Abel Tasman National Park

On a hot sunny day - hotter and sunnier than it ever was on the North Island - we go for a 'tramp' along the coast track of New Zealand's smallest National Park, Abel Tasman. Like many places in New Zealand it is named after an explorer. This one was Dutch and didn't stay for long after four of his men died in a 'skirmish' with the local Maori inhabitants, but he still got one of the most beautiful parks in the county named after him - I'm sure he did some more sucessful exploring too.

There are no roads into the park and only a few privately owned and very expensive holiday homes, so we drive to Kaiteriteri the town on the edge of the resort to book a water taxi. One local described Kaiteroteri to us as 'busy and over-built'. Its about the size of a Cornish fishing village - small one. The water taxi drops us at Tonga, a couple of bays up the coast, having stopped to look at Split Apple Rock and a few seals, sun bathing on the rocky islands just off the coast.

From Tonga we walk along the coast path, much of which is through the bush with only occasional sightings of the ocean, but when I do catch a glimpse its worth the wait. Sightings are through pine trees and of greeny-blue water fringed by golden sand, making me think of Greece of Croatia. The sun is hot and the breeze is cool.

At 7ne point we take a short cut, wading through Bark Bay estuary while the tide is still low enough to leave vast islands of white sand. The short cut turns into a detour as we frolic on the sand, taking photos, doing hand-stands and swimming. We stay until we're left on a tiny spit then wade across to the tramper's hut on far beach. We now only have a few hours to get to the beach where the boat is picking us up, so we don't have much time to dawdle. We consider another short cut across a much bigher estuary further along the coast, cutting our walking time by an hour, but by now the tide is completely in and we would be swimming.

We make it to Anchorage Bay with thirty minutes to spare. Its very hot and I'm looking forward to some sun bathing and maybe a swim. However when I stop walking the wind cools me down considerably and I'm even cold. On the boat I put my rain coat on against the spray as I watch the beautiful coast line turn into 'over-built' Kaiteriteri. I had orginally been planning to get an icecream at the town's only shop (thats how big it is) but now the sun has gone down and the glow from walking has left me I get another pie.

Cape Farewell

After a night in the small town of Nelson, where we camp in the car park of a cozy hostel with wood fires and chocolate pudding in the evening, we head up to the very north western corner of the South Island.

Cape Farewell was named by explorer Captian Cook in 1770, presumably as he was leaving it. We park in a very populated sheep field, complete with frolicking spring lambs and make the short walk to the cliff top, where I battle against the wind for a picture of the stone arch way.

Red faced and temporarily deafened by the strong winds we retreat around the headland to rhe more sheltered Wharariki beach. Again it is reached via a walk through sheep filled fields which give way to pine forest and then opening up onto huge sand dunes, so high I can't see the beach beyond them. The beah is perfect - vast and clean, there are seals playing in the shallows, piles of smooth driftwood, arches and stacks just off shore and, because its a bit of a grey day, there is no one else there.

We a couple of hours on the beach, running up and down the dunes, building driftwood sculptures and trying to catch pictures of the seals - who refuse to do more than stick a flipper out of the water, as if doing handstands. As the weather closes in we head back along the track to the car park and notice more seals playing in the river that leads down to the beach.

Our final stop before it gets dark is the 25km of sand which make up Farewell Spit, also named by Captain Cook. The entirety of the sand bank is a nature reserve for over a hundred bird species ans as such we're only allowed to walk along the first four kilometers unless in a guided tour unfortunately the shape of the coast line, which looks like a Kiwi bird on the map, confuses whales, causing regular beachings and subsequent rescue operations.

Tired and hungy from lots of fresh air and fun, we stop at The Mussel Inn on the way back to our campsite. The pub has an open fire place, huge oak tables, board games and home brewed ales. I know I should try a plate of local mussles but I whimp out and opt for a steak and ale pie instead.

More From The North Island

I'm finding it diffucult the write much about New Zealand. Not beacause I'm not doing and seeing preserved interesting things, but because so much of what surrounds those doing things - getting there, buying lunch, talking to people - is conpletley normal. Previously I would write about a crazy bus journey, interesting street food or an unusual village custom. Here I feel like writing "I saw a waterfall. It was nice".

