Thursday, December 29, 2005
Monday, December 26, 2005
Queenstown
Queenstown, the capital of cheap thrills, was our home for christmas. Anything remotely adventurous can be done here, for a small fee. The choice is bewildering. Bungy jumping originated here, but feels so last year. We weren't sure what to do to celebrate christmas, so we went gear shopping. After having suffered nearly three months of camping in a sleeping bag a few sizes too small, I splashed out on a nice new one made by Fairydown, a local outfit. We got chatting to a Brit working in the shop to fund his adventure racing, and he recommended doing the Routeburn Canyon and if that wasn't enough, to go for the so-called Canyon Swing. Bristol residents may be familiar with the popular - but illegal - rope swing off the Clifton suspension bridge. It's a bit like that, but bigger and badder.
The Boxing Day canyoning trip was most excellent, possibly the most fun event we've done in NZ. A series of jumps into waterfalls, abseils, ziplines and plain rock slides. Imagine a steeper version of Swildon's Hole, and take the roof off, and you're nearly there. Freezing water clean enough to drink. The start saw us walking across a foot bridge, and our guide pointing down to a small platform overlooking the waterfall. That's our insertion point. And far down there, the landing spot is just about visible. Or so it felt. A bunch of Japanese tourists tramping the Routeburn Track stopped to video us, as they do. I jumped first. You have to land on your arse, as the water is not quite so deep. After landing you swim over to a rigged rope and clip in, waiting for the rest. The rest of the trip was a sequence of jumps, some quite high, others less so, but with high precision landings required to fly through slots. A top day out. Our guides exhuded quiet competence, rather than the irritating 'surfer dude loudmouth attitude' that sadly seems to be spreading.
Christmas day saw us finally rigging the slackline on NZ soil to the amusement of most of the camp site. Two Aussie climbers had set camp next door. They were here on a mountaineering course, and were proficient enough to be able to slack with a beer in one hand and a joint in the other.
Today's event was the canyon swing. Two wires have been rigged to span the whole of the Shotover Canyon, and from this a contraption of climbing ropes are looped back to a narrow wooden platform. You step off this platform in a variety of ways and are treated to a 60m freefall into the canyon followed by a 200m arc, and speeds up to 150km/h. You have the choice of jump, some more weird than others. You can, for example, be duct-taped to a plastic chair and slowly lean backwards. Or hung upside down from your feet looking down. Stef opted for the 'pin drop': hands on your back, facing the direction of swing, and jump sideways out. Apparently, this gives a good 'ground rush'. They weren't wrong. I've done a few bungy jumps in the distant past, but this was scarier. My heart was pounding as I stepped out to the edge. Just one little jump to the side, but oh so hard. Suddenly the ground is approaching with an alarming speed. There is no jolt like a climbing fall or even a bungy jump, but a very gentle transition from fall to swing. As I am hoisted up, my bloodstream is awash with adrenaline, and it's on wobbly legs I walk back to the rest of the guys. Sarah's next.
Sarah was hestitant initially - she doesn't even like small jumps on the best of days. Yet here she is, strapped in, and actually smiling. She's doing the forward 'screem and flail' - and 'awesome achievement to make yourself jump', according to the company blurb. She looks back at me, and although she's still smiling, I know exactly what she's thinking: I don't want to! She looks over the edge, still hesitant for a moment, but then - with a scream - she's off. I say to the others that when she emerges again she will be wearing the biggest smile in the world and be wanting to have another go. Safe bet.
I've had enough, but Sarah wants more. She goes for the 'Elvis Cutaway', the king of all head rushes. She's suspended horizontally, face up, with her feet wrapped around the ropes infront of her. Arching her back backwards looking down, the jump master pulls the release cord, and down she goes, upside down through the arc for a few swings, before uncrossing her legs to release the rope to sit upright. Although visually more impressive, this was apparently easier, she said, as the jump moment is decided for you.
Today we're driving from Queenstown all the way up to Christchurch and tomorrow we'll be in Sydney.
