Better Be Home Soon (Kaikōura to Christchurch and home, New Zealand to Australia)

In leaving Nelson, we left our noisy nocturnal neighbour and moved into a much quieter digs. The Sudima is quite a new hotel and it looks new and fresh with glass taking advantage of every view from the snow capped mountains, through to the dolphin encrusted water. That's how it appears, everytime I look across the water, a pod of dolphins breaks the surface of the powder blue water and etches themselves across the horizon. Magic.

The mountains and the sea.

The rooms are spacious and quiet. There have been no disturbances from the corridor or the room nextdoor. No loud conversations, music, laughter, nothing, just the muffled sounds of lives being lived. After the grey of Greymouth and the noise of Nelson, I was just about done, but the Sudima and the beautiful Kaikōura weather have recharged my batteries.

Trust me, there are dolphins out there.

Except for one little surprise. Around 7 or 7:30am, I became aware of what sounded like a siren. Much the like the evacuate alarm we get at home, which starts faintly and gets louder. The siren, an old school one, like an air raid warning or shark alarm, just stayed as quiet background noise. I looked out the window, none of the locals appeared concerned, the ground was still, there was no tsunami. It was still audible, but there had been no announcement over the hotel p.a. so I assumed all was ok. 

A pity the beach is not white sand.

This turned out to be partially correct. All was OK for us. The siren was the local firies and they use it to let people know there has been a fire or car accident, an incident to which they are responding. In days gone bye before pagers and mobile phones, I imagine the siren summoned those on call to the station.

Kaikōura is all about getting outside. Well, it is New Zealand. There are multiple tramping options, fishing, dolphin, seal and whale chasing (on water or in the air), kayaking and sitting in the sun drinking beer. Ok, maybe I made the last one up. I still recommend it after you done something active.

We decided to explore the seal colonies to the south of the township, but first, breakfast at the Encounter Café. They serve pies. Weird pies. They all come with cheese. Jayne does not recommend them. The coffee was good.

The view back to town from the Point Kean headland.

The seal colony was a little too far to walk so we drove and scored the last car space in the car park. The walk commences at Point Kean and continues up the walkway to the lookout and track beyond or, unbeknown to me at the time, onto the rock platform and around the headland. Easy path or no-so-easy path. Clearly I chose the latter.

The path to the lookout is paved and provides excellent views back to Kaikōura with the backdrop of the mountains and then out to sea and across the rock platform and beaches and coves below - where the seals hang out. Once the lookout is reached (after 5 minutes) the path is mown grass and worn track. It can get a little muddy but is solid underfoot.

The water looks inviting.

As the path winds along the cliff top edge, there are numerous vantage points to stop and enjoy the view or take photos. Unless you're a backpacker (choose the country) and believe safety rules and warnings don't apply to you. In which case, you make several attempts to descend from the cliff top, but not by using any discernible path. Sadly, you survive this Darwinian test despite deserving to fall to your death with your three friends.

Seals everywhere.

We continue to walk along the cliff top, following the path, because we are not from Germany. The seal colony is visible below and there is ample opportunity to watch the seals sunbaking on the rocks, as well as their gymnastics in the water. There is also a well worn track along the foreshore that is heavily populated by walkers who chose the easier option. It is alo the path that gets you closer to the seals.

The kiddies pool.

Jayne spots a local tramper and asks if there are steps down to sea level via a regular path, one that doesn't challenge Darwin's Theory. He points far off into the distance to a clump of pine trees. Steps, there are steps there near the sanctuary. By sanctuary, he is referring to a section of land that is clearly fenced off from the surrounding area. It is double thick with a rolled-metal top to stop climbing animals and I assume the wire extends underground to stop digging predators. It turns out to be a mutton bird sanctuary and they fence it to keep out cats, possum, rats and stoats. Mutton bird eggs and newly hatched young would be easy prey for these introduced species.

The kiddies pool from sea level.

Having reached the sanctuary, it is time to bid Jayne farewell. She will not be joining me on the walk down the steps to the shoreline. The walk down was easier than expected; the steps are well maintained and have a handrail most of the way. At the bottom, the track ends abruptly with a sign warning there is no track maintenance beyond this point. There stands a young American couple, complete with backpack and compass, standing in the thigh length grass. "Excuse me. We're trying to get back to the car park. Have you walked this trail before?" No, sorry, I replied. Each of the track braids leads to the shore, so it's a matter of pick one and do as little damage as possible. And off I walked.

