Grandeur and the Camper Vans

Date: 14th March 2025

Location: Akaroa near Christchurch, South Island, New Zealand

Tomorrow we meet Kris and Maree at Christchurch airport, return their car and camping gear and then fly back to Brisbane. It's been a whirlwind seven weeks and, I think it's fair to say, we're now ready for a bit of stability back on the boat.

But what of South Island.

Well, first of all South Island is magnificent. Soaring mountains, grand braided river beds, vast lakes, amazing mountain passes and a plethora of well maintained, well signposted trails. A lot of it reminds me of what I imagine Canada is like - remote and wild, much of it heavily wooded with countless stark, inaccessible peaks disappearing into the distance.

Whilst North Island is very active volcanically South Island is characterised by the Southern Alps, a massive spine of Alpine peaks, mountains and hills that run from north to south down the centre of the island. Formed when the Asian and Pacific tectonic plates collided the landscape has since been heavily glaciated especially in the remote southwestern Fiordland area. It's worth noting that much of South Island lies well to the south of Australia and as such the western side of the island is exposed to the Southern Ocean depressions that sweep eastwards on a regular basis. Some of the southern fjords get up to 11m of rainfall a year! So it's amazing that in seven weeks here in New Zealand we've only had one night of rain and for that we planned a night in one of the campsite cabins. Even more surprising as at every town we got to they said it had poured the previous day. In fact most days we've had clear blue skies with a burning sun.

A couple of days ago we were further south than we had ever previously been, just south of 45°S with the next land being Antarctica. Interestingly the UK though warmer than New Zealand lies much further north at between 50° and 60°N. Thank you North Atlantic Current.

I said in the previous blog I didn't want it to be a "then we went there and then we went there" type of update but there will be a fair bit of that this time I'm afraid. The reason is that we've had far less interaction with the locals here and we have basically followed the tourist trail down the Southern Alps skipping across passes from time to time. Distances have been greater too so we've had several days of five hours or so of travelling.

Our trip basically took us from the north of the island where the ferry from North Island arrived down much of the length of the island and then back up to the Christchurch area halfway up the east coast.

But first some interesting nature facts....

- A great many of the more common birds are introductions from the UK. Blackbirds, chaffinches, house sparrows, song thrushes - pretty weird really. Waders always look pretty similar wherever you are and I can never tell one buzzardy hawky thing from another. But like Australia they do have beautiful black swans here.

- Many of the indigenous birds were ground dwellers but they've had a hard time as more foreign imports such as rats, hedgehogs, possums and stoats like to eat their eggs. Traps and poisons are everywhere with the stated aim being elimination of all these vermin by 2050. Judging by the vast areas that are almost inaccessible I think they have a colossal task ahead of them.

- There are not as many sheep as I imagined (I think the low wool price has made sheep farming far less economical) and many more cows than I expected. A Kiwi couple we met used to run a farm with 450 milking cows which sounded like a very profitable enterprise.

They were interesting. We met them whilst we were kayaking up the coast of the Abel Tasman nature reserve. Two days kayaking and a day walking some of the coastline. The walk, up in the northwest of the island, is one of the Great Walks of New Zealand and whilst the part we walked was very attractive it was all pretty samey with plenty of other "trampers" doing their stuff. The kayaking though was amazing especially Day 2 when we had a following wind and one metre waves behind us. We couldn't quite believe it when after two and a half hours we had already completed the four hour paddle. And all that under yet another perfect blue sky. At the campsite after Day 1 we were introduced to the mainly flightless birds unique to New Zealand, the Weka. They are super clever scavengers. Not only do they tuck into bananas and other food left lying around, they have also learned to open backpacks and even unzip tents in their quest for tasty titbits. The warden told us that the previous week one Weka had run off with a guest's wallet. It was never found.

A quiet beach on Abel Tasman.

Paddling north on the quiet day.

Mount Cook. The highest point in New Zealand. A must see. As we approached we stopped on the side of Lake Tekapo for lunch and to admire the mountain sparkling at the end of the lake. Although there was an inviting fish and chip van there we decided we should eat up some bread and smoked trout we had in the back of the car. Things were already a bit tense between us but were just about to get a lot worse. Gill made the sandwiches and I took them to a big tree stump. There I realised I had no mayonnaise so I left the sandwiches and returned to the car. On my return seagulls were raiding our sandwiches, the plate was on the ground, half the sandwiches were gone and the rest had nice beak marks in them. I found this highly amusing. Gill did not! The afternoon was spent in a stony silence.

Mount Cook from Thieving Seagull Lake.

Things didn't improve for me as we approached Mount Cook itself. There must have been 200 camper vans parked on the approach road to the campsite and that is not my idea of fun. But it is spectacular and so is the basic DOC (Department of Conservation) campsite below the glacier. All night long we heard the crack and rumble of avalanches high up in the mountains and next day we followed countless others to Lake Hutton with its floating icebergs. It was here we first realised that had we been better equipped we could have trekked (tramped) to several of the huts away from the crowds where the views would have surpassed even those that we had seen. On the way back down we briefly diverted to the Mount Cook Alpine Memorial, a very moving reminder of those who loved these mountains and had died doing what the loved most. It was on this walk that I discovered that my trouser legs could be unzipped creating a pair of shorts. Great news.

