CHC to SYD

Tuesday 28th January

The day (?) started at 3:00am, with the kids being woken/rolled out of their beds about 30 minutes later. We made really good time to the airport (deserted roadways really helping out there), gave our hire car one final check for anything left behind - and then sought out the departure terminal.

We walked into a large crowd at our check-in section - surgical masks making a fairly regular appearance amongst the queuing surgeons fellow travellers. I was feeling a trifle smug at our relatively compact set of luggage (all thanks to "Tetris" Jen) - with other families apparently hauling the entire contents of their home with them. Our check-in staff member seemed almost sobbingly relieved to be serving us (the lady next to her was dealing with another family doing their best impersonation of John McEnroe - "what do you mean the bag is too heavy?!!").

Our flight, or at least the descent into Sydney, was reassuringly smooth (different to the shudderingly difficult approach to Auckland). Our 7:40am arrival (5:40am NZ time) meant we drove our car - still covered in New Year's ash - straight into Sydney peak-hour. Awesome.

The heat and humidity immediately struck us, with the overnight temps here equalling some of the hotter daily temps in NZ. I'm currently typing this at 6:50am (thanks to the 2 hour time delay here), with the temperature somewhere in the mid 20s and the humidity north of 95%.

We experienced a real rainstorm last night - as opposed to the grey drizzle we had copped on the two days we got rain (yep, we got lucky with weather). Filling up the car was a revelation (almost hugging the gent at the service station), approximately a dollar a litre cheaper here. Also - the roads have multiple lanes! Okay - so there's not the winding coastal roads through primal forests of cabbage palms and tree ferns, with vistas of turquoise waters butting up against emerald green hills filled with sheep indulgently grazing - I'll grant you that.

We're going to miss the gorgeous natural landscapes of staggering variety, the youthful thinking of the people (creative/inventive types clearly punching above their weight in terms of population), as well as those sweet, sweet car snacks (pineapple lumps and chocolate fish - I am looking at you).

Naughty dogs and introverted penguins.

We set out from Twizel fairly early to be able to sneak in a couple of outings once we got to Christchurch later in the afternoon. Early, yet not so early as to miss out on playing on a tractor inexplicably located in a children's playground - an homage to their frequent appearances on State Highways? I attempted to regale the children on how the first vehicle I drove was in fact a tractor - but there were no obvious takers.

The landscape between Twizel and Lake Tekapo was alpine (barren, almost desert-like plains framed by snow-capped mountains in the distance). Our last visit to Lake Tekapo consisted solely of taking the apparently-obligatory photo of the Church of the Good Shepherd. As with a number of other locations on the trip, the numbers of visitors had swelled somewhat (think Live Aid crowds).

Lake Tekapo - the bit that doesn't include the Church.

The Church of the Good Shepherd

Just across the river, a group of locals had stopped what they were doing (planting some native plants by the looks of it) and just staring at the river bank. Further examination of the scene revealed a pet dog having a fine old time - repeatedly launching himself into the very blue waters of Tekapo - with his mortified owners feebly calling him back to the bank. He was positively beaming with delight upon his eventual return.

Scene of the Very Disobedient Dog.

We bypassed the coastal town of Timaru, along with its additional 40 minutes of driving. The Geraldine-Fairlie Highway instead lead us (perhaps not unsurprisingly) to the town of Geraldine. It was a sizeable place, which set it oddly apart from all of the other townships we'd passed through until that point. We pondered over the reasons for its population. Sure, there were some nearby national parks and observatories - but it was clear to me that the teeny road-side Todd Park must have played a part in drawing the crowds.

We streamed some more Australian radio (the JJJ 200-100 countdown), which was a positive counter to following behind a fairly putrid cattle truck along stretches of highway peppered with roadworks but seemingly devoid of decent passing lanes.

Our accommodation for the night was purposely close to the Airport, so we checked in after some lunch, and then drove to the nearby International Antarctic Centre (the tank-like Hagglunds and giant penguin statue out the front were a bit of a clue).

Josh had been super-keen to experience the "Storm Dome" - a snow-strewn cool room with giant fans, effectively simulating an antarctic blizzard. We arrived just five minutes before the next storm was due - so wrestled for the final fastenable antarctic jackets with other attendees (I made good use of my ample forehead for some sweet frowns) just in time to be in position for the polar blast.

It was already cold in there to start with, but then "Base" "radioed in" to inform of an incoming storm, with the lighting dulling to an ominous blue. Eventually it gets quite dark indeed, and the industrial fans kick in, with the wind chill leaving your nose and ears (any exposed extremity really) burning from the cold.

Josh in his happy place.

The frigid temperatures also managed to chill my camera to the degree that it wouldn't stop forming condensation on the lens for quite some time after we were back outside. Fortunately, it had largely thawed out by the time we'd lined up for the Hagglund Field Trip. The Hagglund is an ex-military vehicle on caterpillar tracks, with absolutely no elbow/knee-room or cushioning.

