So, what's aguan?
Well, the South Island is beautiful, even if it is full of sandflies. The blighters are, pretty much, everywhere! Is it strange that I'm starting to find the smell of insect repellent comforting, like a jumper that smells of memories or a freshly lit wood burner in the deepest winters nights? I'll think not and carry on.
We covered nearly 3500km's, visited all but two states. First stop on our clockwise tour of the isle were to be the Moeraki Boulders. Spherical, honeycomb centred creations of Mother Earth, thick with Moari myth, washed by sea, stood upon by tourists. With this sight stealing the cover of the 2008 edition of the Lonely Planet guide book, this was going to be a site to behold. What I beheld was approximately twelve boulders (there may have been more but the tide was high) of varying sizes on a beach. Next to a cliff. There was a cafe. And....um....yeah. Once you've visited once you probably won't take that turning again. It's actually taken longer to write the paragraph about the Moeraki Boulders than we spent looking at the Moeraki Boulders. Which aren't actually in Moeraki apparently. I'll move on.
Milford Sound is definitely somewhere you need to buy your way onto an organised trip. Without one of these, you get to see the end of the Sound, which, with it's mud flats (because the tide was low this time), isn't quite as impressive as I'd hoped. The drive there however was stunning, including the 1200 meter tunnel, which resembled more an old mine working than a roadway, boring it's way under millions of tons of mountain. It really is beautiful but you do need to splash the cash to see the best of it!
I thought it rude to not at least try my hand at fly fishing a river, seeing as we are in the mecca of trout fisheries. After consulting with an expert shop hand about which flies were catching, I purchased a day license from one of the numerous fishing and hunting and walking and biking shops in Queenstown. Whilst Lucy was walking a section of the Routeburn track, I was exploring the river running by the DOC site we camped at. I found a deep, shaded pool. Watched for no more than a couple of minutes and spotted my quarry. Two rainbow trout feeding in the eddies. Crystal clear water making "sight fishing" possible, without the need for polarised shades. As much as I tried, with my selection of flies, they would not bite. Unlike the sandflies, which followed me around, in a gnatty haze. This I didn't enjoy. But I can see the appeal of sight fishing, it keeps you on the edge when you can see your fly drift across the nose of a prime conditioned trout. Lake Taupo, here I come!
A slight oversight in the planning department saw us double back and take the long road back to the centre of the Island. We took in the magnificent peak of Mount Cook, for ten minutes, then rolled in the clouds. "It's ok though" we reasoned jovially, "there's always tomorrow!" Little did we know, that would be our only glimpse of New Zealand's highest point. "It's ok though" we reasoned ever more jovially, "there's always the glaciers!" Nope. Can't see those in clouds either it appears. Or doesn't as the case may be here.
It's a saddening thing to see such a behemoth in retreat, one glacier had retreated so far from the viewing point that it was quite difficult to view it from that point now, time to construct a new view point me thinks.
For Lucy's birthday, we decided that nice food and excellent wine were the order of the day. We eventually settled on heading to a place called The Wonky/Drunk/Something Dog. The restaurant lay on the grounds of a vineyard, or winery as known here, with a campsite across the road. Perfect! We can both have a drink and walk back to the van. When we arrived at the campsite, Lucy thought it best to enquire about said restaurant before booking in for the night, this, here, is where our plan fell flat. They had moved about twenty kilometres away, too far to drive after food. The owner of the camp (Richard) then suggested a few other places (I'd said in passing that it was Lucy's birthday earlier), then made a call and handed me the phone. I spoke with the American owner/manageress who saw no problem in staying open for us! Before leaving the site, Richard asked what the lady preferred, "Red or white?" then promptly handed me a bottle of his own making "For the birthday girl." generosity here, knows no bounds it seems.
A Drop of Red, with a selection of over 300(!) wines to choose from. It was the perfect choice! We had a very expensive red to go with our gourmet, giant lamb roll. We will be writing a review. Manifique!
Onwards.
Luckily though Franz Josef and Fox Glaciers are growing, which is astounding considering the volume of meltwater carving it's way to the sea! A constant torrent pours from the mouths of these beasts. Constantly. But then again, it's not too surprising I suppose, Mount Cook receives it's fair share of precipitation, 15 metres a year! I'll never complain about drizzle again.
Lucy booked her walk on Fox Glacier and off we set for a walk around the famous Lake Something, the one people take photos of the reflection of Mount Cook in.
"Oh no, a tree has fallen across our path at roughly chest height! There's only one thing that can get us through safely...LIMBO!"
Everything was going well until I hit my chin, which, through shock and surprise, made me drop to the floor on my short clad legs. Needless to say, the path was not smooth or soft and consequently, my left knee swelled up the next day. It's a good job I hadn't booked onto the glacier walk because I still would have thrown caution to the wind and limboed, had a sore knee and been $(a number)'s down!
Having driven passed many a sign extolling the whitebait pattie, I was hugely disappointed by my omelette garnished with whitebait. I advise you check these things before you buy. Enough said, move on.
Do we risk driving all the way to Able Tasman National Park for great walks which could be ruined by those damned sandflies? After all, so far, every place that has been forested and near water has been plagued. We decided, instead to make our way back towards the east coast, cut through Lewis Pass and spend a few days in and around Christchurch. Stopping in the middle of gold rush country at a place called Reefton. A DOC site that promised the chance of panning for gold, had you a gold panning urge. We arrived from the night, onto an eerie dirt road, saddled by bush, that seemed never to end. Until we got to the end, thankfully we weren't the only ones. Having sorted the van ready for sleeping, we looked up into the night sky to see the most amazing collection stars. The milky way clear and visible without obstruction from light polluting cities. Stunning.
The urge to find gold was strong in me the next day but, alas, no pan. After disturbing the river bed, gold flakes fluttered around in the water, mocking my panless self. I will learn, I will be back.
Heading toward the second largest city in New Zealand, we looked forward to some culture, good food, bars and people. Art galleries interspersed with beach hours, that was our aim. We set the satnav to take us to a camp site close to the centre of the city. We only realised our naivety when we pulled up at the address, having already been thrown off course by closed streets, to find nothing. This had been one of the victims of the earthquake less than a year previous. As we drove around looking for the next place to stay, the devastation that had happened here began to take root.
We decided to take a bus into the centre, after standing in the wrong bus stop for a while, a bloke on a bike pointed us to where we should wait. After standing in the right bus stop for less of a while, a "Not in service" bus pulled up, the driver asking where we wanted to go and then taking us (for free!) to the outskirts of the centre. Along the way giving us a rundown of what has and is happening in Christchurch. He advised that there really wasn't much open, bar a few coffee shops. We eventually found somewhere to eat. The next day we drove in. It was so sad to see what the people of Christchurch have and are still going through. The centre is completely closed off, resembling a the opening from a zombie apocalypse movie. It felt wrong and awkward to be taking any photos. I took two.
Right in the middle of all this destruction lay the blossoming seed of the new city centre, Container Street as it's become known. Businesses temporarily shifted into brightly coloured, modified shipping containers. Giving the area a bohemian, Camden Lock feel. A ray of hope breaking through the demolition dust clouds.
An absolutely amazing trip. We came, we saw, we toured. And still there is more to tell.
Then we flew back to Auckland.
That was The South.
