New Zealand Blog

MARK:  Written in a motel room where all I can smell is bad eggs!  Welcome to Rotorua, New Zealand’s Geothermal Wonderland – where the wafting smell of sulphur is never far away.

I once drew a picture of a volcano when I was six and a half.  It was “pointy” in shape, grey at the bottom and towards the top had red boulders and lava spewing out of the top.  On the left hand side as you looked at it there was a stick insect boy climbing up – it was me trying to see if I could put the fire out!

Mrs Todd, my teacher at Masham Church of England Primary School was very impressed and put it on the wall for all to admire.  I was chuffed, but never in my wildest dreams did I think that I would ever get the chance to do it for real.  But dreams do come true!

Art wasn’t my best subject at school.  That honour went to Geography, like my father before me and now our son Joe.  Handy for both Joe and I as tour operators and now for me when travelling the World.

I was rubbish at maths too.  Fractions I could just about cope with.  And how I scraped a Grade C Maths ‘O’ Level, only God and Mary Moss (teacher) will ever know.  That said, when it comes to looking after money I am red hot.  Indeed I can tell you at any one time how much money we have/haven’t got in our accounts/pension funds.  Sarah’s the same.  We both know exactly what the state of play is money wise and have the same values and beliefs where pounds shillings and pence are concerned.  This is a real blessing on a trip like this.

I get really excited – Sarah sometimes, when we go “under budget”.  I get a massive “kick” from banking money on our MASTERS spreadsheet. Every penny/cent spent is recorded and appears either as an expense for accommodation, car hire, fuel, flights, food or entertainment.  Each country we visit has a specific budget. For New Zealand, after all other costs have been taken in to consideration, £73 is the amount budgeted per day to spend on entertainment/activities.  That might not seem very much, but when you consider that a lot of the time we travel by car and there are so many free things to do, it is proving to be more than enough. Plus, when we go walking, or should I say training, ka-ching another £73 quid is saved.

So this week has been brilliant.  Not only have we undertaken four amazing walks and got much fitter, but we have banked over £200 and achieved my childhood ambition of climbing up an active volcano, seeing a splurging mud pool and marveled at a geyser that likes washing powder. Even you would have been impressed, Neil Barton!

But please, before you run away with the idea that it has been easy time, let me assure you right away, this has been far from a “walk in the park”.

Indeed, the week got off to a really bad start. Monday was a right off weather wise and the first time on this entire trip we were unable to do what we had planned.  The cloud base was low, it rained for most of the day and the temperature at the top of the mountain (according to the online weather reports) was down to 4C with wind-chill –   cold for what was essentially an “August Day”. You could not see a thing even at the bottom.

Tuesday was a different proposition completely.  Game on for our attempt @ The Tongariro Alpine Crossing (central North Island), held to be one of the Top Ten Day hikes in a National Park anywhere in the World.

TAC has the distinction of being a dual World Heritage site for both its natural and cultural significance. The trek crosses over the multi-cratered active volcano Mount Tongariro for 19.4 KMs (12.1 miles).  Twelve miles in itself, no big deal, but the rise and fall was the real challenge for us.  The route started at 1120m (3,670ft) climbed to 1886m (6,188ft) and then descended down to 760m (2490ft).

Good training for the Inca Trail…. except that little baby is 25-30kms a day for three consecutive days, the rise and fall per day is 2/3 times that of Tongariro and all this at altitudes of between 10,000-14,000ft.  But we weren’t looking that far ahead.  Indeed all I wanted to do was to see steaming vents, hot springs, lava flows and beautiful water filled craters.  Plus of course check out the amazing views weather permitting.  If we could do this within the average 7-8 hours then happy days.

The first hour was a doddle.  5kms and we nailed it.  This of course not a race (according to Sarah).  But it was a chance to compare our fitness levels against some serious walkers of all ages.  It gave me real satisfaction to “burn off” lots of younger people in their early 20s as they meandered along looking half cut from the night before.  The terrain in fairness not that challenging.

But then we turned the corner and read a sign that said if you were not fit, did not have the right equipment, could not hack it, blah blah bla, now was the time to turn round.  We walked straight past it and then OMG!!  Steps (over 750) and steep inclines, suddenly this was challenging.

The weather began to close in.  The grey day turned damp, mizzle ruining my hair, with shafts of light only appearing every ten minutes.  We walked on.  I was starting to blow, but this my way of taking in oxygen to climb quickly to keep the momentum going.  Meanwhile Sarah was having no problems.  Over the 90 minutes since we had set off, just five people had overtaken us – we’d past a couple of hundred.

Harder and harder the route became, when suddenly I heard a north-west England accent.  I thought the three ladies in their 50s were probably from Bolton, they weren’t quite, Bury was their home – they didn’t know Andy Hamer though.  “Whose bloody idea was this….” said the rather stout lady at the back. We had to laugh, the throw away line was just what we needed to fire us up and get us over the top to the first plateau.