You might remember from my 'Leaving Asia' post that I was anticipating New Zealand as an exotic and strange new country, so similar to home but so different from everywhere I've been for the past six months. Well that obviously didn't last long. I've very quickly slipped back into 'western' life. In fact when I saw a begger on the streets of Wellington I was stunned. Despite having walked past beggers every day for half a year it had taken me just a week to forget that in most of the world homelessness and poverty are all too common. Although the thought of going home seems strange and eveu unimaginable to me now, it made me realise how quickly I will fall back into day to day life in the UK. A slightly sad thought after what is supposed to be a 'life changing' trip. Hopefully I will be able to hold onto some of the things I've learnt.

With that in mind, looking back on that first paragraph it sounds like I'm just not trying hard enough. The roads are as interesting as in India (they're in better condition but just as windy, and this time I'm driving, so I can't shut my eyes at the steep drops) and I'm sure there are just as many bizarre village customs as in Malaysia, as much unusual food as in Vietnam and as many locals with interesting stories as in Burma, as long as I ask around, look hard enough and don't become complacant.

So for now here are a few pitures from the North Island and I will do my best to discover/experience/explore some Kiwi cultrure on the South Island, where I'm headed next.

Above: Hukka Falls, Taupo. 

Above: Hukka Falls Dam. The dam opens up four times a day for fifteen minutes, turning what was previously a tiny stream into a torrent of icy blue water. 

Above: Cider tasting and a steak - Im definitley not in Asia any more!

Above: Mt Tongariro, used in the filming of Lord of the Rings as Mt Doom!

Above: Art deco Napier, where we stay with some of Alex's family friends who own a vine yard! We have a great few days being excellently looked after, get three loads of washing done and leave with a couple of cases of wine after a tour of the vine yard. 

Above: Boarding the ferry to the South Island

Above: Leaving Wellington after an excellent day at ths museum (my favourite display was of a preserved Giant Squid)

Above: Arriving on the South Island - Its warm! 

Hobbiton

The tour of the Hobbiton set, from Lord of the Rings, costs $75. We umm and ahh about the price, but only for a bit. I've heard that the tour is excellent, the site beautiul, and anyway, I'm a huge fan of the films. Besides, I can hardly go to New Zealand and not to anything Lords-of-the-Rings-y.

The set is on a farm owned by the Alexander family, who had never heard of Lord of the Rings before they were approached by Peter Jackson, the director. It was discoved on an aerial search for potential locations and was chosen because of its rolling green hills, lake and huge 'party tree', matching the deacription of The Shire in the books. Being a sheep farm there were also thousands of sheep, but Peter Jackson decided that they looked 'ugly' and 'too modern' to be used in the film, so he shipped in 'old' looking English black-faced sheep. An electric fence was put around the set to prevent the ugly New Zealand sheep from getting in.

Our guide tells us lots of other funny and ridiculous stories about the making of the films. 'Old-looking' apples trees were helicoptered in. Peter Jackson then had all their leaves picked off and had plum leaves, flown in from Japan, sewn onto the bare branches, just to satisfy one line in the book. Throughout the filming, 'noisy' frogs had to be removed daily from the pond because they were interfering with the sound recording and the set designers learnt how to thatch the roofs from YouTube. It took two hours for the Hobbits to get their costumes on, an hour of which was just for the feet.

The entire Shire is beautiful and, in my opinion, perfect. There is still a team of gardeners working five days a week, tending the flower beds and vegetable patches - everything is real. There are differet sizes of 'Hobbit hole', so the perspectives between human and hobbit are accurate while filming. Hedges and benches are also different sizes and in a green house off set hundreds of plants were grown so that they could get identical pairs, differing only in size. The detail is meticulous, very Hobbit hole has personal touches, such as carving around the doors, window boxes and different numbers of windows and chimneys, depending pn the wealth of the hobbit who lives inside. Peter Jackson went millions of pounds over budget, but made billions when the films were released.

All the structures are permanent, certified as architecturally sound by a surveyor, but behind most doors is just a small gap for the actors to disappear into. All the interiors were filmed in studios. However, we're not allowed to see into Bilbo's house because of some big secret to do with the upcoming film. I'm not sure if there is actually anythig there of if it is just an attempt to create some mystery on the tour.

