A true kiwi Labour Weekend

[Dora]

I can't write about Labour Weekend without mentioning the weekend before at Craigend, celebrating Andrew's birthday and seeing Tom, Sophie and Sylvie. Sylvie showed she was just as relaxed on the farm moving heifers as in a party situation, and will soon rival her cousins in spa pool aquabatics. When we next visit NZ we'll be coming to Whangarei!

On Thursday I boarded the evening chaos bus from Wellington train station to Bulls, listening almost all the way to the election coverage as Jacinda was annointed our new PM! Across the country (Gisborne) celebratory bubbles were packed into long-weekend-loaded cars.

Heading to Lake Rotoiti, Trish, Andrew, Tilly the Boat and I made a stop at Redwoods mountain bike park near Rotorua, to recce some mean trails for Trish's school trip. After some warm ups, I recced one particular downhill corner very closely. But only minor harm done (broken sunglasses, skinned elbow, more unusually placed bruises) and we went round to tackle it again with success. 

At the beautiful lakeside bach, we were joined by Mark and Katie who flew in from Christchurch, and Nic, Jo, Jasper, Freddy and Belle the dog who drove from Gisborne. Soon the stress of trying to leave a country, handover my job and plan backpacking was forgotten, replaced by hanging out with small children, watersports, relaxed meals, paua fritters and one Where's Wally jigsaw puzzle.

Trish and me, enjoying a geothermal soak on the shores of Lake Rotoiti

We kayaked round to a friend's bach, biscuited, wakeboarded and surfed behind the boat (Nic), fished, water skiied and bombed off the lakeside bush. On land, we practiced headstands and showed off our biscuit-vaulting skills in the sunshine. We visited a set of hot pools you can only access by boat! We played tennis, tasted Mark and Katie's wedding bubbly and graduated Belle to adult dog biscuits. 

Too soon it was Monday and time to say goodbye. Thank you Trish and Andrew for a true kiwi, bach-based send off!

Luckily, I had my personal videographers along with me (Mark, Trish, Andrew - thank you!) to document the water-based activities. 

Biscuiting

Bombing

Water skiing

The Finale Road Trip – Part two: PASSing through the South Island

We celebrated Wanaka Wednesday with a muffin. We were meant to skydive, but it was cancelled because of high winds. Instead, we slogged up Isthmus Peak, inspired by Lucy and Rich's winter run and sustained by stunning scenery and interesting camera modes (which was lucky, since I forgot the food). 

At the top there were great views of both Lake Wanaka and Lake Hawea (the isthmus being between the two). We jogged back to the car to reach an excellent spacious breakfast-providing Airbnb in the sleepy village of Luggate, visiting its only restaurant/pub/place-with-lights-on for some warm grub. 

As the week neared its end we had one more challenge to complete – the Gillespie Pass (a big one on Dora's tramping bucket list). The start of this is reached by jet boat, but unfortunately the driver was hunting so we had to wait until early afternoon before hitting the track. Luckily the jet boat ride was entertaining enough to dispel our frustration with the delay, as we shot up-river with only six inches or so of water beneath us. On the way we dropped off some fencing wire and nails to a local farmer.

Approaching Siberia Flats

We ascended to Siberia flats, emerging from thick bush into yellow grassland, clear skies and butterflies flitting out of the grass around us as we walked (Dora: “It’s like Disney!”). After a quick turnaround at Siberia Hut we forged on to Crucible Lake, a 6-8 hour round trip that we compressed into 5 sweaty hours. A root staircase led us into a hanging valley, where we ascended a moraine dam to enjoy sights of the frozen lake. 

On the lip of Crucible Lake

Our dash back to the hut took us back across several knee deep streams. Luckily Dora had read how to cross such things in Wilderness and we executed perfect best practice backcountry river crossings. Unluckily we had the slowest drying boots ever, making the next day extra uncomfortable (more on that later).

Even more luckily, our English/Australian hut co-inhabitants were very nice, and very good at making fires, which meant we arrived back to a warm room and pre-heated water for some healthy sustenance (inc. marshmallows). They had been playing hut parents for a couple of days, looking after a French girl who'd arrived having crossed the Pass on her own in pouring rain (not backcountry best practice). 

Friday was Gillespie Pass Day! After again profusely thanking our fellow hut-sleepers, we ascended beech and steep tussock, which gave way to rock and (expected) snow. It was a hard climb to the summit of the pass (1629m), where we briefly admired the forebodingly named Mt. Awful and Mt Dreadful, with an eye on the weather, before descending an even steeper track through tussock into the Young Valley.  

Made it to the top! Mt Awful (left) and Dreadful (right)

The descent into Young Valley

Once we’d re-entered the bush and found Young Hut for lunch, we decided to append another 20km to our 12km mountain pass and get to Makarora the same evening. The hut was cold, the weather was forecast to worsen, and we liked the idea of proper sheets. A rooty route march ensued as we loafed down the Young River valley. We crossed creeks, sped over swing bridges, and completed the day with a fording of the Makarora River that re-soaked our feet (and our thighs). Once we’d rejoined the main road some students from Wellington picked us up, as they neared the end of their own adventurous day trip from Picton to Queenstown (872km!). 

Back at our car, we were relieved to discover a vacancy in tiny Makarora's three A-frame 'chalets' ("I really would like an en suite tonight" - Dora) which meant we didn't have to drive back to Wanaka. The evening closed with us eating warm food, having warm showers, and warmly drying our wet clothing in front of two heaters. The subsequent steam set off the fire alarm. 

