Easter in Napier - what's travel without the people you meet?

Traditionally, we’ve spent Easter with friends or family, and this year was to be no exception with plans to meet our good friends from back in the UK who now live in Auckland. We planned to hire a bach together in Gisborne and spend a week or so there, but it obviously wasn’t meant to be - we left it too late and were unable to find anywhere to accommodate us all. Instead we opted to take one that was available from Easter Monday, so Two and a half Travellers stayed in art deco Napier a bit longer than initially planned.

Looking for something a bit more than just our own company, we booked ourselves into Riverbend Family Lodge - with three holiday chalets sharing the grounds surrounding the owners house, as well as a pool, hot tub and trampoline we thought this would be a good option for meeting some other people.

When we arrived we were greeted by the friendly owners, Greg and Kendall, who showed us to our accommodation and made sure that we felt comfortable to give them a yell should we need anything. The rain was pouring down with a forecast for much of the same in the days to come, and we were the only people staying there - in spite of this we still felt that we’d made a good choice, with cosy, functional accommodation and friendly hosts.

We spent the remainder of that day and the following dashing between the lodge, the car, and various indoor venues, feeling soggy and damp. But on the afternoon of the second day, the rain stopped and the Littlest Hobo made a bee line for the trampoline. Kendall asked us whether we’d like to join an Easter egg hunt on Easter Sunday (weather permitting) along with the other two families who would be there.

The Napier beaches were pretty special

The other chalets filled, and as the weather dried up, the children made friends and played on the trampoline, in the garden and the swimming pool. The Littlest Hobo loved picking vegetables, playing with the rabbits, cat, dog and riding horses - she had a ball. The Easter Egg hunt was a hit with all the kids, in spite of a wide range of ages, and the adults drank coffee and ate hot cross buns. The Littlest Hobo’s first horse ride was another highlight.

Hunting in the vegetable patch

Checking out the stash in her home made basket

Hot cross buns and hot coffee made the perfect start to Easter Sunday

They had more hop than the Easter Bunny on that trampoline

Easter weekend had the potential to be a bit of a wash out, not only with the terrible weather, but after a couple of weeks where we hadn’t met many people and without being able to see our friends until Easter Monday, we thought we might feel a bit lonely. Thanks to the wonderful environment at Riverbend Family Lodge, this wasn’t the case, and we ended up feeling that this was probably the best place we had stayed in during our entire time in New Zealand. To coin a cliché, we felt that we’d arrived as strangers and left as friends. This was largely due to our fantastic hosts but also our fellow guests, whose company we really enjoyed too. The Littlest Hobo particularly took a shine to the teenaged girl who was staying next door, and her and her step mum babysat while Mr T and I went into Napier for some lunch - an unexpected and much appreciated treat for this travelling family.

First horse ride ever - Emma (Greg and Kendall's daughter) was kind enough to  let the Littlest Hobo  have a ride on  Chloe

Hanging out in the hot tub with her new buddies Mabel and Charlie! 

For me, one of the most important aspects of travelling, and the element that can change a good trip into a great one is the people that you meet along the way. Interesting stories, little quirks, spontaneous fun and random acts of kindness are what make the average travel blanket into a veritable patchwork quilt.

How have the people who you have met added to your travel experience?

Kaikoura - in search of the whale's song

When I was young, my grandparents were models for Gary Blythe when he illustrated the childrens book The Whale's Song. I loved reading it, and although I was a teenager when it was published, seeing my Nana and Grandad in print added a touch of extra realism to the story, make believing that I could have been Lilly - the little girl who listened to the whale's song. This book was the start of a fascination for the graceful giants that roam our oceans, and since I first read it I have always been keen to see a whale for myself.