It's a hard life.

The braid I selected soon deposited me at the waterline and I started picking my way back towards the rock platform and car park. There were more people walking towards me than were heading in my direction. I looked up to the cliff top a few times but was never sure if I could see Jayne.

Just posing for a selfie.

There were seals everywhere. Well, what did you expect, it is a seal colony. There were numerous signs warning tourists not to disturb the seals, but some seals already looked disturbed. Some areas of the coastline were actually fenced off with rope. Anyway, I scored some good photos and I was glad we commenced the walk along the cliff top and then came down to sea level.

Please don't disturb me, I'm solving problems.

After some hide-and-seek with Jayne who had made her own way back to the car park, we drove back to the hotel for a well earned beer in the sun (see, I told you it was a thing here). It was glorious afternoon and we sat and watched the dolphins in the distance before dropping our gear back to our room and walking the couple of kilometres into the actual Kaikōura township. It has the usual collection of tourist/gift stores, pubs, bars, restaurants and a very aggressive ice cream store that only accepts cash or NZ issued cards - bugger off you international travellers! I so wanted an ice cream but there was no chance I was caving in to this level of aggression. No ice cream for me and no profit for them. Prucks.

Dinner was at the hotel again, where I challenged the wine list for the second night, again selecting 'out of stock' wines. It's a talent.

Another restful night and no morning siren before we packed our bags for the last hotel departure of our South Island road trip. After check out, today's breakfast option was the Kaikōura Bakery to sample their pies. Once again a success venture. They do a good pie in New Zealand. Then it was on the road to Christchurch airport, surviving no less than 4 contra flows on the way.

Another good pie.

The airport experience was pretty much as you might expect, except they don't open the international customs until 2 hours before flight time, which meant hanging around in the terminal and not the Lounge on the other side. The Lounge was fine, but it's no First Class Lounge and the wines were typically sweet to cater to local tastes.

The only thing to report was ou Qantas plane departure was an hour late and, in absolute affront, the Jetstar flight left on time. The only consolation was that it was landing in Melbourne, not Sydney.

And that's about it from the land of the long white cloud. We will be back to Christchurch, Dunedin and Kaikōura sometime in the future as well as Invercargill or Stewart Island to chase the southern lights.

And so, dear reader, I leave you with Crowded House from their 1988 album Temple of Low Men, the classic Better Be Home Soon. Let's hope we all get there safely.

Until mid-year and the West Australia Coral Coast followed by the Broome to Darwin expedition.

Conflicting Emotions (Nelson to Kaikōura via Blenheim, New Zealand)

Our nocturnal neighbour was a little quieter last night. Perhaps the pickings are slimmer on a Sunday. She was home at 3:15am. Alone. Ah, snuggle down, it's time for sleep, dear reader. Until the sun fingered its way through the clouds and our curtains.

It's a transit day and getting ever closer to the flight home. The impact of this is to re-focus on the packing of the bags so we get it right in Kaikōura prior to the airport dash. There shouldn't really be any concerns although I have acquired a pair of walking boots, and umbrella and several shirts since leaving Sydney. And Jayne, you ask? She has shed a pair of hiking sandals and picked up pandora charm and a net cardigan. The latter was a bargain for $25NZ. The last attempted purchase of such a garment was in Europe and they were asking €40. An absolute bargain - so glad we waited.

The morning cloud thickened, threatened and then dumped the rain we were expecting. Thanks for that 'sun city', Nelson, the home of sunshine in New Zealand. Not today. The rain accompanied us on the journey for some time.

The tide was out as we drove toward Blenheim. Something we had not yet witnessed. The Maitai River is reduced to a stream and its banks are not particularly attractive. At least that explained why there was little in the way of tourist/hospitality development on the river. The same could be said for the bay. It is wide and shallow and resplendent when under a blue sky. Not so pretty when the tide is out and the rain is falling.

Nelson to Blenheim is a classic Kiwi drive. It commences in the bay area and heads for the mountains, covering a range of climatic as well as road conditions. We experienced the steep mountain climbs, the hair pin bends, road works, contra flows, rain, drizzle, sunshine, cloud. All within about 90 minutes.

Flowers! The gardens of Blenheim.

