Who's a pretty boy?

 
November 22nd & 23rd

Our final stop in Kaikoura brings another exotic creature. Tonight’s cosy B&B is called the Admiral Creighton – and Creighton the cockatoo seemed to take a shine to me. We tried to add to his repertoire of phrases, so he may well greet the next guests in a mix of London, Brooklyn and Queensland accents. On our final morning, we briefly check out the seal colonies off the beach – the gash on my leg means I can’t squeeze into a 7mm wetsuit and get in the freezing water – shame(!) - but you can see plenty from the beach. Once again there are lots of new borns on show; it’s spring here, after all. Sadly there is not time to hop in a boat and go whale watching – but at least the boats only go to view them now. When I visited the maritime museum in Auckland, I was horrified to see relatively recent footage of whalers in action, including a gruesome kill using a rocket propelled harpoon.

Then it’s back to Christchurch, where I say goodbye to my companions for the last two weeks, and spend my final 24 hours in New Zealand. Known as the Garden City, Christchurch has a very English feel – with many parks and green spaces, and punting on the River Avon which runs through the town centre. The B&B I stay in, a pretty clapboard house built in the early 1900s, has a garden full of large, gorgeously scented roses, probably brought over from England originally, just as the huge weeping willow trees that line the river were. I’m told that everything grows more quickly in NZ as it is so near the ozone hole over Antarctica. I don’t know if that’s true, but plants here definitely seem bigger.

The B&B is next to Christchurch Art Gallery, a striking modern building that houses an ever-changing series of exhibitions of work by NZ artists. Two of those I chanced upon were little gems. The first was a series of large scale photographs of the storage facilities at galleries and museums throughout NZ. I particularly liked the natural history stores, with their bizarre groupings of stuffed birds and beasts – some standing, others knocked over, still others lying corpse like in drawers. And the photograph of a moving image library, that inexplicably had a car bonnet and radiator grill nestled amongst the cans of film.

In another gallery, I sat on the floor and watched a film loop of the rippling blue water of one of NZ’s many lakes, listening to Gregorian chanting. It was strangely hypnotic and after a few minutes you start to see the black and white surface ripples as figures dancing over the lake. After seeing so many lakes, rivers, lagoons, fjords, sounds and seas in this country, I really enjoyed this simple, contemplative piece, which captures the essence of New Zealand.

Downhill diva

 
November 19th-22st

After spending 10 days together it feels strange that our intrepid group is splitting into hikers and bikers for two nights. We bikers wave a smug farewell to our hiker comrades at St Arnaud – the gateway to Nelson Lakes, where they will spend a couple of days trudging up and down yet more hills with heavy packs on their backs, and staying in very basic huts with no showers and the infamous long drop loos. The bikers travel on to the beautiful Marlborough Sound, where we will spend a day and a half cycling Queen Charlotte Track. Although the heavily wooded track is primarily for hikers, it is also a fantastic single track mountain bike route – one of the most famous in the world, and certainly one of the most beautiful. Winding through forested cliffs, to clearings along the ridge, it overlooks Marlborough Sounds – a complex coastline of drowned valleys that could well have been designed by Slartibartfast – and was used by Captain Cook and Maori traders for shelter and plentiful food.

We found ourselves staying at a boutique B&B, complete with outdoor Jacuzzi, which we definitely need to ease our aching limbs after a 30km off-road cycle on day two. Even better, our hostess Linda, a former baker, is a fantastic cook and while our hiking comrades are on rations – they have to carry anything they plan to cook on their trip – we eat like kings.

For expert mountain bikers, the track is not particularly technical. But I’m not an expert mountain biker, and have an irrational fear of narrow tracks, particularly hilly ones covered in tree roots, rocks and muddy puddles that loop round cliffs with sheer drops to the sea. I may not be an expert, but my friend Suzi is – so I remembered her advice and did the entire track looking at my front wheel rather than the view. And guess what, it was fun! Though I still managed to fall off in a gully and am now sporting the mother of all bruises on the inside of my knee, and a gash that should probably have been stitched on the back of my leg. Thankfully we had a doctor and a midwife on the trip to patch me up. Think I should stick to the road in future.

The following day I took it easy in the van as we drove through the Marlborough wine region, renowned for its sauvignon blancs. All the vineyards are planted in a dried up river valley, which apparently provides ideal conditions for them. Looking at the map is like reading the names on a wine list, so I guess it must be. We met up with the hikers at Forrest, one of the less well-known vineyards, and celebrated the end of our adventure with an afternoon of wine tasting.

