Four wheels to two

Downsizing and moving on!

Paddling for a wave in Raglan

We were a little anxious as we arrived in Auckland- we had just under 2 weeks to sell our van and were immediately doing the rounds of hostel noticeboards, where we added our 'Nissan Serena 93' advert to a thick wad of other vehicles for sale. Had we given ourselves enough time? Not selling it was unthinkable, as it had been our biggest expense out here. We also didn't want to hang around Auckland for the rest of our trip, worrying about it and waiting for calls. It had been much more fun to spend a bit of time surfing in Raglan, so we were possibly leaving things a little last minute..

Handing the van over to Leonardo

As it happens, everything worked out perfectly. Half an hour after we put up our first adverts, 'Leonardo from Italy' texted us. The next day he saw the van, and made an offer. We were very relieved, and also really happy that our van was going to have such a nice new owner! Keen to get out of the city and start surfing, Leonardo also bought Karl's board, so it was smiles all around. We were sorted, and had the luxury of a couple of days with the van to get organised for the last bit of our trip.
Later that day we met another couple who had also just sold their identical Serena. It had taken them a month to sell and they'd lost a lot of money, so perhaps we were very lucky. We'd put some spending into the van, both kitting it up and having work done at garages, but a final tally revealed our transport and home for 4 months had ended up costing us about £50 a month! Bear in mind that a similar rental van here costs more than that a day, so it's well worth the risk of buying your own.

Cycling and the city

Leaving most of our stuff at a hostel, we downsized considerably for our last week's mode of transport, renting out 2 bicycles and panniers from 'Adventure Cycles' in Auckland. We bought ferry tickets over to Coramandel town and back via Waiheke Island in the Hairaki Gulf, and would be spending a week exploring both places by bike. These areas were new to us- we'd left them in reserve when we first though about ending our trip with some cycling. This week was something I was really looking forward to, as I've never done more than a couple of days cycling in a row and was very keen to try it. 7 days in the saddle should be enough to see if we were cut out for cycle touring!

Auckland harbour in the evening light

We set off from Auckland city centre on the Friday evening ferry, full of city dwellers going out to the islands or Coromandel for the weekend. One of the very appealing aspects of this city is the Gulf of Hairaki on which it sits, full of islands and beaches all within an easy ferry ride away. There can't be many cities where you can you leave the office, jump on a boat and be on a rural, unspoilt island within an hour!

The hilly north Coromandel peninsula

First to Coromandel. We'd already visited and loved the south of the peninsula, so it was time to see the quieter and more inaccessible north. The far north promised rugged beauty, but that comes at a very hilly price when you're cycling.
 We set out in 26 degree heat, with the blue skies we were accustomed to overhead. A swim in the sea was calling, but this week we would have to work for our beach time! Our lowest gears quickly became standard as we climbed some long, steep ascents over hills and headlands. These would be interspersed with beautiful coastal sections, and we quickly appreciated the joy of cycle touring- being able to really enjoy the views, and stop whenever we wanted to take them in.

Coromandel coast road

The Coromandel peninsula offers world class cycling and I would strongly recommend it- a spectacular route and with very little traffic. By the end of day one we'd left the tarmac behind and were travelling on an unsealed, gravel road. Mostly the surface was good, but there were some loose sections where our touring tyres would skid, and some very bumpy corrugated stretches. On the plus side, there were virtually no cars, and when the odd one did come by the road surface meant it was going almost as slowly as us.

The hills were a fair trade for scenery like this

The second day continued in a similar manner, sticking close to turquoise waters and stony coves on a road shaded by gnarled and twisted pohutakawa trees, but the vistas were even better. It really was beautiful. The hot and sweaty climbs were more than rewarded by the views we'd gain of cliffs dropping down to a bright blue sea, scattered with islets. Then we'd whizz downhill to the inevitable beach and cool off with a swim and a rest on the sand before the next climb.

Camping by the seaside

The coast road had enough campsites that there was no pressure to cover a certain distance. We would cycle only about 30 km most days, but this trip was just about enjoying the scenery, the bikes and each other's company for our last week travelling together. We had leisurely lunches on the beach, collecting our new favourite shellfish, tua tua, at low tide and cooking a seafood chowder with them on our stove. Then we'd finish early, relaxing for the evening at camp, playing cards, and happy to have no ability to sort out anything for the rest of our travels- no internet, no phone reception, no worries!