Blenheim was out to impress. A cloudless blue sky, a welcome sight after the drive. As you drive into the town there is the most magnificent park and garden. We were stopping for coffee anyway, so I parked near the garden. As I was taking photos I could hear, but not see, someone, um, let's call it singing. Found him. A 'traveller', he had dropped his backpack near the Memorial Tower and stepped inside to harness the superior acoustics of the space. Admittedly I did not recognise any of the songs, but he was providing great amusement to other people, presumably locals, who were enjoying the park and its gardens.

Can you hear the music?

To the CBD Café for coffee and sweet treats. Skip the treats, stay with the coffee. The service is efficient enough, but the customers are slower than a wet week in Greymouth. I just wanted to push some of them in the back to help them get to the counter. Decorum and the possibility of breaking several of their frail, brittle bones encouraged me to behave.

Beautiful. Even without the sound.

Subsequently, a quick search discovered a Kathmandu store in close proximity. Jayne's jandals beckoned siren-like, well the possibility of their purchase called us. To no avail. On the walk back to the car we were once again regaled by the unknown singer who had decamped to another monument and was amusing an entirely new audience. Who said nothing ever happens in Blenheim?

Back on the road, the sunshine dissipated rapidly and was replaced with, at varying times: gale force winds, torrential rain, blue sky, cloud. We had it all, four seasons in one day - and no, that was never considered as the title for this post. Oh, yeah, and contra flows, did I mention them? At least three.

I was shocked to find street art in Kaikōura.

Highway 1, heading to Kaikōura, is NZ's great ocean road drive (if you're Australian). The highway snakes along the coast and the views heading south are epic/awesome/choice. On a fine day. Today I was more concerned with keeping the car on the road in between cyclonic gusts and rain downpours. Had the weather been different, this post would be punctuated with pictures of turquoise waters and black beaches. Maybe I would have stopped to photograph the three morons who chose the sheltered spot to go surfing - you know, the corner of the beach out of the wind that hasn't seen a surfable wave all day. How cool do they look to the passing traffic? Yeah, not that cool in my book. They might catch a cold, but that would be it.

Kaikōura is a Maori word, kai is food and kōura is crayfish. Or creyfush as they say here. Maybe lobster would be easier to say. We arrived at the almost brand new Sudima Hotel in blustery conditions with the rain not knowing what to do. Our room is lovely and has water views, an unexpected bonus. the staff are delightful, although the young man on the desk didn't get Jayne's sense of humour. "What brings you to Kaikōura?" he asked. "Sunshine," replied Jayne, deadpan. One of the girls at the desk laughed. Not he, "Oh!" was the response.

Snow capped mountains and a sea view.

The weather did improve late in the afternoon, but not early enough for us to don rain jackets and brave the buffeting wind. Instead we opted to dine in at the hotel restaurant and research some possible excursions for tomorrow. The possibilities are endless; tramping, eating crayfish, tramping, photographing wildlife, eating crayfish, tramping. We'll make the best attempt to include drinking wine in tomorrow's agenda as well.

Lengthening shadows, but sunshine.

Dinner at Hiku at the hotel was most enjoyable. They do a good crayfish (lobster). Service was great and we chatted, OK, Jayne chatted with an American couple at the next table and our American server. The light was fading, but we snapped a few shots before returning to our room.

The title today, from the 1983 Split Enz album of the same name, sums up how we feel. Our trip is drawing to a close and while it will be good to heading home, there is more to explore.

Tomorrow the sun is supposed to be shining and we will be walking around the headland trail.

Until next time ...

Driving Me Mad (Nelson, Sun City, New Zealand)

Hello, dear reader. Just a quick post for today.

The night progressed in a similar fashion to the previous one, which provided the title Driving Me Mad, by Neil Finn from One Nil, 2001.  Door slamming and people coming and going between the hours of 2 and 4am. I don't know what is going on and I really don't care. Just do it quietly. I am hoping that there will be a change of tenant now the weekend is over. Only time will tell. In terms of retribution, I invoke the great Maxwell Q Klinger from the brilliant TV series MASH 4077, "May the fleas of a thousand camels infest your armpits". No, not you dear reader, the person next door and her late night friends, one of whom was evicted around 3:30am. He walked away, slump-shouldered and despondent, casting the occasional sad-eyed look back over his shoulder. I guess he'll just have to take the matter in hand.

Strict entry requirements. Anti-vaxxers welcome.

