Wellington to Auckland
A couple of days after crossing the Cook Straits by ferry and arriving in Wellington, New Zealand's capital, I'm at a bit of a loss. I've got no rental car, no travelling companion and no idea what I want to do next. And I've got two weeks to get from Wellington to Auckland, roughly the same distance as London to Glasgow.
Time then to fall back on the staple ingredients of the backpacker's life. My backpack(!), an open bus ticket, a map, a big pin to stick in the map, a blindfold to wear while I'm sticking the big pin in the map and a couple of band aids to patch up my bloody fingers after all the pin-sticking! Here's what happened next...
Wellington
A relatively small capital city and during all but one of my five days there, it gets lashed and battered by violent storms. Luckily, it has one of the best museums you could find, Te Papa Tongarewa or Museum of New Zealand. Apart from all the cultural stuff (and The Lord Of The Rings merchandise store) it has some virtual, simulator rides to take you through New Zealand's past and future.
Wellington was the centre of operations during the filming of the LOTR trilogy but disappointingly, there's not a lot of evidence around to underline this fact. You can't visit the film studios and the larger fortress and city sets have all been dismantled. I do get to see "The Return Of The King" though in the beautifully restored Embassy Cinema, the venue for the world premiere back in December.
Just before leaving Wellington however, my world is rocked to the core after reading a headline that says that J-Lo has split up from Ben!!! How the hell did that happen? They just seemed so, you know, so solid, so together. I for one, didn't see that coming - fair took the wind out of my sails. Please, somebody, say it ain't so?
Turangi
It's a four and a half hour bus trip from Wellington to Turangi, "Trout Fishing capital of the world" and on the way, I pass through Taihape, "Gum Boot capital of the world". Thankfully, I pass through quickly.
Travelling by bus around New Zealand is markedly different from similar journeys in Australia or America or the UK for that matter. There's no real motorways to speak of; very few straight roads at all actually and it turns out to be a rather uncomfortable mode of transport. The drivers cruise way too fast round some of the mountain bends but more alarming than that is the way they dress.
The light blue, short-sleeved shirt with matching shoulder epaulets isn't too bad I suppose (not clubbing gear obviously) but the navy blue shorts are WAY too short in every manner possible. A couple of sizes too small around the waist certainly but also riding too high up the thighs like every footballer you can think of from the 80s. I'm not sure I should really be dwelling on this subject matter as much as I am but it doesn't stop there. Add in some long woolly socks, usually white, and some shiny black shoes and you have the whole eclectic ensemble. I'm dying to ask if they have a spare pair of lederhosen in the back of the bus for special occasions but don't have the nerve.
Anyway, I've come to Turnagi because I've read about something called the Tongariro Crossing, advertised as the finest one-day tramp (hike) in New Zealand. For ten miles, it climbs up between two active volcanoes, traversing a barren landscape full of lava flows, craters and emerald lakes.
I sign up as soon as I arrive in town and wake early the next morning in anticipation of a memorable day. When I step outside, the summertime's in bloom but ninety minutes later at the foot of the volcanoes it's a very different story. For one thing, the cloud and mist have swallowed the volcanoes and the wind is howling at a dangerous rate of knots.
Looking around, only a few of the trampers seem up for the challenge. They're the ones with the proper hiking boots, goggles, woolly hats, ski poles(!) and teams of huskies. Okay, so there're no dogs but they do look like they could survive in the wilderness for months on end. In stark contrast, my flimsy rain poncho and floppy golf hat don't really cut it. Plus I've left my homemade sandwiches back at the hostel.
It's an easy decision then to get back on the bus and go visit the little golf course I noticed back in Turangi. There, it's sunny and warm and it ends up just being my floppy hat and me on a deserted course - I did have other clothes on as well. Or did I?
Napier
A three-hour journey from Turangi brings me to Napier on the east coast, "art deco capital of the world". This seems an unlikely claim but it really is a pretty town. Completely demolished in two and a half minutes by an earthquake in 1931, it was rebuilt in the dominant style of the times and still retains a lot of charm. (God, I'm sounding more like Judith Chalmers every day!) I half expect to see Gatsby driving along in a big car with white wall tyres and the weather's so warm when I'm there that I stay longer than I intended. Don't do much except drink the local wine, sit in the sun and then drink more of the local wine.
