Kia Ora – Welcome to New Zealand

Security at the Sydney Airport was extremely rigorous, or maybe the surly lady running the scanner was just having a bad day, because I had to unpack all my camera equipment from my carry-on before she would let me go to the boarding gate (my camera equipment had to go through the scanner twice). However, the flight over to Christchurch was pleasant and ended by flying across the South Island Alps for our first view of New Zealand.

We finally got through formalities at the Christchurch airport (customs and a person in front of us at the car rental desk who was deaf, had trouble reading English and therefore could not communicate well) and picked up our car, a Toyota Corolla that was much smaller than a Corolla in Canada. Driving on the left is always a bit of a challenge on the first day, particularly when faced with three roundabouts in a row, but we arrived safely at our motel. As it was late in the afternoon (we lost two hours through time zone changes, the 3 hour 30 minute flight and the delays at the airport), we decided to do some laundry. Almost all motels in New Zealand and many B&Bs have guest laundry facilities – an idea we should adopt in Canada and the US. After we recovered our clean clothes, we went out for dinner at a nearby Thai restaurant the hotelier had recommended. It was really good, so good in fact that we ate there two nights in a row. We got back around 9 p.m., sipped some excellent New Zealand wine and called it a night.


The next day, we walked about two kilometres to the centre of Christchurch which is called the Cultural Precinct. We popped into the AA office (no, not Alcoholics Anonymous in spite of our propensity for wine) to get maps. As the CAA is affiliated with its New Zealand counterpart, I received a temporary membership which meant all maps and services were free.

Christchurch is a charming, very English-type city. Its nickname is the Garden City and it is easy to see why. A small river (the Avon) meanders through the Cultural Precinct – one can even go ‘punting’ on the river, poled along by your own ‘Edwardian’ gentleman. The Victorian Gothic cathedral at the centre of town is fairly large and is apparently the most visited church in New Zealand. Cathedral Square contains sculptures and people playing chess with huge men on a board painted on the pavement. Trams stop to pick up and set down passengers in front of the church. The historical tram circles the Cultural Precinct and does not really travel far, but I suppose if you are into that type of thing, it is worth a ride. Otherwise, the centre of town is easily doable on foot.

Not far from the Square, along Worcester Street, we stopped in at a beautifully restored Queen Anne style building that used to be the Municipal Chambers. It featured a very emotional exhibit on New Zealand’s role in the Passchendaele battle of WWI as a tribute to ANZAC Day on April 25 (ANZAC refers to the Australia-New Zealand Army Corps). The first item was John McCrae’s poem In Flanders Fields, remarkable because he was a Canadian Army doctor (he wrote the poem while with the 1st Field Artillery Brigade at Ypres in 1915). We chatted with the exhibit’s custodian afterwards and he told us about ANZAC Day celebrations that happen in towns and cities throughout Australia and New Zealand. Originally, it commemorated the soldiers who took part in the Gallipoli campaign that started on April 25, 1915, in Turkey during the First World War, but now has grown to honour all Australian, New Zealand, Cook Islands, Niue, Tonga and Samoa troops who comprised ANZAC forces. Gallipoli has much the same meaning for New Zealanders as Vimy Ridge does for Canadians.

Subdued after our tour, we walked slowly down Worcester Boulevard towards the Botanic Gardens. Just before we got there, however, we turned into the former campus of the University of Canterbury. The old campus, with its Gothic Revival style buildings and quadrangle at the centre has been ‘recycled’ as the Christchurch Arts Centre complex. When the University moved to new buildings in 1974, this complex was to have been razed, but was preserved by the city to protect the architecture. Weekend markets and events are now held there. The quadrangle featured a very interesting wire sculpture suspended overhead. As you walked around the quadrangle, it changed from a set of stairs into a house!