The vew back along the peninsula

Off roading

A big advantage of travelling this northern part of the peninsula by bike rather than car was the opportunity to make it a circular trip. There is no road joining the two coasts of northern Coromandel- but there is an 8km walkway and mountain bike track between the east and west sides.
A sign from the wild, black sand beach of Fletcher Bay warned that this mountain bike track around the top was not suitable for bicycles with panniers. It was right! On one very steep section we actually had to unload all our gear and do 2 trips up the hill- one pushing the bikes and another carrying the bags. It was really hard work! But this was followed by some great, single track cycling along a fantastic cliff side trail with surf smashing on the rocks below, then through dense green patches of nikau palms and tree ferns and across rocky little streams. It was really exhilarating mountain biking, and we ended the day tired but happy, and of course with another swim in the sea.

The sea was never far away

At this fairly leisurely pace, we took 4 ½ days to complete our northern circuit. The last day involved a massive, knee and soul destroying 2 hour climb, certainly the biggest ascent I've ever done by bike, followed by a long free-wheeling descent down a slightly scary, gravel road switch-backing down to Coromandel town.

Tough work on loose gravel

The adventure wasn't over yet, and the next day we were on a ferry across to Waiheke to traverse the island. People had warned us Waiheke was hilly, but it was ridiculous how true this was. There were NO flat sections- just constant ascent and descent. The first 20 kms were really tough, on a loose and steep gravel road where I kept skidding and falling off. Mountain bikes rather than tourers would have been great here! The views across the Hairaki gulf were amazing though, the glittering sea leading to the the distant ridges of Great Barrier Island. We remained incredibly lucky with the weather- 25 degrees and sunny the whole week.

Waiheke island scenery

Although only 40 minutes from the city centre by ferry, Waiheke is very rural and covered in a mixture of sheep fields and boutique vineyards. This is where some of the wealthiest of Auckland live, commuting to the city by water. There are a lot of architecturally impressive modern homes with big glass windows and panoramic coastal views. We were really quite jealous. There are also a lot of private signs though, and only one campsite at the opposite end of the island to us. We'd hoped to be able to get down to a beach to camp, but the people owning the land adjacent to the tantalising white sand bays we could glimpse had made pretty sure that wasn't possible.

Neighbours for our last camp

As darkness fell, and without decent lights to continue cycling, we had no choice but to trespass, guiltily pitching our tent in a sheep field just out of sight of the road. We don't really like to break rules, and had a restless night and a very early start! Our last day was more relaxed, cycling between the lovely (and accessible) beaches of Waiheke's north coast, enjoying our last swim in New Zealand, and then celebrating the completion of our first ever cycle tour with a beer on the ferry back to the city. I don't think it will be the last- we're ready to invest in some panniers and add it to the repertoire of weekend possibilities back home!

The last of many
beers together around the world

We could hardly believe it, but it was time to say goodbye- both to New Zealand and each other.

Although neither of us are returning to the UK until the end of April, this is the point where Karl and my plans diverge. I'm volunteering as a vet at the Esther Honey Foundation (estherhoney.org), a veterinary charity in the South Pacific Cook Islands, where I'll be working for a month.
Karl is travelling home by a very different route, taking the opportunity to grab some uninterrupted surfing in Costa Rica 'on the way', before we meet again in London.

It's hard to give up this life, but we also know it's time; to see friends and family, earn a bit of money, find ourselves somewhere to live (with, among other things, a duvet, bath, fridge and oven!) and reinstate our careers and cat.

But it's not over yet! Watch this space for news of gnarly waves in the Caribbean and Pacific island animal tales, as we begin our convoluted journeys home.

My next destination calling from an Auckland traffic jam

Harriet

First, build your raft

Random adventures in the North Island of New Zealand, February 2013

A familiar troll in a Wellington museum,
 and a character from the hobbit.

Our first impressions of the North Island weren't great. It was a windy, rainy ferry crossing, with low cloud completely obscuring the scenery of the Marlborough Sounds as we left the South Island, and the pungent aroma of a lorry full of pigs wafting up to the ferry's viewing deck.

We arrived in Wellington, New Zealand's capital, at rush hour and found ourselves in traffic on a motorway (or as close to a motorway as NZ gets- there was more than one lane). That night it rained so hard that the campsite flooded and we had to wade across to the toilet block. It wasn't a good start. 

Luckily there were some good museums in Wellington to pass a very stormy day here, but even as the weather improved our first few days travelling up the North Island didn't bring any highlights. We wondered if it was a mistake to be spending a whole month here. The mountain scenery we loved in the South Island had all but gone and settlements marked in bold on the road atlas, which would have meant a farm and a petrol station (if you were lucky) in the South Island, were sizeable towns here, with shopping malls and traffic lights. However, this sudden dearth of mountaineering opportunities led us to seek out new adventures, and we soon found ourselves back out having fun. 