The Boxing Day canyoning trip was most excellent, possibly the most fun event we've done in NZ. A series of jumps into waterfalls, abseils, ziplines and plain rock slides. Imagine a steeper version of Swildon's Hole, and take the roof off, and you're nearly there. Freezing water clean enough to drink. The start saw us walking across a foot bridge, and our guide pointing down to a small platform overlooking the waterfall. That's our insertion point. And far down there, the landing spot is just about visible. Or so it felt. A bunch of Japanese tourists tramping the Routeburn Track stopped to video us, as they do. I jumped first. You have to land on your arse, as the water is not quite so deep. After landing you swim over to a rigged rope and clip in, waiting for the rest. The rest of the trip was a sequence of jumps, some quite high, others less so, but with high precision landings required to fly through slots. A top day out. Our guides exhuded quiet competence, rather than the irritating 'surfer dude loudmouth attitude' that sadly seems to be spreading.
Christmas day saw us finally rigging the slackline on NZ soil to the amusement of most of the camp site. Two Aussie climbers had set camp next door. They were here on a mountaineering course, and were proficient enough to be able to slack with a beer in one hand and a joint in the other.
Today's event was the canyon swing. Two wires have been rigged to span the whole of the Shotover Canyon, and from this a contraption of climbing ropes are looped back to a narrow wooden platform. You step off this platform in a variety of ways and are treated to a 60m freefall into the canyon followed by a 200m arc, and speeds up to 150km/h. You have the choice of jump, some more weird than others. You can, for example, be duct-taped to a plastic chair and slowly lean backwards. Or hung upside down from your feet looking down. Stef opted for the 'pin drop': hands on your back, facing the direction of swing, and jump sideways out. Apparently, this gives a good 'ground rush'. They weren't wrong. I've done a few bungy jumps in the distant past, but this was scarier. My heart was pounding as I stepped out to the edge. Just one little jump to the side, but oh so hard. Suddenly the ground is approaching with an alarming speed. There is no jolt like a climbing fall or even a bungy jump, but a very gentle transition from fall to swing. As I am hoisted up, my bloodstream is awash with adrenaline, and it's on wobbly legs I walk back to the rest of the guys. Sarah's next.
Sarah was hestitant initially - she doesn't even like small jumps on the best of days. Yet here she is, strapped in, and actually smiling. She's doing the forward 'screem and flail' - and 'awesome achievement to make yourself jump', according to the company blurb. She looks back at me, and although she's still smiling, I know exactly what she's thinking: I don't want to! She looks over the edge, still hesitant for a moment, but then - with a scream - she's off. I say to the others that when she emerges again she will be wearing the biggest smile in the world and be wanting to have another go. Safe bet.
I've had enough, but Sarah wants more. She goes for the 'Elvis Cutaway', the king of all head rushes. She's suspended horizontally, face up, with her feet wrapped around the ropes infront of her. Arching her back backwards looking down, the jump master pulls the release cord, and down she goes, upside down through the arc for a few swings, before uncrossing her legs to release the rope to sit upright. Although visually more impressive, this was apparently easier, she said, as the jump moment is decided for you.
Today we're driving from Queenstown all the way up to Christchurch and tomorrow we'll be in Sydney.
Saturday, December 24, 2005
Franz Josef glacier
We walked up to the face of the Franz Josef glacier, in the rain, needless to say. Quite spectacular, despite the weather, though.
Waterfall in Haas Pass
We found this waterfall on the side of the road on the way from Franz Josef to Queenstown.
Campsite cat
All respectable camp sites have their own little feline menace. This is one from Queenstown.
Castle Hill
Castle Hill from a distance. Looks amazing, doesn't it? Sadly, you need more time that what we had available to become accustomed to the rock here.
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
Castle Hill - Cancelled
I've gradually come to realise that Castle Hill is probably the only true world class venue that NZ has to offer for the rock climber. People told be this before I left, but it's only recently sunk in. We bombed it down the east coast from Kaikoura yesterday, turning left at Christchurch, and drove into the wilderness. The rocks come into view rather suddenly, not unlike the drive up to the Buttermilks. It just looked out of this world, and my fingers started to sweat in anticipation. It just looks amazing, but really hard to believe that these rock sculptures are actually lime stone. It looks more like Font sandstone, or even grit. Needless to say, the rain was chucking it down, so we turned the car around and drove back to the nearest village, Springfield - nothing to write home about, but still, a camp site for the night. Today the sun wasn't exactly shining either, but at least it was dry. We drove back, unloaded the boulder mat that hasn't seen any action since Bishop, and wandered up the hill.