At the end of Worcester Boulevard and at the gate of the Botanic Garden, we went in to the City Museum to view extinct Moa skeletons (they were huge birds, some three metres tall), Maori artefacts and the excellent Antarctic exhibit of expeditions that included those of early explorers from Captain Cook to Scott, Shackleton and Byrd, including expeditions of today. It was fascinating to see how survival clothing and equipment had changed over the years. Canada even had a contribution to make; an early Bombardier snow cat and a more modern SkiDoo were featured. Exiting the museum, we sauntered through the huge botanic gardens towards our hotel, but stopped in at a pub just outside the gardens for a pint and late lunch. Marie noticed a Casino across the road, so while she went over for a couple of hours, I stayed behind and chatted with the barman (we were the only ones in the pub) about New Zealand, rugby, Canada and rugby (Rugby is to Kiwis what hockey is to Canucks). Probably because I kept him company, he gave me a souvenir cap as I left to rejoin Marie who had finished playing the slots $20 NZ richer.

In the morning, with the weather ‘fine’, we headed south towards Dunedin our next stop, but instead of taking the main highway, we set out south westwards toward the Alps on the Inland Scenic Route. We passed by deer farms as we progressed towards the mountains, went down and through a beautiful gorge where the air was clear at river level but foggy 100 metres higher and crossed our first of countless one lane bridges. Most South Island highway bridges are one lane we were to discover because there is so little traffic on the roads in this country of 4 million people (if you see the movie, X Men Origins – Wolverine, you will see a New Zealand one lane bridge – as the pickup crosses it note the arrow painted on the left to remind tourists to get back into the ‘right’ lane, something the pseudo-Canadian driver does not do in the film). Driving in New Zealand is fun; the roads are winding and twisty, with lots of hills and narrow sections and constant reminders to drive on the left, to obey the speed laws and to not drink and drive. We found Kiwi drivers to be courteous and law abiding – much better than most Canadian drivers.

We had coffee in the small skiing village of Methuen where the principle actors from Lord of the Rings stayed when filming the “Rohan” scenes just up the road. The extras were bused the 90 minutes to and from Christchurch each day of shooting. After completing this circular loop to the shoulders of the Alps, we dropped back down and joined State Highway 1 (it appears on maps as SH1 and was called schwon by our GPS) for the trip down the coast. We took a detour to the town of Waitake to see wallabies (imported from Australia) at the botanic garden and to have lunch at a café. Most ‘restaurants’ in New Zealand, particularly in small towns, villages and in the countryside, are called cafés. Many towns and villages in New Zealand also start with the letters Wai, which in Maori means water. New Zealand is a bilingual country, English and Maori are official languages and both are taught at school.

The next stop was along the seashore (beautiful seascapes) to view the completely spherical Moeriki Boulders. Termed septarian concretions, they range in size from large beach balls to small cars and are truly amazing. Spherical ones only occur here, in one location in the North Island, on the Cannonball River in North Dakota and near Kettle Point (Lake Huron), Ontario, so they are pretty rare. The cores of the boulders are hollow, the exteriors mostly hard calcite. They date from the Tertiary period, around 65 million years ago. While scientists can state how they were formed, I prefer the Maori legend which is more interesting. To Maoris, the boulders represent the eel baskets, calabashes, and kumaras (sweet potatoes) washed ashore from the wreck of the large sailing canoe, Arai-te-uru, which had sailed from Hawaiki (Maori homeland) in search of green stone (jade).

Late in the afternoon we arrived in Dunedin and crossed the harbour bridge to climb up the hill where our first Bed and Breakfast, a ‘Homestay’, was located. A ‘Homestay’ or ‘Farmstay’ accommodation is exactly that. You stay in a bedroom in a house and have limited services. The home’s owners talked to us for just a few minutes upon arrival, recommending a place to eat back down the hill in the city (my first night’s experience driving on the left, in the dark and in the rain to boot) where we went for dinner. After dinner we strolled around the Octagon, the centre of town where the streets form, you guessed it, an octagon, to see the lit up cathedral and city hall, and finally the beautiful train station before returning to the Homestay for the night.

The next morning, after a continental breakfast, we drove back through downtown so I could photograph the station before going to the far end of town to see the world’s steepest street. It is difficult to photograph the street since perspective through the camera lens does not do justice to how steep it really is. I did watch a jogger pause at the bottom of the steps, reset her watch, and head up the stairs at a quick pace. It took her about 4 minutes to run up the sidewalk stairs to the top. It took me about 10 minutes to recover from the effort of thinking about how taxing it would be for me to walk to the top.