Our tour finishes with an included drink in the Green Dragon pub. It is the most home-place I havs been in seven months, just like a Dartmoor pub. There are big, scared wooden tables, leather arm chairs and a huge open fire. I have a cider brewed in Auckland specially for the Green Dragon.

 We only get fifteen minutes - the tour has to be under strict guidance so people don't seek a peak at anything yet to be revealed in the films, or trample on the flower beds - but I don't want to leave, the entire place is perfect... like a film set. But it looks so real!.... like a good film set should I suppose.

I can't wait to watch the films again, to spot all the things we were shown, incuding our guide's little sister saying 'Did you bring the fierworks Gandalf?'.

First Impressions of New Zealand

After going through nerve-wracking New Zealand immigraion - "Have you been in a forest in the past month" yes "Have you been in contact with any animals in the past month?" yes "Do you have any camping equipment?" yes "How many countries have you been to in the past moth?" ummmmm 4 - we pick up our campervan. The company are pretty much willing to chuck us the keys and don't even check our driving licenses, but we manage to get twenty minutes out of them to show us how everything works and change one of the head lights. The van is compact, but not the most compact option, which is really just a car. We have a sink, fridge, one ring cooker, a safe, fold out table, fold out double bed and heaps of storage in the seats. Most importantly for us were ceritified as 'fully self contained' meaning we can 'freedom camp'.

Above: The fold down table with the fold down bed, which 

takes up the entire van, behind that.

There are three types of campsite in New Zealand. The most popular - paid campsites - usually cost around $20 per person and include kitchens, shower and loo blocks, power connections and sometimes swimming pools and hot tubs. We stay in one one these every third or fourth day to recharge, fill up our water and shower. The next type of site is a 'DOC' site, standing for Department of Conservation. These cost between $6 and $10 and are in very natural surroundings but have basic facilities - usually only a loo block and barbecue pit.

The final type are 'freedom camping' sites. Different districts have different rules, but in general vans aren't allowed to just park up anywhere, only on designated sites, although some areas are more lax than others. These sites are free but have no facilities. As such to stay at these sites the van must be 'fully self contained', meaning all the waste is collected and dumped later at a specified site. Our van comes equipt with a 'portable potty'. We're satisfied to be technically self contained and have packed the potty away, instead making use of the numerous and immaculately clean public loos.

New Zealand's public conveniences are, in general, spectacular. The road signs are clear and distinct, where as British road signs are complicated and there are too many of them. The high ways are categorised for example 'Great Ocean' or 'Thermal Explorer'. The tourist information centres, 'I-sites' , are clearly sign posted on the approach to and through out every town. The I-sites have hundreds of leaflets about activities in the area, local maps and extremely helpful staff, who give us information about where we can camp, where the nearest supermarket is, whats going on in the town and pretty much anything else we ask.

We spend our first few days freedom camping around the Coromandel Penisular. The windy Great Ocean Road' follows the coast and has incredible views.

One day we stop at 'Hot Water Beach'*, where we're told we can dig our own paddling pool in the sand which will fill up with hot water. I'm expecting it to be warm, but when we arrive the beach is steaming.

Everyone is huddled between two rocks where the water is apparently hottest. The air is freezing but there are several pools filled with people bathing, not looking cold at all. We don't have a spade but everyone is friendly - there are none of the territory marking windbreaks or evil looks associated with British beaches - so we paddle in someone else's pool and it is boiling! Almost too hot to stand it. Every now and then a freezing cold wave breaks the banks and cools everyone down.

My feet are burning but the rest of me is freezing. The Kiwis don't seem to notice the biting wind. Lots of them are runnig around the beach in swimming costumes and even diving into the sea. In fct everywhere we go people are wearing shorts while I'm wearing all the clothes I have. Driving past rivers there are people standing waist deep in the icy blue water to fish and in the mornings when I look through the frosty windows of the van (snuggled under three duvets and reluctant to get out) there are families having breakfast at picnic benches, their coffees and breath steaming in the cold air. I must just be used the heat of Asia and I hope going home in December won't be too much of a shock.

*As well as naming everything very literally - Hot Water Beach' and the 'Great Ocean Road' - everything is also very old fashioned. The high streets are lined with shops called things like 'Bills Hardware' 'Jumpers - We Sell Jumpers' or 'The Hot Bread Shop'. I'm still looking out for somewhere simply called 'Shop'.