With an east facing window, sleep beyond dawn is not easy, even with heavy curtains. Fortunately the sun rises late down here in the south. Dawn came with a little cloud that soon burned off. Given we appear to be surrounded by churches of varying Christian denominations, we fully expected to be awakened by the peal of bells summoning the faithful to worship. Not a chime was heard until just before 10am - all the way from the Cathedral on the hill. Once ready for the day, we headed to the Monty Markets. These were held in the same space as yesterday's markets but were billed as a "mecca for treasure hunters of pre-loved clothing, recycled tools, books, antiques ... ". The hyperbole goes on for quite a while. Unlike the market which was a glorified car-boot sale. It was very small and held precious little of any interest.

Yes, it's a flower, in the Cathedral garden. That's all I have.

After the excitement of the markets, we walked to the Cathedral as the 10am service was nearing completion. The Cathedral has a story to tell, but to piece it together you had to circumnavigate the block on which it stands and read the information supplied at specific points. And I don't really care that much. I just wanted to know what happened to the old building and why the new one is so, well, ugly. Ok, brutalist, if you like, but it pre-dates that architectural movement  by a couple of decades.

The view from on high. The Cathedral to debauchery, well the pub.

Apparently an earthquake rendered the original Cathedral unsafe. The new one, of 1925 dark stone construction, also contains an earthquake warning inside noting it's lack of safety. They could have saved a lot of money and stayed with the original timber version.

There's a lot at stake here. Ask a surveyor.

The interior is testimony to the old and new. Stylistically it's all columns and stained glass windows with modern tweaks here and there. It is an interesting juxtaposition.

Traditional columns and vaulted ceiling with a neon backlit cross.

So, I went to church today. Ok. I went into a church today. The experience was almost too much for me and I required coffee to regain my balanced perspective on the world. And a friand. There is not much open in Nelson on a Sunday, Cathedral excepted. Very few cafés, curiously clothing stores and not much else. Even the markets were a dud.

I just love a stained glass window.

In our meandering this morning, we discovered more street art. I know, it's a real Kiwi thing. Unlike Christchurch, the Nelson Art Walk has a specific focus. Unlike Dunedin, the walls are not adorned with original works but copies, often framed copies of original works that depict life in Nelson in some way. The other commonality is that they all seem to have been on display at a particular gallery in Nelson at some time. That is, if the work is a part of the 'Art Walk' there is plenty of more organic art works on the street, some of which featured in earlier posts. It's important to make the distinction between those unauthorised pieces of art, some of which are quite substantial, and the approved Art Walk inclusions.

With god seeing everything you do, is a surveillance camera necessary?
Is that a flying Barbie style witch?

While it was interesting to track the 28 works and read each artist's bio and the context statement for the work, it lacked the impact of the street art in Dunedin and even Christchurch. It was a pleasant walk on a beautiful day and we managed to find 24 of the works. Some of which we have deemed worthy of inclusion in the blog.

Don't let a street sign get in the way of the street art exhibition.

This was meant to encourage the English to move to Nelson. I don't know why.

A  more modern depiction of life in Nelson.

Genuinely an amazing painting although the photo doesn't capture it.

Our attempt at being cultured exhausted us. It was time to rest and have a beer. But first some street-scape excitement. A young girl (well, that's a relative term when you're my age), in her 20's runs across the street, in front of traffic (Ok, a car), chasing a similarly aged long haired, bearded boy shouting, "Give me my keys!" repeatedly. They were together and had been arguing. I saw them earlier on our culture walk. He tried to speak to her and she did the arms folded thing, turned her back, and said, "Don't speak to me." Other bystanders had not witnessed the prelude and all these young men ran to the nearest phone booth, tore off their clothes are re-appeared as Supermen, circling the miscreant key-thief and, we assume, called the police. Chivalry is not dead in New Zealand. Or is it sexism? Discuss.

Anyway, the two supermen, one of whom shed his flip-flops in the chase, had the matter in hand so we walked to The Vic for a beer. Too much excitement for this old heart.

We are now back at the hotel blogging and researching the potential stops for tomorrow's journey to Kaikoura. Oh, alright, we are also drinking wine. Well, my tastebuds are back.

As I have remarked on many occasions, dear reader, "comparisons are odious" (Michael Gow, Away) but difficult not to make in our current circumstance. We stayed at the Quest in Invercargill and could not recommend them highly enough. They weren't faultless but they did they everything they could and everything asked of them. This afternoon (Sunday) we arrived back at the hotel to find the room hadn't been serviced because ... it's Sunday. Then there have been the noise issues and the dudes on the desk are performing at perfunctory level at best. Quest Nelson? Never again.

