New Zealand: Sweet as ...

When I was originally planning where to go on these travels, New Zealand was a bit of an afterthought. I knew I wanted to go to South East Asia and South America, and New Zealand was kind of on the route between the two (before I decided to pop back to Africa!) so it seemed like a good opportunity to visit the country, as I'm not sure I would have made the effort to travel all the way to the other side of the world just to see it on a standalone trip. I had always imagined the much vaunted landscapes would be similar to Wales, but bigger - Wales on steroids - and that in itself wasn't enough to inspire me to visit. I was also a bit limited on time, so when planning to stay for about ten days, I knew I would not get to see everything and the visit was to be more of a taster than anything else.

Christchurch had been pretty, despite the damage; the transalpine journey had been impressive, without quite overwhelming the senses; and the glaciers were interesting, beautiful and fun, and something I had not seen before, but they were not necessarily something I would return to to see again. So, as far as a taster went, the start of my visit to New Zealand had only really reaffirmed my initial views. The south of the south island, on the other hand, was spectacular; with views that were near perfection - fully justifying their reputation - and, as far as a taster goes, were more than ample to whet the appetite for more.

Franz Josef to Queenstown

What a journey. I can't remember the exact cost of the ticket, something like $50NZD, but it was just a scheduled public bus ride for a trip I needed to make. As a scenic drive though, they could have charged double and it would still have been a bargain. I know this is a bit effusive, but it really is difficult to describe just how beautiful this part of the country is (I'll have a go though!).

There are perhaps three distinct sections to the trip, each of them with glorious views. They start with undulating foothills covered with thick, dense forests, their trees displaying a canopy that includes every imaginable shade of green. The forests look like what I imagine England must have looked like in the middle ages before industrialisation and population growth meant that the forests were all cleared. Through the gaps in the hills, there are occasional glimpses of the ocean lapping against the pristine white sands as the journey continued down the strip of land between the sea and the mountains.

Eventually, we moved away from hills along the coast and headed east into the mountain range. From horizon to horizon, north south east and west, snow capped peaks of the highest mountains pierce the skyline. Meanwhile, smaller mountains tower high above the meandering roads, forests covering the lower slopes and, every now and then, you would see a waterfall crashing through the rainforest as we wind through the valleys. Even the clouds that provide the backdrop were of the pretty cotton wool variety.

The impossibly beautiful landscapes continue as the valleys start to widen out and the mountains slide into the background, the foreground being replaced with clear blue lakes at the foot of these soaring hills (in particular, the twin lakes of Wanaka and Hawea are stunning). Before the final stretch over the mountains into Queenstown, we stopped briefly at Wanaka (Queenstown's smaller, and calmer, brother) and I would love to have had longer there, as the beach bathed in glorious sunshine looked wonderful and I imagine every room comes with a stunning view.

In an earlier post, I described the drive through northern Lao as the most beautiful I had seen. This drive was different: we were mainly on the valley floors looking up at the mountains rather than driving over the mountains looking down, but I think the NZ drive edges it for spectacular views. It was like watching a tennis match as you turn your head from side to side, trying to take it all in.

It all sounds so idyllic, but there is something missing, and it took me quite a while to put my finger on it: there are no people! As an example of dramatic, unspoilt wilderness, I think the landscapes we passed through will be hard to beat wherever my journey takes me, but seeing the way other people live, their different cultures and customs, the different looks and styles are all as interesting to me as the geography of the places I've seen. The south island is roughly the same area as England, but has a population that is just 2% as large. Take the travellers away and this place would be practically deserted. On the public bus I took for this ride, there were about 14 people on the bus and 12 of them were travellers like me. The locals that I did meet were all very friendly, but there are just so few of them.

Stewart Island

Queenstown itself has its own beautiful scenery, located on the shores of Lake Wakatipu in the shadow of the Remarkables (so named because they are one of only two ranges in the world which lie on an exact north to south bearing) and other mountains. But that is not the main reason people come; it is usually for the adrenaline rush and partying that the adventure groups and multitude of bars provide. However, the day after I arrived, I joined a brief three-day tour for the very southernmost parts of the south island (and beyond), so my first stop in Queenstown just had the one night out (and quite a quiet one at that).

Shortly after setting off from Queenstown, we left the southern alps behind and crossed into farm country; which meant sheep. Lots of sheep. No, more than that. There were deer and cattle too, but mainly there were sheep, and a flat patchwork of fields that stretched as far as the eye could see. After a few hours driving through this region, we reached Invercargill and then Bluff, both of which are rather functional looking towns, before boarding the ferry to Stewart Island.