Cape Egmont lighthouse and Mount Taranaki

First stop was the ridiculously conical volcano of Mount Taranaki. This peak rises straight out of flat farmland, like a child's drawing of a volcano. It is 'The Lonely Mountain' of Lord of the Rings, and features in almost every set of pictures you see of New Zealand, but is far enough from any other attractions that not too many people travel to it. The peak is ringed by 'Surf Highway 45', so the appeal of both waves and volcano views was too much to resist.

Waves on 'Surf Highway 45'

We camped by a picturesque lighthouse out at Cape Egmont, and Karl surfed the clean lines of a barrelling, shallow wave there, as well as the famous and popular 'Stent Road' break (so iconic a surf spot that they've replaced the road sign with a boulder as it kept getting stolen). 

After K's morning surf, we headed inland and up the jungle covered slopes of Taranaki itself. The tramping here was tough but fun- climbing steeply through dense vegetation, but topping out with great volcanic views. We 'speed tramped' a 3 day route in a day and a half, camping in an incredibly photogenic spot by a tarn. From inside the tent we enjoyed a perfectly framed view of the volcano reflected in the waters of the tarn. It was a much better walk than we expected, and led us to realise we had been hasty in our initial judgement of the North Island.

Camp with a view

Tramping in Taranaki National Park

Tropical scenes reminiscent of Fiji

From Taranaki we travelled to the rural Whanganui river region where Waitangi day celebrations were underway,with river boat races, food and music. It was bizarrely similar to Fiji day- another celebration of freedom from British rule that we'd enjoyed back in October. There is a much greater Maori population on the North Island and this is reflected culturally. The people, buildings and even the scenery look very similar to what we experienced in Fiji. It's strange but true that New Zealand manages to remind us of both Scotland and the South Pacific islands!

Tongariro's Emerald Lakes

Next we travelled inland to another volcano system. The famous Tongariro Crossing is dominated by the cone of Mount Ngurahoe, which looms over some classic volcanic scenery and the pretty, brightly coloured Emerald Lakes. It's a very popular day trip area, so we needed to find a way of beating the bus loads of people that would arrive mid-morning. The answer; a long walk in the evening before, a wild camp on the volcano and a dawn start- the lengths we go to avoid a crowd! 

Mount Ngurahoe from Tongariro

It must be one of the most surreal places I've spent a night- on the black sand beach of a solidifed lava slope, with weird knobbly rocks all around us, like strange creatures turned to stone. We had a magical view of the low clouds over the farmland below, with the peak of Mount Taranaki floating above them far away, looking every inch the Lonely Mountain itself. It was an amazing volcano camp experience. 

The Tongariro Crossing walk itself was good, but a little over-rated compared with most of the much less well known walks in New Zealand. This is THE tramp that most visitors to New Zealand tick off their list of must have experiences- we can't complain as I suppose it keeps everywhere else so very quiet!

Tubing the Mangetopopo

Whilst in Tongariro, we'd hoped to catch up with some friends we'd met while mountaineering in the South Island. Helen and Niv work at an outdoor pursuits centre here, and had promised to show us some off the beaten track adventures in the area. Unfortunately, when we came through they were both busy on expeditions, but their colleagues soon had us set up with maps and instructions for a day's tubing on some nearby rivers. Our truck inner tubes hadn't seen much action for a while, but all that was about to change! The rivers were a little shallow, but it was still a really fun day travelling through some lovely clear waters populated by the rare Whio, a native duck. It gave us a taste for this minimalistic style of river journeying, and we found ourselves pondering how we could take tubing a step further...

Starting our 'tramp'n'tube' trip

The answer came in the dog-eared 1986 'Classic Kiwi Adventures', a pocket guide we'd found in a second hand bookshop, which introduced us to the unusual sport of 'tramp'n'tube'. 

The idea was simple enough- hike with your inner tubes and gear upriver, pump them up, tie them together to build a raft, then float back downriver. We had the time, and we were certainly up for the adventure!

The suggested spot was well off the beaten track, with a 60km drive on a gravel road, winding between dry grassy hills and forest. Arriving in the late afternoon, we started the 4 hour walk up the Mohake river. We packed a rucksack as light as we could, bearing in mind that everything we carried would be coming down the river with us. The walk took us up, through scrubby forest and above high cliffs over the gorge-like Mohake river, to the tubing start point at some geothermal pools, where we arrived just after nightfall. We pitched our tent, and slipped into the water. Lying in a hot pool drinking wine, listening to the flow of the river, a view of the milky way above and the star-like twinkle of glow worms in the grotto like surroundings; it was an improbable start to the adventure that was to come.