As the sun sets over another beautiful day in Sun City, we walked to the 'centre of town'. Well it is on Sunday afternoon, the Trafalgar Street and Selwyn Place intersection. There are many places still not open, but The Vic does beer and pub food and Lombardis Italian Restaurant opens at 4:30pm - even on Sunday. The bonus here? The food, wine and service is excellent. Best 'authentic' pizza I've had since Christchurch.

Tomorrow is a transit day from Nelson to Kaikoura.

Until next time ...

Slipping Away (Greymouth to sunshine, sorry, Nelson, New Zealand)

It is quite obvious, dear reader, that I shall never pass this way again, unless I'm being held hostage, at gunpoint. The people at our accommodation were lovely. We also met some delightful people elsewhere and the coffee at the café was good, but that is about it. Not really enough to recommend it.

Even as we drive away from Greymouth, I'm still uncertain as to whether the comment "We need the rain," was genuine or a genuine piss-take of a tourist. We drove past fields semi-submerged as we left town. The landscape is not  crying out, "We need more rain!". In fact it was saying "Enough already!". How can I be sure?

So glad you asked. After Declan taking us through the equivalent of deliverance country on our journey to Greymouth, we were double checking all directions on the way to Nelson. Not that we don't trust him. Just checking. We knew our route was Highway 7 and then 69, stop it, don't be so immature, and then Highway 6 into Nelson. As we approached Highway 7, Declan changed tack and directed us to Highway 6. We needed petrol so I doubled back to the servo to fill up and Jayne decided to discuss the best route to Nelson with the lady at the service station.

Back out on the road, the clouds were crying out, "Oh, ye of little faith!". Highway 7 was closed due to a massive landslip. Another sign that the rain wasn't really needed. Declan, good lad, was diverting us around the road closure. He's a good boy. I never doubted him. Unlike Jayne.

Although we didn't see the slip that closed the highway, we saw many more as we drove toward Nelson. Hence today's title Slipping Away from Max Merritt and The Meteors from 1975. It was the regular drive you would expect on Kiwi country roads, sorry, highways. Random roadwork with temporary speed reductions, the occasional contra flow, mobile homes not moving over to let lighter, faster vehicles past, logging trucks, one lane bridges, possum roadkill. Nothing unexpected. The scenery is always interesting, but not interesting enough to make me stop for a photo. It is a bit repetitive.

New Zealand is like Canada in many ways. I view both countries as outdoor adventure parks for adults. If you're into walking (tramping over here), skiing, snowboarding, white water rafting, bungy jumping ... this is the place for you. Even the scenery can be similar with the craggy, pine covered mountains and glacier-carved landscape. The biggest difference? New Zealanders are nice people, genuinely nice; friendly, helpful and polite. Canadians are just outwardly polite, but they couldn't give a tinker's cuss about you really.

Flower baskets adorn many of Nelson's streets.

Nelson welcomed us with brilliant sunshine. We checked into the Quest Apartments, and put on a load of washing, I know, so mundane, and went for a wander. We are near the centre of town, just away from the coast. There are cafés and restaurants everywhere, (and street art) yet it has that Christchurch feel that nothing will ever be crowded. Like the dumpling place we went to for dinner, but that could be for other reasons.

While stocking up on provisions at the local bottle shop, we engaged the lady behind the counter in the usual conversation about local knowledge on restaurants, wineries and sites to see. Turns out she only moved here two years ago, following her son and her grandkids to Nelson. She apologised for not being able to assist us much as, in the last 24 months, she appears to have done not much else but work ... She is in fact taking a week off next week to start doing some local exploring herself. It is a common theme, "Oh, I'm from the North Island, sorry". Well ok, where are all the southerners? Bondi?

The Cathedral at the top of Trafalgar Street.

She did point out a dumpling eatery diagonally across the road from the bottle shop and praised its fare, along with a couple of other nearby restaurants. We have not had dumplings since we arrived so it seemed high time to try some. We turned up just after opening time, hoping they accepted walk-ins with no booking. A stealthy reconnoître showed we had nothing to fear since there was one trio in there, despite the sign on the wall, celebrating the service of over 800,000 dumplings to the local community!