We drove back through town and headed south, turning off the Schwon to take the Southern Scenic Route along the coast and through the Catlins (a mostly forested area). This drive was absolutely gorgeous. The topography changed with every corner we went around; from farmland and hills covered in sheep to lush rain forest. The road climbed over hills from the tops of which the farms in the valleys below looked like minature models. As we reached the coast, empty beach vistas stretched on to the next headland in the far distance. There are few villages along the route. One that is on a beach is called Kaka Point, named after the kaka parrot. It marks the start of the drive to Nugget Point and although it is an unsealed road (a sealed road in New Zealand is an asphalt road), it is well worth the drive to see the 1870s lighthouse and a seal colony. The coast around Nugget Point is outstandingly rugged, with high cliffs, pounding waves, stupendous views and isolated beaches. Few people live in this area of the South Island, but we did bump into fellow travellers; I chatted with two men from Denmark who come to New Zealand often for hunting and fishing.

After Nugget Point, we continued on the Southern Scenic Route as it wound its way through more farmland, rain forest (fern land), over and around hills and along the coast through wetlands and past more vast, empty beaches, until we ended up in Invercargill. It was now late in the afternoon, so we did not stop but continued on to Riverton, a small fishing village about 20 kilometres towards the tip of the South Island. We had booked at the Riverton Beachfront Bed and Breakfast at an area called “The Rocks” and were soon settling into an excellent room with a view of the ocean. Our gracious hosts made a booking for us for dinner at a seafood café a kilometre up the beach, and before it got dark, we walked out onto the sand of the beach to watch the sunset. I have never seen a sky turn so violet before and as it was perfectly reflected on the wet sand of the beach, it made for beautiful photographs. It took us a while to wander up the beach to the Beach House Café (voted best café in NZ in 2007) where we had an excellent dinner of chowder and Blue Cod. On the way back to the B&B, we were treated to a magnificent display of the Milky Way. Both Marie and I remarked that we had not seen so many stars or the Milky Way so dense since we both were kids. Finally, I had a long soak in the spa bath to end a marvellous day.

The next day, we had a really scrumptious breakfast, sitting at a large picture window looking out at the beach which now was covered by high tide. Our host and hostess spent quite a few minutes with us chatting about the area and other subjects, and then it was time to head out as we were scheduled on the Milford Sound overnight boat trip.

The drive to Te Anau, the town at the start of the Milford Highway was through farmland and forests, and skirted around the base of hills that grew progressively steeper the further north we went.
We stopped on the way to look at the one-lane Clifden Suspension Bridge that crossed the Waiau River. It was built in 1899 and used until 1978 to replace a small ferry on the river which, when flooded, made travel up the west side of the South Island almost impossible. We got to Te Anau around 11 a.m. and visited the Fiordland I-Site (I-Sites are throughout New Zealand and provide tourist services and information) to get additional information on the Milford Highway. The Milford Track, a popular hiking (tramping in NZ) trail also starts in Te Anau. The i-Site folks were warning trampers not to go on the Track because of a huge storm approaching in two to three days. Boy, were they right about the storm and about the trampers – several of who were rescued by helicopter a few days later! We also filled up with gas as the round trip drive to Milford Sound is about 300 kilometres and there are no gas stations along the route.

About 20 kilometres from Te Anau, we left the sheep farms and open range behind and entered Fiordland National Park. We drove through a small forest and as we emerged from it, we entered the Eglinton Valley which instantly reminded me of driving from Jasper to Banff in the Canadian Rockies. On both sides of the valley, towering mountains, some covered with snow, thrust upward into the cloudless sky. The valley floor was covered with tall brown grass and the Eglinton River flowed in braids down its centre. Further along the Valley, we stopped at the Mirror Lakes; pools of still water that perfectly reflected the mountains on the opposite side of the valley.

A sign in the still waters, written upside and down and backwards reflected back the name of this popular stop along the road. Birds chirped, whistled, dinged like a bell (the bell bird of course) and cackled in songs unfamiliar to us as we walked along the boardwalk under the shade of large trees to view the pools.