Food glorious food

 
November 18th

Our journey up the west coast continued, with a brief stop in Hokatiki – famous for NZ Greenstone (or Jade) where we did a little window shopping and had lunch on the beach. I opted to try out a NZ pie – they are famed for them, apparently - a tasty chicken satay number.

This is another gold rush area, and the largest NZ nugget was found in nearby Westport. But it seems the gold prospectors here are not too enterprising – the fist sized nugget was used as a door stop in the local pub for a few years, then someone had the bright idea of giving it to the Queen. Bad idea. She had it melted down and put into a tea set.

At Punakaiki we took a look at the famous pancake rocks – which really do look like layers of black pancakes. No-one knows why they have this appearance, but geologists say they were pushed up out of the sea.

It had been a pretty staid morning by Active New Zealand standards, so another uphill hike was in order – but first we had to link arms and cross the fast-flowing Punakaiki River… in our walking boots. I tried rolling my trousers up above my knees, but they still got wet. Fortunately our socks acted like mini-wetsuits keeping our feet warm in our boots. The first half of the hike was up over a muddy pass, through a subtropical forest with palm trees mixed with tree ferns and beech trees, then down the other side to the Porari River, where we encountered our first weka – another of NZ’s flightless birds. The final section of the hike was flat, and could have been tackled by mum’s in flip flops, pushing prams. But my poor old boots, which I bought years ago to do the Inca Train and which had been patched up by a very nice man at Timpsons in Twickenham before this trip – had finally had it. I left them in the van for out guides to tie them to one of the boot fences we had passed earlier in our journey. A fitting tribute – to the boots and this trip.

Back in Punakaiki we had our second culinary treat of the day – FISH AND CHIPS! Not sure the American contingent new what to make of it, as they smothered theirs with tomato sauce, but the Brits agreed these were far better than those you get at home – fresher fish and a lighter batter. De-lic-ious!

A day at the beach

 
November 17th

We woke to bright blue skies with no sign of yesterday’s clouds and the joyous news that there wasn’t a bus ride today – we were spending the day at the beach! Okarito was the first NZ landfall spotted by a European, Abel Tasman, in 1642. Today it is a tiny settlement, with a permanent population of 35 – including Keri Hulme, the author of The Bone People, which is set here, and who doesn’t much like visitors. Unlike Richard, the town’s very hospitable mayor, who also runs the local coffee shop, kayak rental shop and nature tours, including kiwi-watching. Sadly we didn’t see the shy national bird, but Okarito Lagoon is a wildlife haven. Right now the lagoon is closed off from the sea by a sand spit and the main channel is relatively deep, with no mud flats emerging. Several tributaries branch off this channel into the surrounding forest, narrowing into creeks that have you performing 20 point turns or backing out. As you could stand up in most of the water, we were kitted up in our kayaks and sent out into the lagoon with only a map to guide us. With no instructor to make up for my paddling shortcomings, I paired up with Wendy, my very fit roommate, and suggested she also did the steering. This may have been a mistake, as we zig-zagged our way along the lagoon, and ended up in at least three overhanging bushes, but I suspect I would have done a lot worse. Drifting along another world reflected back at us in the mirror-like creeks. We could hear all manner of birdsong in the trees, but our main sightings were black swans, with signets, and the rare white heron – only 150 in the whole of New Zealand.

After 10km of paddling, it was time for lunch and the Trig Walk - steep and rocky, not one for prams or flip-flops – to a magnificent viewing point for the lagoon, and then a leisurely stroll back along the stone and driftwood strewn beach. Days don’t come much better than this.

Glacier blues

 
November 16th

By now we were on the western side of the Southern Alps, and as we headed out of Makarora, we soon hit the coast road and our first sight of the Tasman Sea – which under a cloudy grey sky looked just like the North Sea. The Franz Joseph Glacier was our main destination today, and I was looking forward to another helicopter ride, this time to the top of the glacier for an opportunity to hike on the icefield. Both the Franz Joseph and nearby Fox glaciers are currently growing by some 50m a year due to high snowfall in the area. But with the top of the mountain masked by heavy cloud, all helicopters were grounded.