Gisborne
Four hours up the east coast from Napier, the sign at the edge of town says "Gisborne - Chardonnay Capital" but doesn't offer any further geographical clarification. I reckon that they're just too scared of the French to add "...of the world" on to it. New Zealand, remember, is the place where French agents sank Greenpeace's Rainbow Warrior back in the 80s. More recently, the French conducted nuclear tests in the South Pacific which unleashed Godzilla on to an unsuspecting New York public. "Another glash of chardonnay over here pleesh!"
More impressive about Gisborne though is their claim to be the first city in the world to see the light of any new day. They certainly have the perfect setting to witness this, a wonderful beach, long and wide like the West Sands in St. Andrews. I thought about setting my alarm early to behold this natural wonder but then forced myself to think about something else. Sharks, for example.
For around seventy pounds, you can be taken ten miles offshore and then have the pleasure of being partially lowered into the sea in a metal cage while the local shark population circle menacingly around you. This almost seems like an expedition worth undertaking until I discover that for around twenty pounds, I can play a nationally acclaimed, links style golf course, all equipment and a free drink included. Hmmnn? Sharks? Golf? Sharks? Golf? Tough one that. Yet again, it's a scorching day when I roll in the last putt for a round of 63... all right, 83!
Rotorua
On the four and a half hour bus ride to Rotorua I get quite excited when I read in my guidebook, "everywhere you look, there're signs of vulcanism".
"Ooo, maybe there'll be a Star Trek convention there," I say in a voice a little louder than I intended.
All around me on the bus, the other passengers begin to shift uncomfortably in their seats and pretend they're looking out the window.
Rotorua is "sulphur capital of the world", in other words, "stinking, rotten-egg smelling capital of the world". It sits slap bang on the Pacific Ring of Fire (no curry jokes please) and the "signs" referred to in the guidebook pertain to boiling mud pools, hot springs and geysers.
It's very touristy with Maori music and dance shows every night and a multitude of places offering spa treatments but it has some of the best restaurants I've seen for a while. And it has two golf courses. I choose the cheaper, public one for a couple of rounds, managing to avoid the regular thunderstorms on both occasions. (Do you think this photo looks like J-Lo?)
Hamilton
I don't play golf in Hamilton but I spend an extra day here, primarily so I can watch the Superbowl at a reasonable, lunchtime hour and so I can visit the nearby small town of Te Awamutu. A detached, unruffled farming community, Te Awamutu holds a greater significance for me as the birthplace of two of my musical heroes, brothers Neil & Tim Finn. They don't live there any more of course, but the local museum has an interesting exhibition of their life and times through bands such as Split Enz and Crowded House and their solo work.
Auckland
And now I'm in Auckland, the biggest and busiest city in New Zealand. They've got galleries, museums, markets, a tall sky tower, ferry rides and beaches, none of which I've visited. I've been more content with the bars, restaurants and coffee shops although I travelled a bit out of town yesterday to visit One Tree Hill, a place made famous in a U2 song. Nice view, shame they cut down the tree.
The other night I went to see hot-rockin', blues-singin', guitar-pickin', ass-kickin', finger-lickin, lip-smackin', thrist-quenchin' Bonnie Raitt in concert - me and a couple of thousand other middle age rockers. I was one of the youngest there! I'd never seen her before; don't have any of her albums (why is that?) but her performance was compelling. She has a voice that just soars. And Neil & Tim Finn were in the audience! Would have asked them for their autographs but they haven't dropped the restraining order yet.
So, all in all, it's been a fairly leisurely tour around the North Island, grooming my golf swing for the challenges to come later in the year. I haven't had much motivation to do anything more energetic over the last couple of weeks, no real strength of will to push the envelope. That may be down to the fact that I tried the "extreme" activities on the South Island or it may be because I got drunk last week and shaved off all my hair. Who knows?
Anyway, later this afternoon, I get on a plane for a twelve-hour journey to Los Angeles. I'm there for all of five hours before I get on another plane for an eight-hour flight to Lima in Peru. And I'll arrive there on the same day that I left New Zealand. Mental!
Till then.