There are so many rocks that navigation is very tricky, but we eventually managed to find our way to the spot we wanted to try. However, after not very long we deciced to leave, without even having unpacked the shoes. This place requires committment. The medium is too queer for any casual climbing. The rocks look like grit, but have less friction than ice. Add to the mix a general featurelessness, and a hight not far off that of the Buttermilks and you have it. To make anything out of this place would require weeks, not a day and a half. We quickly decide to instead spend the rest of the NZ time to see a bit more and sack the climbing.
So, we drive instead the other way across Arthur's Pass to the west coast and turn south. We're now in Franz Josef on the way to Milford Sound, Queenstown and back to Christchurch via Dunedin.
Disappointed? Not really. No climbing, essentially, on these rainy shores, but nothing would ever be able to match the US leg in that regard. Now, bring on some bungy in Queenstown.
There are so many rocks that navigation is very tricky, but we eventually managed to find our way to the spot we wanted to try. However, after not very long we deciced to leave, without even having unpacked the shoes. This place requires committment. The medium is too queer for any casual climbing. The rocks look like grit, but have less friction than ice. Add to the mix a general featurelessness, and a hight not far off that of the Buttermilks and you have it. To make anything out of this place would require weeks, not a day and a half. We quickly decide to instead spend the rest of the NZ time to see a bit more and sack the climbing.
So, we drive instead the other way across Arthur's Pass to the west coast and turn south. We're now in Franz Josef on the way to Milford Sound, Queenstown and back to Christchurch via Dunedin.
Disappointed? Not really. No climbing, essentially, on these rainy shores, but nothing would ever be able to match the US leg in that regard. Now, bring on some bungy in Queenstown.
Monday, December 19, 2005
Rate my whale tail
When seeing this, it's hard to imagine that 28 nations are still whaling actively around the world.
Shame on them.
Shame on them.
Dolphins summersaulting
This fellow did a sequence of four summersaults. Obviously trying to impress..
Kaikoura
We're in Kaikoura, the self-styled capital of the Crayfish. They obviously haven't been to Sweden in October.. This is a nice, laid-back place, and the weather is marginally better here on the east coast, slap bang in the middle of the 'rain shadow' from the spine of mountains that runs the length of the south island. We did stop at a vineyard or two on the way past Marlbourough. Rude not to. The main reason for people stopping in Kaikoura is the fact that a deep sea trench comes very close to the coast, leading to large numbers of whales, dolphins and other marine mammals (plus a dazzling array of sharks, apparently) coming close to land to feed and rear their young - and to entertain the tourists. So confident are they that you get your money back if you don't get to see a whale on your trip. We decided to put them to the test.
The boat trip is two hours, on a modern catamaran. The word on the street is that there are loads of whales seen from earlier trips, and the atmosphere is expectant. After about 15 minutes we come across the first sperm whale idling lazily, hovering on the surface for 5-10 minutes, just breathing, preparing for its next dive. Apparently, they can dive to more than three kilometres, and stay under for more than two hours. The sight is mesmerising. Suddenly it arches its back, takes one final breath, sticks its tail in the air, waving goodbye before vanishing into the deep. Straight out of the Greenpeace posters of my youth.
Our guide tells us that all Kaikoura sperm whales are male. And frustrated. Apparently, the females won't let anyone less than 45 years of age anywhere near, so this is one giant bachelor party. Or the longest cold bath in history.
We move on, and in the process almost crash into one surfacing beast, totally non-plussed about our presence. The ocean is boiling with whales, it seems. Although on reflection it was only four more, but we're all grinning from ear to ear. We move closer to shore, and see several dolphins, but the guide says that there's no point hanging around for only a handful - we want to see HUNDREDS of dolphins. And suddenly...
They're everywhere - in front, behind, on both sides, jumping, summersaulting, ducking, diving, showing off. A pod of perhaps 200 individuals have temporarily made their home in the bay, with lots of babies.
Sarah took a few video shorts of the events. The quality is dubious due to the still camera used, and the fact that she was also busy watching, rather than concentrating on the filming..