The notorious ferry crossing across the Foveaux Strait turned out to be nothing of the sort, as the sea was like a mill pond on both journeys, even if a bit foggy on the return leg. When we arrived at Oban, the main "town" on the island, Lisa, Rita and I hired a car for the afternoon and we had soon covered pretty much every inch of the island's 20km of roads. It was Rita's first time driving a right-hand-drive car, and she usually tried to open the window whenever she wanted to change gear, but her latin nature didn't let that stop her as we hurtled around the winding roads! Even with just an afternoon to explore, we had plenty of time and we stopped at several places to hike through the national park or walk along the beaches that fringe the island.

With a population of just 400 on the entire island, it feels like the whole place is a nature reserve. There is a definite sense that you are in a place which has been left untouched by mankind. Unfortunately, we didn't get to see any of the yellow-eyed penguins (or kiwis) but there were lots of other birds around providing a soundtrack to our walks.

As far as we could tell, there was just one pub in town, which was not the most exciting of places, so after a fish and chips supper (at 47 degrees south of the equator), I spent the evening chilling over wine and cards with the other people from the tour at the hostel.

Milford Sound

The following day, back on the south island, we headed across to Milford Sound - the famous fjord that cuts into the south west coast of the island. I don't think I have ever been anywhere as remote as this: the road from Te Anau is a 120km cul-de-sac, carving a way through Fiordland and finishing at the shores of Milford Sound. From there, we boarded the boat to sail out to the mouth of the fjord, with sheer cliffs steepling high above - some over a mile high and pretty much vertical. I'm running out of words to describe the wonderful scenery in this region, but again the views leave you staring around just trying to capture the feeling of awe at the beauty, and power, of nature. The narrow channels make an ideal wind tunnel in the afternoons, after the summer sun has heated the water and created a convection cycle, so we sailed out to the Tasman Sea into strong winds past the towering cliff faces and waterfalls tumbling from the tops into the fjord below, before retracing our route with the wind at our back past a colony of seals.

We spent the night at Gunn's camp; a collection of wooden sheds in the middle of nowhere, which were the base camp for those building the road from Te Anau to Milford Sound. We were really lucky with the weather; for a place which gets rain 300 days of the year to have two consecutive days of glorious sunshine was a rare treat. The high pressure also meant that the sky was clear and, as there was no electricity at night, and no city lights for miles and miles, the heavens were full of stars. We passed the evening drinking beer that had been chilled in the stream that runs alongside the camp, singing (when we could remember the lyrics) and eating marshmallows or crumpets around the campfire until the early hours. The only drawback to being in the wild open country was the sandflies - they were countless and relentless, and had seemingly developed a taste for insect repellent (although thankfully they went away after dark).

Queenstown

The final day of this mini tour, which happened to be Christmas Eve, took us back to Queenstown, stopping off at various lookout points for photos (I think you are probably getting the idea that the views around here are worth a snap or two!) and a couple of hours to wander around Te Anau.

In Queenstown, we went for one of the legendary Fergburgers (which, incidentally, fully deserve their reputation), before heading out to celebrate Christmas Eve. Queenstown has got to be one of the best places in the world for a night out, so clubbing with the friends made on the trip around the south provided a fantastic way to welcome in Christmas. Back at the hostel, as Germans give gifts on Christmas Eve rather than Christmas Day, Rita arranged a treasure hunt for Lisa, setting clues which led her to find the elusive kiwi (her Christmas present). All very sweet!

My plan for an adrenaline fuelled Christmas Day was scuppered by the fact that Queenstown basically shuts down for the day. Instead, with a few cold beers and some music, we spent the day relaxing on the beach - not a bad substitute! Spending Christmas in a strange land with a bunch of strangers was, erm, strange, but it was a good day and it was nice to talk to my family when Christmas eventually arrived in Europe.

Everything opened again on Boxing Day, so it was time for the adrenaline rush and to take the plunge, literally. After taking the cable car to the top of the rise over the city, bungy-jumping was first on my list - my two preferred choices (the original Kawarau bridge bungy over the river and the 150m Nevis bungy) were too far away for me to get to and get back to the airport for my flight, but there is a 47m bungy high above the city. There were a few nerves as I stood at the top before jumping off the ledge, but once you start your run up they disappear - and the feeling as you start to fall is nothing like the flash of terror you get skydiving. The initial plummet is over so quickly that you don't really have time to register that you are hurtling toward the ground! After the bungy, it was time to return to the city and I decided the best way would be to jump off the mountain again, this time paragliding. The conditions were absolutely perfect and we met thermals as soon as we took off, rising to 4,500 feet above Queenstown with some stunning views before making the decent, with a few aerobatic tricks thrown in for good measure (there were a couple of heart stopping moments when you realise that the chute is below you during some of the turns, but it was great fun). It was supposed to be a 10 minute flight down, but the conditions were so good we managed to reach the highest allowed elevation and it was about 30 minutes before we touched down - which would have been fantastic, but for the last few minutes I did start to think I was going to miss my flight! A quick dash to the airport courtesy of Rita's friend meant that I made check-in exactly two minutes before it closed. Phew!

