it is a beautiful island, sitting pretty in blue oceans it holds two lagoons and one retired man who apparently survives by having cruise boats bring in supplies for him every day or so.

We were dropped off by boat at 10AM when the sun was shining and dived right into the freezing waters, though there wasn't too much sea life about Rob did an amazing job in spotting a lazy Manta Ray lurking on the sea bed. This was brilliant! After all our diving we sill hadn't seen a ray and, for me, this really completes the under-water check list of must-see animals. Then a smaller, lighter one swam around below us for a few minutes. Two manta rays - magic.
We'd been told that we'd be picked up at around 2:30-3ish but by 4PM there was still no sign of our lift. We were, literally, stranded on an island. Which might not sound like such a raw deal but the clouds had rolled in and we had a long drive ahead of us...eventually after a phone call (“we haven't forgotten about you, we'll be over at some point” damn those relaxed kiwis) we made it back to shore at 5ish. The extra 2 hours did kind of take away from the enjoyment of the day, the lesson here? Do go to Roberton Island, but don't do it with DiveOps.

At this point we'd considered continuing up to the northern most peak of NZ, Cape Reinga, but it is a long drive on partially unsealed roads which we weren't sure were too healthy for little Emilio so we left it at that and returned “home” to Auckland.

Day 285-286: A window of sunshine at Arthur's Pass

Dear readers, looking over some of my last posts I have noticed a worrying increase in the inclusion of comments about the weather from yours truly. I would like to extend my sincerest apologies to all those who came to this humble url to find exciting, informative, dare I say even amusing travel blog and have been bombarded with a boring running commentary regarding rainfall in NZ. I promise that I will try to keep my inner Michael Fish under wraps hence forth.

With this caveat in mind let me begin where I left off...ah yes, winding up the west coast to Nelson. Well, yes, now this is going to be tricky because we have in fact diverted from that cause of action because of the poor...oooh...the...you know...there was too much...it was torrential...so we... Alright; here it is – it was raining so bloody much on the West Coast and the forecast was for more of the same so we nipped directly Eastwards from Greymouth (lovely town...awfully apt name) to make the most of a small window of sunshine we'd spotted on the horizon at Arthur's Pass.

By the time we arrived we had time for a beautiful late-afternoon walk to the Devil's Punchbowl Waterfall (a thoroughly drenching experience) and an early dinner with a spectacular backdrop of pinks and blues as the sun set over mountains.

We were up early again for another blustery walk as the shadow of the mountain on one side of the valley crept slowly down the mountain opposite. We were back at base camp and enjoying breakfast by the time the winds really picked up (160km/hr at the peaks) and we were driving east again by the time the storm that was tearing apart the West coast crept over the Southern Alps and things got really wet.

Though it would have been great to stay longer and do some more challenging walks and see some really incredible sights the *eh-hem* you know that thing wasn't on our side this time. Still, I think we made the most of our short time in stunning Arthur's Pass.

Now it is onwards and north-eastwards to sunnier climbs and, since it is now somehow February already, the final leg if you will of our South Island adventure.

Day 274-277: Taking it Easy

Travelling north of Queenstown on the usual tourist trail – or highway 8 as the signposts would have you believe it's called – you could, and I believe many travellers would – make it to Wanaka within a day. This sort of time:distance ratio is not one that regular readers of this humble blog will know that we like to endorse. It's just too fast. And I don't mean fast in an Emilio-is-over-20-years-old-and-a-1.9 litre-engine-simply-wouldn't-be-capable-of-it kind of way, no...zipping from one big tourist attraction to the next just means you miss out on a lot of stuff.

Beautiful stuff. Interesting stuff. And in the case of Lake Hayes, the first of the three places that I will try shamelessly to promote to you here, free stuff. Ah free, the magic word...free both in the sense that we could wander where we liked and free in the sense that when we ignored the sign that said 'no camping' we were duly ignored by any enforcing body and left to camp, for free, for two nights by this beautiful lake.

We decided to stop by the lake because it had a 2-3 hour walk around it that had caught our eye in Queenstown – in fact the walk isn't all that, it does not offer any better views of the lake than you could get from the little shaded alcove you parked up in when you arrived and there is little-to-no shade on the path, making it a pretty sweaty affair. Luckily a thermocline makes the water a cool but not limb-loosingly freezing place to take a dip. Which is perfect after two and a half hours of intense perspiration.

It also makes for a pretty fun way to wash in the morning; a quick game of one-knee-two-knee with the soap to get used to the cold and it was like washing in our own massive and almost private (there were some confused looking ducks present) bath. Otherwise, apart from book-reading, clothe-washing and dinner-cooking not much else is to be achieved at Lake Hayes. It's glorious.

When we finally managed to drag ourselves away from the lake (incoming clouds helped – had it stayed sunny, I fear that we may never have left) we took the short 6km drive to Arrowtown. Once a hub of the 1860's goldrush, the town is now a tiny living homage to the glorious era gone by. All the shops on the small high street are in the traditional style and there is a homage to the Chinese settlers that were once so badly treated in the area.

Onwards to Cromwell, a larger town that also pays tribute to a time gone by. Unfortunately in Cromwell the “Historical Precinct” is tucked away on the banks of the river and though it has been lovingly restored, it could be - and maybe often is - easily missed.

We had hoped that there would be more to see and do in Cromwell but alas there was not and so we spend the night just outside of town by Lake Dunstan; we shall make it to Wanaka tomorrow I expect, 3 days after leaving Queenstown...yes, that's how we like to do things here.