“There it is Mrs Todd” I said in my head, as 15 minutes later we had our first chance to see one of the volcanoes close up.  On the right stood Mount Ngauruhoe at 2,291m.  It was just as I had drawn it all those years before, the perfect schoolboy cone-shaped volcano, shrouded every few seconds by swirling cloud.

It was like walking on what I envisage the moon to be like.  A flat barren landscape.  Low cloud skidding across the surface created a mirage effect and every so often I was reminded of my old school chemi-lab’ as smelly sulphur jets rose into the sky adjacent to waterlogged explosion holes.

But we had no time to lose.  The weather behind us was closing in rapidly.  T Shirts were no good.  The temperature dropped by 15C instantly, with the wind gusting to make it feel even colder.

Out came our sweat shirts and waterproof jackets. We were warm.  Others less prepared shivered.  One guy in sandals – seriously?

One more push, this time up the left-hand side ridge taking us to the top of our ascent.  Vertigo started to kick in.  Chains were tied to the side of the mountain so you could literally pull yourself up.  I kept my nerve and 30 minutes later after walking the last bit on red cinders we were there.  The weather was terrible one minute and then the next, wow. There was my red crater, blown out of the mountain side, as if it was an angry dragons mouth, oozing sulphur and steam deep amongst the crevices inside.  Check out these shots as the sky cleared right on cue.

Time to go.  We slid 500m down a 65 degree ash scree in the general direction of some beautifully coloured crater lakes.

Two kilometres across a further plateau, a short climb up the other side and we were there at the pass and all down-hill from there on in.  What a beautiful downward walk in bright sunshine, heather reminding me of the Yorkshire Dales, further steam clouds rising as if produced from the cooling towers of the old Ferrybridge Power Station on the side of the A1M.

With a bound and a loo stop we were down. And down in record time – just five hours five minutes from start to finish.  Result!  Into the car we immediately climbed.  Two and a half hours later, after driving 125 miles to our next port of call, we crawled out, stiff and unable to move.  We’d done it!

Next day we needed to get rid of the stiffness and so settled on a short 6 mile walk along the banks of the beautiful Waihou River. It was like being in England again. Words wasted – the photos say it all.

And so to today (Friday).  We have been in Rotorua, described earlier as NZ’s Geothermal Wonderland or as I put it “Pong City.”  Heading 20 miles south, Wai-O-Tapu offered some amazing Mud Pools and the World famous Champagne Pool where my Currency Card gets its picture from (see above photo).  Star of the show though was the Lady Knox Geyser which was “set off” in a choreographed performance at 1015 by tipping in to the main vent hole a pile of washing powder – TRUE. Check out the two videos by clicking on either the link or the arrow on the video screen image and see for yourself.  Video 1 = Mud.  Video 2 = Lady Knox in full flow.

But fav’ geothermal experience for me was another seven mile return walk later the same day through the Waimangu Volcanic Valley.  Bubbling brooks, hot water springs that gurgled and hissed everywhere you walked, with some of the most colourful rock and water features that only a child with a vivid imagination could draw.

It was like a scene from Jurassic Park, complete with wild boars that frightened us to death when they jumped out.  Dinosaurs and volcanoes, what little kid can’t get excited about that!  Then again what about 52 year olds?  Mrs Todd, you’ll never know just what you started.

We did not expect to blog again so soon after the last missive…. however, our visit to Napier coincided with their annual Art Deco weekend and they sure put on a show to remember!

Few words. Lots of pictures. Historic NZ town.

On Tuesday 3 February 1931 Napier, in common with most of the Hawke’s Bay district, suffered a disastrous earthquake 2.5 minutes in length. The earthquake rocked the town almost totally levelling all buildings in the inner city, killing 162 people (a total of 258 in the Hawke’s Bay area), and raising some areas of land by as much as 8 feet. Some 4,000 hectares of sea-bed became dry land and today this sites not only the airport, but also residential and industrial property developments. The extensive rebuilding that took place in the 1930’s is the reason for the Art Deco flavour in the City. SOURCE: City of Napier website.

 

If you are even remotely into Art Deco, go to Napier… forget Miami!

MARK:  What’s the best way of seeing a whale?  You’d think in a boat of course, but you would be wrong!

A few days ago we started researching trips to see whales in the waters just off the east coast of South Island.  It’s supposed to be one of the best places in the World to see the largest animals on the planet, where the warm waters of the North Pacific meets the South Pacific in a deep “trench” a few miles from the small town of Kaikoura.  These perfect conditions, created by the fault line that runs just underneath the surface of the earth, produces an abundance of squid and marine life that dolphins and whales love to munch on.