The alternative was a tiring four hour technical hike up and down – hikes in NZ are never flat – a steep, rough track that wound its way through a dense forest of wet, moss-covered trees, ferns and craggy rocks. In its own way, this was quite beautiful – and I fully expected elves, goblins and orks to appear from the tangled undergrowth – but it wasn’t the fabulous white wilderness I was hoping to be in. In fact, there were just three view points through the greenery, the first overlooking glacial meltwater flowing out to the sea, and the second two – Rata Point and Christmas Lookout – overlooking the glacier itself. But with much of the mountain shrouded in cloud, I didn’t even see the snowy, white glacier to its best advantage. My only real disappointment of the trip. We consoled ourselves with cold beers and hot potato wedges in Franz Joseph village before driving to our overnight stop. This turned out to be the coolest beach house at Okarito Lagoon – with a lovely open plan living room, a cosy log stove and a huge dining table with the two biggest dining chairs I’ve ever seen. Like Alice through the Looking Glass, they made anyone who sat in them seem tiny.

Mums with prams

 
November 15th

By Sunday lunchtime, Jean was calling and it was time to burn off a few more calories. We headed out of town via Arrowtown and the Shotover River, the centre of the shortlived 19th century gold rush. Arrowtown is smaller than Queenstown, and its quaint buildings reflect its history - Victorian England meets the wild west. The road took us over the Cardrona Pass, with a great viewpoint, and towards the skifields of Coronet Peak and then onto Wanuka, where we stopped to hike/walk./stroll up to another viewpoint overlooking Iron Mountain.

In order to decide if we need to get our hiking boots on, the group has taken to asking our guides what type of walk we are about to encounter. Their answers have to be taken with a large pinch of salt. We have already learned that “I’ve done it in flip-flops” means it’s really steep but there aren’t too many rocks to scramble over. Today’s code, “mums with prams run up here”, actually meant it’s dry, dusty, windy and really steep, but it’s mostly gravel, with just the odd rough bit. And for the record, I didn’t see a single baby buggy on the track. We did, however, have a fantastic view of completely different scenery, with green fields and poplar trees in foreground surrounding an impossibly blue lake, with mountains behind. School field trips here would clearly show how glacial valleys are formed.

Our final destination today was Makarora – population 65 – staying at the Wilderness Resort, code for a few draughty A-frame chalets, and a pub that closed on Sundays. They are advertising for investors – but not sure if this one would make it through the Dragon’s Den.

Chocoholics Anonymous

 
November 14th

The weekend meant some down time in Queenstown – our first overnight stop with proper shops, bars and restaurants. I quickly found my favourite haunt, the fabulous Patagonia chocolate café – a chocaholic’s dream on the banks of Lake Wakatipu. I spent several happy hours there, drinking hot chocolate with chilli and hot chocolate with ginger, while making use of their free internet connection, and left with a selection of the yummiest chocolates to share with my room-mates, Julie and Wendy. There are only three Patagonia outlets – all within 10 miles of Queenstown – but I’m thinking of putting in a bid for the UK franchise. Forget Belgian chocolate – this is the dogs!

Wendy and I also discovered a great spot for lunch. We took the smart new gondola up the mountain to and equally smart new restaurant, with an awesome view of the town, lake and mountains – including the Remarkables, so named because remarkably they run exactly north to south – one of only two mountain ranges in the world to do so. We also had a ringside view of yet another bungy jump station, this time plunging down into trees and rocks. No, I can’t understand why anyone would want to do it either.

Queenstown is a great place to spend a few days – the energetic amongst us went paragliding and white water rafting, while the diehards stayed up all night clubbing. I seemed to spend my time eating – despite all the exercise on this trip, I don’t think I’m in any danger of losing weight.

Wet and wild

 
Friday 13th November

We had all been looking forward to a morning kayaking on Milford Sound, but there was a definite sense of foreboding when we woke to the sound of rain, and realised it was Friday 13th. But Paul, our ever optimistic guide, said we should be ready to leave at 7.10 and when we arrived at the beach our kayak guide was kitted up and ready to go, the rain had stopped and a few rays of sun were peeking through the cloud.

It took 45 minutes for us to suit up with more underlayers, outerlayers, topped by a neoprene kayak skirt and life jacket, then waddle down to the kayaks for paddling instruction and a safety briefing. We were in two-man kayaks and, as I’ve never been in one before, I opted to go with the instructor, Ben from Leicester. Although he’d only been in NZ for a year, and Milford Sound for less than a month, Ben was extremely knowledgeable about the area and was an excellent guide. And with his expert tuition my paddling skills quickly rose from zero to pretty good – though I suspect Ben did most of the work.