A Hagglund.

Our guide robotically rigidly stuck to his script, demonstrating the climbing capabilities of the Hagglund (you call that a grandient?), as well as its ability to cross narrow gaps/trenches/ice chasms. One of the workers that initially assisted us into the thing let us know that we were fortunate to be in the front car - as the bouncing/thrashing were far more pronounced in the rear car.

That looks pretty steep...

We survived almost completely intact, while the folks in the rear car sounded a bit like pins in a bowling alley after a strike.

Our final stop was the penguin feeding, which I've re-named the "LEAVE PENGUIN ALONE!" exhibit. The penguin Carer took the well-being of her charges very seriously indeed. There was a generally murmur as people jostled for photo vantages, and kids just being themselves. The Carer repeatedly (and increasingly scoldingly) noted that the penguins would just "go away" if people weren't silent (from what I could see - they were entirely oblivious, snacking on mackerel as they zoomed in the water). After the crowd (not Team Martin - as we are fierce adherents to most form of instruction!) continued to ignore impassioned-Carer-person, one member of the crowd stood, turned and bellowed/screeched, "SHE SAID YOU HAD TO BE QUIET!!!". The irony-deficient spectator soon wandered her way off to the next exhibit. 

Come for the penguins, stay for the angst.

We'd seen enough of the Centre and still had enough daylight to make our way into the City Centre itself. This was going to be a fairly poignant visit, as the last time we were in Christchurch we stayed in the Quest Apartments verrry close to the Cathedral, and had even climbed the Cathedral tower (Lily, a photo-bomber event back then). The closest description I can offer regarding the city's renewal after tragedy is that of a forest after a fire - green, new growth starting to come through again. Certainly, there continues to be pockets of overt devastation - but there is construction (cool new construction at that) everywhere. There's a tangible sense of resilience and hope.

We've got to be up at 3:30 am to be able to drop the car off and check our bags in. Our last night in New Zealand is therefore quite an early one.

The South Island was not as unified in landscape as the North Island (all cabbage palms, tree ferns and agapanthus), with the West Coast a world away from the Canterbury Plains. The West Coast felt like a primal place - with civilisation only a recent/temporary thing, while the southern and eastern parts were well-established agricultural regions.

While the North Island made good usage of the Maori people (as well as the local pakeha), at all of their national parks / tourism centres - the South Island largely elected to make use of (or so it seemed) of backpackers and foreign exchange students. 

Both were unified in their deep and mindless love for the single lane brudge bridge.

Aoraki, a boat ride and a spiky end.

Our place in Twizel is indeed amazing, the only down-side is that it is around a 50 minute drive from Aoraki / Mt Cook National Park. For at least 15 kilometres of the trip, Lake Pukaki (a massive glacial lake fed by the Tasman and Hooker Glaciers) sits to your right and provides quite a few lookouts of the mountain. 

We pulled into one of the lookouts (I was getting a little keen to take a photo of Aoraki before we bumped into it). The lookout was swarming with people that had almost entirely emerged from a single tour bus, quickly departing after some fairly abrupt honking by their driver. One of the more self-enamoured of the passengers managed to sneak in a last-minute twirl while holding the hem of her dress (standing on a picnic table of course) - her long-suffering photographer dutifully capturing the spectacle. I took a few shots of my own (I was quick, as there was no twirling to speak of) and jumped back in the car. In the time it took to start the car and throw it into reverse - another bus had pulled up, and folks spilled out with cameras at the ready. A few brave souls appeared entirely indifferent to my reversing as they wandered into my rear camera view (fortunately emerging out the other side).  

Aoraki - twirling influencer just to the right.

The closer we got - the trickier it was to keep my eyes on the road, veering off to take a few more piccies along the way. The passengers were mostly tolerant of this... 

Mount Sefton

You can't see it from this angle, but there's definitely eye-rolling going on.

We checked in with the Glacier Explorers tour at the Hermitage Hotel in the Aoraki Mount Cook Village. The tour involved a short bus ride (yes, we've gone to the dark side), followed by a brief walk to the Tasman Glacier's terminal lake. There was a large group (29) of overly-vociferous friends celebrating one of their numbers 60th birthday. Forced to smile and nod as I endured the bus trip to the lakes closest parking option - once off the bus I gratefully fled numerous conversation-openers to chat with Josh and to take photos of the fairly barren landscape (aside from some nasty-looking thorn bushes) as we made our way to the jet-boat wannabes (big yellow dinghys really) at the jetty. Jen and her inability to be rude got stuck in a few conversations along the way. 

We managed to get placed with a German couple as well as a Chinese family for boating companions - which was great, as well as one older couple that nearly keeled over from the weight of their flotation devices. They were a delightful combination of very pushy, but slow.