Our keenness to see these massive creatures was stimulated following a brief glimpse of a tail in a small boat off the west coast of America with Joe, close to Carmel, California in 2002.  It all happened so quickly that I never did get a photograph as the “big grey thing” dived down to the depths.  I vowed that one day we’d have another go…

Whilst trawling the ‘net (or should that be surfing) the thought also crossed my mind that I might want to swim with Dolphins, but after you have swum with sharks darling in the Barrier Reef, splashing around with “Flipper” is a little bit tame.  Actually that last statement, whilst partially true is rubbish really.  The waters here are far too cold and trying to find a wet suit large enough for a big boy is always interesting, plus I did not want to be snapped by Sarah and other wildlife photographers as a fine example of a MAMIL – Middle Aged Man in Lycra…

So we looked at TripAdvisor to see the reviews of local boat companies offering whale watching (WW) trips and were immediately put off by the whole idea due to the constant reference to sick bags and people throwing up.  We did not want to go there again – see: https://masters20152016.com/2016/02/04/if-in-doubt-just-do-it/

We “parked” the idea and only re-visited the notion of WW when we reconfirmed our delightfully named First Light bed and breakfast accommodation.  Tracy the owner, gave us details of a boat company, but then casually mentioned in her email, that we could see whales “from above” if we were interested.  Her husband just happened to be the manager of the local Aero Club.  It got better.  We were entitled to 10% off the flight cost because we were staying with them and the cost for a 30 minute flight was unbelievably cheaper than a three hour boat trip.  Plus we wouldn’t be bobbing up and down whilst trying to keep our lunch down.

We signed up there and then, with the added flexibility that we could fly when the weather was good during our 36 hour stay.  This of course after saying our trip over Mount Cook would be our last tourist flight…

All this email correspondence was happening whilst we were on the other side of the South Island at a place called Greymouth.  I’d pictured Greymouth in my mind as a place that would resemble something like Workington in Cumbria.  It was the sound of the place.  GREY MOUTH.  But this town was far from dull, as we saw hundreds of Hector Dolphins riding the white waves just under the surface at the mouth of the Grey River.

Next morning we said good bye to the dolphins and set off on a 286 mile journey through the mountains, by way of the Coast Road.  We knew it would add nearly a hundred miles but we wanted to see the Pancakes en-route before cutting through the mountains on scenic, if rather windy roads. Much better than the main boring Highway!

Shrove Tuesday had come and gone but the Pancakes served up a visual treat of sedimentary rock strata unique in the World.  It was worth the extra miles, as we saw wave after wave of 5 metre high breakers crash in to the rock and then “blow” through the holes in the cliff.  It was another geological marvel in a country which just keeps on making us go WOW.

We were just catching our breath as we walked away from the coast back to the hire car, when we spied a hitch-hiker.  We’d already picked up two guys earlier in the week – a 24 year old Frenchman and a young German from Cologne.  And, after we had both eye balled him and thought he was “ok”, we asked if he wanted a lift.  Martin (25) from Frieburg in southern Germany wanted to go to Nelson and we worked out with a further 35 mile detour we could take him half way.  He was chuffed, got in the back of the Ford Focus and we had a great chat for the next two hours.  Elloquent, good looking, funny… he was very similar to me 27 years ago!

The parting of the waves came really quickly and we gave Martin a banana as we peeped the car horn and said goodbye.  Four hours and 200 miles later all driven on ‘A’/’B’ Roads we arrived in Kaikoura an hour later than we had confirmed.

On the door of the beautiful timber house was a note welcoming us and saying that she (Tracy) was at the local swimming club with her daughter, and our whale flight had been booked at 4.00pm!  A glance at Sarah’s watch showed we had just 13 minutes to drive 7 miles back to the Airport.

Wheels spinning (James Duckworth you know what I mean), we shot off back down the coast road and in a cloud of dust, screeched to a halt, slammed the car doors and ran across the car park to a small office where a Piper Cherokee PA28 plane and a PC Six PA32 variant (John Smithson) were waiting on the grass.

Murray (Tracy’s husband) and the boss man/pilot/chief bottle washer greeted us and said we were a little late for his 1600 departure with four other people, but if we could wait an hour, his colleague Mel would “take us up” in a special flight just for the two of us.  A no-brainer.  The weather was so calm with little wind and bright blue skies. The forecast for next day showing really bad winds of up to 75mph and very heavy rain.

The 60 minute wait went in a flash and one hour later we were heading along runway 05 and the four seater Piper C’ rotated (took off) at 68 knots per hour, me sitting in the co-pilot seat.

The flight should have been for 30 minutes, but 25 minutes in and there were no whales to be seen – just hundreds of dolphins that had come out to play as the two Orcas (Killer Whales) had left the bay heading south.

There were three whale boats 1200 ft below us and every so often, Mel our pilot used her Short Wave Radio to update the boat captains as we had a much wider vision of the Ocean.  They in turn reckoned they were in the right place as their sonar had detected a 16m (50ft) Male Sperm Whale which was timed to surface any minute.  Nothing happened, another ten minutes went by.

