Day 268-270: Southern Scenic Route; The Grand Finale

The final leg of the Southern Scenic Route was upon us. We were creeping up the western-most road in the south of the South Island and by the time a day-long downpour abated we were at Te Anau; a bustling town that serves as a stock-up-on-petrol-and-food point and gateway to the great Fiordland Mountains.

The Fiordland National Park rolls in undulating mountain ranges, lakes, rivers and glaciers for around 12,500km2 – most of which is inaccessible unless you are very brave, very stupid or Peter Jackson; many of Frodo's infamous adventures where filmed around these ends, you know. But we weren't delving into Middle Earth – we were staying pretty close to civilisation along the winding 120km-or-so road to Milford Sounds, and we were taking our sweet time about it.

All along the road are DOC campsites and lovely clearly-marked walking tracks. The walks seemed to fall into two main categories; under and hour strolls that anyone [grandparents/children/500 Japanese tourists with 499 digital SLRs and 1 16-inch video camera] could do or multi-day treks to far-off destinations for mentalists that actually like walking up hills carrying rucksacks. I am happy to report a full sense of fulfilment and some fantastic photos are the result of completing all of the former and none of the latter.

There is one exception to this rule though; a 3-hour walk up to Key Summit [left] At about 920m above sea level it's not by any means the most challenging walk we've done on this trip but it was rewarding all the same and, though it was a little cloudy, the views from the top were excellent. There was even a self-guided alpine tour around the summit highlighting some of the flora and fauna and explaining how the mountains were formed. God I love the DOC (department for conservation.)

We spent our nights camping by crystal-clear streams and our days walking over swingbridges and past waterfalls until we reached Milford itself. As one of only two Sounds that are accessible to the public (the other, aptly named, Doubtful Sounds is reachable only by boat, then bus, then boat via about 300NZD) it is a truly unique experience.

Lake Milford [below] lies calmly surrounded by a cascading waterfall, curling clouds and endless outlines of almighty mountains.

For me the journey itself was the best thing about getting to remote Milford Sounds, and almost 250km might sound like a long way to drive to look at some old lake; but it is the end of the Southern Scenic Route and it is quite the grand finale.

Day 262-263: Icebergs and other unbelievable things

About 100km north of Lake Tekapo, via a winding and unsurprisingly scenic road, lies the small village at the base of Mount Cook - which goes to show just how bloody massive Mount Cook is. For obvious reasons it has become something of a Mecca for mountaineers and there is a beautiful Tourist Information Centre courtesy of the DOC (of course) that details it's history and provides loads of information on what present day visitors can get up to. And I mean up to.

Now obviously as people that have, over the last few months, scaled a few mountains and dare I mention the erupting volcano we positioned ourselves in close proximity to, one may be forgiven for thinking that mountaineering is the next logical step. One could not be more wrong; nothing about having to defy death at every step, put up tents in gale force winds and sleep surrounded by snow...all for potentially days on end, is appealing to me. We opted for some comfortingly-mapped out walking routes.

Of which there are many and all of varying difficulty and offering diverse scenery. All with Mount Cook looming large in the background, of course, with its glistening glaciers, looking like it's been photoshopped in or cleverly painted onto the inside wall of a huge conservatory in a sort of The Truman Show; Serenity in the Southern Alps type thing.

As you can see we had perfect weather for it so it was more than a little bit strange to turn the corner after two hours of walking in blazing sunlight, over swing bridges and through streams, to find icebergs floating calmly in a lake. Ice ages really are incredible things.

Coming up here to the mountains is a bit of a detour, but with time on hands and walking boots firmly on feet it is easily one of the most brilliant detours your likely ever to make.

Day 233-235: Motorbikes and Monkeys (not at the same time)

Leaving Lovina wasn't easy – and not only because heavy rain fall had left main roads looking pretty water-logged and the small side road that we were staying on was completely flooded. Water lapped onto the high pavements where failing drains kept water-levels at about ankle height. In the morning the sun was shining and the roads, caked with rippling mud, were being diligently swept by shop owners and restaurateurs alike.

We had loved the relaxed feel and beautiful scenery of North Bali but now we were heading south – not quite to the afore mentioned white beaches – but to Ubud.

Ubud sits surrounded by rice paddy fields and filled, I mean filled to the brim with artists. It has a similar feel to Pai in northern Thailand, where musicians were out-numbered only by tourists and even a fair share of them could play something... Here the artists are equalled by tourists and touts, walking 10m of undulating pavement here is equal to, I would say, 2 offers of taxi services and, after dusk, the same number for dance shows.

So we decided to escape the hubbub and hired our favourite mode of transport to explore the magical and ancient hillside. After an early breakfast (pancakes, fruit salad and coffee are included in our room rate, hurrah!) we set off on what would turn out to be a 60km ride to a sacred site near Pasar Siring, which lies just 18km north of Ubud.

Our detour did afford us this spectacular view and when we did arrive at Tirta Empul the sun had emerged and was bathing the temple and the crystal -clear waters of the surrounding baths – said to contain magical and healing properties – in a warm and hazy glow.

Naked men and women wrapped in full-length sarongs prayed and washed in segregated baths that sat between a huge and beautifully ornate temple. School children rushed excitedly around the grounds, either soaking wet or grouped in formal dress ready for lunch.

Exiting Tirta Empul was the only less than magical experience; visitors are shepherded through what must be at least 2km of winding path lined with souvenir shops. There must be 100 shops all selling exactly the same 12 items that seems to go on and on forever until you emerge no thankyou-ed out into the car park. Surely this must dirty even the most cleansed beings...?

Our other port of call in Ubud was Mandala Wisata Wenara Wana, most commonly known as The Sacred Monkey Forest Temple. Unfortunately apart from the sign at the gate that asks visitors to respect those that worship there I couldn't really see any thriving trace of religious importance; it's just a really good place to go to see extremely cheeky monkeys up close.

The many primates that call this home are not the kind that will shy away from delving into someone's bag in search of bananas or, as Rob found out, making a leap for your bottle of water mid-sip. Sitting down here is not really an option, constant movement is really the only way to avoid coming under a fairly rigorous stop-and-search. It's an excellent hour-or-so entertainment.

Ubud is a very varied town. A (genuine, not fake) Dolce & Gabana shop sits on the same road as a sprawling market where every type of clothing or souvenir can be bought for next to nothing. Ancient temples sit along side swanky restaurants. You can by a meal for 15,000 Rupiah (just over 1GBP) 200m from a place where a mojito costs 10 times that much – during Happy Hour. No prizes for guessing which side of the divide we're on.

Ubud would be a great place to come on holiday; when you've got less time and more money. I'd recommend it to anyone.