Category: South Island by Campervan

Waiting in the morning sun in the ques of traveller’s awaiting the ferry was quite exciting, all the cars were lined up and a feeling of anticipation was building, and there she sailed into the harbour, The Arahura, fresh from her first crossing of the day ready to unload and  transport Rosie and The Operator off on holiday! 

…then we turned another corner and we were on the coast where we followed the shoreline right into Kaikoura. On our shoulder all the way were the train tracks that twisted and turned alongside the waterfront. The wind was whipping the surface of the Pacific Ocean and the sun made it a perfect turquoise, the traffic on the road was light and the country was all ours. 

We crossed many braided rivers that hardly had any water flowing through them, they were just huge stony channels with a trickle up the side waiting for the snow melt.  The first large, deep flowing river we came across was the Rakaia, it was running fast, flat and strong,the colour of white paint being washed out of your paintbrush.  There were a few people fishing and a few people loading boats into it, access is easy for any 4WD, you back your boat over the shingle directly into the water and you are off.

And there she be, a huge bright blue lake ringed by mountains and hills, we are in a valley alright and it had a climate of its own, hot, hot, hot.  The first thing that gets you is the colour of the water, you have never seen anything like it.  The stunning blazing turquoise colour is due to ‘Rock Flour’ sediment in the water.  The so called flour was created when the lakes basin was gouged out by a stony bottom glacier moving across the lands surface, the rock on rock, grinding out fine particles that end up being suspended in the glacial melt water.  The sediment reflects the light giving the lake its un earthly colour.

And there she be, the snowy tip of Aoraki which means ‘Cloud Piercer’ in Maori, Australasia’s highest peak at 3775m high.  Of the 27 mountains in NZ over 3050m tall, 22 are in this park.  On Christmas Day 1884 a band of local lads first scaled the summit after attacking it via the Hooker Glacier.  The first woman to climb to the summit was in 1914. In 2013 Rosie and The Operator are walking 20mins to the start of the first epic ascent.
 

Then along came Neville, with two empty seats right up the front as per our request.  His MP3 is pumping the sounds through the speakers, AC/DC, Jimmy Barnes and the like, it fair got the blood pumping as he skimmed the canyon walls and took the most narrowest routes between trees and over areas where you thought there was going to be no water.  7 three sixty spins later, Rosie was feeling abit queasy, walking back to the camp Rosie was getting worse…..sunstroke?  Not sure, it felt like my head was spinning as if I had drunk to much….and Rosie hadnt even started her Christmas libations! 

Queenstown is one of the most beautiful cities I have ever seen, perfectly framed by The Remarkables that soar above the town and crowned by the skiing mecca of Coronet Peak. All of this is rimmed by the meandering coves of Lake Wakatipu and the houses that rise from the lake shore up the hills. It is a town running on adrenaline if you are so inclined for any action and adventure you choose or can think of. It is a fine dining and party place too, it has excellent shopping and art galleries. The only thing about Queenstown is that you will want to come back in every season to see its ever changing face. Rosie and The Operator are so going to come back in the winter with all the snow on the hills….fly in jobbie me thinks though.

Rosie got out the insect repellent and liberally sprayed….no good at all, the little buggers were totally resistant and a blood drinking party was happening on her cankles.  It was hot, we observed the dress code of long pants, long sleeves and socks….Rosie did wear her sandals with her socks as a tribute to the west coast.  We set out the table and chairs and stubbornly had dinner outside in the swarm….

there she is The Fox Glacier, like a grubby river frozen in mid track while rolling down the hill, which is essentially what it is. On TV they look so much whiter and prettier…Oh well, nothing a deluge of rain wouldnt fix…oh, then again it pretty much rains here on the hour and it still hasnt helped.

On the morning of the 26th March 1896 the morning shift was going to work down the mine.  4 pit ponies were on duty down the shafts and they didnt want to enter the mine, they tried four times to get the ponies to enter and in the end they had to cover their heads and force them down…to all their deaths.  At 9.30 that morning a series of explosions ripped through the mine, 95 men and boys were killed. 

The road is reminiscent of the Californian Pacific Coast Highway….only heaps more beautiful, the bushy cliffs hovering over the beautiful bays are really picturesque, and that was on a grey, misty day!  I think it would be beautiful in any season and in any light.