Milford Sound is technically a fjord – created by a glacier – and is the only one in New Zealand accessible by road. Even so, there were relatively few visitors to disturb the peace and quiet. Apart from our kayaks, we saw around only five or six tour boats on the water during our four hours of paddling. As the sun rose, the weather was perfect, with flat calm water, blue sky and wispy white clouds over the black peaks – which had been dusted with snow overnight. The mountains are so high and steep that all sense of perspective is completely distorted. Waterfalls hundreds of metres high were dwarfed by the height of the peaks above them. The tour boats looked like toys in the bath, and landmarks you guessed were two kilometres away, were actually 10km distant.

The water is crystal clear, but so deep in the middle of the channel – 400m – that it looks black. And although it is sea water, there is so much rainfall (about 18m a year) that the top 2-3m is freshwater. And despite the sheer black granite faces of the mountains rising from the water, somehow plant life clings to them, with a temperate rainforest of beech and other non-deciduous trees covering much of the lower slopes. This provides an ideal nesting site for yellow crested penguins. We spotted one on the rocks, and several fishing in the water. New Zealand fur seals are another common sight. They are nocturnal so the ones we saw were basking on the rocks. Dolphins also visit, but we didn’t see any today.

After four hours on the water, we reluctantly made our way back to shore. Over lunch, we found out that conditions were perfect for a helicopter trip over the black peaks to land on a snowfield at the top. When I discovered that the pilot was ex-airforce and inclined to manoeuvre through narrow rocky gaps and swoop down into the valley, I couldn’t resist. This was an adrenalin rush I could cope with!

Milford Sound was a true highlight of this trip – and the contrast between the mountains of doom that greeted us yesterday, and today’s sparkling peaks will ensure that it remain a dramatic wilderness.

Bike, hike, bike, stroll

 
November 12th
Each evening after supper our team leader, Paul, gives us a run-down of the next day’s itinerary, so we know what to pack in our day bags. Today’s bike, hike, bike, stroll (“no way this one’s a hike guys”) combo meant the day pack was bulging.

With a full day ahead, we were up for a 7.30 breakfast, saddled up and on the road by 8.30am. Our first 18km cycle took was pretty much a straight road, against a slight headwind, alongside Lake Manapouri, past fields of sheep and cows, until we reached a second, equally beautiful lake – Te Anau. A quick coffee stop and we were back in our trusty bus – named Jean – and heading for our hike to Key Summit – part of the famous Routebourn tramping trail. Tramping is the kiwi word for hiking. The trail up to the Key Summit was a well worn path making a slightly easier walk up, starting in a temperate rain forest full of moss covered beech trees and ferns, and finishing in a rock strewn area of alpine plants. Mount Christina – the highest in the area – made a good photo-background for our quick picnic lunch, then it was back down to Jean and onto our next stop.

By now we were in “Gun Country”. No, people weren’t shooting at us. The Guns are a pioneer family renowned for their strength of character. One of them apparently ran 20 miles to raise the alarm when a light plane crashed, the last five after tearing his testicles on a barbed wire fence – ouch!! They still run Hollyford Camp, a sandfly infested collection of sheds, as holiday cabins. These were originally used by the workers who blasted the Homer Tunnel through the black granite mountains to Milford Sound in the 1930s, and don’t look as if they have changed much since. We were told this was one of our accommodation options for the night. Fortunately, after our final bike ride, and short walk up to a waterfall, we clambered back into Jean and drove through the Homer Tunnel to Milford Sound.

As we descended the switchback road to the sea, the weather closed in, and the low clouds spilling down these sheer sided black granite Mountains of Doom, made them a sitter for a Lord of the Rings location. I was bitterly disappointed to find that they weren’t – most of the location filming was done around Queenstown, and then CGI’d in Wellington.

A picture postcard round every corner

 
November 11th

Wednesday – and another long drive, over the Lindis Pass, through Cromwell – famed for fruit growing, and where we stopped to sample its fresh fruit ice-cream – and through the dramatic Kawarau gorge.. The Kawarau suspension bridge is the site of NZ’s first bungy jump, and our tour leader Paul offered us the chance to jump before heading to Queenstown for a lunch stop. I think he was surprised when Sandy, a 40-something mum (and adventurer) from Long Island, took up the challenge. I wasn’t, she seems pretty fearless to me. But when Tony – at 76, the oldest member of our group – found out that pensioners could jump for free, he was right behind her. Tony is pure Brooklyn – with the voice of Jimmy Cagney and the legs of Lance Armstrong.. The man thinks nothing of 100 mile cycles every weekend! I had an adrenalin rush just watching them plunge headfirst towards the river! But if that looked scary, we found out there is a drop 3 times as high and over rocks rather than water in Queenstown. Don’t think I’ll be doing that one either.