Our guide cruised around some smaller icebergs, and pointed out how they rapidly crumble when exposed to the sun and air - the submerged, darker section lasting longer. He grabbed a chunk of glacial ice out of the water and invited us to break off a piece to taste. The Martin children instead just took a bite straight out of the large chunk itself, watermelon-style. Due to the vast compressive forces involved in its formation - the ice is pretty dense (fairly tasty though). 

Josh - about to go in for a chomp.

The glacial face of Tasman Glacier is melting and as a result - retreating up the valley. The melting ice also reveals the trapped rock and rock flour, which ends up sitting on top of the glacier (hence the dark powdering on the glacier in the photos). 

Tasman Glacier (that dirty blue thing in the background)

Aoraki in the distance over on the left.

I was keen to go on a bit of a walk once we got back to our pick-up point, but the kids were not enamoured of that idea. They kicked back in an alpine car park (we're parents of the year obviously) as Jen and I made our way to Kea Point Lookout. It was a much shorter track than we'd planned, but it meant we'd only be gone for a little while.

The trip through the alpine setting was pretty nice, and the walk itself wasn't onerous. It ended at a viewing platform, and gave a decent view of multiple glaciers hanging off the side of Mount Sefton (they occasionally shear away and come crashing down with the sound of thunder). The mountain remained free from thunderous collapse while we were there, and we made our way back down the track.

We were nearly back to the car park when we encountered a young family coming the other way - one of them making an odd sound once I had past them. Apparently (I'm oblivious to others remember?) the mum managed to back herself into one of the thorn bushes (Matagouri) that inhabit the area - in an ultimately foolish gesture of giving us way more room than was actually needed. I may have suggested to the kids that their mother had thrown a random stranger into a thorn bush...  

Don't back into one of these.

Steep streets, lumpy beaches and stroppy steampunks.

The kids were thrilled that we were visiting Baldwin Street (the world's steepest street) prior to departing Dunedin. There was a tour bus already there - but it appeared that it had already been there for a while - given its mass of participants were making their way back down the street (in various states of collapse).

The trick for new players is to avoid the street itself, but to instead tackle the stairs on the right - it not only gives you something flat to step on, but the occasional poem along the way. Josh was the keenest of Team Martin, and scampered upwards with his parents lagging just behind.

Despite the presence of a sign clearly indicating that the steeper section of the road is restricted to residents only - a number of vehicles driven by visitors gave the incline a bit of a go. The queue at the very top (waiting for others attempting a three-point turn to come back down) was a little alarming - the gentle aroma of burnt clutch wafted across the valley.

We encountered the same tour bus as we headed north along State Highway 1 towards the Moeraki Boulders - but were able to make the most of the few passing lanes available. The weather was growing quite grim, although had not started raining yet. We leapt out of our car upon arrival and raced down the steps onto the beach itself (staying clear of the in-bound crowd). The tide charts were bang on - all of the boulders were on display, and no swimming was required.

We managed to sneak back inside the car just before the rain started coming down (more of that misty kind, rather than anything substantial). Resuming our way north along SH1 - we soon arrived at the township of Oamaru - known for its fondness, nay obsession for limestone (they call it Oamaru stone around these parts). Oamaru is also known as the Steampunk Capital of New Zealand - the architecture certainly setting the scene nicely.

After finally getting a car parking meter to work - we managed to run into (literally turning a corner and walking into them) a protest march, mid-march! Placards were being brandished, faces were painted, t-shirts all sloganed up. The object of their protest? The impending 5G network. All sorts of dire outcomes were being blamed on the technology that operates at 24-72 GHz wavelengths (ie below the infrared level). One lady with a frog painted on her face assured us she "believed in science", and I actually refrained from replying with "science doesn't care what you believe". I must be getting soft. They eventually collected in front of the Town Hall, clapped and cheered, and went on their way.

Oamaru Town Hall - presumably 5G-free.

Dairy - no scooters left outside in this instance.

Even more Victorian-era limestone buildings awaited us in the Historic District, along with a range of Cafes and touristy shops (one had a horse mask over the head of a mannequin sporting a nightie from the 70s).

Historic District

Yep - more limestone.

To one side of the Historic District was what is known as Steampunk HQ. It had a subtle frontage - easy to miss really. There was an offer of tours, as well as a chance to dress up and get photos - but we thought we'd give it a miss.

Not sure if it was the zeppelin or steam train that gave it away.

The folk of Oamaru were certainly an interesting bunch, but we had accommodation to get to, and so we were on our way once again. We managed to stream the Hottest 100 (JJJ) countdown via our mobile wifi (undoubtedly burning through our download capacity) the entire way to Twizel. Our place for the next couple of nights in Twizel is palatial - each of the kids getting their own room. Lily was rapt with the final outcome of the countdown - so all is well.