Baked Beans - the sanitised version, attempt #3 (Queenstown and Glenorchy, New Zealand)

Succumbing to the hype, dear reader, we walked to Ferg Bakery to purchase our breakfast requirements. The bakery is, apparently, an institution as are the rest of the Ferg establishments. There is also the famous Ferg Burger, not what you're thinking, that is something completely different. Although a read of their menu might call that into question. There is also the Ferg Gelato and the Ferg Bar.

Whatever. There is a permanent queue in the Ferg zone because all four establishments are side by side on the main street. In my humble opinion, they are overrated and I'm happy they're over here. We purchased a sausage roll, singular, they are so big, and a couple of croissants. I know, I know, dear reader, croissants outside of France - it can only lead to disappointment. I wasn't let down, it was a disappointment. Too heavy. The sausage roll was a split decision. Regardless, we shall not be return customers.

Is that snow on the mountains?

Into the car, we then drove to Glenorchy, the next town on the lake - away from civilisation. It is quite a spectacular drive, the lake resplendent in its varying shades of blue set against the steeply rising snow capped mountains. Snow capped? When did that happen. Possibly yesterday under the cloak of cloud. It was only a light dusting, but enough to imagine the area in winter.

The sun came out.

We were driving to Glenorchy to complete the Glenorchy Walk. It sounds lofty doesn't? Conjuring images of life on the trail, hacking back scrub to create a path for those that follow. It was nothing of the sort. The walk is a pathway out and around the lagoon, purportedly a bird lover's paradise. The area is also another trove of Lord of the Rings scenery.

Is that Frodo up ahead?

After fortifying ourselves with caffeine at the Glenorchy Trading Post, we set off on the potentially two hour walk. Bird lover's paradise, not so much. There were a number of bird sightings, mostly introduced species, blackbird, thrush, swan, sparrow ... it was a twitcher's delight, all the big ticket numbers. Despite that it was a pleasant walk with some spectacular scenery. Once again, the time estimate was exaggerated - we completed the entire walk in about 70 minutes, including multiple stops to try to capture photos of some of the birdlife.

Not quite bird life. Go the Bunnies.

Back in Queenstown, it was time to visit The Winery to fulfil a promise made yesterday to return and sample their wares. They boast over 800 wines and while they do stock that many to sell, tasting is restricted to a significantly smaller number, probably around 60. We've only ever seen this system in Europe, so it was quite apt that our assistant on the day was from France or Lyon, to be more exact.

A New Zealand Silver Eye.

At The Winery one acquires a card that is inserted into the 'machine' that holds the bottles. You then choose the wine you wish to sample and in what quantity, push the relevant button and your glass is filled. It also shows how much each pour costs and provides a running total of what you have spent. There is a variety of food available to accompany your tasting, from breads and dips to charcuterie boards and cheese plates. 

It is an excellent way to try wines from wineries that you may not be able to get to, or to sample wines that are not available for tasting because of price. We were able to enjoy wines from wineries that had been recommended, but we were not able to visit. It was an enjoyable afternoon and I would recommend it if your are in town.

I know this picture doesn't fit the text.

Then it was time for a rest, dear reader. Life on the road can be absolutely exhausting. Also we needed to prepare for dinner at Botswana Butchery. Yes, I know there is one in Sydney, but there is also one in Queenstown. 

Or this one either. Move on.

Dinner was quite the event. You may recall my love of people who are unable to determine the difference between an inside and outside voice ... well, we were seated next to a table of four of them. They were loud and annoying. The only time the din subsided was when the 'girls' left the table together or they were forking food into their mouths. I didn't want to listen to their conversation. I didn't want to ask Jayne to keep repeating what she said. I didn't want to have to keep pretending I understood what the waitress said. Crass buffoons. Once again, dear reader, choose the nationality to support your own prejudice.

The entrée was superb and the wine delightful. We were seated at a window which afforded a perfect view of the passing parade. How could the night get any better? The Australians, well, Queenslanders, seated next to us left. Quiet descended on our part of the restaurant which allowed us to enjoy the remainder of the evening in peace.

And the sun set over Queenstown.

All had been going well up until this point and then Jayne fell victim to the plague. Ok, not the plague, maybe a chest cold. She is brave and will soldier on, like there is another option.

And the title? Hahaha, I just wanted an excuse to dredge up something truly terrible from the '70s. Who can forget Mother Goose, one of New Zealand's finest exports. I did have a link to the song but blogger kept blocking my post so I've removed it.

Until tomorrow.