A quick glance at the menu informed us that, whatever the food options were, bottled beer would be the drink of choice. We perused the list and selected two dumpling combos plus some spring rolls and, throwing caution to the wind, something called octopus balls. No, don't go there, be brave. Oh alright then, let's do it - it's cruel really because octopus have only one ball. True story.

Street Art on the way to the supermarket. It's a squid, not an octopus.

The beers arrived first and then the dumplings. Back home, dumplings are to be approach with guarded gusto as they are usually molten in temperature and can cause the unsuspecting diner an injury if eaten in haste. The need for discretionary assessment here was, which was colder, the beer or the dumplings? Debatable. The same discussion could followed regarding flavour.

More art. Nope. No idea.

After this disappointing start, the balls arrived and were at least heated through - but not sure if they were genuine octopus. Finally, the spring rolls were presented, looking and tasting like they had come straight from the Coles, (sorry New World) freezer cabinet. Luckily, the NZ exchange rate means that we actually paid less than $40 for dinner - regardless, it was no bargain and if this is the recommended dumpling house in NZ, the Chinese Dumpling Master in Enmore has nothing to fear! World domination cannot be far away.

And so to the night that tried to emulate the Neverending Story. We tried to watch the cricket. No, Foxtel and Kayo wouldn't let us in. We made do with bad Kiwi television, as in programs exported from the West Island and the Mother Country (did I spell that correctly?). After we finally went to sleep, next door and their friends started room hopping just before 1am. The door slamming, laughing and overly loud talking continued intermittently until after 4am. Maybe I was wrong about the Canadian comparison after all. Inconsiderate prucks.

Regardless of next door's carry on, the sun smashed into a brittle blue sky far too early. I was keen to just get up and slam our door a few times, just for fun, but my head wanted to stay on the pillow. Partly because of sleep deprivation and partly because I had acquired Jayne's lurgi. Decorum was the winner.

It being Saturday, the Nelson Markets are a thing, so off we went. In a curious twist, that would see markets boycotted at home, dogs are not allowed. WTF? Anti-vaxxers and other assorted cookers dominated the walkway into the market space, spewing all sorts of lies about the impact of the COVID vaccine. But no dogs. Dogs do more good and far less harm than the cognitively impaired conspiracy theorists. Although I look forward to engaging them in conversation tomorrow. Perhaps they are controlling the market space and that is why dogs are not permitted.

Post-markets, it was back to Macpac for more bargains. This trip has radicalised what will become my travel wardrobe. Today, 4 shirts for just over $200 AUD. Absolute bargain. Then it was time for coffee and croissant at the Swedish Bakery, a recommendation from the Lonely Planet Guide. Unusually, this time they were accurate. Good coffee and a reasonable croissant.

Back at the hotel, we dropped our purchases, slammed the door a couple of times (well, you never know) and headed for the Moutere Hills. More specifically, the Moutere Hills Winery. By this time my taste buds had just about deserted me and while I could feel the wine and get a sense of acidity and finish, the finer points of tasting eluded me. It was a delightful setting about 30 minutes from Nelson and the restaurant, Forsters, was doing a solid trade. Jayne was impressed by what she could see being served. Maybe another time.

Statue "Dance to the Music of Time"

Back to the hotel again. The wine was stowed and we walked down to the water. Nelson is on a river and a bay and it is only 15 minutes walk from the hotel. We wondered why there were no people walking toward the water - after all, it is generally the big attraction. Not here. Spectacular in its turquoise coat the shallow bay glistens ... from a distance. There is no walkway around the edge, well there is, but the dual lane road comes in between the walker and the view.  At least that explains the lack of foot traffic toward the water.

The Maitai River, all green with envy.

On the return journey, I espied a Kathmandu store. One of the tragedies to befall us on this excursion has been the disappearance of Jayne's Kathmandu walking sandals (jandals, whatever). Their whereabouts, like the mode of escape, remains a mystery and has captivated our attention (if not blog space) for a week or so. Here was the store that could restore the balance of life and supply a new pair of the sandals.

The under utilised bay.

Into the expansive store we walk. A shaft of light is shining on the rack of ladies shoes down the back of the store. Heraldic music plays as we are drawn to the light. There, on the wall, Jayne's sandals. After hunting up a staff member, Jayne sits to try on the sandals. The light is getting brighter, the music louder and then, black clouds. "Sorry. We don't have your size".