Leaving New Zealand

My trip to South America started with a brief return to Christchurch. While we were in the south, we had heard news that it had been hit by more earthquakes (the airport had been shut for a couple of days) and you could see the new damage from the latest quakes as we drove into the city from the airport, but thankfully there were no casualties this time. An early flight to Auckland waited for me the following day, before flying across the Pacific and my first ever visit to South America.

So, is New Zealand just like "Wales on steroids"? Well, it is kind of like that, but it is so much more and the description really does not do justice to probably the most spectacular scenery I have ever seen. Is it worth a trip to the other side of the world? Absolutely: it's sweet as...

New Zealand: North of the south bit

For 99% of the time, this travelling lark has been wonderful, but there have been some lows too. Several of the bus journeys in Vietnam and Lao were very long and, at times, it started to get boring just looking at the beautiful scenery through the window of the coach; your mind begins to drift and you start to miss family and friends, as well as some home comforts. Those bus journeys were a breeze compared to the flights from Zanzibar to New Zealand. Five separate flights, covering about 12,000 miles, over three continents, 10 time zones and 40 hours actual travelling time is draining in the extreme. All the air-conditioned air makes you feel grotty, you get very little proper sleep because of the cramped planes and changing time zones, sitting down all the time leaves you longing for some physical exercise and there is nobody to talk to. On top of this was that the last fresh air I encountered was twenty degrees warmer, so my trip to New Zealand was not the most pleasant experience. At least I managed a bit of retail therapy at Singapore airport to get a new pocket camera to replace the one broken in Zanzibar!

Another of the low points is that, with meeting so many people, you have to say a lot of goodbyes, and I have never been particularly good at goodbyes. Some of them, in the case of Zanzibar, have had to be said twice! Despite having the best intentions, I am sure that some of the future rendezvous that have been arranged will never take place and, a few years down the line, I will start to forget the names of some of the faces in my photos. Thank god for Facebook!

Travelling alone is ideal in many ways, as it forces you to meet new people and, overall, I am glad to have undertaken this trip alone. Most of the people I have met have been great and I'm not sure I would have met them all, or at least spent as much time with them, if I was travelling with a companion. However, sometimes you want to share your experiences with somebody as it would provide somebody you can talk to on the long journeys, moan to when things or other people get on your nerves, give you the excitement of planning together, and you get to share the special moments with somebody.

But, as I said, for the vast majority of the time the travelling has been great and these low moments are few and far between, so back to the travelling and let's see what New Zealand has to offer...

Arrival and Christchurch

The final flight of my monster journey was from Sydney to Christchurch and we were lucky to have clear skies throughout, which gave me my first sight of Mt Cook. It is easy to see why the mountain range is called the Southern Alps, as there is a clear resemblance to their European counterparts. The mountains then gave way to the vast Canterbury plains which, with their patchwork of fields, could easily be mistaken for England.

On arriving at the airport, I didn't have any hostel booked so a quick visit to the tourist information beckoned and 60 minutes later I was in jail! Staying in a recently converted prison was a bit of a novel experience; it was all very clean and modern, but the rooms (well, cells) were a bit cramped! Think of the rooms at the Euston Travelodge, but a bit nicer!

Christchurch itself is a beautiful garden city that had been decimated by the earthquake last February. The river that runs through the city, and the large trees that line its banks, seems to have been unaffected, but in the centre, which is still closed, the place is a building site and you can see all the cracks in the paving and buildings where they were damaged. I never thought I would think of a McDonald's as being poignant, but there are still meals discarded in the ruined outlet, left where they fell ten months ago, and it brings home just how sudden the earthquake strike must have been.

My body clock seems to have been a bit messed up by the long journey, so for the first few days I hardly slept, which at least gave me a chance to wander the streets of the city in the early morning when they were practically deserted. The Occupy Christchurch camp must have one of the most pleasant settings for a protest, and I had a bit of a chat with some of the occupiers, but I bet it gets a bit cold at night. In fact, coming from the tropical climes of Zanzibar, I know it does! Seeing as I am heading to the glaciers next, I think buying some warmer clothes may well prove one of the best ideas I have had on the trip. As well as the river, the parks also seem to be relatively unscathed and you can easily see how beautiful the city must have been before the earthquake. As it is, having walked through the town in the morning, there was very little else to do (I had had enough of markets after Asia!), so I spent the day planning the rest of my trip around the island - quite an expensive way to pass the time!