Queenstown is the centre of NZ’s activity holidays – a winter base for skiing, and summer for mountain biking. And at any time of the year you can throw yourself off a ledge, out of a plane or over river rapids. It’s also outstandingly beautiful, overlooking Lake Wakatipu and the surrounding mountain range. But our journey continued on – heading towards Fiordland in the south west of the country. Our base for the evening was Lake Manoupouri, our furthest point south on the trip, and yet another awesome view. And as it’s still light at 9.30pm here, we had plenty of time to wander round the “town” – a café, hairdressers and garage – to take a look at the harbour, lake beach, and read about the hydro electric scheme – which is tunnelled to a turbine in the mountain, rather than flooding the valley. Clever stuff.

The landscape of the South Island is quite different to the north – and so is the climate. It’s freezing! I may be gathering “heavy” tags on my luggage, but thank god I brought all those layers! Whereas North Island from the air had the green lushness of Ireland, the mountain region of South Island is dryer and dustier, with more scrub and shrubland. Driving along the roads the colours switch from bright yellow broom, to lavender thyme and wild lupins of every hue. Coupled with the blue skies, snowcapped peaks and glacial blue lakes and rivers, it’s an outstanding combination. And there are few vehicles or people to interrupt the view. The total population of NZ is 4.5 million (far fewer than the 40 million sheep here) and only 1 million live on South Island – a third of those in Christchurch. South Island is the size of England – which should give you some idea of the sense of space you have here.

Into the Alps

 
November 9th & 10th

Monday morning, and a short flight down to Christchurch to meet my fellow travellers for a 2 week activity tour of South Island. The party consists of 3 brits, 1 aussie, 7 americans and our two kiwi guides, ranging in age from mid-20s to mid-70s – and I’m guessing that the two 70-year olds will be the fittest of the lot.

The first day was mainly taken up by the long drive down to the area known as Mackenzie Country, after the country’s greatest anti-hero. Mackenzie was a sheep rustler of epic proportions, eventually controlling a flock of 1,000 stolen sheep with the assistance of a single dog. When he was eventually caught, the dog was put on trial and sentenced to death, while Mackenzie fled to Australia and was never heard of again.

Appropriately, our home for the next two nights, is a remote 60,000 acre sheep farm, formerly used to accommodate sheep shearers. But this little house on the prairie has one of the most spectacular views imaginable – the turquoise blue waters of Lake Pukaki backed by a section of the Southern Alps, including Mount Cook. At 3784m, Mount Cook is Australasia’s highest peak (its Maori name, Aoraki, means “cloud-piercer”). Sir Edmund Hillary trained for his Everest assault on this peak, but it is 10m lower than it was. In 1991 part of the peak collapsed, with 50 million cubic metres of ice, snow and the rock beneath cascading down into the glacier below. This extraordinary avalanche travelled 7km before coming to rest.

The picture-postcard colour of the lake is due to the ground-up glacial rock “flour” that remains in the water and apparently reflects more light. It is yet another awesome NZ sight, and we all rushed to take pictures in the evening light. I was up at 6am the following morning to record the pink-tinged dawn coming up over “cloud-piercer.”

After breakfast we layered up and drove around the lake to Mount Cook national park to take a 8km (5 miles) hike up, and down, one of cloud-piercer’s smaller neighbours. The 3 hour hike to Sealy Tarn took us through shrubby forest peppered with the pretty Mount Cook lily – the world’s largest buttercup – up to the the snow-line, with great views of the blue-veined glacial snow, and the glacial valley. It was steep, tough climb up but coming down the rocky shale was even harder – especially for someone with borderline vertigo. I got to the bottom with a real sense of achievement, and relief that I was down in one piece. We came across a mountain rescue team on a drill practice both on our climb up and back down, lowering a guy in a gurney feet first down the mountain face. Apparently he was the boss – believe me it was a pretty good exercise in trust!

The Cream Trip

 
November 8th

Staying in the Bay of Islands, you can’t miss out on a day on the water. There are over 80 islands and the larger ones used to be farmed. The Cream Trip is named after the daily journey taken by the boat The Dairy Maid to collect full milk churns and deliver supplies and post. When seas were rough, the milk had turned to cream before the boat docked. Thankfully the sea was calm and flat today – so flat that the captain was able to take the boat through the famous hole in the rocks, with just a few feet to spare on either side.

