NZ Holiday - Day 11 - Playing with the Devil's (Beach) Balls

We left Dunedin late and headed north up the coast. I was feeling pushed for time as our next accommodation was a fair way off but we stopped at Moeraki to look at a big set of balls. These unusual boulders were strewn across the beach. Some were as big as a car but all were almost perfectly round. The tide was well in but I think we saw most of them. Check out the Wiki link if you are interested in their geology/history.

Now it was really getting late. We took a left into the heart of the South Island towards Twizel. Now we were looking at the backs of all the mountains we saw on the way down the West coast. A real reminder of how small NZ is when you can circle a mountain range in only a few days. The deserted road was like silk and stretched to the horizon. The largest wild animal you can hit in NZ is a possum so I floored the throttle and let the Ford’s potential shine.

There wasn’t much to see on the darkening prairie anyway. Not at 170kph.

We reached Lake Tekapo on dusk undented and unyelled at. Thankfully there are no cops in NZ. Our accommodation jinx got us again here. First we had to track down the owner (I suggested opening and shutting the unattended cash register a few times, which can really speed service along). Then we were told our room hadn’t been vacated as the people in it loved the place so much they extended their stay. While I banged my head on the counter Jules negotiated a FREE upgrade to an awesome room facing the beach.

OK we’ll accept that.No, I’ll carry my own bag. Get out of our room.

Go to Day 12 - 13.

Go back to Day 1- The Airport/Customs/Flight/Airport/Customs Horror.

NZ Holiday - Day 10 - The Chinese Garden Monstrosity, Steep Street of Impending Doom and Delightful Rich Dude's House

Dunedin. Wish we’d spent more time here. Historically rich and excellent winding roads for more of that ‘spirited’ driving.

Dunedin lays claim to the world’s steepest street. The Ford managed to crawl up and down this impressive 45^° obstacle with 4 adults on board! No-one in this area needs a Gym membership. A walk in the backyard would be like climbing Everest. Mark and Tamsin know all about this sort of terrain.

Excellent venison sausage and mash for lunch. Damn I love venison. Bambi sure does taste good. So many deer farms here. The 7 foot fencing must cost a fortune. Lots of sheep too, And field after field filled with some sort of smelly vegetable they use as a winter feed supplement.

Nita insisted on a visit Olverston, an enormous historic mansion which made me very angry cos there was no parking. The place was incredibly incredible though. The story behind it even more so. The owner left the house to the city of Dunedin fully furnished, right down to clothing and personal belongings. A beautifully restored 1922 Fiat limousine, originally purchased new by the owner, is in the garage.

Olverston is a unique time capsule showing how a very wealthy family lived in Dunedin during the early 1900’s. Their lifestyle and tastes are displayed by the paintings, sculptures, carvings and furniture they collected over some well-travelled years.

The modern conveniences incorporated into the house seemed ahead of their time. T’was almost as though the 4 story house was built recently and back-dated to look old. For instance the telephone and intercom service throughout the house; a lift, central heating, heated towel rails, modern conveniences abound, even for the servants.

Unfortunately we didn’t have the time to really appreciate the beautiful detail throughout, as the tour was fast paced by a prissy bitch to allow for a maximum of revenue returns. In essence we were booted out as quickly as possible, predictably into the gift shop. Well, whatever it cost it was worth it. I forget the entry fee as I’m not allowed to pay for anything.

We then went to a ‘famous’ Chinese Garden. This was a mistake after being surrounded by such historic grandeur at Olverston. We still might have been impressed with the Chinese Garden if it had been properly executed, but it was a plastic facsimile, with structures and landscaping so utterly false and contrived. Just frigging awful. Eric and I spent the whole time making fun of the polypropylene wood sculptures and shot-creted rockeries. Chinese people would cringe to see this commercial monstrosity.

Go to day 11.

Go back to Day 1- The Airport/Customs/Flight/Airport/Customs Horror.

NZ Holiday - Day 8-9 - The Monster Storm, Underground Terror and Deadly Frostbite (avoided).

Te Anau, our next port of call, was a nice little town, (even if we never did get the pronunciation right). We settled into our motel as a massive storm broke across the entire South Island. It pissed down all night.

Next morning our expensive Milford Sound Tour was cancelled. Flooded roads. BUT, they told us if we hurried we could upgrade to the Doubtful Sound Tour. The alternative was to watch TV all day. The Doubtful Sound sounded less doubtful.... so we took it.