Day 271-273: 365 battles Burgers and Gravity, only in Queenstown...

So here we were; adrenalin capital of the world, home of the bungy jump and self-professed party capital of New Zealand. Queenstown is a beautiful little town; set on a glistening lake with small streets and lovely botanic gardens that stretch out on a small peninsula. The town centre is – especially by NZ standards – really rather busy. Families and backpackers lounge on the beach, wander around town and fill the many cafes and restaurants.

And there is one eatery in particular that is, without question, the busiest 10m2 in the whole of Queenstown, maybe NZ. It is held in international acclaim and anyone who has been to Queenstown or indeed ever spoken to anyone who has ever been to Queenstown will already know all about Fergburger. But, for the uninitiated, I will try to explain; it's a burger joint. That's basically it but for whatever reason it has become the stuff of legend; to finish a fergburger and chips is to join an elite. Maybe I am the wrong person to muse on the greatness of a small place that sells 16 types of over-sized burgers and little else...I am assured that the burgers are amazing (I can assure you the veggie one I tried was only alright) and, yes, Rob is indeed in the elite – in fact he finished 2 fergburgers over the course of our stay, which means uber kudos points now available in all future conversations about Queenstown for him.

But you're not here to hear about the township are you? No! It's the out-of-town entertainment that Queenstown is really all about. If you've joined us today through the wondrous medium that is facebook you'll already have no doubt enjoyed watching Rob and I throw ourselves into a canyon and if you didn't join us through facebook, don't worry! There's something for everyone here on threesixfive...

Here's the footage of Team 365 on our first and tandem Canyon Swing on the famous Nevis Arc. 70m of free-fall that turns into about 140m of swing all from an alarmingly sudden release. Check it out.

Now you might be forgiven for thinking that the look on our wind-swept faces would suggest that this was adrenalin enough for one day but, having seen someone else do the swing upside down, Rob decided to go for it too...

And then, even though my knees were literally shaking and because I don't like to be out-done in matters of bravery, I also decided to do 'the Arc again - upside down - which really was a totally different experience. When your legs are firmly twisted around the supports and you lean your head back to see a vast and empty canyon upside down in front of you, knowing that gravity is about to drag you into it, it's actually terrifying. Then you're released and the canyon floor is rushing at you and all you can hear is the wind in your ears and at the last moment you feel the rush of blood to your head before you peak silently at the other end of the arc and then it's just a breathtakingly beautiful and surprisingly gentle ride up while your insides right themselves and you try to breathe normally again. It's such a rush.

And all before midday, eh? Oooh we've done some crazy things on this trip but that was one big tick-box completed – and the best thing about it is that we'd do it all again if we could :)

[all the professional pics are here]

Day 249 - 256: Hello from New Zealand!

Right. First things first – happy new year to you all, now this may seem like a redundant statement on 8 January but things have been pretty busy in the bubble that 365 occupy and I haven't had to chance to wish you well yet. God. First post of the year, and wildly overdue – better make it a good'un. I do have very exciting news on my side, but more on that later...

We arrived safe and sound in recently shook-up Chrsitchurch to find that the earthquake had indeed closed the hostel we'd reserved but the friendly bus shuttle bus driver (we'd found him via the friendly guy at the airport info counter) advised us of another. None of this “my brother has hostel, he make you good price” malarkey – oh no! We were definitely, and somewhat strangely after the best part of 2010, not in Asia any more. There was a short but pleasant walk [note: we were not hotter than the sun itself or drenched in sweat/rain at the end of it] and we were there! Stonehurst Hostel was to be our home for the next few days and the base from which the hunt for 4-wheels to call home was to operate.

Chrsitchurch is a lovely city; there's a beautiful art gallery, cute shopping streets, a vintage tram system and a well-maintained botanic gardens. It's kind of like Bournemouth meets Cambridge, but 100 years ago. It's quaint [all the pics are here.]

We began searching for a campervan by heading to the 'car markets' – basically show grounds for cars and vans that other travellers have driven around and are now selling on, and by checking hostel notice boards for posters that crowd each one. There is something for every taste and budget available here and, apart from knowing we wanted a fixed bed i.e. not an airbed/mattress sitting on the floor or on the folded down seats of a people-carrier, we weren't sure what we were looking for - until we met Emilio.

When Emilio showed us his '87 Toyota Townace I think we both knew it was the one. He and his girlfriend had ingeniously fixed up the then-empty space so that it was possible to have a full bed, a sofa and a table, two bench-like sofas with a table in the middle, all sorts of diagonal table fixtures going in and out of the van, or just have the table free-standing outside. It's difficult to explain, but hopefully it'll show in photos in time. IT also came with all the bedding and cooking necessaries, fold-down chairs and maps too.

Now you might be wondering what I'm getting all excited about table/bed formations for so I'll try to explain. In all the other campervans we saw there is really one two positions you can be in; sitting in the driver or passenger seat or lying in the back. And if it's raining outside you're cooking on your lap or your pillow – which isn't safe or fun, I imagine. So we're hoping that Emilio [we decided to name the van after the man, so our vehicle's full name is in fact Emilio Jose Garcia Rodriguez] will be a more functional and sociable option.

We had to wait until the mechanics re-opened the other side of NYE to get a full service done (passed with no problems) and, despite Nationwide & Santander's combined best efforts and ridiculous practices, we bought the van, signed the papers and became full owners.

It is all terribly exciting. NZ is (like Pai before it) one of those places that everybody we know that has been there has loved. We have not heard a bad word said and now we were here, in 2011, to see it for ourselves. The open road was ours to explore, so we set off...