From living in Sydney, my understanding of whale watching was that it is a seasonal activity, taking place as the whales complete their migration from May to September, so when I realised that Whale Watch Kaikoura offer year-round opportunities, I was delighted. Inspite of having heard that Kaikoura was a veritable haven for aquatic wildlife, I was a little skeptical. On further investigation, I discovered that the Kaikoura Canyon, just 1km from the coast, offers a unique geographical situation, encouraging an abundance of marine life, including a never ending stream of passing whales, along with several resident sperm whales - one of the only places in the world where this opportunity is available throughout the calendar year.

My alarm went off and I jumped straight out of bed, in spite of the early hour, then proceeded to bash around the unfamiliar house in the dark, trying to dress without waking anyone. First light was just breaking as I arrived at the whale way station (ha ha - like all good New Zealand railway stations, Kaikoura’s has a dual purpose - in this case it houses Whale Watch Kaikoura’s base camp). There was only one car in the car park, so I walked slowly, looking out into the murky depths and wondering about the height of the monstrous waves that crashed on the shore nearby.

As more people arrived, I headed inside to check in. When you book your experience, you are warned that the trip is dependant on weather conditions. Out trip carried a sea sickness warning, and the rest of the trips that day were still marked as unconfirmed so far. After checking in, I joined many of my fellow whale watchers in purchasing a sea sickness tablet. I’d intended to keep it in my camera bag until needed, but in the end, mainly out of fear of not being able to find it at the right time, I downed it with a much needed caffeine fix from the on site café.

After a quick introduction and safety briefing, we headed to our boat; as we piled on we were advised to sit at the back for a less bumpy ride. In spite of my usual wimpishness, I felt strangely compelled to sit in the second row from the front. We headed out to sea, being briefed that we must stay inside the boat and seated due to the high speed we were moving. You’re not kidding me - we flew across the water, jumping over each massive wave as we hit it. As we sped along, our host kept our attention, with a constant flow of interesting information about the canyon, the marine life it attracted, and the whales.

Before I'd arranged the trip, I had done some research into the whale watching options and had discovered that you could go by helicopter or by boat. The helicopter trip is often touted as the superior option, as from above you will see the whole whale, whereas on the boat you will most often only see the spray from their blowholes and a portion of their back, their dorsal fin and tail. In spite of this I was keen to go by boat, not only because the trip was much longer (approx two and a half hours as opposed to half an hour), but also because I felt that I would get a closer look and have the opportunity to see that all important flick of the tail as they swam back down from a better angle. Seeing the images that our hosts showed us on the boat really confirmed that for me that I'd made the right choice, as well as highlighting just how enormous these mammals are! I was also impressed with their ethical standpoint, using only their eyes and ears to track and respecting the whale's desires by staying well back and following their lead.

Being the first trip of the day meant that we didn’t have the knowledge of the previous boats to guide us straight to the whales. Our only option was to head out to one of the spots where the whales often hang out and listen for them. When we reached the canyon, the boat came to a halt and we headed outside, bobbing on the ocean, surrounded by an endless variety of bird life, gliding on the wind then diving down to the surface. Meanwhile, the Captain took out a long conical device with a pair of headphones attached, an underwater directional hydrophone, and stuck the end of it in the water. He was listening for the whale's click - the means by which they communicate and navigate while they are deep under the water. He heard a whale and we all piled back inside to race of to the place where he had pinpointed it.

When we arrived in the right area, we all rushed back outside and those of us who weren't too green (I was grateful at this point for the seasickness tablet...) climbed the stairs to the upper viewing platform, and started scanning the waters. An announcement came from our host to say that they could see the whale, but I could only see water and birds. Then one of the crew members pointed the whale out to me, logging; a small portion of him visible as he hovered near the surface gathering oxygen for his next dive to the depths of the canyon to feast on giant squid. I raised my camera to my eye and snapped as many pictures as I could as his tail shot into the air then he dove down and was gone.