Disappointment. It was time for beer and food. Hawker House in Trafalgar Street, up near the Cathedral. It was a beautiful afternoon to sit outside and sample their ale and Asian fusion food. Well worth a visit. The beer was revitalising and the food, the best I've had for a week or so - and far cheaper than we'd paid at other places.

Arty shot of the Cathedral. Or, is this how people see religion?

My state of health has surely impaired my usually incisive brain function - the conversation on the walk home involved Jayne pointing out the connection between the name of the main street "Trafalgar" with the name of the town, "Nelson" -  an unexpected revelation to me! With my spirit still flagging, even after three beers, we retired to the hotel for me to take a siesta. Most civilised behaviour.

With the blog complete, we can relax into the evening and prepare for tomorrow's adventure.

Until next time.

Last to Know (Tekapo to Greymouth)

As you will understand, there were reasons there are no photographs to document this leg of the trip. The rain certainly played its role and then there was my reasoning of not wanting to leave a clear road and placing myself in an endless queue of cars that will not overtake slower moving vehicles. As a result, the photos are mostly flowers to brighten the day - and believe me, here in Greymouth, we need brightening.

Overnight the wind picked up and brought with it rain. As we left Tekapo, the clouds were clearing and the sun was shining again. It was a five hour drive to Greymouth on the west coast although there are planned stops. The first of these was Fairlie to sample the pies at the renown Fairlie Bakehouse. Just outside of Fairlie, we saw our first wallaby. No need to report this one to the authorities, it looked like it had met the All Black pack, it was roadkill.

Christchurch Botanic Garden

As was expected, the pies were very good. Not as good as my Christchurch pie, but very good. Lovely pastry, good amount of filling, but could be improved by a little less filling, more gravy and a bit of pepper. Everything was progressing well and then the coffee arrived. Despite sitting in the bakery we were served coffee in a take-away cup with a lid. Now dear reader, you know I'm a coffee snob, but to serve coffee in a paper cup to inhouse guests is ridiculous. Take-away cups do nothing to enhance the flavour of coffee although little would have helped this cup of airline dishwater.

Timaru rose garden.

New Zealand can be a curious place to outsiders. Their naming conventions are a cross between honouring the 'old world' and/or the Maori with the downright bogan. Who names a mountain range Darren? Or a township Geraldine? It's not like they are royalty. Imagine the looks of concern when your host says, "yeah, we'll just slip into Geraldine together and then mount Darren, eh, awesome". Sadly I just discovered that it is the Darran Range, but there is a Mount Christina. Not sure how she feels about that.

Seeding grass in Dunedin.

Another discovery is that food and wine are expensive. Now I can live without one, but not the other; you decide which one. Trying to support their local wine industry has often meant paying $40 for a bottle when I could have purchased less expensive wine from other countries, like Australia. When you're travelling and staying in accommodation with only rudimentary cooking facilities (if at all) you are at the mercy of the restaurant trade. While we have had some excellent meals, $50 for a main course is a tad pricey. Even the pub, (sorry - gastropub) prices are top end. For instance, wine is not at bottle shop prices but more in line with restaurants.

The greenhouse Olveston House, Dunedin.

Although Jayne sits with the map on her lap, responsibility for navigation has been ceded to Declan (our Irish-voiced Apple Maps guide). In an attempt to find the fastest route, Declan has taken us off grid, down gravel roads, through farmland complete with cattle grids (or cattle stops as they are known here) on the road and warnings only to attempt the drive in fair weather. In doing this en route to Greymouth, we missed our planned break at Sheffield because Declan decided we shouldn't visit. Eventually we found our way back to the main road, or Declan did, but we were the last to know. Hence today's title from Neil Finn's 2001 solo album One Nil. I think it is fair to say that, under Declan's guidance, we have been down roads that most Kiwis have never dared to go...

Olveston House garden.

The road wound on, and I mean wound on. Through mountain passes and valleys, the weather deteriorated and at times we were driving through torrential rain. There were magnificent waterfalls, so Jayne tells me, I was watching the road. One waterfall was actually cantilevered across the road through a concrete chute so the water cascaded onto the other side of the road. This was followed by a rockfall suppression tunnel. Confidence building. I'm sure the drive was spectacular, but it was also taxing and tiring The numerous weka (maori woodhen, aa type of rail) we saw roadside were having more fun than me.

Fungus in The Catlins.