I was resigned to the fact that we were going to be unlucky.  But Murray very kindly gave the go-ahead for another 20 minutes of flight – a perk of staying at the bosses house.

We kept searching, like a Nimrod after a Russian sub during the Cold War.  Hope all but gone, I suddenly spied out of the corner of my eye a spray of water and a white crest on the blue millpond.  “There she blows” some 400 metres away from the boats. We dropped to 800ft and started to circle.  Wow what a view.

The obvious thing to say is that these beasts are big – this one about 55 tons and as big as the whale boats.  Captain Mel’ told us they often dived down over 9,500ft and ate up to 800 squids day.  We circled a dozen times totally mesmorised and then with a quick flash of his tail – WHICH I MISSED AGAIN on camera – he was gone.

Job done, we returned to the airstrip over the Peninsula and landed 55 minutes after take-off.

Still excited we listened to Radio 2 (Suzi Perry in for Vanessa Feltz) and she gave us both a great name check.  Click on the link below and “fast forward” to 56 minutes 35 seconds (available until 16 March 2016 on BBC i Player).

http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b0705m82

Next day, the weather changed completely!  It started off fine on the beach….

…but then the wind and rain hammered down.  The views out to sea amazing, but no chance to see a whale.  Our mantra of “do it now” paying off yet again the day before.

We left Kaikoura very happy and headed north for a date with a Marlborough Wine Tour from our new base of Blenheim – the top of South Island, near the Picton Ferry.

Two hours later, we arrived in Blenheim but kept on going to Nelson.  We picked up our first English hitch hiker a guy called George Maule from Frome!!!  Frome, where Sarah went to school and it soon transpired that Sarah went to school with his Auntie Ruth and he had been to Sarah’s Dad’s sale rooms!  Small World.

But our main reason for visiting Nelson was to see Sarah’s God Daughter Becky, who we had last seen at her 21^st birthday @ York Race Course ten years ago and who had been one of our bridesmaids!  Becky has been living in New Zealand for a decade and sadly suddenly lost her husband George a few months ago…

It was lovely to see Becky 12,000 + miles from home.  She looked really well and was on top form – look at her proud God Mother!!!

END OF COPY WHILST SOBER – WRITTEN 18 FEBRUARY 2016

 MARK:  DATELINE – 09:27/SATURDAY 20 February 2016/Picton Ferry Terminal – South to North Island Interislander

Well, there’s no way I could have begun to write anything yesterday evening.  And yes, I did have a drink, or 40 to be exact, falling off the wagon temporarily for what was one of those “stand out days” (and nights) which we’ll remember for many a long year to come.

We had no need to wine or gripe as Bubby Grape Tours and their affable Owner/Director Kerry came up trumps with an unbelievable trip around the vineyards of Marlborough including Cloudy Bay, Hunters and boutique wineries such as Nautilus.

I’m going to attempt, in this second part of the Blog to remember some of the key highlights of the day, but forgive me, I may have to resort to a few photos to fill in the somewhat hazy gaps in my memory.  Here goes, wish me luck.

Picture the scene.  A German couple from Frieburg who had brilliant personalities (rare for Germans as I told them), two Tasmanian blokes who we later found drinking beer rather than wine and four Americans, two of whom were doing something I’d have loved to have had a crack at if I’d been 30 years younger.  They were largely funding their year-long travel trip around the World by writing a Blog, which now has 60,000+ followers and real commercial potential.

CHECK OUT: http://www.roamaroo.com – Don’t quit your Daydream!

As a result of their large online following, Collette and Scott have been given freebie cruises, hotel stays and exciting experiences such as bungy jumps so long as they promise to publish a video story or write about their exploits. It’s a very clever niche business – more about that later.

Back to this terrible ordeal which started on Friday morning at precisely 10:17 with the first of 10 wines from the wonderful Nautilus Vineyard. First up, a chance to sample some Vintage Rose 2013 fizz.  I diligently wrote some comments in the little purple spotted notebook Kerry had given me. This Rose was a pale salmon colour with a creamy mousse.  Floral rose petal notes supported by strawberry and nectarine fruits on the nose.  Made from 100% Pinot Noir, wine has real strength and depth, balanced beautifully by a touch of brioche….

It was a truly elegant sparking wine, a superb start to the day Chris Towers!!  But that, I shamefully have to admit was my very first and very last entry for the entire day as nine more wines were quickly sampled.  Pinot Gris Marlborough 2014, Gruner Veltliner, Sauvignon Blanc, Chardonnay BBC (bring back Chardonnay) rather than ABC – Anything But Chardonnay.

By 11:00 Sarah was dancing on a small round table and nearly fell off.  Me, I was just mellow and thinking that we had five more places to visit plus a “gourmet three course lunch”.  Bring it on.