Tiaki disappearing below the surface 

The whale, recognisable to the crew by his markings, was one of the resident males; Tiaki. As we headed back inside they explained that on average, a whale stays on the surface for approximately ten minutes before diving for around 45 minutes. As we couldn't hear Tiaki after we saw him, there was a chance that he was in the shallows and might reappear, but while the captain was listening he had heard another whale, so we headed in that direction. As we sped across the water, one of the crew members spotted the whale, and then saw it dive before we had had a chance to get to it... rather than a 45 minute wait we listened again, and headed off in hot pursuit of another round of clicks. Although there were clearly a few people suffering with the motion of the ocean, I found the thrill of the chase exhilarating, and bouncing over the waves in the hope of another sighting really added to the experience for me.

This time, we were rewarded for our efforts and as we headed out to the viewing deck we could see a spray of water rising five metres into the air every ten seconds or so. We could see Mati Mati, another resident male, on the surface of the water, where he remained for approximately four minutes. He looked huge, and I had to remind myself that I could only see a small part of him - adult male sperm whales can grow to up to 20.5 metres - truly as big as a whale! Suddenly, he started to curve up out of the water and the crew told us that he was about to dive.  He looked so graceful as the curved section rippled along to his tail and he lifted it high into the air before disappearing tail-tip last.

Logging, with a spray coming from the blowhole

About to dive down again - cameras at the ready everybody!

With a splash of his tail he was gone

Although we had only been there watching him for a few minutes, and we had only seen a small portion of the entire whale, it was a magical, breathtaking, awe-inspiring experience. I felt a real sense of camaraderie with my fellow camera touting whale watchers, as we all talked about what we had just seen and compared photographs.

At this point, as the whales weren't staying on the surface for long, the crew decided to call it a day on the whale chase and take us to an area which is popular with Dusky Dolphins for the remainder of our time. As soon as we arrived we were greeted by around 20 energetic dolphins swimming around the hull of the boat and performing for our cameras. Dusky dolphins are one of the most acrobatic species of dolphins, and they certainly didn't disappointing - leaping out of the water, flipping and synchronised swimming - there was so much going on that it was hard to know where to look! I found a new respect for wildlife photographers as I struggled to keep up with the speed of these playful creatures, who swam so close that I struggled with my telephoto lens - they coaxed out another set of smiles as well as squeals of delight from us all though.

I had a spellbinding morning with Whale Watch Kaikoura - when we returned to the shore I was ready to turn around and do it all again. My photos are hardly going to make National Geographic, but I'd had such a fantastic time, and I floated around on a high for the rest of the day. If you're ever in the area, it's worth making a detour to Kaikoura for the marine life alone, although the town itself, and the picturesque coastline with mountains right to the waters edge, is well worth a visit too.

Beautiful Kaikoura waking up for the day

Matariki - it was written in the stars

We’d been on the road for over a month when we all got a bit sick of staying somewhere new every second night, so we decided that a one week stop was on the cards. Mr T found a farm stay in the Nelson area. The family who own the farm were away on holiday themselves, but said that as long as we were willing to look after ourselves the place was ours, and we got a great rate too.

The littlest hobo loved the garden at the farm

We were wowed by the remoteness as soon as we arrived, based on lush farmland, with sheep roaming in the foreground and mountains looming in the distance. The garden was phenomenal - huge, completely fenced in with a swing a little bike and toy tractor which left the Littlest Hobo desperate to get out and play all day. There were adult bikes too and a basketball hoop, and a vegetable and herb garden and fruit trees to help ourselves from. I mustn’t forget the longest washing line ever - perfect timing given the huge bag of dirty washing we were carting around, and better yet I could satisfy my inner cavewoman watching our smalls flapping in the wind as the sheep grazed nearby.

Our cottage was in keeping with the ‘grandma’s house’ charm that we have come to expect from many of the older bach’s we stay in, along with plenty of kids toys, and a welcome basket with all manner of goodies along with information about the local area. My only disappointment was discovering that the internet access that had been advertised was actually only available in the farmhouse, and as they were away we couldn’t access it. On top of that, but much more anticipated, we had no phone reception, so we were completely cut off from the outside world. Although this wasn’t in our original plan, it ended up being quite refreshing, very relaxing, and in honesty probably about as close as we will really get to that technology free month that Mr T was hankering after when we first planned our trip!