Love, Neil x
A couple of days after crossing the Cook Straits by ferry and arriving in Wellington, New Zealand's capital, I'm at a bit of a loss. I've got no rental car, no travelling companion and no idea what I want to do next. And I've got two weeks to get from Wellington to Auckland, roughly the same distance as London to Glasgow.
Time then to fall back on the staple ingredients of the backpacker's life. My backpack(!), an open bus ticket, a map, a big pin to stick in the map, a blindfold to wear while I'm sticking the big pin in the map and a couple of band aids to patch up my bloody fingers after all the pin-sticking! Here's what happened next...
Wellington
A relatively small capital city and during all but one of my five days there, it gets lashed and battered by violent storms. Luckily, it has one of the best museums you could find, Te Papa Tongarewa or Museum of New Zealand. Apart from all the cultural stuff (and The Lord Of The Rings merchandise store) it has some virtual, simulator rides to take you through New Zealand's past and future.
Wellington was the centre of operations during the filming of the LOTR trilogy but disappointingly, there's not a lot of evidence around to underline this fact. You can't visit the film studios and the larger fortress and city sets have all been dismantled. I do get to see "The Return Of The King" though in the beautifully restored Embassy Cinema, the venue for the world premiere back in December.Just before leaving Wellington however, my world is rocked to the core after reading a headline that says that J-Lo has split up from Ben!!! How the hell did that happen? They just seemed so, you know, so solid, so together. I for one, didn't see that coming - fair took the wind out of my sails. Please, somebody, say it ain't so?
Turangi
It's a four and a half hour bus trip from Wellington to Turangi, "Trout Fishing capital of the world" and on the way, I pass through Taihape, "Gum Boot capital of the world". Thankfully, I pass through quickly.
Travelling by bus around New Zealand is markedly different from similar journeys in Australia or America or the UK for that matter. There's no real motorways to speak of; very few straight roads at all actually and it turns out to be a rather uncomfortable mode of transport. The drivers cruise way too fast round some of the mountain bends but more alarming than that is the way they dress.
The light blue, short-sleeved shirt with matching shoulder epaulets isn't too bad I suppose (not clubbing gear obviously) but the navy blue shorts are WAY too short in every manner possible. A couple of sizes too small around the waist certainly but also riding too high up the thighs like every footballer you can think of from the 80s. I'm not sure I should really be dwelling on this subject matter as much as I am but it doesn't stop there. Add in some long woolly socks, usually white, and some shiny black shoes and you have the whole eclectic ensemble. I'm dying to ask if they have a spare pair of lederhosen in the back of the bus for special occasions but don't have the nerve.
Anyway, I've come to Turnagi because I've read about something called the Tongariro Crossing, advertised as the finest one-day tramp (hike) in New Zealand. For ten miles, it climbs up between two active volcanoes, traversing a barren landscape full of lava flows, craters and emerald lakes.
I sign up as soon as I arrive in town and wake early the next morning in anticipation of a memorable day. When I step outside, the summertime's in bloom but ninety minutes later at the foot of the volcanoes it's a very different story. For one thing, the cloud and mist have swallowed the volcanoes and the wind is howling at a dangerous rate of knots.
Looking around, only a few of the trampers seem up for the challenge. They're the ones with the proper hiking boots, goggles, woolly hats, ski poles(!) and teams of huskies. Okay, so there're no dogs but they do look like they could survive in the wilderness for months on end. In stark contrast, my flimsy rain poncho and floppy golf hat don't really cut it. Plus I've left my homemade sandwiches back at the hostel.
It's an easy decision then to get back on the bus and go visit the little golf course I noticed back in Turangi. There, it's sunny and warm and it ends up just being my floppy hat and me on a deserted course - I did have other clothes on as well. Or did I?
NapierA three-hour journey from Turangi brings me to Napier on the east coast, "art deco capital of the world". This seems an unlikely claim but it really is a pretty town. Completely demolished in two and a half minutes by an earthquake in 1931, it was rebuilt in the dominant style of the times and still retains a lot of charm. (God, I'm sounding more like Judith Chalmers every day!) I half expect to see Gatsby driving along in a big car with white wall tyres and the weather's so warm when I'm there that I stay longer than I intended. Don't do much except drink the local wine, sit in the sun and then drink more of the local wine.