Little raft, big river

The next morning it was time to build something vaguely resembling a raft. We tied together our 3 inner tubes, loaded it with our rucksack, pulled on wetsuits and then- the moment of truth- dragged the whole contraption into the river to see if it would float!

Luckily it all worked remarkably well and we started our rafting journey. On our walk in we had only gained glimpses of the river below, as the path winds between forested bluffs and high cliffs, but we did know there was no shortage of white water. We ended up losing count when we reached over 20 sets of rapids. They were all supposed to be grade 1 or 2, but we're pretty sure a few of them crossed into grade 3. 

The advantage, or disadvantage (depending on your outlook), of tubing compared to more conventional rafting is that you're actually in the water. This doesn't give you much opportunity to view the river ahead or scout out the coming rapids, but it does make for a very fun ride. Mostly it was a case of going with the flow, clinging on and hoping for the best. Surprisingly stable, we only capsized on a couple of occasions, although we did hit more than the odd rock.

Negotiating a shallow rapid

It was one of the craziest things we've done in New Zealand, and we wouldn't have set out without the knowledge that the rapids were manageable, and crucially that there were no surprise waterfalls downriver. It was also very comforting to have a commercial rafting company there, by chance. They were doing a rather more expensive version of our own trip: heli-rafting! They were amused by the bewildering sight of 2 people floating down the river on tubes, alongside their fully kitted and loaded raft. Apart from the odd taunt, 'Is this how you conquered the empire?', they were very gracious to share the river with us. It took us about 5 hours to complete the journey, only a little longer than their big raft. The team even stood on the bank to cheer us as we finished, extremely handy as otherwise we would probably have missed our exit point and continued all the way to the sea. I'm not sure quite how much heli-rafting comes in at, but we're pretty smug that our adventure cost a total of £10 (tubes AND pump!), and we're certain that our river journey was more fun!

The professionals show us how it's done!

The river exit point and that night's camp were brilliantly situated next to another set of free geothermal hot pools, on a wooden deck overlooking the valley. It was the perfect spot to spend the evening relaxing and soothing those rafting bruises. We were left with the conclusion that tubing is a very much under-rated sport!

Celebrating our survival in a hot pool at the end of the day

Exploring the Abbey Caves

The rest of our time in the North Island has been a little more conventional. There's been no shortage of things to see and do, and it's not been at all difficult to keep away from the more touristy and commercial spots. Even in the very developed thermal resort of Rotorua there were lots of steaming holes in the ground, bubbling mud pools and surreal boiling hot waterfalls that could be reached without paying the high entrance fees of the various 'geothermal villages'.

There have also been undeveloped caves to explore, and the magical experience of turning off our torches to experience the light of the glow worms which can cover the cave ceilings. These little worms and their twinkling threads look so much like stars you start imagining the constellations above you. We've also enjoyed many clear nights gazing at the southern night sky, and learnt a little more about it from an astro-photographer staying in the same campsite as us, who gave an impromptu talk on what was up there.

An empty beach near the Bay of Islands

The coastal scenery as we've travelled through the north of the country has been outstanding, and we especially love some of the beaches of the Coromandel peninsula, just south of Auckland, and the Bay of Islands area a little further north. We've done some excellent snorkelling amongst kelp forests, especially in Goat Island marine reserve, where we were surrounded by large snapper and had sting rays glide by. 

Stunning Cathedral Cove, reached through a sea arch

Karl hugs a young Kauri tree

Cape Reinga, at the far northern tip of the country, has a real 'journey's end' feel to its lighthouse and huge sea views. Up here in Northland everything seemed big- from the horizons to the trees. There are giant sand dunes; beautiful golden mountains with clouds of sand swirling around their peaks and ridges, where we tried a spot of sandboarding. In the northern forests huge kauri trees survive in protected pockets. These trees can live well over a 1000 years and the largest, Tana Muhata, has a trunk girth of 13.8m!
Apart from those first few days in 'Windy Wellie', the weather has been amazing for us throughout our month here- it's actually been proclaimed a drought, with a nationwide fire ban and water restrictions. 

We have loved travelling in our van and have camped in some beautiful spots on the coast and at lake shores, swimming almost every day. There have been quite a few waves to surf and body board, and the end of summer water has been warm enough to leave off the wetsuit.