There were sheep everywhere!

The Nelson region is renowned for it’s good weather, and our week here was no exception; although we made a few trips (Golden Bay/Farewell Spit and Nelson on market day) we also had plenty of time to just kick back and relax. We had freedom to roam around the farm, so we explored the hills and rivers, walked through the stream, chatted with the cows (much to their disgust) and watched the sun, and the rainbows, come and go. The old Matariki school house sits in the grounds; it’s been disused since 1942, but the door was open so we went in to explore, with plenty of it’s history recorded and preserved inside, and we took pleasure in finding our hosts family listed amongst the students.

Matariki school house

I read some of the entries in the cottage guest book, and it made me feel sad that we hadn’t visited when the owners were home, everyone who signed the book sounded like they’d had an amazing time really experiencing the farm and really being welcomed like family. I was keen to see the dogs working to move the sheep and  Mr T was absolutely itching for a turn on the quad bike. I’m hoping we’ll be able to find an opportunity to do these things on the North Island before we leave New Zealand.

What're you looking at?!

Stepping outside after dark was the biggest treat of all; a veritable cornucopia of astrological delight enveloped me and captured my immediate and unwavering attention. Had it not been for the incessant attack of viscous sandflies I could have stayed there all night, every night, gazing up in awestruck wonder. As it was, it became a nightly ritual, after putting the littlest hobo to bed we would head out into the inky darkness and stand in front of the house looking up for a few minutes, the void of silence echoing on the mountains that surrounded us. I have never seen so many stars filling the sky - if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes I would have struggled to believe it.

The farm was called Matariki. I didn’t know what it meant, so when we were in the children’s section of the Wellington library the following week, and I spotted a book by the same name I snapped it up and started to read. I discovered that Matariki is the name for the Maori New Year. The word has two literal translations - Tiny Eyes (stars) and Eyes of God. The celebration takes place in June, based around a cluster of seven stars, and focuses on the unique place in which we live and giving respect to the land we live on. With this new understanding I couldn’t think of a more fitting name for the cottage in the stars.

Staying on the farm was the antithesis of our life in Sydney  - from living on a busy road with a shop opposite, a pub five doors down and a constant flow of passers by, with every form of public transport known to man on our doorstep and one of the most iconic views in the world from our lounge window, to a little farm nestled amongst the mountains on a dirt track that sees only a few vehicles pass by every day, a fifteen minute drive to the nearest shop, and almost an hours drive to the nearest sizeable town, and all of nature’s bounty right outside your front door. While this life isn’t what I’d chose personally for the long run, I thoroughly enjoyed my immersion into it.

Travelling NZ with a toddler: the South Island round up

We’ve come to the end of our five week trip of New Zealand’s South Island, so it’s no surprise that we’ve been hit with a bit of reflection.

We’ve travelled over 6000km starting in Dunedin and finishing in Picton. We’ve argued over directions eight times, even with sat nav! We’ve visited 46 different places. We’ve seen the extreme South of the mainland (Slope Point) and the far North (Farewell Spit). We’ve watched the sun rise over the Eastern shores and set over Western waters. The map below shows our route.


View Larger Map

We’ve each slept in 13 different beds. We’ve had our first experience of staying in a youth hostel as a family - much to the surprise of some of us, it was pretty good, albeit a bit nerve wracking every time we saw a jar of peanut butter. We may even do it again sometime. Mr T has got his bach booking skills down pat and become quite a master at getting excellent rates, so that’s been our main accommodation while we’ve been moving around. We’ve also stayed in a couple of motels and one hotel, but it was no Ritz, believe me! We made one accommodation stuff up, but one's not so bad, in the grand scheme of things, and it meant that we added Akaroa to our list of places visited, which was definitely a good thing. I’m still hankering after a campervan experience and trying to work out how to achieve that.