Argh. Too many camper vans for me!

I DO HAVE SOME GOOD MOUNT COOK PICTURES BUT MY PC IS PLAYING UP SO I WILL JUST POST THIS WITHOUT THEM.

What else? Ah yes. My birthday. In the small town of Te Anau on the edge of Fiordland. You may remember birthdays and Christmas/New Year are the only regular days of the year when I break from my strict prostate cancer diet and I can eat anything I want. So once we emerged from the tent it was off to the local hotel for a Huntsman Breakfast. Bacon, eggs, hash browns, mushrooms, toast, coffee and all the rest. That was a big breakfast.

A proper birthday breakfast.

In the afternoon we went to the cinema. Now this is something we never do but what the heck. Two films. One about the fiords we were to see later in the week but the other called Deer Wars. Early in the 20th century red deer were introduced to the mountains around Te Anua and without natural predators they soon multiplied until they threatened the whole ecology of the area. Hunters were paid to shoot them but the area was so inaccessible they had little impact. Then came the era of highly manoeuvrable helicopters and daring young men that jumped out of them straight onto the backs of the deer. The pilots were phenomenal and the camera work incredible all against the beautiful backdrop of southern New Zealand. Many pilots and hunters were killed but for a time rewards were great, first for venison and later for breeding as the live deer were chased and caught in nets shot from the helicopters. Eventually the government got wise, taxes were introduced and H&S came to the fore. Almost overnight most of the helicopters were sold and the business disappeared.

At the bottom left corner of South Island is Fiordland. A massive area of wilderness mostly accessible only by helicopter or by boat. The area consists of a series of deeply cut 'Sounds' or valleys separating tall ranges of peaks. The Sounds are really not Sounds at all but, being formed by glacial action rather than water should be called Fiords instead. The two most famous and accessible are Milford Sound and Doubtful Sound. We drove to the head of the first to find yet more camper vans full of foreign tourists (like us!) and a pay by the hour car park. We spent a couple of hours there and whilst it was pretty picturesque the only real event of note was when I tripped over a tree root and went sprawling on the foreshore. Gill's response was that I should be taking myself off to the Falls Clinic! It was here too that I realised that I had lost one of the legs of my newly convertible trousers so now instead of just having a pair of long trousers I just had a pair shorts instead. Annoying.

Doubtful Sound though was a different thing all together. Yes it involved buses and ferries with other people (Gilly tells me I'm getting worse) but other than kayaking (see later) it's the only way to experience this amazing landscape. The pictures tell it all. Again the weather was fab so the skipper took us 20 miles down the Sound and out into the Tasman Sea where we were tossed around in the swell and we realised it was almost time for us to be back on the ocean. It was named by Captain Cook who saw the entrance, thought about getting out once he was in and said "I think it's doubtful we will be able to sail out, we're not going in". 

Chilly but beautiful - Doubtful Sound.

South Island peaks.

Just stunning.

By now Gilly had pretty much had it with the camping game. So at the last minute I booked a cheap AirBnB. It was great value and just what we needed. Karen and Darren were locals and we were their only guests. We had the entire outhouse to ourselves and they were the perfect hosts. Darren was your typical "tradie". His job? Mending nail guns that the builders in nearby Queenstown had broken. But his passion was hunting. For dinner that night we had venison, patty pan (a type of squash), silver beet (rainbow chard) and potatoes all from his garden. Yum. Next day they lent us their ebikes and we set off for a winery. My 'no alcohol' regime was again put on hold as we visited Immigrants vineyard. We had the Dutch couple who owned it to ourselves as we tried five of their wines. They had bought the business from the bank eleven years ago and built it up to be one of the better vineyards of the region.  The next day they were due to harvest 4.2 tons of pinot grisio grapes for their excellent sparkling wine. They were very interested in our lifestyle and wondered about making that their next adventure as like me they always need a new project. Ah yes, their house and cellar had been built by their son. It had been one of the New Zealand Grand Design homes. A fascinating couple. We cycled the rest of the 25k back to the AirBnB in a bit of a haze!

What a good cycle ride.

On our way back up north we revisited Wanaka. I bagged a three hour trout and salmon trip there on a cold blustery morning. Ash, our guide, an older South African Australian and his Downs Syndrome(?) daughter(?) whizzed across the lake and set up the trolling gear. Light spinning rods with small colourful lures. The lures were sent down on 10lb outrigger weights to around 17m. I'd never seen a fishfinder before but you could see the fish on the screen as we approached them. We ended up with two nice brown trout and a rainbow, each around two pounds. It seems there were few fish species in the lake naturally and the trout and some salmon were all introduced for sport. And very delicious my trout was too.