Gisborne
Four hours up the east coast from Napier, the sign at the edge of town says "Gisborne - Chardonnay Capital" but doesn't offer any further geographical clarification. I reckon that they're just too scared of the French to add "...of the world" on to it. New Zealand, remember, is the place where French agents sank Greenpeace's Rainbow Warrior back in the 80s. More recently, the French conducted nuclear tests in the South Pacific which unleashed Godzilla on to an unsuspecting New York public. "Another glash of chardonnay over here pleesh!"
More impressive about Gisborne though is their claim to be the first city in the world to see the light of any new day. They certainly have the perfect setting to witness this, a wonderful beach, long and wide like the West Sands in St. Andrews. I thought about setting my alarm early to behold this natural wonder but then forced myself to think about something else. Sharks, for example.For around seventy pounds, you can be taken ten miles offshore and then have the pleasure of being partially lowered into the sea in a metal cage while the local shark population circle menacingly around you. This almost seems like an expedition worth undertaking until I discover that for around twenty pounds, I can play a nationally acclaimed, links style golf course, all equipment and a free drink included. Hmmnn? Sharks? Golf? Sharks? Golf? Tough one that. Yet again, it's a scorching day when I roll in the last putt for a round of 63... all right, 83!
Rotorua
On the four and a half hour bus ride to Rotorua I get quite excited when I read in my guidebook, "everywhere you look, there're signs of vulcanism".
"Ooo, maybe there'll be a Star Trek convention there," I say in a voice a little louder than I intended.
All around me on the bus, the other passengers begin to shift uncomfortably in their seats and pretend they're looking out the window.
Rotorua is "sulphur capital of the world", in other words, "stinking, rotten-egg smelling capital of the world". It sits slap bang on the Pacific Ring of Fire (no curry jokes please) and the "signs" referred to in the guidebook pertain to boiling mud pools, hot springs and geysers.It's very touristy with Maori music and dance shows every night and a multitude of places offering spa treatments but it has some of the best restaurants I've seen for a while. And it has two golf courses. I choose the cheaper, public one for a couple of rounds, managing to avoid the regular thunderstorms on both occasions. (Do you think this photo looks like J-Lo?)
Hamilton
I don't play golf in Hamilton but I spend an extra day here, primarily so I can watch the Superbowl at a reasonable, lunchtime hour and so I can visit the nearby small town of Te Awamutu. A detached, unruffled farming community, Te Awamutu holds a greater significance for me as the birthplace of two of my musical heroes, brothers Neil & Tim Finn. They don't live there any more of course, but the local museum has an interesting exhibition of their life and times through bands such as Split Enz and Crowded House and their solo work.
Auckland
And now I'm in Auckland, the biggest and busiest city in New Zealand. They've got galleries, museums, markets, a tall sky tower, ferry rides and beaches, none of which I've visited. I've been more content with the bars, restaurants and coffee shops although I travelled a bit out of town yesterday to visit One Tree Hill, a place made famous in a U2 song. Nice view, shame they cut down the tree.
The other night I went to see hot-rockin', blues-singin', guitar-pickin', ass-kickin', finger-lickin, lip-smackin', thrist-quenchin' Bonnie Raitt in concert - me and a couple of thousand other middle age rockers. I was one of the youngest there! I'd never seen her before; don't have any of her albums (why is that?) but her performance was compelling. She has a voice that just soars. And Neil & Tim Finn were in the audience! Would have asked them for their autographs but they haven't dropped the restraining order yet.
So, all in all, it's been a fairly leisurely tour around the North Island, grooming my golf swing for the challenges to come later in the year. I haven't had much motivation to do anything more energetic over the last couple of weeks, no real strength of will to push the envelope. That may be down to the fact that I tried the "extreme" activities on the South Island or it may be because I got drunk last week and shaved off all my hair. Who knows?
Anyway, later this afternoon, I get on a plane for a twelve-hour journey to Los Angeles. I'm there for all of five hours before I get on another plane for an eight-hour flight to Lima in Peru. And I'll arrive there on the same day that I left New Zealand. Mental!
Till then.
Love, Neil x
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