The littlest hobo has coped with the changes in our lifestyle well, and for the most part seems to be enjoying it. We've managed well with her allergies and intollerences, as long as we made sure we stocked up on oat milk in bigger towns we didn't have any problems. Her asthma and cough seemed better when we were in rural areas, and I am glad to say that the epipens remain snuggled in their packaging. When I asked her what her favourite things in New Zealand were she said 'playing and cafés', but I know from the look on her face that Penguin Place, the Queenstown luge, Hamner Springs thermal spa and staying on the farm in Tasman all ticked the boxes for her. We were all very fond of Queenstown, with so much to see and do in and around there (and the blog posts about that are still to come... we were too busy experiencing it all to write about it at the time) plus we had warm, comfortable, well equipped accommodation with amazing views, which is always a bonus.

The view from our Queenstown apartment made staying in quite appealing

We’ve encountered yellow eyed and blue penguins, sealions and seals, two gigantic sperm whales, a pot bellied pig, chooks, goats, horses, cows and approximately three million two hundred and eighty nine thousand and seventeen sheep. We’ve been bitten by more sandflies than I care to remember, and have the war wounds to prove it.

Cows and sandfly in the middle of a long white cloud

We’ve munched our way through seventy two inches of Subway seven dollar sandwiches, and at least one of us thinks that that is quite enough for now, thank you. We’ve also enjoyed our fair share of eggs, veges, fruit and milk fresh from farms we’ve stayed on and roadside stalls, and this is something that I love.

I've made over 1600 photographs, and so far the netbook is still standing under the weight of it all. That's a hefty slideshow that somebody will have to sit through at some point.

We’ve spent roughly NZ$8000 which is only $1,500 over our original (and possibly slightly unrealistic) budget.

On more than one occasion we’ve been convinced that ‘the land of the long white cloud’ is a truly apt name for this enchanting landscape. Our best view was over Lake Wakatipu on the drive from Queenstown to Glenorchy - actually, that was my favourite view ever, not just in New Zealand.

Never have I experienced such diversity in such a small area - from the towering wonder of fjordland to the terrifying beauty of the glaciers and the sobering tragedy of Christchurch, all within a few short hours drive of each other. The glorious isolation and tranquillity that encapsulates you in the soft rolling hills of Tasman is an equally necessary part of the South Island experience alongside watching dusky dolphins dance along the Eastern shores and getting an adrenalin fix in Queenstown (on the luge, of course!).

I didn’t really appreciate mountains until I came to the South Island - the place is covered in them, but they are all so different, and that realisation has been a bit of an awakening. Seeing the mountains swathed in cloud which slowly burns away with the warmth of the sun is a fantastic way to start your day, as is dipping your feet into an icy cold glacial mountain stream.

You could drop a destination or two from our itinerary, but it wouldn’t be the same experience. You could do it in half the time, but then you wouldn’t really feel everywhere, just see it through a glass window. You could double the time we spent, and you wouldn’t be bored; we left most places wanting more, which is a good feeling to carry around with you.

New Zealand’s South Island was everything we expected and more. If it isn’t on your bucket list, it might be time to start reconsidering.

Being humbled in Christchurch

After our accommodation debacle we headed off to find a motel for the night - we pointed ourselves in the direction of the airport, figuring there’s always last minute accommodation around airports, but on the way stumbled upon a great little motel so we stopped there for the night. As I was checking in, the owner started to show me a few places on the map. I noticed that we were staying on the edge of the red zone, which he had kindly marked on the map - a sizeable chunk of the CBD which is currently shut off to the public while dangerous buildings are removed and the area is made safe again. When we’d first talked about going to Christchurch, some friends and family had asked us if we should really go there now, but everything I saw when I researched it suggested that Christchurch was encouraging tourists to start coming back, and we felt compelled to support that notion and include it in our great tour of New Zealand in the same way as we would have done pre-earthquake. We’d searched carefully for accommodation that said it was away from the earthquake hit areas, but here we were, right in the city, a block from some of the worst devastation.