Giant sand dunes of Northland

Enjoying campervan life

So, there might not be any proper mountains in the North Island, and our walking boots have barely got any use, but we were so distracted by everything that there is up here, we stopped noticing! 

The days have flown by, as they have a tendency to do, and before we knew it we found ourselves with just 2 weeks left in the country and a campervan to sell...

Time to head to Auckland.  

Harriet

On the beach in Coramandel

Surfing and summer mountaineering

A haggis in Glencoe and a high alpine crossing- Jan/Feb 13

The second half of January brought a real heat wave. Each day dawned bright and sunny, was sweltering by 8 o'clock and stayed hot right into the long summer evenings, when we would sit out with a beer enjoying the warm breeze and the clear, star filled skies. This was summer in New Zealand- after a shaky start it had truly arrived and it seemed set to stay. 

Enjoying the Catlins coastal scenery

We were on the south coast when the transformation began, perfectly timed for touring the pretty, rural coastline of the Caitlins. This area reminded us of England more than anywhere else we'd been; it was like discovering a secret part of Dorset. Rolling hillsides dotted with sheep and patches of forest led to high cliffs and sandy beaches. There were a couple of differences though- sharing the beaches with sea lions and penguins being a major one. 

We spent a couple of days at a lovely coastal campsite nestled into the long flax grass of a headland between 2 beaches. From here you could look for dolphins in the surf, and watch the penguins that would wander across the beach to their nests each evening. 

The view from our camp of waves breaking on the rocks

A bout of strong winds brought in a big swell that broke on the headland, the waves shattering into a cascade of foam that would erupt skywards before streaming down over rocks and kelp. It was addictive to watch, and as we did a yellow eyed penguin came wandering across just a metre from us, obliviously searching for his nest in the flax. He looked lost and disorientated, weary and beaten by the waves- I'm sure he's used to these sorts of conditions, but we hope he found his nest. 

The penguins took the sign a bit too literally

In the evening it was fun to watch the penguins land- surfing into the shore, plopping onto the rocks, pausing for a bit of preening and drying off before waddling up the beach to find their waiting offspring. There were some beautiful, wild beaches here backed by tall cliffs, where the waves peeled into glassy barrels before pounding onto the sand. They made for great camps and the surfing was good enough to keep things interesting for Karl- until he snapped his board that is. Time to head for the city of Dunedin and it's surf shops!

Camping at the beach in the Catlins

Our arrival in the self proclaimed 'Edinburgh of the South' that is Dunedin happily coincided with Burns night. The city actually reminded us more of Sheffield than Edinburgh, with lots of independent shops and students around, but there was a statue of Robbie Burns in the square, pipers playing to mark his birthday, Scottish souvenir shops, and we even found a butcher selling haggis. It seemed appropriate that night to be camping in a nearby valley called Glencoe for our campstove style burns supper, complete with whiskey to toast the haggis (not that we could remember the toast).

Karl had found a good deal on a replacement surf board in Dunedin, and so we headed north along a string of beautiful and deserted bays through coastal Otago. We drove along a quiet road beside empty sandy beaches with stone arches and sea caves, and spent a lovely saturday surfing at the busy family beach of All Day bay, where a hector's dolphin would pop up in the midst of everyone in the water. He was a frequent visitor, and most people there didn't even bat an eyelid at his appearance. 

Victorian architecture and Steam punk at Oamaru

On this stretch of coast was the town of Oamaru, far more interesting than the average New Zealand settlement. It used to be a busy Victorian port before changing prosperity led the wharves, streets and warehouses to be abandoned almost overnight. This actually saved them in the long run as it preserved the area just as things were. The heritage district is now beautifully restored and cared for, and Oamaru has taken the Victorian connection far, with themed tea rooms, rides offered down the streets on penny farthings, and the development of a strong 'steam punk' identity. Steam punk is defined as 'tomorrow as it used to be' and involves a lot of weird and wonderful victorian x futuristic costumes, impressive mechanical art installations and even a steam punk themed playground. We ended up staying here longer than planned- visiting the farmers market, eating mussels at the harbour, wandering the streets and art galleries and browsing second hand bookshops. We also had a really good time at an improvised sketch comedy night which made us cry with laughter. Definitely a town worth a visit.

Sunset over the Tasman glacier on the climb to Ball Pass

It's not too far from the beach to the mountains in the South Island, and after travelling 200 km inland we arrived at Mount Cook National Park on another boiling hot afternoon. We found a tiny bit of shade in the campsite and stuck to it, too hot for much more than occasionally emerging to pour cold water over ourselves.