[Videos removed due to hosting issues]
The boat trip is two hours, on a modern catamaran. The word on the street is that there are loads of whales seen from earlier trips, and the atmosphere is expectant. After about 15 minutes we come across the first sperm whale idling lazily, hovering on the surface for 5-10 minutes, just breathing, preparing for its next dive. Apparently, they can dive to more than three kilometres, and stay under for more than two hours. The sight is mesmerising. Suddenly it arches its back, takes one final breath, sticks its tail in the air, waving goodbye before vanishing into the deep. Straight out of the Greenpeace posters of my youth.
Our guide tells us that all Kaikoura sperm whales are male. And frustrated. Apparently, the females won't let anyone less than 45 years of age anywhere near, so this is one giant bachelor party. Or the longest cold bath in history.
We move on, and in the process almost crash into one surfacing beast, totally non-plussed about our presence. The ocean is boiling with whales, it seems. Although on reflection it was only four more, but we're all grinning from ear to ear. We move closer to shore, and see several dolphins, but the guide says that there's no point hanging around for only a handful - we want to see HUNDREDS of dolphins. And suddenly...
They're everywhere - in front, behind, on both sides, jumping, summersaulting, ducking, diving, showing off. A pod of perhaps 200 individuals have temporarily made their home in the bay, with lots of babies.
Sarah took a few video shorts of the events. The quality is dubious due to the still camera used, and the fact that she was also busy watching, rather than concentrating on the filming..
[Videos removed due to hosting issues]
Saturday, December 17, 2005
Kayak sailing
We even tried some kayak sailing, which was a relief for our tired shoulders towards the end of the day
Our kayaks
Sarah checking out the gear. The weather is looking threatening, but it actually turned out nice in the end. A minor miracle.
Sarah kayaking like a pro
The Abel Tasman coast is a mecca for sea kayaking, its many secluded coves and remote beaches only accessible by kayak
Seal
There are loads of seals in the Abel Tasman, and they don't seem to mind kayaks either. They do stink, though.
Sea Kayaking in Abel Tasman National Park
What a fantastic day. This has to be up there with one of the best days of the trip so far. We woke to sunshine and knew it was going to be a good day. We were picked up from the campsite at 8am. However, on the way to Sandy Bay where we would take the water taxi the weather closed in and it started to rain. We had decided to do the Big Tonga Marine Reserve Tour. It started with a scenic water taxi ride to Onetahuti Beach in the centre of Tonga Island Marine Reserve. By the time we'd had a quick introduction to kayaking and how to paddle properly the sun was peaking through the clouds and things were looking up. There were 6 of us in the group and our guide Cliff. Firstly we headed further up the coast to Shag Harbour. A small inlet that you can only enter at high tide. Fortunately today was a particularly high high tide. On the way we saw seal after seal. They are so intriguing to watch. They seem non-plussed by the kayaks. Some lie on the rocks wondering why you are looking at them. Others are playing in the water and come right next to your kayak. In the harbour Cliff told us there was a little stream at the back that we should go and look at. It was a tight squeeze between the rocky sides. We had to reverse the kayak out. Where this little stream ran into the harbour was a little pool with a seal and her pup. There were a few young pups around. Apparently they have only started coming out the last few days as they are only a couple of weeks old. We then paddled back down the coast and across to Tonga Island. This is a marine reserve so you have to stay 20 meters away from the shore. Again, there were many seals particularly in 'The Nursery'. We then had to kayak across open water during which we saw a little blue penguin. We reached a point around which was Mosquito Bay. A little cove that can only be reached by kayak. We were given a plentiful lunch and swam in the sea. Refreshing but not quite as cold as the Baltic. Whilst sitting on the sands tucking into my blueberry muffin someone shouts and points out to sea. There's a pod of at least 12 dolphins swimming past. The tide is going out fast now and this cove empties during low tide. Our kayaks are becoming further and further from the water. With slightly sore shoulders and sore bums we don our skirts and life jackets and head out again. The afertnoon's kayaking proves to be much shorter and easier. We paddle along the shore line dotted with many beautiful sandy coves that can only be reached by foot or boat. Finally we head in to Anchorage Bay. With the wind in our tails we join the kayaks together, open up a sail and cruise into the beach. Another taxi ride brings is back to where we started with the sun shining.