The leisure boat still delivers mail three times a week to the few remaining inhabited islands, and our guide had plenty of tales about the early settlers. But the real attraction of the trip was the chance to see dolphins and other wildlife. There isn’t a resident dolphin pod in the bay, but they are frequent visitors and today we got lucky. We had only been on the water for half an hour or so when we spotted a dorsal fin and one, two, three, four, five, six dolphins came over to take a look at us – swimming round and under the boat, leaping out the water, dancing in twos and threes for our entertainment.

But the entertainment went two ways. 15 hardy souls donned shorty wetsuits and got in the cold water (barely 14degreesC) to swim with them. Our boat captain reckoned the dolphins would only hang around if our swimmers amused them. If nothing else, they amused those of us who stayed on deck! To begin with the swimmers had to clamber into a net hung from the side of the boat and wait there until the captain gave the order to swim. The rest of us acted as dolphin spotters with shouts of “two off the starboard bow”, “three of them, straight ahead”, and when the swimmers finally struck out in the water, “look down” and, the inevitable, “they’re behind you!” When the dolphins got too far away, the swimmers were instructed to get back in the nets until they approached again, and the next round of fun began.

The coast by coach

 
November 7th

If you don’t have your own car, pretty much the only way to get to Cape Reinga at the tip of NZ, is to join a coach party. The 500km round trip starts out along the western coastline and passes many attractive inlets and the dramatic Doubtless Bay, named by Captain Cook who was the first to chart the coastline of North and South Islands. After a hasty coffee stop, to beat the incoming tide, our coach abandoned the tarmac road, and turned onto the beach for the next 60 miles. The erroneously named 90 Mile Beach is a public highway, but can only be negotiated at low tide. Fortunately our coach, a converted Scania truck, had no problems, but the metal carcasses of several cars jutting out of the sands showed that wasn’t always the case. For several years the hard sand base provided a landing strip for small planes carrying post from Australia, and was used to set the first land-speed record back in the 1930s. Our driver seemed intent on setting his own speed record as we zoomed along the waterline.

Behind most of the beach, sand dunes have been planted to prevent erosion, but at the far end the dunes build up to create mountainous slopes, just made to slide down. Climbing up with a boogie board tucked under your arm was hard work, but the ride down was definitely worth it.

From here it was a half hour drive to Cape Reinga, where the Tasman Sea meets the Pacific Ocean and where Maori legend says the spirits of the dead leap off the rocks to join their ancestors. It is certainly an awesome spot. The government are working to re-establish native plants at the Cape so I planted my very own manuka. And even got a GPS location so I can check its progress on google earth!

Much of the Northlands is now given over to agriculture and grazing – we saw the first of NZ’s 30 million sheep – but before the Europeans came, it was known for kauri trees. Related to redwoods, the slow-growing kauri grows tall and straight. The longer they are left, the broader the trunk. The maori hollowed them out for their war canoes – the example at Waitango was around100ft long, and required 80men to handle it. They made perfect masts for European ships, and housebuilding, furniture making, just about anything you need timber for. There are so few left, they are now a protected species. But ancient kauri trees - preserved in the peat marshes for 40,000 years – are still dug up and used for furniture making. So there are some old things in NZ.

It's good here

 
November 6th
Up early to fly north to Keri Keri and the Bay of Islands. I arrived to find a perfect English summer’s day and caught the shuttle bus to Paihia, pronounced “pie here” – pie being the Maori for good. And indeed it is good here. The fertile northlands boast the country’s warmest climate and Keri Keri (Maori for dig dig) is famous for its citrus orchards.

The region was the first to be settled by Maori and later by Europeans. The Treaty of Independence was signed at Waitingi overlooking the Bay of Islands – a truly beautiful spot – with the Treaty House and grounds now kept immaculately by the National Trust. Even the cottage garden around the house is a sensory overload, making the mile or so walk out there well worth while.

The tiny Treaty House – originally just 4 rooms – was the home of the British Resident, James Busby and his family, sent from New South Wales to sort out the disturbances between the Maori and Europeans. The upshot was the rather one-sided Treaty of Independence in 1935, resulting in England effectively taking the country over. You can see why everyone wanted a piece of the action. It’s not only stunningly beautiful and fertile, but offers sheltered harbours and fast access to the Pacific Ocean.