Although Mount Cook is the highest mountain in Australasia, it's not actually that tall at 3754 metres. However, it's larger than life- a really impressive mountain that wouldn't look at all out of place in the Himalayas, with steep faces of snow, ice and rock surrounded by glaciers. We hired ice axes and crampons and set off early the next day for our route, a 3 day crossing of an alpine pass which would take us as close as is possible to Mount Cook without a summit attempt. The climb to Ball Pass started by sidling along the lateral moraine of the Tasman glacier, listening to the creaking of the ice, little rock falls and the splashes of ice plunging into the grey water of glacial lakes. The lower reaches of melting glaciers are often pretty unattractive, and this one was an ugly, grey, rubble covered conveyor belt bulldozing its way down the valley. 

The Caroline Face of Mount Cook

It reminded us a lot of the Khumbu and other glaciers and moraines we'd crossed in Nepal, travelling far from snowy slopes and ridges to a huge dirty puddle of a meltwater lake. After hard, hot hours boulder hopping on moraine, we began an ascent up steep scree, climbing high above the glacier. Gaining the ridge, we popped up to find ourselves directly beneath the impressive Caroline Face of Mount Cook. It was right there, towering above us with its seracs, crevasses, waterfalls and cliffs- amazing to get that close without even needing to don our crampons. We camped up on that ridge, watching the sunset colours drain from the flat valley far below until just the snowy peaks were tinged pink above dark cliffs. Through the evening we'd watch avalanches on the Caroline face, and try to imagine how on earth anyone climbs it. Avalanche watching is a lot of fun, from a distance- the trick is to spot one before the loud boom of snow hitting the slopes reaches you. They always seem to happen in slow motion. Despite the alpine setting it was really warm, and we got up in the middle of the night to marvel at the magnificent scene of Mount Cook in the moonlight.

The constellation of Orion over Mount Cook

On snow approaching the pass

The next day we ascended Ball Pass itself. The weather was stunning, and the snow slopes leading to the pass were soft and forgiving. It was like winter mountaineering back home, but without any of the freezing cold hardship of the hills in that season. The days were so long that we could take our time, relaxing for a couple of hours at the pass (I actually had a post lunch snooze in the sun- a first for me on a mountaineering route!). From here we scrambled up to our high point on the ridge, at 2222 metres. The view was astounding, and it almost goes without saying here that we had the whole place to ourselves. 

The descent down steep snow slopes followed by loose rock ridges required our ice axes and crampons and a fair bit of route finding, but we reached our campsite on a high alpine meadow in time for another sunset, this time lighting up the south face of Mount Cook over the Hooker glacier.

The south face of Mount Cook and the Hooker glacier

Although the hard work was supposedly behind us at this stage, it still took a whole day's effort to descend from this point down to the valley, boulder hopping down a gully and over moraine, constantly route finding (this wasn't a marked path) and then having to negotiate numerous landslides and rockfalls. There was little shade and the lower we got the more ridiculously hot it became. We eventually reached the river and had a very refreshing swim in the glacial water. It had been an epic route. We spent our last day in the Mount Cook area on an easier and much more popular climb up to the Mueller hut, with a fun bouldery scramble up Mount Olivier and fantastic views of avalanches on the dramatic east face of Mount Sefton. It had been a great week to end our time in the mountains, finishing our travels in the South Island on a real high.

We couldn't have hoped for a better 3 months than we'd had here, but it was time to head north, where there was a whole other half of New Zealand waiting to be explored.

Another great NZ road sign!

Harriet

The Journey South

The sands of Abel Tasman to the sounds of Fjordland (Dec-Jan)

Mosquito Cove in Abel Tasman, only accessible by kayak

I wound the fishing line back onto its stick (not a very sophisticated system!) as we headed towards the beach, a sandy lunch spot beneath the cliffs of one of Abel Tasman's headlands. As expected, nothing was weighing the hook down, again, and it clattered onto the deck, immediately getting caught and tangled. After our beginner's luck fishing in the Marlborough Sounds, this time we'd made the mistake of packing a frying pan and a lemon in our kayak - clearly a bad omen. There weren't even any mussels here, so it would be back to dried packs of pasta. Never mind, any food tastes pretty good when it's cooked on a beach and you're hungry from paddling!

Improvised rain shelter! 