Back in the car, we did not go far until the next stop where we pulled in to view the mountains all around us and an alpine valley below us because by this time, we had climbed to the highest part of the Milford Highway. Here, we bumped into some Americans from Upper New York State and started to chat to them. Like us, they were on a month long visit to New Zealand, but were nearing the end of their trip. A little further along the road, we came to the Homer Tunnel, a one lane, 1.2 kilometre long rough cut, steeply descending (from the Te Anau end) tunnel about 20 kilometres from Milford Sound. We had to wait about fifteen minutes to go through as traffic is regulated by a traffic light. There is no room to pass another vehicle in the tunnel. With no lights in the tunnel, and water dripping down from the “roof”, the journey through was somewhat intimidating when realizing that New Zealand is prone to earthquakes. However, I read afterwards that the tunnel has been there since 1954.

We emerged from the other side of the tunnel and went quickly downhill through several sharp switchbacks from the tunnel’s 900 metre above sea level position, stopping at The Chasm, a trail along the Cleddau River that twice crosses the river on footbridges and where several waterfalls and water sculpted basins and pot holes line the granite sides. The trail meandered through and under huge ferns and all that was missing in my mind was the roar of a Tyrannosaurus. The Americans we had talked to earlier walked around the trail with us and we found out that they were taking the overnight boat trip in Milford Sound so we said we would see them later before heading the last few kilometres down to the sea and the Sound itself.

A note on Milford Sound.
First of all, it is a Fiord, not a Sound. What’s the difference, you ask? Other than being two different words, a Sound is ‘an inlet on the sea, parallel to the coast’ whereas a Fiord is a ‘long narrow deep inlet of the sea, between steep slopes’. Milford Sound is not parallel to the coast, but runs 15 kilometres inland from the Tasman Sea and is surrounded by sheer rock faces that rise 1,200 metres or more on either side. But all you really need to know is that it is a beautiful place irrespective of whether it is named correctly or not. We stayed overnight on the water, our ship had large cabins, the food served in the evening and at breakfast was buffet style but really good, and the passengers, including our American acquaintances, proved to be quite the party crowd. Having an Irish couple at our table certainly didn’t hurt the party atmosphere.

The two days we spent at Milford Sound were sunny, so we didn’t see the hundreds of temporary waterfalls it is famous for when it rains, but we did see a couple of permanent ones, one of which the bow of the boat actually got under. The myth is that if the spray of this waterfall hits you, you will be 10 years younger in the morning. I was drenched both times the boat went under the falls while taking photos. So I figure I should have reverted to childhood in the morning – at least physically. The scenery in Milford Sound was simply spectacular and the ride out to the Tasman Sea to see the sun come up was exhilarating for the large waves we crashed through and over. Don’t miss this place if you go to New Zealand.

We left Milford Sound around 10:30 a.m.and headed back up the highway. We only stopped a couple of times on the return trip up the Milford Highway when we saw something particularly astounding. We turned left at Te Anau and headed towards Queenstown, our next stop. The drive over was uneventful as we passed mostly through farmland (cattle ranches) and quite a bit of natural land where no one seemed to be. We did pass by one area where a protected plant was growing - it was reddish and spiky, kind of like tumbleweed. Other than that, we went through just a couple of small villages on the way and even had trouble finding a cafe for lunch.

We arrived in Queenstown around 3 p.m. and after checking in to the hotel, went for a walk around town. Queenstown is the most popular summer resort in New Zealand (bungee jumping and jet boating were invented here) and it is also a ski resort in the winter. We were there in the ‘in between’ season so there was not a lot of tourists roaming around. We wandered up and down the four or five streets that make up the shopping district and found a place where we wanted to eat later on. We then checked out the waterfront and a small market happening in the park before sitting on the patio of an Irish pub where we could watch the people wander through the park and the boats coming and going from the waterfront. Later that evening, when walking to dinner, I heard a man proposition me with the ‘hello sailor, new in town?’ line only to discover upon turning around that it was the Irish couple we had met the night before. We had a few more laughs and wished them well in their travels before going to dinner where we were waited on by a young server who had a funny accent for a Kiwi – seeing as how he was from Ottawa. Small world.