From the early 1800s the South Pacific whaling fleet dropped anchor at Koroareka – a short hop across the bay from Paihia – the rowdy seamen earning it the nickname, “hellhole of the Pacific”. Intrigued, I took the ferry across to check it out. But all evidence was swept away by the Maori who burnt the place to the ground in 1845, leaving the Victorians to create in its place the quaint seaside village of Russell. No sign of fighting sailors, just peace, quiet and birdsong.

Unlike Singaporeans, Kiwis have a keen sense of heritage and are desperate to show off their old buildings. In Russell I found their oldest church, built in 1836, and that’s about as old as it gets.

I’d been warned by the motel that there was live music at the pub next door that evening. In the event the 1970s rock on offer turned out to be older than many of the country’s buildings. If you can’t beat them, join in. I bought a beer and found my foot tapping along with the rest of them.

Look at the view!

 
November 4th & 5th
After a sleepless 12 hour journey via sunny Brisbane, I arrived in Auckland, moving another 5 hours forward on the way. I’d booked cheapish accommodation on the internet and was surprised and delighted to find myself in a 25th floor city centre apartment with stunning views of Sky Tower and the harbour. It was 5pm, the sun was shining, so I had to get out and explore. It’s spring in New Zealand and doesn’t get dark until 8.30pm, giving me plenty of time to take look round and enjoy my first glass of Sauvignon Blanc

If the views from my apartment were impressive, they were nothing compared to the 360 degree panorama from the viewing decks of the Sky Tower, which on a clear day show off the City of Sails to its best advantage. The super fast lift had a glass floor panel for those inclined to look down the lift shaft as it sped to the top. The first of the two indoor viewing decks also features a glass floor so you can look at the people-ants on the ground. Or if that’s too tame, you can take in the view by walking around the tower’s1.2m external platform, but don’t expect to hold onto a handrail! Or why not throw yourself off the platform, down a fixed cable to the ground? Amazingly, people do this; I saw one from the apartment, for a second horribly reminiscent of the Twin Towers.

Flying in you can see that New Zealand is very, very green; a sure sign that it rains - a lot. The next day it rained all day. Instead of my planned trip across the bay to the vineyards of Waiheke Island, I had to be content to visit the maritime museum and hop on and off the excellent city loop and city link buses, taking in the atmosphere of the city and inner suburbs. The link bus screens its very own soap opera – Laguna Beach. Shame I’ll miss the next episode!

Auckland may be an old city by New Zealand standards, but NZ is young country, and a bus trip gives a good sense of its development – from the 19th century white clapboard store fronts in the old suburb of Parnell, through the early 20th century’s one and two-storey frontier-style buildings in K-Road and Ponsonby, to the early American industrial and Art Deco influences downtown, topped off with late 20th century glass fronted commercial blocks and, of course, Sky Tower.

20 years on

I’ve been thinking about my first visit to Singapore, and why I didn’t like the place back then. Context is important. Then I’d flown in from a vibrant Hong Kong, where the culture was very different to the UK. This time I’d come from London and with middle age kicking in, what I found bland and dull back then, is now rather appealing. The streets are clean, shop fittings are polished within an inch of their lives, even the public loos are immaculate. People party in the streets, but there is no public drunkenness and consequently no laddish intimidation or pools of vomit to negotiate.

Novelty is a prime driver here – and so is success. A strong welfare state provides decent housing, education and healthcare, but this isn’t taken for granted. From an early age families encourage their children to work hard and succeed. Always looking forward may have its downside and there is little sense of history – but our history is their colonial oppression, so why keep buildings as reminders? And as the tourists like them, the remaining 19th century buildings are now being renovated rather than ripped down. And while the current architecture reflects a bigger+taller+newer=better philosophy, adding little to daytime views, the city lights up spectacularly at night.

But what really impressed me is the respect people have for each other. Everyone I encountered was unfailingly polite and helpful – as if it gave them pleasure to make my life easier. What goes around comes around. I’m going to adopt this approach too, and see if good karma keeps coming back.

Images of Singapore - slideshow

Window shopping

 



Monday 2nd November
To Chinatown on the MRT (underground). It’s only one stop but worth taking a trip to see where the inspiration for London’s Jubilee line and Oyster card systems came from.

Chinatown is limited to a grid of 4 or 5 streets, crammed with shops, stalls and restaurants all, like everywhere in Singapore, incredibly neat and clean. I bought a pretty fan and put it to use immediately and Robin got a calligraphy brush to practice his Chinese characters.