‘Ouch’ characterised the next morning, especially in the feet - Dora's doing a particularly good shiny hams impression. We crawled into our car, and crawled over Mackenzie Country to the Banks Peninsula . Our Wanaka Skydive had been cancelled again – I’m increasingly convinced they never happen. However, we’d hatched a plan to see some penguins, so after a hefty hearty brunch in Tarras we made for Akaroa, where a nice pizza, an odd hostel (room like a shed, only accepted cash) and a penguin tour awaited!

Very briefly disturbing the nesting penguin

Spot the penguin

A 4x4 bus took us to Flea Bay, where over a thousand making penguin pairs reside. At dusk the male and female swap babysitting duties, providing a great opportunity for humans to excitedly gawp at them, which we did. We were even lucky enough to see the rare Yellow Eyed penguin, as it trudged up the hill to its nest wish a resignation we recognised from our time on the Gillespie Pass. Our return to Akaroa was notable for the repeated intrusion of cows on the road, much to the consternation of our guide and laughter of the two children on the tour.

On Sunday morning we enjoyed a lovely breakfast and catch up with Jack, Charlotte and Miranda at their place near Akaroa. We then lunched with Phoebe, whose Harbour Tour was torpedoed by the shocking weather. It was the annual French weekend, so a glass of Pinot with food seemed appropriate. Driving back into Christchurch, we had the pleasure of visiting an exhibition at Christchurch Art Gallery by Dora’s cousin Julia, before joining her, Andy, their son Felix and Diana and David. 

I unfortunately had to leave to catch my flight back to Wellington, but Dora stayed in Christchurch an additional day for work, staying the night with her cousin Henry and his family Tomomi, Bianca and Manon. So started the month of fond and sad goodbyes to family and friends!

The Finale Road Trip – Part one: falling from heights

The latter half of the week before last was a whirlwind of logistics. On Friday, for example, we packed a MoveCube to be shipped back to the UK (8am), welcomed a cleaning army into our flat (10am) and handed over the keys to the new occupier (2pm). In between this, I had my final day at SenateSHJ, which concluded with drinks and a great lamb roast at The Bresolin. 

Matt and Phoebe kindly put us up for the night, and by chance were also flying out of Wellington Airport on Saturday morning. While they went North for some musical fun in Auckland, we scooted South, to tick off some final ‘must dos’ before we depart Aotearoa (New Zealand). 

We landed in the adventure capital of Queenstown, quite an adventure in itself as we descended below the tops of the Southern Alps.  After a supply stop at Pak’nSave we popped to the DOC office to purchase some hut passes, receiving a parking ticket for the pleasure.

The drive up Lake Wakatipu quickly dispelled our annoyance, with great views of azure waters below white-topped peaks. We blinked, so missed Glenorchy, and quickly reached the start of the Routeburn Track, which Greg and Becky completed last summer.

Time was getting on, so we donned our tramping gear and pressed onwards and upwards, depositing our heavier bag at Routeburn Falls Hut and reaching Harris Saddle. It was quite snowy, but the weather held out long enough for us to taste the famous views. We marched back to the Hut for some dubious dehydrated dinner, and slept well.

Sunrise from the Hut

The next morning we walked out, swimming in the river to wash away the exertions of the previous day. We established there was little to see in Glenorchy, so went to the locally-famous Kinloch Lodge, where they kindly upgraded us because of my winning smile (I think). 








Bikes were hired and we set off towards the Greenstone River, fording a couple of streams and enjoying the downhills much more than the ups. 

Our post-cycle recuperation took place in a hot tub. The views were stunning, enough to entertain me for about five minutes before I got bored of sitting in warm water. Even more recuperation took place over a dinner of venison stew and fish & chips, before a guided sunset kayak completed a pretty activity-packed day. 

After a Monday morning breakfast of homemade beans and homelaid eggs we drove to Queenstown, where I had convinced Dora we should spend a day downhill mountain bike riding. We overcame the parking challenges presented by a tourist honeypot that need a bigger pot, grabbed some serious-looking helmets and gondola-ed our way up the hill. 

It turns out downhill mountain biking is quite terrifying. The brakes are rather sharp, leading Dora to fly over the handlebars at the first corner. However, over the next four hours our confidence built, such that we zoomed down ‘Thunder Goat’ with only a fleeting consideration of our mortality (it’s much steeper than the intermediate tracks in our local mountain bike park). 

We nursed our bruises at a lovely Airbnb in Arrowtown, where our host provided a warm bedroom, a washing machine and some marinated chicken legs. All were much appreciated. 

Weeeeeee

On Tuesday I went for a pre-breakfast bungy jump, kindly purchased by my work colleagues. Although we’d throw ourselves off bikes the previous day, throwing myself down a canyon was rather a step up. However, all went well, despite me forgetting to tuck my shirt in.

We decompressed at a nearby cheesery, before seeing what wineries Gibbston Valley had to offer. At Peregrine we were impressed by scale of the slanted roof building, as were the architects who gave the structure an award upon its completion. Rosa Wines provided an entertainingly abrupt Czech hostess. 

Back in Arrowtown, we hired bikes and circumnavigated Lake Hayes, pausing at the Amisfield Bistro to enjoy a charcuterie board at Amisfield Bistro. Highlights included the Chinese settlement in Arrowtown (they came to mine gold in the 19^th century), some weird Truman Show-style housing in the Millbrook Golf Resort and the long downhill rise to Lake Hayes (much more fun than the equivalent uphill on the return trip).  Come evening, we were ready for a hearty meal, but unfortunately opted for some Mediterranean tapas where they forgot to cook the fish, although Dora insists it was “meant to be like that”.