Just a few days after we'd finished our fantastic week kayaking the Marlborough Sounds, we were back on the water for 3 days to explore Abel Tasman's short but spectacular coastline. Renowned for its many wide arcs of golden sand framed by native vegetation, it's one of New Zealand's most popular national parks. This was early in the season so it wasn't busy, but our starting town of Marahau still felt like a kayak rental factory, churning out boats and paddlers each morning after a rather impersonal 'check in' and briefing where we got taught which way round to hold the paddle, just in case we'd not worked it out in 10 years of kayaking.. It was very different from anywhere we'd rented boats from before, but as soon as we were out on the water we could forget all that and enjoy the scenery. The coast was lovely to paddle around, with lots of rocky headlands where seals lounged and little islands to circumnavigate, and plenty of sandy spots to rest and enjoy the view. We got up early and stayed out late (ignoring the company's imposed 4 pm paddling curfew..), and were rewarded with the coast at its calmest, quietest and most beautiful. 

Exploring a lagoon

An unexpected highlight was the tidal lagoons that could only be entered by kayak over their sand bars at high water. They led us inland through calm, reed lined estuaries and up river until the water became too shallow to continue and we'd feel the crunch of the hull grounding. In the evening these lagoons were very peaceful, just the drips of water from our paddles interrupting the reflection of the bank, where kingfishers and herons stared at us from their fishing perches. There are times when a kayak feels like the best place to be in the world.                                                   

Paddling in the morning calm

Flower filled Cobb Valley

Chatting with another paddler at our beach side camp one evening, he recommended tramping in the Cobb valley, a fairly remote area of the nearby Kahurangi National Park. So when we left our kayaks (briefly wondering if the company would even have noticed if 'no 34' didn't return?..) we headed inland. Cobb was a wide, open and alpine flower filled valley that led up river for 8 miles or so to the cosy Fenella hut, perched on the edge of the wilderness. It was a beautiful spot to dry out after kayaking and get back into tramping. As is usual here, although the hut was a social little hub of tramping and travel talk, we saw no-one else on the path for 2 days and felt like we had the whole national park to ourselves. From the hut an easy day trip took us up Kakapo Peak, a nearby mountain with expansive wilderness views of rocky ridges and forest. It was hot work, but there was a lovely tarn to cool off in before we headed back down the valley.

Tarn swimming

Kahurangi wilderness scenery

The lovely Chaffey Hut

On our walk in we'd passed the Chaffey Hut,  a very cute, beautifully renovated, historic little hut by the river. We'd fallen in love with it and decided to spend the night before we left the mountains. Definitely our favourite place to stay in New Zealand, Chaffey has just 2 bunks and a fireplace, and is the perfect spot to fulfill any woodcutter's cottage fantasies (?!), perched above a swimming hole in the river and with views up valley to the hills beyond.

Rock crevasses on Mount Owen

The early December weather was perfect, so we moved straight onto our next tramp- a climb of Mount Owen. This is a unique mountain in Nelson, covered in classic limestone scenery with huge clints and grykes forming massive rock crevasses between slabs. The place is riddled with sink holes packed with ferns, mosses and alpine flowers, and the weirdly shaped cliffs and boulders are etched with deep grooves. It's a scrambler's playground, and after a long, hot and steep walk in we spent the best part of 2 days exploring the mountain system. There was another really good hut to stay in, modern this time, and yet again we met no other trampers on the route. The mountain rises above fantastic, colourful and exotic vegetation including some vicious speargrasses with huge thorned flowers.

Spiky speargrasses on Mount Owen climb

It all had a feeling of a lost world, and it's easy to understand why the mountain was chosen to represent 'Dimrill Dale' in the Lord of the Rings films (although everywhere here seems to have featured in the films at some point or other). From the summit was the grandest view we'd had yet and it certainly made us realise just how mountainous this country is. Ridge after ridge, too many peaks to count, and spreading in every direction from the coast in the north to the distant Southern Alps. We could spot Nelson Lakes, the Kaikoura range and a few other places we'd visited, but most of the view was new to us and it was very inspiring. You'd need more than a few years and a helicopter (or a love of bush-whacking) to reach them all, but the possibilities are endless. Later that day we got down to the valley floor and a much anticipated swim in the river. It was deep, clear and blue-green, swirling between smoothly carved rocks and very scenic, but absolutely infested with sand flies. A whole new motivation to get in the water and stay in- they were biting any exposed skin and were the worst we'd experienced. Just like the midges in scotland or the mosquitoes in the tropics- there has to be an insect around to spoil things!

I wonder why Karl's the only surfer out at Cape Foulwind?