We dumped our bags, then headed out to have a look around and get some food for dinner. We had only been walking for a minute or two when we saw fencing along the pavement - looking through we saw a church, closed since February 2011, the walls cracked and damaged, with Mary standing facing it, as if assessing the damage, made quite a statement. On the opposite side of the road was a motel, open for business with it’s vacancy sign burning bright, while the four houses standing right next to it were surrounded by more fencing, massive cracks visible right through the middle of each roof, the blackened evidence of a fire that had burned inside stood out stark against the white wall, while a recovery worker was busy at the front of the building.

The motel next door was open for business - it amazed me how often we saw buildings standing shoulder to shoulder, one apparently unscathed while the other was a crumbling wreck

It was confronting. A few weeks ago, on the first anniversary of Christchurch’s big earthquake, we watched When a City Falls by Gerard Smyth, which was an excellent documentary showing the devastation through the eyes of a Christchurch local, and of course I had seen the news reports when the earthquakes happened, but nothing could have prepared me for the city that we were starting to see. When I was chatting to our motel owner later, he pointed out that the media shows images of the same buildings over and over again, leading us to assume that the worst of the damage is limited to those few buildings.

Some of the games machines were still inside

The area behind High Street - previously a major shopping area in Christchurch

We continued on, soon coming up against more fencing; this time it shut off entire streets, cordoning the red zone. In front of us was the Crown Plaza hotel, and although it was Friday evening, there was still a team working away, meticulously pulling the unsafe building apart one small step after another. There were a couple of people standing by watching; locals, I assumed, looks of awe on their faces, maybe they were visiting memories of happier times, maybe they were recalling the chaos of that fateful day, or maybe, like us, they were trying to wrap their heads around what they were seeing.

Smashed windows, wooden boards and fencing were a feature around most of the streets of the CBD

We walked on, skirting the perimeter of the red zone, walking carefully over cracked, raised pavements, all around us evidence of the day that Christchurch fell; broken windows, abandoned offices and the tell tale spray paint of the rescue teams who painstakingly combed the city looking for survivors in the days after.

It was Friday evening, a time when you would expect bars around a city centre to be heaving with office workers, keen to shrug off the working week and loosen their ties in preparation for the weekend ahead. The place was like a ghost town. Apart from the constant clunk and whir of machinery, the odd small group of tourists doing roughly the same as we were, and one or two people scurrying home at the end of their day, there was no other evidence of life. Our idea of getting dinner was fast becoming a ridiculous notion - we walked for almost two hours, admittedly with stops to gaze with wonder, before we found a Subway which was open and sold us what would become dinner.

The sun going down in the red zone - the sparkle on the pavement is broken glass, still lying there since the quake

One thing that I found particularly striking was the feeling that all this had just happened yesterday - peering through one section of fence would reveal smashed glass and crumbled concrete, look up and you would see smashed windows, curtains or blinds gently fluttering in the breeze, and everywhere was evidence of time stopping; posters advertising 2011 events, a set of flowerpots on a balcony which had clearly fallen over with the earthquake and their owner never been back inside to pick them up, and desks, stacked high with papers, chairs flung back as their occupants fled, thirteen months ago.

Many of the abandoned houses have ladders hanging from the upper floors 

All of this adds to the feeling of being in a ghost town, but much more than that, it gives a glimpse of the panic of the moment, and acts as a poignant reminder of just how much the earthquake devastated the city - we saw people working every moment we were there, and yet a whole year plus hadn’t been enough time for them to reach these areas, to fix these things. Being so soon after the one year anniversary, we saw dedications attached to fences and lamposts of those who had died near that spot. I was moved to tears several times.