Smiling inanely to myself, I managed to somehow walk across the small car park and then without any assistance, fasten my safety belt in one of the Mercedes Van’s middle seats.  The side slide door slammed shut and off we went again a few miles down the road.  Kerry keeping a watchful eye on me through the rear view mirror because as she said “there is always one….” I took that as a big fat compliment by the way.

Next up on the tour was the Bailey request stop @ Cloudy Bay, the place which 30 years ago really put Marlborough on the map in terms of being an internationally renowned wine making region. It did not disappoint and I was given a personal behind the scenes tour, sneaking off with a very nice lady (not like that) in to the inner sanctum which held all the barrels.

Outside the sun shone, the mercury was rising to a very pleasant 25C in the shade.  This was a little piece of heaven with deckchairs and basket chairs suspended from trees just in front of the tasting area.  Five more small glasses down the hatch including a red number (name forgotten surprisingly) which Cloudy B now grows further south near Queenstown.  Yes Cloudy Bay still “The Daddy” for me in terms of wine producers.

Back on the van and it was banter time with, Scott, the blogger trying to outdo MB’s puns – he did a reasonable job for a young man.  Just reasonable.  Through a pretty small village with a cemetery, he thought he was being very smart with his “ah gee we must be in the dead centre of town” throwaway line.  I said he would be making a grave mistake if he kept coming out with such rubbish.

Suddenly the mini-bus stopped – we had come to a dead end, with one of the Tazzy Men coffin like a good-un from too many fags…

We’d arrived at our next torture chamber namely the Hans Herzog Vineyard, the requested visit of Norbert and his lovely wife.

Reisling, SB, Pinot G, something xxx…?!? Seven more fine wines to try and the chance to wander around the vineyards and smell the roses which were in full bloom – a good sign that the vines themselves were very healthy.

The wine here excellent, the visit all too brief, but we had a date with a gourmet lunch at Alan Scott’s vineyard 5 miles away and it was 12:45, or so somebody told me as my eyes were unable to focus on the large clock by the exit as we left.

LUNCH.  Now this was my sort of lunch.  High quality – bordering Michelin star standard as I mentioned to the chef, and the chance to wine taste between courses and then sample wines with the starter, main and desert.  I told the waiter I liked things hot, so he promptly brought out a very tidy glass of Reisling which was made with Chilli.  You took a sip and my God, the Chilli gave you a real kick down the back of your throat.  It was excellent.  Forgot the name though, now there’s a surprise.  NOT.

Back on the bus and we were telling people – when asked – about our trip around the World.  Our American friends could not believe that two “old people” in their 50’s would give it all up and do this.  We had gained new respect, with Scott asking us if we would do an interview later in the day for his blog as he thought it would make a story. After much persuading, well all of three seconds, I said yes and then promptly forgot about the conversation…

Two more vineyards.  Hunters – real quality!

and then the last one…. Ah yes the last one.  I’m sorry, I don’t remember.  It was somewhere in New Zealand and the staff were really good and so was the wine and, well, er yes hic.  The room was beginning to go round and round tumble dryer style.

Back on the bus, we thought that was it after we dropped off the Tazzy’s.  But we then decided to make a day and night of it at the suggestion of Collette and Scott. I was immediately up for it.  Sarah looked at me in that “why did you say yes” type of face, but interestingly put up no resistance – YES, party time in down town Blenheim.  We ate some food – not sure what, think it was a sandwich and then started on the craft beers which were all 5.5 Vol plus.  This place a possible replacement in 2017 for the Real Ale Train (RAT) boys night out JD?

Suddenly Scott asked if were still up for the interview.  He whipped out two radio lapel mics whilst Collette a TV commercial producer by profession got us ready with a couple of warm up questions.  We chatted away, and that was that.  Not sure what we said, but hey we might have 12.5 seconds of semi-fame, if Scott can edit my drivel down to a two minute sound bite.  Good luck with that mate.

Another three hours went by and by this time it was late in the night – 8.15pm!  We called it a day, staggered off down the road with our two German friends saying we must meet up again when they next come to the UK.

And that was that.  This is what travelling is meant to be like.  Great wine, great banter, great people, great weather, great food, great…. Well you get the idea, just great.

Enough.  Time to go.  Our car lane is now moving on to the ferry for the three hour journey across to Wellington.  Good bye South Island, hello North Isand.  Phil – I will be sober now and will report back to you what the North is like in due course.

MASTERS 50th BLOG

MARK:  “Turn towards me Sir, count to ten and speak in the direction of the machine.” The Traffic Cop looked me directly in the eye, thrusting his digital machine forward into my face.

Moments earlier, we’d been quietly driving along on a beautifully sunny South New Zealand road a few minutes out of Te Anau.  We were third in a group of five cars.  Two vehicles ahead had for some reason turned off left into a lay-by where a make-shift road block had been created.