Friday, December 16, 2005
Horses and seals
Well, it's still raining but that's all I'll say about the weather. We went to Farewell Spit yesterday to go on a 3 hour horse trek. On the way there the weather brightened up and we actually set off in the sunshine. The first part of the trek was along a gravel track and wasn't particularly inspiring but then after about 20 minutes we headed off through a gate and up a hill and the views of the surrounding country side were spectacular. Once we reached the beach those that wanted to could gallop the full length. Being trekking ponies they were surprisingly feisty and keen to race. Others, mentioning no names, welcomed the opportunity to be out of the saddle for a while. Seals dotted the beach and a couple were fighting it out in the shallows. We were told not to get between them and the water. Although the sunshine didn't last too long it was a fantastic trip out. Unfortunately for Stef I think he found the pain of the saddle a little too overwhelming. Upon returning to yard he was sent to the toilets with a cream to help 'relieve' the pain. He later informed me that he decided not to use a strange cream given to him by an unknown lady :) Tomorrow we're kayaking around a small part of the Abel Tasman coast and then to Kaikoura for some whale watching.
Golden Bay
Golden Bay is a scenic part of NZ, up in the north-western corner of the South Island. The aim was to climb at Payne's Ford, but having evidently insulted the weather gods, we totalled a measly 6 routes between showers, 'peaking' at grade 22 (Yep, yet another grade scale). The crag itself is a sort of Shorn Cliff on stereoids. The camping was at the self-styled world renowned climbers site Hangdog two minutes walk away. We snapped an unsnappable Euston T9 alloy pole to our tent. Hurrah. Sarah managed to charm the local engineer to donate some 8mm alu tubing that made for an excellent emergency fix in conjunction with the indispensible, but shrinking, roll of Gaffer tape.
Takeka is a bit like Bishop, a nice hangout for the countless wet days. A sort of hippie drop-out zone, it's rich in organic, GM-free, vegetarian, sandals-only caffs and shops that sell crystals and homeopathic remedies to go with your broadband access. Sarah convinced me to come for a 3h horse riding trek down to a secluded beach, seals guaranteed. I mean, how hard can it be?
Hard. All the girls (needless to say, I was the only male. Well, me and the six horses), laughed knowingly when I tried to get up in the saddle. I let the side down. My horse didn't want to go in the direction I wanted it to. After three hours in the saddle, squashing my erm, happy sack, I've rarely been in such pain. But the beach was nice.
We retreated to the most excellent Mussle Inn for some beers (Golden Goose Lager, brewed in-house) and a massive steak, and listen to the Golden Bay Poetry Society's weekly reading.
Takeka is a bit like Bishop, a nice hangout for the countless wet days. A sort of hippie drop-out zone, it's rich in organic, GM-free, vegetarian, sandals-only caffs and shops that sell crystals and homeopathic remedies to go with your broadband access. Sarah convinced me to come for a 3h horse riding trek down to a secluded beach, seals guaranteed. I mean, how hard can it be?
Hard. All the girls (needless to say, I was the only male. Well, me and the six horses), laughed knowingly when I tried to get up in the saddle. I let the side down. My horse didn't want to go in the direction I wanted it to. After three hours in the saddle, squashing my erm, happy sack, I've rarely been in such pain. But the beach was nice.
We retreated to the most excellent Mussle Inn for some beers (Golden Goose Lager, brewed in-house) and a massive steak, and listen to the Golden Bay Poetry Society's weekly reading.
Monday, December 12, 2005
Silver fern
The silver fern is the emblem of New Zealand and the unfurling new branch is often found depicted in Maori carvings.
It always rains in...