Moving on to the West Coast- with a reputation for rain, wind and wild weather. As soon as we arrived it started to show us just how miserable it could be. Karl braved the big, cold surf at the aptly named Cape Foulwind, but mostly we waited for the weather to improve, whiling away some time visiting the functional towns of Westport and Greymouth and doing our Christmas shopping.

Scenic driving on the West Coast

It was worth waiting, as a couple of days later we got to experience the coast road with blue skies and sunshine- one of the nicest routes we've ever driven. Mile after mile the road wound around green, verdant cliffs and wide, surf-scoured beaches. We stayed at a village called Punakaikai, famous for its 'pancake rocks'. Blowholes in the cliffs are surrounded by layered limestone- like stacks of pancakes turned to stone.

Pancake Rocks blowholes

All along this coast gorges cut through the cliffs to emerge at the sea, and it was up one of these gorges that we headed on our next overnight tramp along the old 'Inland Pack Route', a path that somehow people used to navigate before a coast road was built. Most of the route was actually in a river, with thick bush surrounding the shallow, pebbly waters and huge cliffs looming overhead.

The Inland Pack Track

 Once you've got used to wading in wet boots, it makes sense to use the river bed as a path, as it is often the only way through the deep, impenetrable jungle. Our camp was under the 'Ballroom overhang'- a huge bivvy spot beneath a massively overhanging cliff, big enough for about 20 tents around the fireplace. Two days of gorge walking certainly gave us a new perspective on the scenery and it was a unique tramp. Not somewhere to be caught with rising water, so we were very lucky to fit it into a weather window before the dark West Coast clouds and driving rain enveloped us once more.

The head of Earnslaw Burn

Fast forward a couple of weeks (Christmas on the beach and New Year in Wanaka both covered in a previous blog) to the extensive Mount Aspiring National Park. We did a lot of hiking here, both day walks and overnighters. A highlight was Earnslaw Burn- reached after quite a long slog through forest but well worth it. At the head of the valley a glacier hung, falling into a multitude of ribbon waterfalls cascading down the cliffs.

It was great to see Katy and Dougie again

We camped below a waterfall with a view of the glacier, and spent a long time just staring at the scene trying to take it in. While in the Queenstown area we got a chance to catch up with Katy and Dougie, a couple we met in a bakery in Namche Bazaar, high in the Himalayas. At the time, like us Katy and Dougie had been at the start of a world trip, but have now decided to settle here rather than return to the UK (we might be just a little bit jealous..). Although Queenstown is in a beautiful lake side setting, the town itself is crammed in between the shore and the steep hills, and is very busy and touristy. Traditionally this is somewhere you spend quite a lot of money- usually on adrenaline activities, but in our case it was much less exciting- handing over $500 in the garage for a new shock after numerous rough roads and river fords had taken their toll on our van's suspension. Ouch.

Scenery of Queenstown- us and our van are about to get a shock

The climb up to Gertrude Saddle

Leaving Queenstown we drove south to Fjordland, one of the biggest national parks in the world. Very little of Fjordland is accessible, which just adds to its appeal. The prize for New Zealand scenery just has to go to a little spot in the mountains above Milford Sound, modestly named Gertrude Saddle. 
Douglas Adams put it well in his book 'Last Chance to See'; 'Fjordland is one of the most astounding pieces of land anywhere on God's earth, and one's first impulse, standing on a cliff top surveying it all, is simply to burst into spontaneous applause'. That's exactly how we felt here. Why hadn't anyone told us about this place? It seemed like the sort of spot people should make pilgrimages to. As it was, it was just us and a few other trampers dotted around, each having our own 'wow' moments. 

Our camp at Gertrude Saddle (our tent's on the left).

We'd climbed up a U shaped valley surrounded by glacier scoured curving slabs, passing deep, clear tarn waters and tumbling waterfalls, and up steep, gritty rock to the saddle itself. Here it suddenly all dropped away- 1000 metres away, with immense cliffs over which waterfalls streamed down to the forest and river far below. At the end of the valley was Milford Sound, framed by mountains and looking far, far below. Above us the tarn dotted ridge led over bulging slabs of gabbro rock up the steep and snowy summit of Barrier Knob. 

The saddle was an amazing vantage point, and we were very glad to be able to pitch our tent and stay up there, exploring the ridge and taking in the view one way, then the next, then back to the first again. There was just too much to take in, too much beauty to process. It sounds over the top, but it was a real high point of our travels. We couldn't stop grinning. It's moments like this we travel for, and we felt it was worth coming all the way around the world just to be here. And there wasn't even a single sand fly!

Harriet