Flowing water covered the road to Manapouri in several places, but the Ford aquaplaned across each one without killing itself (or us). We got to the Ticket Office and discovered the ‘upgrade’ was not complimentary. With further denuded wallets we crammed on board the ferry, and waited for a late coach load of tourists. I don’t particularly like waiting... or tourists. The extra 100 people made the seating acceptable for small children and Japanese. We were neither. (This is how we learned not to go cattle class. No choice in this case)

The boat ride across Lake Manapouri was pretty bloody good, despite the constant light rain. In fact we were lucky in a way, the hundreds of water-falls flowing in sheets down sheer cliff-faces in every direction were instantaneous and short-lived between rain showers.

I braved the howling gale and freezing rain on top of the boat. The deserted viewing deck was ideal to take it all in. And there were no tourists up there.

The ferry took 40 minutes to get to the Manapouri Power Station. We were herded aboard buses and taken to the underground entrance. I was fairly amazed when the bus kept going. Down the decline we went and I wondered what the hell was going on as squeezing past other buses and machinery coming up with bare centimetres to spare seemed unreasonable risky. This was part of the tour!

Turning an 11 metre bus in a 6 metre tunnel was an art-form our driver must have dabbled in a fair bit. He spared the paint and pulled up; in the decline, and we were invited off the coach to check out the machine hall. It may not sound too fascinating but the history behind it all was cool.

After a perfunctory head count to ensure most of us were back on board, the coach hauled us up the decline with our driver running an amusing commentary the entire time. It was a nice to sit and look out the window at endless waterfalls, sheer drops and thick rainforest. Despite my occupation I find the pleasure of this experience difficult to describe. ‘Very enjoyable’ will have to do.

So far we were still only being transported to the ‘real’ part of our tour! Incredibly we were getting our money’s worth. The gravel road down the mountain was the steepest, most expensive road ever built at the time. $1 per centimetre which we were challenged to come up with a final figure for. I did a quick equation in my head and came up with ‘can I have a Tim Tam’. Nita can always be counted on to have a spare Tim Tam handy.

Dammit this post is dragging on too long. River, lake cruise, food, beer, waterfalls, cold, fantastic, didn’t fall over board, frigging excellent, 1000 photos.

And then we were back at Manapouri. The lake had risen over a metre in the time we were away. Our car was still on ‘dry’ land so we jumped in and raced back to our motel.

Go to Day 10

Go back to Day 1- The Airport/Customs/Flight/Airport/Customs Horror.

Published!

I am now a published writer. My world should be complete... I guess.

Unfortunately the short story Antipodean SF published, Pod 5534, wasn't something I'm particularly fond of, nor do I think it is particularly clever. I regard it as forgettable; a passing milestone preceding the eventual world-wide publishing of my beloved SAM novel, and a notation of accomplishment to populate a fairly bare resume.

The story Pod 5534 is a mere intestine cut from a disemboweled 50,000 word dialogue-only compilation I wrote for Nanowrimo. This brain dump was very intense. I wrote around 40 short stories, one after another, using whatever came up from that strange, dark place inside me. I varnished a few of these stories and sent them off... mostly into editor's bins I suspect. The Pod story just happened to hit the right note with this editor.

So why write 50,000 words of pure dialogue?

Other than to annoy my sister by refusing to follow Nano's rules to the letter, I know how important descriptions are from a character's POV and I needed the practise. My character's minds are built from very obscure and indefinable 'stuff'. Articulating their beliefs and ego's so a reader can judge them is incredibly hard. Nano was a chance to allow a character's speech to flow without me butting in to twist their words into what I wanted them to say.

It was an interesting experience and a valuable technique. I will have to use it again sometime.

NZ Holiday - Day 5 to 7 - The Psycho Jet Boat Driver and Gondola Clamp Test

After our nanna-nap rest it was time to hit Queenstown. We’d pre-booked a lovely scenic cruise... ON A JET BOAT, YEAH BABY.

It was freaking insane fun. The crazy bastard driving had us going sideways through gaps we shouldn’t have fit through going straight. We were bashing over rocky sections of the stream that you could have walked across, ankle deep! And we were doing it at over 80kph. Once again I am amazed at NZ attitude to public liability. I am deeply thankful this insidious, fun-sucking legality is beneath their awareness.

For the rev-heads amongst us, the boat was powered by twin V6 Buick’s and spat out 800 litres of water per second from the thrusters. This is a super-fast dump in anyone’s language.

The Jet Boat insanity only pumped us up. We headed into town for a ride on the Skyline Gondola. Now in NZ a Gondola is not a skinny boat shoved along gently with a pole; it is a little fiberglass cabin attached to a cable that allows fat people to attain the heady heights of mountain tops. A ski-lift contraption if you will.

It was in fact an awe-inspiring ride up. I tried jumping up and down a bit to see if the clamp holding us onto the cable would slip. Nita gave me the evil eye so I stopped. Besides, I think it did move a bit.