...New Zealand. I swear I'll never complain about the weather at home again. It's rained every day since we arrived. And when it rains, it pours. After Bryce's place we went to Rotarua and camped just outside the town. It rained for most of the night but in the morning there was a thunderstorm and it rained even more. Unbeknowingly, we had pitched the tent in a very shallow dip which filled with water and in turn flooded out tent. The water actually came over the 'bath tub bottom'. We managed to get everything out and into the car. We were just grateful it didn't happen whilst we were asleep. Whilst in Rotarua we white water rafted on the Kaituna River. It contains the highest waterfall that is commercially rafted (7m). It was fun and the boat managed to stay upright all the way down. We also went to Wai-o-tapu, a geothermal wonderland. It rained. We sat it out in the cafe for a while hoping it would pass. The sunshine showed itself briefly and being optimistic we headed off on the 75 minute walk around the park. It didn't last but even a very wet wonderland was worth seeing. If very smelly. Then we did the long slog south to Wellington (late saturday afternoon) to catch the ferry to Picton on sunday morning. On arrival we headed up to Abel Tasman National Park via a few vineyards. We enjoyed tasting the local produce just a shame we had to constrain ourselves as we were driving. We did treat ourselves to a couple of nice bottles for a slightly larger tipple later. We arrived in Motueka last night and decided to camp here. We were strongly recommended not to do the rest of the journey to Takaka given the weather as it was getting dark and apparently it's a very windy road. We'd already passed a car that had gone off the edge of the road down the mountainside with its occupants being rescued. We pitched the tent - in the rain. Can you tell there's a theme to this part of the trip?! We were sitting in the kitchen area watching the deluge as the owner went by. I asked, half in jest, how much was a standard cabin. For another $12 I have to confess we bailed on the camping and treated ourselves to a night in a dry room with a bed. I had such a good nights sleep. We've even decided to stay another night.
Unfortunately NZ is not smiling on us. We've done our best to partake in water-based activities where the weather matters less. However, here there is supposed to be some superb sea kayaking but it's not too appealing in the rain. Slightly frustrating. Despite the weather I like what I've seen so far and especially the people we've met. Must be a good place if you can have a good time in this weather.
Unfortunately NZ is not smiling on us. We've done our best to partake in water-based activities where the weather matters less. However, here there is supposed to be some superb sea kayaking but it's not too appealing in the rain. Slightly frustrating. Despite the weather I like what I've seen so far and especially the people we've met. Must be a good place if you can have a good time in this weather.
Wet Down Under
So, 12 days of rain puts a strain on the most intrepid hard-core camper. Last night, watching the deluge something broke inside, and we forked out the extra $12 that gave us a cabin, rather than our moist tent for the night. Ironically, they'd had no rain for weeks here on the northern end of the South island until we arrived. We're obviously travelling in the same direction as the prevailing weather systems. Rotorua saw us hurtling down the Kaituna river in search of cheap thrills. Fun it was, too, dropping 7m in a rubber dinghy and 14 rapids to follow. Six hundred kilometres of driving, bisected by a (very wet) stop at the thermal pools of Wai-o-tapu, saw us in a dodgy backpacker's in central Wellington. Once across the Cook Strait, the sun actually shines in Picton as we drive through NZ's wine country. We stop at a few choice 'cellar doors' for fine samples and walk out with a few pricy bottles. This is the capital of Sauvignon Blanc, but we settle for an apparently oh-so trendy reserve Pinot-Gris, which, we learn, is a common mutation of the Pinot-Noir grape, and a somewhat less trendy Chardonnay, oaked and all. NZ whites are truly world-class. At Mud House we also tried their 'methode traditionelle', a champagne analogue that would hold its own against its French brethren. Actually, the guy who runs the vinyard is French, the son of an eighth-generation Champagne maker. Once we reached our intended destination it started bucketing it down in true style.
New Zealand is undoubtedly one of the prettiest countries on earth, a sort of blend of the Scottish highlands, the alps, the Norwegian fiords with an element of South Pacific tropics in places. Driving down the Desert Highway (SH1) to Wellington felt almost like the drive from Bishop to LA - snow-capped, cloud-covered peaks, and a real desert landscape.
If it wasn't for this unmentionable weather. The woman who owns the Subsurface dive shop at Beachcomber, Fiji is a Kiwi. When I asked her why she left NZ the answer was that she couldn't stand the weather. I can see where she's coming from. I've resigned myself to the fact that we're unlikely to climb much here. We'll head for Payne's Ford tomorrow in a vain hope that the sun will make a brief appearence, but I suspect we'll mostly kayak or snorkel in the rain. After that the tentative plans are Kaikoura, Christchurch and Castle Hill for some bouldering. At least the weather in the Castle Hill basin is rumoured to be more stable.
I'll believe it when I see it.