A couple of nights ago we had our last night in the tent as we made our way back north. The last of the Department of Conservation (DOC) sites, its only facility was a single long drop toilet. Located 4k up a gravel track on the site of an abandoned gold mining hotel it has the reputation of being haunted. We were on our own for the afternoon which allowed us to take our dirty bodies down to the little stream for a naked wash. Very refreshing! By nightfall four other vehicles had joined us and we snuggled down in our now ample bedding. Summer is coming to an end here and a keen wind soon dropped temperature as the sun went down. By morning the outside temperature was -1°C and frost sparkled on the tent. By now we were well into the "where are we now" game with Kris' parents Don and Kay back in Rotorua, North Island. They have travelled extensively throughout New Zealand in their luxury camper van and each day we sent them a picture from our location to idenify. This was the only one they didn't guess. Enjoy your new home guys.

Remote and very cold. The last camp site.

Did you know there's a French enclave in New Zealand? Banks Peninsula (there's a good French name) where we are now was settled by the French in 1840 only to find out that the Treaty of Waitangi had already granted it to us Brits. It's a very pretty part of the country with high grassy hills and numerous secluded bays, vaguely reminiscent of our English Lake District. I could live here. There's still a bit of French influence and hopefully as we've booked a French restaurant for tonight still some decent French cuisine. We're staying in some nice upmarket cabins on a well known wedding venue courtesy of my birthday present from Emma and Jenny. Thanks girls!

Some thoughts on the way we have travelled. It goes without saying we are super grateful to Kris, and especially Maree as it's her car, for lending us their Toyota Highlander, 4 wheel drive, V6 for seven weeks together with all their camping gear [what a good move it was to invite them as our crew from Fiji to Australia!]. We decided early on that we wouldn't book things in advance but plan our itinerary and excursions a couple of days ahead based on the weather and circumstances. Overall that's worked great. It has allowed us to camp most nights and just occasionally book a cabin on a campsite when rain has threatened or we just needed a change. Only in the south of the South Island did it cause a bit of a problem. I really wanted to see some proper "New Zealand wilderness" and boy is there a lot of that. But as a tourist it's hard to access it. There's an itinerary in South Island that pretty well everyone does including Abel Tasman, Mount Cook, Milford or Doubtful Sound, one of the famous passes, Queenstown etc. Gill's relatively OK with this but unfortunately I detest being part of the crowd. North Island was different. There we had our own local guide - thanks again Kris - and we felt with his family and David and Charlie that we really got to feel the real New Zealand. Our lack of advance planning here meant that the three day helicopter in, raft out wilderness trip I had planned was only available the day we are due to leave the country, the two day kayaking in Doubtful Sound finished at the end of February and our paucity of overnight trekking gear thwarted efforts to walk one of the wilderness trails. Yes, it is getting cold here now as soon as the sun goes down. 

It's hard to express but for you Cumbrians it felt as though our North Island experience was one of Beacon Tarn, the remote western valleys and Back O'Skiddaw whereas South Island for us has been Beatrix Potter's house, Tarn Hows and Ambleside. Yes, the scenery is incredible but we've met more Germans and Japanese than Kiwis. Overall I think I enjoyed North Island as much as if not better than South Island though another factor might be that we are getting a bit tired of travelling now and starting to look forward to returning to Australia.

Looking back now though we did manage some off the beaten track tramps though and the Abel Tasman kayaking was really cool too. I haven't even mentioned our special day walking the Alpine trail circuit from Arrowtown nor the camp site (well small flat area) high up close by the Porters Ski Lodge.

So that's about it. On Monday we return to Mehalah. In six week's time we hope to be setting off up the east coast of Australia via the Whitsunday Islands and onwards to Indonesia, Malaysia and Thailand. We've absolutely loved New Zealand but it's time to get moving again.

But as a final thought we will also remember our time here for two world events outside our control. In the same way that our Atlantic crossing will forever be remembered as the time that Covid hit the world, New Zealand will be remembered as the time that The World Order was thrown into total confusion. Listen as we did on our long journeys to the BBC's Americast podcast for insightful coverage of this defining time in history.

The other event we were watching carefully was Cyclone Alfred. Cyclones in the southern hemisphere are the equivalent of hurricanes in the north. They never get as far south as Brisbane. Oh yes they do. This one came ashore with the eye right on top of Mehalah. In the end it was less destructive than predicted but for several hours the wind was over 60 knots in our marina and it rained like crazy. Meraki made it back to Southport some 50 miles south of Scarborough and hunkered down there for the duration. There were fears the pontoons might overtop the pilings but again this never came to pass. So both Meraki and Mehalah survived unscathed. Meanwhile friends on Go coming north up that tricky east coast had their windows smashed and an engine submerged by big waves and on Veridian the large waves caused the autopilot arm to shear off. Both of them took shelter in Port Macquarie where they remain pending repairs. C'est la vie.