One hundred metres to the left a police car had its boot open and inside appeared to be a mobile laboratory, one that a mad professor would have been proud of.

It then suddenly dawned on me. This was a coordinated blitz by the local constabulary targeting Summer drivers, ensuring they were not still drunk the morning after the heavy night before – something particularly important in a country where at this time of the year there are literally hundreds of camper vans on the road.

I could see out of the corner of my eye, one Chinese driver with numerous passengers in his “mini-bus” helping police with their inquiries. Happy Chinese New Year, or possibly not for this man…

The male driver of the first of the two cars in-front of me spoke to the middle-aged Policeman and was allowed on his way.  Next the lady in the white Toyota 4WD was waved on her way.  Now it was my turn.

But for once I wasn’t worried in the slightest and the “Bobby in Blue” could sense my lack of concern. The “B” Machine quickly showed I was clean and I was bid a good day and safe journey.

I wasn’t worried for one simple reason and that is I’d only had two glasses of wine in nearly two weeks, as I strive desperately to diet and lose around 2.5 stones in preparation for what will be the biggest physical challenge of my life, climbing the Inca Trail in 51 days time.

Every day we try and walk between five and ten miles. That in itself is not particularly difficult in what has to be the most beautiful country scenically anywhere in the World.  It’s when you add into the mix, mountains which quite simply means going up and down!  We are getting better and only today in Queenstown managed a small mountain of 850m from a base of 250m (five miles duration) followed by a second called Coronet Peak, when we walked from the bottom of the ski car park to “nearly the top”.  That was more of a challenge, walking up red ski runs from 1800m to near the summit at 2200m.

It is always worth it at the top as the photos below will testify.  Plus, you often meet some really interesting people. And there is nothing better than watching planes land beneath you @ Queenstown International Airport and then viewing scenic helicopter flights fly BELOW you allowing you to wave to the passengers who have paid a fortune for their trip around the mountains…

One of our best recent walks was about an hour after meeting NZ’s finest police officers.  We started near the Mirror Lakes…

…. and managed to get to one of the high walking huts between Milford Sound and Te Anau at a place called “The Divide”.  Elevation up and down was 1200m (around 4,000ft) and we nailed it (6 miles) in around 100 minutes.

The best bit was over-taking young people 30 years our junior and then to cap it off, a walking group who were professional trekkers.  OK, so they had probably walked 10 miles more, but the satisfaction of “burning them off” was great – not that I am competitive at all.

A real treat on this particular walk was making our way through the temperate rain forest where there was a superb display of moss, fern and lichens in an area that has around 8 metres – yes eight metres (football tele-printer “eight”) of rain a year.

Elated with our achievement, we celebrated by going to two “green toilets” that smelt to high heaven, which is probably where we were when you looked out of the “trap door”.  Thirty minutes later and a quick drive through a fantastic mountain tunnel we reached the World Famous Milford Sound which in my opinion was much better than Doubtful Sound, even with the “drizzle” – local speak for “chucking it down” for us Brits.

Talking of rain, we have worked out that it is has only rained for any significant period ie all day – for no more than 6 of the last 160 days.  The planning, in terms of working out which country we would be in, season wise, has so far paid off big time, none more so than in Northern Queensland where the day after we left, a Cyclone (Cat 2 hit) and it has been raining there pretty much ever since.

The sun has shone a lot here and one thing you do notice in New Zealand is the really deep, sharp colours of the sky, countryside, lakes and mountains.  Anne commented on this point after my last blog, based on her childhood memories and she is absolutely right.  Maybe this something to do with the ozone hole that is presently sitting over NZ, or the fact that there is no pollution which our Chinese friends just cannot get over.

They have been around in their thousands this week because it’s Chinese New Year… and no offence to Gemma, but we hope they leave for home soon as they cannot drive on the left to save their lives and each day nearly attempt to end ours by their terrible driving skills and their insatiable habit of taking selfies on blind bends when cars are whizzing past at 100 kph.

Anyway, enough of that, back to the colour thing and indeed our training programme.

So we were walking along a river just north of Queenstown on a short two miler, when the World famous SHOTOVER JET BOAT, roared past at a speed of 50 mph in a river no more than 6 inches deep.  Sarah’s red T Shirt matching nicely the red of what is a “Ferrari on water.”

We’d seen the picture of Kate and William having a go and we were not sure about daring to fly through canyons and ravines at such speed.  But then we thought what the hell, we’re not coming back here and so quickly walked back to the booking office and promptly got on the next flying boat 20 minutes later.

OMG what a blast, quite literally! It was a superb experience and you can see why this company has been going for 50 years.  I’ll never forget doing 360 degree spins with rocks on either side of the boat, so close you could virtually touch them.