New Zealand is undoubtedly one of the prettiest countries on earth, a sort of blend of the Scottish highlands, the alps, the Norwegian fiords with an element of South Pacific tropics in places. Driving down the Desert Highway (SH1) to Wellington felt almost like the drive from Bishop to LA - snow-capped, cloud-covered peaks, and a real desert landscape.
If it wasn't for this unmentionable weather. The woman who owns the Subsurface dive shop at Beachcomber, Fiji is a Kiwi. When I asked her why she left NZ the answer was that she couldn't stand the weather. I can see where she's coming from. I've resigned myself to the fact that we're unlikely to climb much here. We'll head for Payne's Ford tomorrow in a vain hope that the sun will make a brief appearence, but I suspect we'll mostly kayak or snorkel in the rain. After that the tentative plans are Kaikoura, Christchurch and Castle Hill for some bouldering. At least the weather in the Castle Hill basin is rumoured to be more stable.
I'll believe it when I see it.
Thursday, December 08, 2005
NZ
When the Maoris arrived on these shores in a canoe many centuries ago, they named the place 'New Zealand', which means 'Land of constant rainfall, and then some', and they weren't kidding. It rains here, all the time, which makes camping a right barrel of laughs. Saying that, camp sites here are pretty well equipped with full indoor kitchen facilities and gas BBQs. As the weather is not conducive to climbing, we've mainly been doing other things: seeing the beautiful Coromandel peninsula, 'learning' to surf at the (apparently) world class breaks at Raglan - Sarah's a natural at catching waves, used to it as she is from representing Bristol Uni at competitive surfing. I'm more of a natural at falling off them, eating sea water. I definitely would like to try it again, perhaps when we reach the more temperate waters of Oz. We also did some 'black water rafting' in the glowworm caves at Waitomo, which turned out to be a bit of a disappointment for anyone who's done any caving in the UK: pitched as a white-knuckle ride, it was more a sedate experience, even if the glowworm milky way was absolutely astounding. We've now arrived at Warepapa South, and actually managed to get some climbing in yesterday afternoon, dodging the showers. Curiously, the crag we went to is called 'Froggatt Edge', not unlike another rock climbing place of worship closer to home. I'm writing this in Bryce's Place, a top-notch gear shop slap bang in the middle of nowhere, a pretty cool place. The proprietor, Bryce Martin, is a walking dictionary of NZ climbing, and the coffee is pretty decent, too.
This morning dawned with a deluge (again), so we're probably moving on to Rotorua after breakfast for some rafting on the Kaituna river (grade V whatever that means) - at least it shouldn't matter with some rain.
This morning dawned with a deluge (again), so we're probably moving on to Rotorua after breakfast for some rafting on the Kaituna river (grade V whatever that means) - at least it shouldn't matter with some rain.
Saturday, December 03, 2005
The tower at night
The highest structure in the southern hemisphere, long shutter time and unsteady hands. You can do 'wired base jumps' from it. So much to do, so little time.
The rudder
As you can see, the rudder stock is completely bust. The crew speculated that we must have hit something, but this seems strange in the middle of one of the busiest harbours in NZ. Besides, nothing touched the keel.
Whale? Russian Sub?
Whale? Russian Sub?
Stef at the helm
Stef at the helm of NZL40. A few minutes later, this America's Cup yacht lost its rudder. On my watch..
Nacula, just opening the door
This is the view from our beach hut at Oarsman's Bay, Nacula. On non-diving days, our day consisted mainly of moving from the bed over to the hammock. The water was crystal clear, and over to the left of the picture you can just about make out the local coral reef which offered excellent snorkelling straight off the beach.