The next day, the weather started out sunny but we knew from the weather reports we were going to drive into rain as we headed out to the west coast to begin our journey north. The area around Queenstown is magnificent with the Remarkable Range of mountains in the background, the emerging fall colours of the wild grasslands against the contrast of the azure blue of the sky and the sun tinged clouds of early morning enhancing the green and brown colours of the land. After climbing to the top of the Crown Range Road (the highest sealed road in New Zealand) a few kilometres out of the city where the views of the area were stupendous, we descended into the Cardrona Valley, a major site of the 1860s gold rush. This proved to be a beautiful unplanned (our GPS wanted us to stay on Highway 6) drive along the Cardrona River past huge trees with leaves turning golden in the clear fall sunshine, but as we headed north to Wanaka and Lake Wanaka, we could see the clouds getting darker ahead. By the time we entered Mount Aspriring National Park, we headed into the rain. And it did not end for the next three days.

As we drove through the National Park and along a river valley in the mountains, we saw countless waterfalls from the rain cascading down the mountains. Some of the falls actually were landing on the roadway as the culverts could not contain the amount of water coming down the mountains. The waterfalls were a consolation for the amount of rain falling and for the thick, low cloud cover that made a view of the Southern Alps from the west coast side impossible. We stopped for a walk to see a particularly large one called Roaring Billy as the rain had slackened, but we still got completely soaked in the fifteen minutes it took to go down the track to the river and back. We could not see the tops of any of the mountains for the thick cloud cover.

At the coast, we headed north and crossed a long one lane bridge where the Haast River was already in full flood. The river surged against the bridge supports, almost cascading over the roadway. We could feel the power of the river through the trembling of the bridge deck as we crossed. We learned a couple of days later that the bridge was closed for a day shortly after we crossed for fear it would be washed out. In the nearby town of Haast, we stopped for lunch and to visit a Maori art studio. We bought a Maori wooden sculpture in a shadow box and thought we got a deal from the proprietor. However, we learned later we could have purchased the same sculpture on the North Island for $50 less (transportation costs I guess). Continuing through the hammering, wind blown rain, we drove on to Fox Glacier, our next stop. We had hoped to see the Glaciers which come down almost to the coast, but the 1 km road to Fox Glacier was closed because of rain and flooding, so we went for our fall back activity. We did a laundry. Then out into the rain for dinner at a very popular café and back to the motel to listen to the wind and rain drumming on the roof all night long. On the west coast of the South Island they measure rain in metres, not millimetres. Close to where we were staying, one area averages nine (9, yes, 5 +4) metres of rainfall a year. I think they got 8 of those metres the night we were there.

The next morning was dark and foreboding as the rain continued to teem down. So we packed up and headed north along the coast road, not being able to see much of anything. The storm (one of the largest in years it turned out) did whip up the ocean surf, so we were entertained by glimpses of crashing waves through the rain as we made our way north. We tried a couple of times to stop to see some of the 'ghost' towns we passed, remnants of the gold and coal mining rushes of the 1800s, but each time, the rain was too ferocious to be outside.

We stopped in Hokitika, a town famous for green stone (a type of jade much coveted by the Maori) that is made into jewellery and toured a couple of the jade ‘factories’ before popping into yet another café for lunch. The rain had let up a bit but the wind was still ferocious so we did not stay long in the town, but continued our journey to Greymouth where we had wanted to visit Shantytown, a recreated gold town of the 1860s.

But because of the rain, we settled for the local museum (which contained hundreds of photos from the 1880s to modern times) and a tour of the Monteith’s Brewery. At the conclusion of the tour, and after sampling about 5 different beers, we drove across the Grey River as dusk was falling, and headed the 15 kilometres north to our next B&B.