Back down to Earth now. And as the light begins to fade over the mountains in front of me, we leave you with a few words from local artist Caroline Robinson and a shot of her BASKET OF DREAMS sculpture that we saw today.  The last line says it all…Happy Valentines Day!

The Basket’s spiral of steel follows you

INWARD

to reflect

to draw inspiration from the mountains, lake

and from those who are with you

OUTWARD

to dream

for the future.

TIME FLIES, ETERNITY AWAITS

MARK: I used to collect sick bags as a hobby. Not something many people know about me and I must admit I haven’t told anybody, including Sarah until this moment. Wonder why!

But for a while in the early 1980’s I had a reasonable collection, including one taken from a Dan-Air Comet 4C (my first flight to Tangiers) and a British Caledonian blue and yellow bag which was quite fetching.

But pride of place went to my Concorde sick bag which I grabbed whilst looking round the iconic aircraft in 1984 at Newcastle Airport, just before it went on a sub-sonic flight over the North Sea. I still have it somewhere at home in the loft. You never know when it could come in useful.

I have to thank John K Smithson (JKS) for getting me access to Concorde during the Newcastle Airshow and for the many flights John took me on around the north-east in his red Piper Cherokee four seater, call sign G-AYMK.

JKS was and is a legend. A superb broadcaster and BBC producer at Radio Newcastle. He gave me the wings to fly over the air waves, something I will always be grateful for. I was 19, had no experience, but he took a punt on me, allowed me to borrow his trusty Uher (tape recorder) and then paid me for my free-lance “packages” which appeared on his mid-morning radio show.

It was John in my early career who gave me the courage, to do things NOW before it was too late and to have a go. He taught me the importance of timing and following gut instinct, things which have helped me in later life and again here today in New Zealand!

In fact John has been in my thoughts a lot as planes, sick bags and the decision to “do it now” all came together perfectly in what has been an unbelievable day to remember.

Sarah and I had talked when we planned this trip about taking some sort of scenic flight over the glaciers near Mount Cook in South Island. The topic of conversation, had come up again as Phil Whitby had sent me an email earlier this week which said…. “There is an airfield near Lake Tekapo that takes charters around Mt Cook which goes over this incredible, aquamarine coloured lake. Takes in views of the Lord of the Rings scenery then round the mountain, which is amazing – I commend it to the house.”

We were still uuumming and ahhhing about what we should do as we approached the beautiful Lake Tekapo, in all its reflective glory.

A fixed wing flight was going to cost a couple of hundred quid each for 50 minutes and would blow our “entertainment budget” for the next few days. And the sensible head on said “you’ve flown over Everest and the Barrier Reef, so why here?” Sorry about name dropping, just wanted to share thought process.

Looking at each other and the beautiful lake with Mount Cook in the distance, we agreed to go to the little airport to see what the crack was. It was after all a superb day, temperatures touching 30C and clear blue skies as far as the eye could see. What better opportunity to see Mt Cook close up?

We walked in to a near empty departure lounge/check in area that seated ten people. One of the smartly dressed pilots said there was a flight going in 20 minutes which would go head up the valley, turn left and return via Mount Cook. The offering was as billed. I tried to get a reduction, but no go. Thoughts flooded back to a negotiation training course at De Vere Venues. I was hopeless on the course and it looked like a case of history repeating itself.

But out of the corner of my eye I saw a Chinese family of four waiting to go on the flight and realised that the plane they were going to board for the pleasure flight was a six sweater….ummmm. No one else there = two empty seats. Not good business.

I politely thanked Paul the pilot/check in man and said I would have to consult with the Minister of Finance in the car and would “let him know…”

A quick chat with Sarah and we both thought at the same time “what the hell, we’re not coming back here, let’s do it”. But before we had the chance to say yes we’re on, Paul came rushing across the car park with “good news”. He wasn’t wrong. For some reason, the plane leaving at 1200 now needed to fly over the mountains to the west coast Air Strip known as Franz Josef. It would take 45 minutes. Then, if were interested, we would change planes and fly back to Late Tekapo, via Fox Glacier and Mount Cook. I quickly realised we would in effect be getting two trips for the price of one, would land at another airport and we’d be able to see both sides of the mountain range, including the rainforest. RESULT.

We took two nano-seconds to say yes, dumped out bags, paid our money and within seven minutes I was checking the safety card of our Gippsland GA8 Airvan (JKS the call sign was ZK-SAF) and discovering a nice clean sick bag.

The rest of this blog is a photo-caption story, for which I do wish to make an upfront apology as there are over 40 photos. It was the only way I felt I could do this story justice and hope that you will forgive my enthusiasm for wanting to share in such detail.

AND JUST AS WE CAME IN TO LAND, THERE WAS AN AWFUL SMELL OF SICK. THE CHINESE MAN BEHIND ME HAD DECIDED TO LEAVE BEHIND IN HIS SICK BAG, A “HAPPY MEAL” AS OUR PILOT LEON DESCRIBED IT.  YUK!!!