A Trigger Fish Encounter
So, Fiji. Is gorgeous. I think Stef's just about covered our time there but we had 5 days up in the Yasawa islands. Our accommodation is great and is owned by the chief of the neighbouring village. All the staff are from there too. Most of them have never been off the island or had a job before so it's quite an interesting challenge that the english/new zealand couple are facing who have been brought in to manage it. But the Fijians are friendly and doing a great job. After that we head to Beachomber island which is an entirely different place. I think it's been running for about 25 years and it is an efficient well run resort. We'd heard mixed reports about the atmospere here but we had a great time. The accommodation was lovely and the buffet, all you can eat food even better. We dived nearly every day so we were off the island alot of the time but in the evening there's a band in the bar and partying to be had but not as crazy as we had been told. All was good except I was made to feel exceptionally old and there was some hideous flirting going on in the dinner queue :) Anyway, the main thing I wanted to write about in this post was our last days diving. It was awesome. This might sound odd but I've never been sure if I really enjoy diving. I enjoy the experience it gives me and the opportunity to see so much sealife but perhaps because each time I dive it's always been so long since the last time I always feel slightly nervous and uncomfortable. This time, we've had the opportunity to do quite a few more dives and I started to feel really relaxed and no longer the most inexperienced person on the dive. I've started to really enjoy diving. However, I think this last dive was the most adventourous dive I've ever done. It was called the Supermarket and is a dive where you're expected to see sharks. So, we descend in the water. I'd commented to our dive master that I've never seen a trigger fish so if he sees one can he point it out to me. First thing we see are two trigger fish, coming straight for us. One decides to take a big bite on Geoff's fin. This is quite unnerving. They've a reputation for being quite aggressive when it's their breeding season to protect their eggs. It's officially their breeding season and there turns out to be alot of trigger fish. Wish I'd never asked to see one! Another one has a particular issue with our instructor but once we've run the gauntlet of the trigger fish we reach a depth of about 26 metres and we finally see a shark. And another. And another. And another. There were at least 8. We saw black tip, white tip and a silver tip which was the biggest and well over 2 metres long. We've all been slightly anxious and pulling on our air a bit more than usual so we sadly have to surface but watching the sharks swimming around was amazing. They look so graceful in the water. It's certainly up there with the more memorable dives I've ever done.
Wet feet
I'm currently sitting in this internet cafe with very wet feet. Why? Well today's plan was to sail on one of the America's cup boats around Auckland harbour for a couple of hours and then come and write a few emails before leaving Auckland tomorrow. However, there was a small problem whilst out on the boat which is why I have very wet feet. No doubt you'll get two accounts of this tale. One from a pundit who knows nothing about sailing. The other from someone who's more authoratative on the whole matter. So, we head out of the harbour under engine power and once outside the harbour we stop and winch up the sails. Grinding proves quite hard work for the arms but the boat looks specatular. You all take turns to help crew the boat. We're sailing with the wind for a while and then we apparantly do a jibe turn and then yours truly is asked if she'd like to have a go at steering. All's going well. I comment to Stef that's it's not quite as exciting as I thought it was going to be. The boat is going a steady 12 knots and the boat is flat in the water. Everyone gets a go at steering so Stef takes over. The boat starts to tilt. Quite alot. We're not going any faster but it feels it and this is more like what I thought a sailing boat would feel like. Then there's a big bang. All's calm for about 30 seconds. Then a slightly alarmed crew member looks at another and asks, "Did we just lose our rudder?" Looking back and seeing it floating in the water I'd say the answer is yes. Stef is rugby tackled out the way and I soon learn that having no steering on such a boat ain't that much fun. We're steering just with the sails and the boat starts tilting even more so lots of water is coming over the side. Hence the wet feet. It fleetingly crosses my mind whether this could be a problem and I reassuringly feel my life vest. The water soon flows off the back of the boat. Nearly taking a few French passengers with it. That'll teach 'em to be laying casually at the back rather than partaking in the hard work up front :) Anyway, it all feels a bit chaotic for a while as the boat is turning one way then the other until they manage to stall the boat enough to drop the main sail, wrap up the front sail and set anchor. A passing policeman is flagged down who pulls up along side. The captain explains our predicament to which he responds "Excellent, well you're all getting your monies worth". Two rescue boats eventually arrive to take us back to shore. You might be mistaken for thinking the day's excitement was over. However, we happen to get on the "rescue" boat that is being driven by an adrenalin junky. Who asks "Are you guys in a hurry? Let's go and do some wake riding" This proves to be *alot* of fun!! So most of us return with a smile on our faces ready for a nice cold beer. A few others didn't enjoy the experience quite so much. Unfortunately one lady had a nasty cut to hear head and it turns out the french contingent had brought a bag on board with all their tickets, passports etc. in which, you guessed it, got washed out the back of the boat and is probably somewhere on the bottom of the harbour. Not sure how they'll be getting home. Being New Zealand the crew took it all in their stride and were excellent.
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