In the teeming rain and now pitch darkness, we banged on the back door of the B&B only to find out we had the wrong house – we had to go another two hundred metres up the track. Our host helped us in and offered to make tea for us, telling us that the ‘missus’ was still at work in Greymouth and would be home late that night. We went out for dinner a bit later to a café about a kilometre north of the B&B and when we came back, Dennis, our host, told us that a small slide had occurred on the road south of us and that he would have to get his 4x4 out to meet his wife. A little later on a neighbour stopped by to say two German tourists had gone off the road and landed their car on the beach. They were all right, but Dennis said the tide would get their car overnight. Try to explain that to the rental agency. Dennis made us some more tea and we chatted. Marie decided to go off to bed, and shortly after she did, Dennis got another phone call. He looked worried, but ever the good host, he put on a DVD for me to watch about the deer cull (ask me about this since it was pretty graphic) and said he was going out to check on the road. He came back a half hour later to say that a large slip, 50 metres wide and 10 metres high now covered the road to Greymouth. He said that the amount of rain and large road slip was the worse he had seen in the 13 years he had lived there. I went to bed thinking that we were stuck for a couple of days while the roads were repaired.

In the morning Dennis had good news for us – the road north, the direction we were going, was open at the moment and the weather was supposed to improve. The rain was much gentler than the night before, but he said the large slide would take at least a day (it took two) to clear so his wife had to stay in town. He made us breakfast and we set off shortly after 8 a.m. We drove down towards the slide, but stopped at the small one where the road was covered in stones and the water was still running across the pavement. We reversed direction and headed north, hopefully away from more road problems.

In several areas of the South Island coast, penguin colonies can be found. The six species of penguin that live in New Zealand tend to be small, with the Blue Penguin the smallest of all species. Since the birds spend daylight hours fishing at sea, we did not get up early enough, or go to colonies at dusk to actually see any live birds. But signs along the road (some are apparently hunted) often warn motorists to watch out for the birds. We passed through a colony area shortly after leaving the B&B.

Fifteen miles down the road near the town of Panakaiki, the rain had temporarily stopped as did we to see the Pancake Rocks, columns of limestone that resemble stacks of pancakes. They were formed 30 million years ago when the lime in dead marine creatures built up between softer layers of mud on the ocean floor. Uplifted by seismic disturbances, the rocks are now being eroded by the wind, rain and the sea. The softer layers erode first, thus the pancake stack effect. The Rocks are famous for the blowholes when the sea rushes in pushed by westerly winds and is forced up through holes in the rocks, but because it was low tide when we were there, the sea could only manage a couple of feeble spurts of froth. The twenty minute loop walk into the Rocks, which form Dolomite Point, was very informative, with descriptions of the various plants (mostly ferns) and trees along the route. The Rocks are definitely worth seeing if you are in the area.

We continued north until just short of Westport where we turned inland to head across the top of the South Island to Picton, our destination and the South Island Terminus for the Ferry to the North Island. The Buller River valley we followed took us up into the Alps through the Buller Gorge. The Buller River was the colour of milk chocolate and enormously swollen, carrying whole trees as it rushed down towards the sea. At the top of the Gorge, we emerged into an Alpine Valley that was remarkably flat. We followed this valley along the edge of Nelson Lakes National Park until we arrived at the wine growing area of Marlborough. The first vineyards appeared on the south facing side of the hills; then we were surrounded by them for kilometres as we made our way into Blenheim for the run up to Picton. The Marlborough region is the biggest wine growing area in New Zealand, with Sauvignon Blanc wines predominating. These wines are available in Canada.

When we arrived in Picton, we checked in to our motel and went in search of the ferry terminal as we were to catch our ferry at 7 a.m. the next morning. It started to rain again so when we went out to dinner, we once more pulled out our umbrellas. We purchased a bottle of the Sauvignon Blanc (when in Rome…) and drank it when we got back to the motel, set the alarm and went to bed.

The next morning, the sun was up, the clouds had almost disappeared and we soon found ourselves on the ferry, sailing out of the harbour right on time for the voyage over to the North Island. It takes about 90 minutes to reach the open sea from Picton as the ferry navigates a Sound (not a fiord). We sat on deck in the sunshine and watched the scenery unfold as we made the 3 hour 30 minute crossing to the North Island. We would not be back to the South Island again until a couple of days before we left for home. The North Island beckoned.