The builders were in at the old Hindu temple on the corner of Pagoda Street so we couldn’t see much there, but looked round the Buddhist temple, where the jolly Chinese buddhas were very different to any I’d previously seen. Later at the museum, you could clearly see how Buddha is represented in different cultures - the Cambodian version is incredibly elegant.

We were so hot by this stage that we took the Singapore river cruise to cool down, and found ourselves on the water in the middle of yet another torrential thunderstorm. The traditional boats were replaced last year with clean electric ones, but fortunately ours still had closing windows – the light-weight solar powered version has open sides.

The rain forced us into the Museum, housed in the old Government building, for the rest of the afternoon. There is a huge amount to see there, but we concentrated on Singapore and SE Asia – checking out Indonesian culture which we’ll see later on the trip. Interesting to see how the trade winds have influenced the development Singapore, and the climate, which is hair-frizzingly hot and wet year round.

Luckily the rain stopped in time for the Night Safari. Not quite the Serengeti, but the tram and walking tour of the zoo after dark is a must-do. Loved the small animals – otters, civets and flying squirrels (even if they didn’t fly) – but felt sorry for the leopards prowling behind glass. Saw three of these beautiful creatures in the wild last year, they really should be left there.

Tuesday 3rd November
My last day in Singapore, so just time for a spot of window shopping in Orchard Road – and what splendid windows they are. You can’t miss the latest shopping mall, Paragon, which is fronted with two storey high ads for Gucci, Prada and Armani. Inside all is air-conditioned calm, with chill out sounds designed to lull shoppers into opening their wallets – though there were few of them around. Contrast this with the nearby Lucky Plaza mall, packed with people and small stores selling anything and everything. Both equally typical of Singapore; as is Orchard Road itself – already festooned in Christmas lights, which are, of course, new every year. Oxford Street eat your heart out!

Not-so-ghostly Singapore

Saturday 31st October
Arrived in Singapore on Saturday evening to the ominous rumbling of thunder and heavy rain – a sound I remembered well from my only previous visit 20 years ago. And, as it turned out, one of the few things I was to recognise over the next three days.

I guess it’s no surprise that the skyline had changed over two decades – the same could be said of almost any major city - but Singaporean’s are true neophytes and nothing stays the same for long. From prime real estate undergoing major construction programmes, to the shops and restaurants that are regularly refitted and rebranded – confusing even seasoned visitors to the area, including Robin who flew in from Kuala Lumpur to join me.

Needless to say we stayed in a new hotel. However, its location on the Singapore River opposite Clark Quay meant we were close to the original trading port promoted by Sir Stanford Raffles – though I only realised this after a visit to the excellent Museum of Asian Culture.

Today Clark Quay is a sort of river-front Covent Garden, where the warehouses facing the old dock have been converted into restaurants, bars and clubs, and is a popular place for locals and tourists alike. So ignoring the rain, and forgetting the date, we dumped our bags and headed there, and found ourselves distinctly under-dressed. Witches, devils plus the odd ghoul and pumpkin, mingled with angels, snow whites, little red riding hoods and even a rubik’s cube. Welcome to Halloween Singapore style!

Aside from the fancy dress parade, Clark Quay itself it is a touch surreal and neatly sums up my first impression of Singapore . The old warehouses have been painted in a variety of pastel colours and covered with a futuristic glazed roof. Under the pink and blue lighting, the facades could have been built for a Disney film set – maybe it was jet lag, but I got the feeling there was nothing substantial behind them. That said, it’s a great place to hang out, and the home of Robin’s favourite blues bar, where we ended the evening.


Sunday 1st November
Most Singaporeans live in apartment buildings, so recreational space is well used. East Coast Park, is one of the most popular. This stretch of coastline may not have much of a view – unless you count row upon row of oil tankers and container ships – but it extends for 10Km almost from the city centre to the airport. We joined the locals and rented bikes to cycle the length of the park, weaving through other cyclists, roller bladers, skate-boarders, joggers and walkers. The park also plays host to a crowded pier where hopeful fishermen bring along BBQs in case a passing fish end up on their line. But despite temperatures of 34oC the only people raising their heart rates were on skis – water skis - being towed around a lake by a series of ropes and pulleys resembling a snow-ski drag lift. Novel – but then it would be in Singapore.

One thing that doesn’t change is the food. We finished the day with a delicious black pepper crab at one of the shop-house restaurants on Boat Quay. The auspicious curved shape of the Quay – like a fat belly – gives good feng shui for money-making ventures, and the quaint shop houses dwarfed by the towers of the financial district that now drive Singapore’s success.