The views from the top were once again spectacular. We had a beer so our insides could be as cold as our outsides. It was freezing cold.

There was a purpose-made luge track (unpowered go-carts really) at the top. Looked like fun but we were content to watch other people hurt themselves, get wet in the intermittent rain showers, and make fools of themselves getting in and out of the carts and chair-lifts.

The day was done so we came down separate from the In-laws so I could try to convince Jules to join the Mile High Club. My application was rejected.

Go to Day 8-9

Go back to Day 1- The Airport/Customs/Flight/Airport/Customs Horror.

NZ Holiday - Day 4 - The Blood-sucking Swarm and the Justified Rest

We left Fox Glacier after the first sleep-in we've managed so far. We decided to take a break from our hectic holiday and just cruise for a day. A holiday from the holiday so to speak.

On the way to doing nothing we came across some very strange piles of crap on the side of the road at Bruce Bay. We just had to stop, it was so weird. Underwear, CD's and hats festooned piled rocks and drift wood. There were thousands of these calling cards, from around the world judging from the languages and messages.

We wandered along the roadside reading the scribbled on rocks, (and avoiding the undies). Quite a few messages complained about the sand-flies of which there was no sign. I started towards the beach through the tourist's clutter when something bit me. Then another and another. HOLY SHIT I WAS COVERED IN THEM.

I can only imagine what we looked like. 4 wildly arm-waving, sprinting people, slightly obscured by a cloud of tiny insects, leaping into a car and speeding off with the windows down. The little biting bastards would not get the hell out. One particularly nasty testicle biter caused a sudden stop not far up the road. Slapping your own nuts seems to hurt more than someone else doing it I found.

We culled the number of freeloading sand-flies in the car and set off again, vowing to view the rest of this particular piece of coastline at high speed through closed windows.

Wanaka was a haven of beer and lounging about. I swear the dopey receptionist of our motel was on something. She gave us free internet. I asked why. “Cos the amount you paid for that suite...wow!” Gee thanks lady.

Now I hate our Travel Consultant even more.

Go to Day 5.

Go back to Day 1- The Airport/Customs/Flight/Airport/Customs Horror.

NZ Holiday - Day 3 - The Near-death Glacier Hell-ride

The views in New Zealand are unrelentingly spectacular in almost every direction. Mountains, rivers, historic landmarks, 10,000 possum fur shops. The mountainous terrain was such a novelty for us. In fact there were only a couple of flat bits scraped out by glaciers which I judiciously used to gather up a bit of speed before serpentining our way up and down the next range.

And thusly, we found ourselves at Fox Glacier.

Nita and Eric were very keen to see a glacier up close. Anticipating their enthusiasm we’d already booked a Heli-trek, inadvertently implicating us in attempted murder! The prospect of an early inheritance for Jules was not our motivation.

Now I have reiterated this apology several times, but once again Nita and Eric - WE DIDN'T BLOODY KNOW IT WAS GOING TO BE LIKE THAT.

Some of us scoffed at the backpackers whom we watched slogging their way up to the glacier the hard way. Pfffffttt. We hired a Helicopter - just like the poor people didn’t - and enjoyed an 8 minute, comfortable ride up to the glacier’s guts.

Then it got weird.

The Heli part of the experience was an extremely fun and adrenaline inducing ride, but then the buggers kicked us out of the chopper onto slick, and very unflat, ice. My imaginings of a quiet, mystical experience promenading across the glacier became a flat-out fight for survival as the chopper’s down-draft slides us towards the nearest crevasse. This is something I’d be more comfortable watching some other clowns do on TV. But we were the circus here and no doubt my ice dancing provided tremendous amusement to the Chopper pilot. He ensured we were all well and truly battered into the ice before finally lifting off in any case.

We endured this four more freaking times as load after load of annoying tourists were brought to what I was swiftly realising would not be our private patch of icy paradise. The guides, finally realising the cause of our frantic flailings reluctantly handed out crampons.

Our tour guide was a fit, young chick who set a cracking pace into the steepest, most rugged ice-scape I’ve ever seen. She seemed quite oblivious to the fat, old and scared. That described me fairly well. Dunno how everyone else was coping. I didn’t care. I was concentrating on not going arse up and stabbing myself in the eye with a crampon.

We saw some amazing stuff amongst the higgledy-piggledy ice chaos. Certainly raised itself from the lowly rum and coke cooling substance I was used to handling. Utterly worth being stripped of our dignity and the effort involved. If we’d been better informed regarding the physical requirements we definitely would not have done this tour, and yet I am very glad we were duped or we would have missed the highlight of our trip.

Go to Day 4.

Go back to Day 1- The Airport/Customs/Flight/Airport/Customs Horror.