A great trip, a great country.

MARK: It’s funny how you forget things. The pain associated with child birth (yes men suffer too you know), where you left your car keys/reading glasses, or when Middlesbrough FC was last in the Premiership.

And on this trip, we have both been very conscious of how you can lose your commercial sharpness as your mind retrains to take in different experiences rather than everyday work pressures. Your brain works in a completely different way, which has taken time to get used to.

But today, I was ashamed. Ashamed because I had briefly forgotten what had happened on 22^nd February 2011.

I just didn’t have my thinking head on as we left our motel and set off to walk the fifteen minutes in to the centre of Christchurch. It was Monday morning.

I could put it down to the two flights from Brisbane via Sydney (9 hours with layover) and arriving just after midnight. Or thinking about the Immigration Officer who quite rightly delayed us whilst she ensured there were no “nasties” on Sarah’s walking shoes as she set foot on New Zealand soil.

But as we turned the corner, BANG I suddenly remembered. All I could see was the far end of the former Anglican Cathedral which had suffered serious damage and was now forlornly propped up by an ugly steel support structure. This English looking “home from home” had suffered a devastating earthquake, just below the surface of the Earth. It registered 6.3 on the Richter Scale. Yes 6.3!!!

We slowly moved on. All we could see were boarded up office blocks. The work of graffiti artists adorned buildings everywhere you looked. No guests at the multi-storey Millennium Hotel, which lay empty.

The Central Business District reminded me a little of when we explored Pripyat, the former Soviet town next to Chernobyl which had been evacuated after the nuclear explosion. The earthquake, which I’d somehow “forgotten”, had claimed 185 lives.

It was a sad, strange experience. Beautiful blue skies, contrasted sharply against the reflecting light of sea containers which were still being used as shops, offices, restaurants and cafés.

Phil Whitby, a good friend of mine and Construction Director of Wates, would not have recognised the place from the lovely town he had visited with his family in 2007. Phil described New Zealand in a text to me 9 years ago as “the ultimate playground”. That I hope is still the case in the rest of this country. But all I could see across the skyline was crane after crane and lots of men with hard hats. Phil, they need you. Leave your highly successful project in Greenwich and head straight to Christchurch, NOW.

I was getting quite emotional and sad by the whole experience. Sights, sounds and memories of Kathmandhu flooded back. There were close parallels and not just because both cities had been the victim of plate tectonics.

The Cathedral, which had been the centre of the town, had an ugly looking construction “keep out fence” around its entire perimeter. There was no sign of any activity and that we later found out was because of the continuing debate regarding the cost of repair. In a NZ Government commissioned report published just before Christmas it concluded that the bill would be in excess of £50 million. And in a country of just 4.5 million people who pays?

So we headed over to the new Transitional Cathedral, (the temporary replacement) made largely would you believe out of sustainable cardboard tubes. I have been to many Cathedrals, but this one had an intimacy and soul which you could really feel. Randomly, I attended the Midday Service which was very moving. There were two of us. It did not matter. It was Christchurch after all…

Half an hour later, we crossed the road to see a further graphic reminder of this tragic event. On a piece of waste ground, where a Church once stood, 185 empty white chairs had been positioned to create a thought provoking artistic memorial. Reflection of Loss of Lives, Livelihoods and Living in Neighbourhood, the work of Peter Majendie. Each chair represented one of the 185 lives lost. It’s a simple but highly effective reminder, so people like me don’t forget. As we stared in silence as the Christchurch traffic roared past, each chair seemed to have its own personality. An office chair, symbolic of the many office workers who died. A child seat, centrally positioned, really made you think and a wheelchair with cheap bouquet positioned on the seat reminding us all that nobody was immune.

But this is not a town in mourning, and whilst nobody will ever forget, there are signs of new life and rejuvenation. Modern day art murals cover the sides of buildings. Humorous large sized furniture provides the perfect backdrop for a funny photo.

The famous trams rumble past at regular intervals, even though the tracks don’t stretch very far.

Yes life goes on and this is certainly true in the beautiful Botanic Gardens, which reminded us so much of a National Trust garden in the height of Summer.

So a thought provoking first day, 12,800 miles from home. A day which has convinced me not to fall into my old habit of thinking about the future whilst forgetting the here and now. Sure we will bounce a number of ideas around about our new life when we return in just 100 days’ time. But as for the detail, Nah, we will continue living for the moment. What will be will be. I just hope my memory improves!

2 February 2016 – And my memory will improve with sights like this.  Phil, in an email yesterday said we should visit Akaroa.  So we did today.  Stunning and hopefully more to come, with temperatures hitting 29C and 28C due tomorrow…. it’s bound to rain soon.