As we arrived in Greymouth, a coastal town, it was difficult to discern between the curtain of rain and the ocean. It was fittingly grey. The usual salt smell that lingers in beach towns was also lacking. I'm looking forward to exploring the area tomorrow, weather permitting. At the moment the weather app is suggesting we'll be indoors all day. Rain, rain, storms. Promising.

The garden at Lakefront Lodge, Te Anau.

The rain and thunder were my alarm clock today, at 4:45am. While it's a nice change to be able to hear the rain, I would have been happier if it waited until a more civilised time to intrude on my sleep. And it continues still, alternating with rolling thunder that echoes across the mountain that is a backdrop to this sprawling town. The main road into Greymouth is, I assume, holiday style homes on the beachfront on the outskirts. This gives way to motel style accommodation and then as you get closer to town a jumbled mixture of industrial, commercial, residential and light industrial. Whether this is due to development following the railway line, which runs through the centre of town, or the river, I am uncertain.

Memorial to miners lost.

Names covered three sides of the memorial.

There was sufficient break in the rain for us to drive into the town centre. This would normally have been a walk for us, but the rain, when it comes, is generally very heavy. There are not many landmarks to visit but the obvious one is the flood wall. Today with the brown river roiling past at great speed, the level of the water is not that far below street level. Without the flood wall, Greymouth would have been washed out to sea many years ago.

Looking to the mountains.

Out to the ocean.

The river was moving at an amazing pace to the extent where it created a swell as it moved over the riverbed. From our vantage point its swell appeared to be moving in the opposite direction to the water. I can't fathom how that is possible, but that is certainly what we thought we could see.

Not wishing to tempt the weather gods, we made haste for a coffee shop after the walk on the flood wall. Robert Harris café came recommended and did not disappoint. We sat out the front of the shop, Paris-style and enjoyed our coffee and crumble under the shelter of the awning. Despite the appalling weather, it isn't cold. The locals tell us they need the rain, something we are finding difficult to reconcile because everything we've read and out-of-towners we've spoken to say it always rains in Greymouth.

Streetscape.

I haven't been able to determine how tall the hills/mountains are behind the town because the cloud hasn't cleared for long enough. What is certain is that many of the buildings need some TLC and could do with a coat of paint. Much of the town looks old and tired, almost as if it is beyond fighting the weather and is about to give in to mother nature.

They love their cricket here in Greymouth.

Street art showing a decaying building.

After a brief stop at Liquorland to stock up for the afternoon, we returned to our unit and continued to watch the rain.

Today's random observation: New Zealand drivers are very polite and careful on the road, sometimes too reticent, and yet drive like hoons in a car park. The car in front of me at the roundabout today waited until there were no cars on the roundabout or in proximity before proceeding. Then as they reached car park sped off at a rate that cold easily endanger pedestrians. 

That is about it for Greymouth. Tonight we are dining at the 'gastropub' directly across the road so hopefully we won't get too wet getting there. It is rated the number two restaurant on Tripadvisor. Doesn't that say a lot about dining in this town? Should there be anything of interest to report I'll get back to you, like maybe they sell wine at bottle shop prices, or their mains are under $40. Tell him he's dreaming.

Ok, so I'm back, post dinner. Surprise, surprise, surprise, as Gomer Pyle used to say (google it kids). The wine was at pub prices, well almost, but not restaurant prices, which was fair because the food wasn't restaurant standard. This was the description of my main: THAI STYLED GARLIC INFUSED PRAWNS, SERVED ON TOP OF JASMINE RICE OR CAULIFLOWER RICE. TOPPED WITH A CRUNCHY PAPPADUM. AVAILABLE MILD, MEDIUM OR HOT. Sorry, I did a cut and paste, they are yelling not me. I so really wish I had photographed the dish. I opted for the jasmine rice. In the bowl it was presented thus: the usual mould of rice topped with some shoe-stringed vegetables (why? not the prawns as advertised), next to it a papadum (here spelled correctly, but NOT crunchy), and six prawns. I said medium to hot was fine. How about six prawns drowning in a cup of ... you know, I have no idea, some sweet cream, yellow curry style thing. As for the heat level, LOL, medium to hot? How about sweet to tasteless? Would not recommend.

Once, in Ireland, someone said to me that Dublin was best viewed through a rear view mirror (I like Dublin). Now I feel that epithet belongs to Greymouth. Happy to say goodbye. Won't be back.

Tomorrow we continue our trek further north in search of Nelson and fine weather. Thee rain continues here.

Until next time ...