I've been near the equator for the past four months or so, and it was strange when it passed 6.30 and there was still daylight. As pretty as the city is, there is an element of Jekyll and Hyde about its character. The prison/hostel was in the suburb of Addington and the bars surrounding my hostel were rough; so rough, I struggled to resist the temptation to count the fingers on the locals! Having said that, they were very friendly and I whiled away a few hours chatting with some strangers - so maybe it is just me: I do have a habit of picking out the biggest dives in any place I go to!

Franz Josef and Fox Glaciers

The following day, I took the transalpine train to Greymouth, through the Southern Alps, passing first through Canterbury plains (and, it has to be said, thousands of sheep!) and then through various tunnels and over several viaducts. At the start of the ride, the scenery is pretty (with the broken river gorge especially nice), but not massively different to the Lake District, Wales or Scotland. Trying to take a photo that does justice to the views was tricky, as it is the scale which is most impressive, so I put the camera away and soaked up the views (which also gave me the chance to leave the outdoor viewing platform and return to the warmth of the carriage!). However, as we headed further west, passing by Waimakariri river (more of a stream in these summer months), the peaks started to get higher and more impressive and you start to realise why the journey is described as one of the most picturesque train rides in the world. After passing Arthur's Pass (which probably has one of the nicest views from a railway station in the world) and Otira tunnel (10 minutes and a 1,000 feet descent) the peaks start to get more angular and rugged, as erosion hasn't had as long to smooth all the edges (the range was still under a glacier 20,000 years ago), and the rest of the four hour journey provided gorgeous view after gorgeous view.

I didn't stay long in Greymouth before boarding a bus down to the glaciers, with the journey south snaking along the narrow strip of coast between the mountains and the sea. We had a quick pit stop at Hokitaki, where the black sand on the beach provides a reminder of the power of the glaciers we are travelling to, but other than in that small town there was hardly any other traffic.

Franz Josef is a tiny place. It basically has two streets, one shop, a handful of bars/cafes, and lots of tour companies organising trips to the glacier. I arrived late afternoon and having checked into my hostel, by late afternoon plus 15 minutes, I'd finished exploring the town so went for a few drinks with a couple of guys from the hostel.

The next morning, I jumped aboard a helicopter which flew up and over the face of the glacier, with some great views of all the crevasses and weird ice formations along the top. We landed on the ice, put on our crampons, and spent the morning hiking around the ice flow. It was very impressive and good fun, climbing along the narrow gaps in the ice, sliding through tunnels and walking under the caves. I had always thought that blue ice was more of an optical illusion than anything else, but in fact it really is blue and some of the colours on the glacier were amazing. Although we were walking on a river of ice, it was hot: the hiking took place only about 800m above sea level where the glacier carves its way through the rainforest that lines the slopes of the valley, and the sun was beating down on us, which in a place where they get up to seven meters of rain a year was a bit of a blessing.

In the afternoon, I managed to cadge a lift off Sarah to visit Fox Glacier: a very picturesque town, nestled on the slopes of the mountains 30 minutes south of Franz Josef. However, rather than go to the glacier, we went for a walk around Lake Matheson. On a good day, the lake is mirror-like and the reflection of Mt Cook and Mt Tasman in the lake us one of the iconic images of NZ. The day we went, there was a slight breeze, which was enough to make small ripples on the surface and, together with the clouds in front of the two main mountains, it was sufficient to prevent the picture perfect image. It was, nonetheless, stunning, as you would expect from a lake recently voted in the top 12 most beautiful in the world (although I'm never sure who votes in these things; I've never been asked and I doubt that all the judges have seen Pennington Flash, so perhaps we should have a re-count...!) Sarah did try to make a few more ripples by dangling her feet in the water, but soon took them out when a massive eel came to investigate! The drive back to Franz Josef followed the same winding road which made getting out of third gear difficult, which was fortunate, because third was the only gear that Sarah's car had!

Later in the evening, we went to the hot pools to soak away the aches from the day's hikes and then hit the bars. You know it is a small place if a pub crawl can take you to every bar in town and still leave you sober.

After the glaciers, it was time to board another bus to head further south. Next stop (and next blog): Queenstown, adrenaline capital of the world.