Looking at the flower tributes on the perimeter fence

I found these flowers particularly moving - for the  lives lost on a bus - one of the tributes was for a young boy

We walked the entire perimeter of the red zone, and returned to our motel weary. Only one of us fell asleep easily, and slept soundly.

Pop up shops - made from shipping containers - ingenious!

The next morning, we packed up and left our motel and then drove to the other side of the city centre, to an area known as the pop up mall. We’d walked through it the previous evening and were so impressed - it’s a street of shops, banks and food outlets made entirely from shipping containers which has sprung up since the earthquake. It’s ingenious and I love it. We were looking for a farmers market that was rumoured to have started up near there. I’m so glad that we did return there - the area was buzzing, alive with people of all ages, going about there Saturday mornings and blowing life into Christchurch.

The pop up mall was alive with people on Saturday morning. We joined the queue of people to the left.

We didn’t find the market, but we did find a massive queue of people snaking through the mall, and moving forward at a reasonable speed. Remembering what another tourist had said to me the night before - that the red zone was being opened up for public access this weekend - we joined the throngs, and before we knew it, we were working our way through the usually out of bounds streets to the infamous Christchurch Cathedral.

Christchurch Cathedral

Turning the corner and seeing what is left of  the Cathedral for the first time was a humbling moment, seeing the people of Christchurch going through this same passage much more so. The pathway to Cathedral Square was hushed and thoughtful, in spite of the huge number of people walking along. But the atmosphere in the Square was different; uplifting, and a definite positive vibe. It was an amazing thing to be standing in the middle of, to be a part of. I’m so glad that we returned in the morning, that we were able to feel the positive vibe that the people of Christchurch were living by and feel the life and soul of the city.

The Christchurch wizard had plenty to say, and people were gathered around him listening

Yellow ribbons inscribed with messages of hope 

Visiting Christchurch was an overwhelmingly sobering experience, a stark blast of reality that shook us right to our roots and made us shed tears, sit up and pay attention. After 24 hours, we were ready to leave, the weight of sadness bore heavy on our hearts. I have so much admiration for the people of Christchurch; they show such strength and durability as a community. Shining through the dust covered rubble, I could see glimmers of the city that was, and signs of a city that will rebuild itself. I saw a city that I would have loved to visit, and from everyone I spoke to I sensed a determination that one day Christchurch will be that same place again. And I look forward to returning some day soon.

Accommodation blunders in Christchurch

We arrived in Christchurch from Greymouth, via scenic Arthur’s Pass (which from now on shall be known to us as bumble bee alley, but I'll have to come back to that one day), and headed to the accommodation that Mr T had booked a few days ago. After he’d booked it, we’d received an info sheet that explained that the house was actually an old truck, and that linen was not included - no problem, I popped into The Warehouse and bought some discounted bed sheets and we were quite excited at the prospect of staying in a ‘van’. Plus the views in the photographs looked stunning!

We skirted the edge of the city and headed through a few suburbs where we started to see hints of earthquake damage - uneven road surfaces and cracked pavement edges, a closed school, then half-houses, with their insides hanging out, hanging off cliffs. Many of the roads around the cliff walls were lined with stacked containers - I assume to act as a barrier. A few times Gipps sent us down a road, only to find that it had been cordoned off, so we would have to find another way around. It was a sobering experience.

We made our way up the hillside, commenting that there was something comforting about being at the top of the hill, and knowing there was nothing else above us. We turned into the road we were staying in and down quite a steep hill, to the very end of the cul de sac and down a steep driveway. ‘Ýou have reached your destination’ said Gipps. Standing before us was our home for the next three days, clinging to the edge of the cliff , attached by some sturdy looking guide ropes to the rocky surface around it. It had the most magnificent views out to sea. And it terrified me beyond belief;  I wasn’t sure that I wanted to be clinging to the edge of a cliff in an area that had been devastated by a major earthquake just a year ago..

We found the keys and let ourselves in - it was gorgeous and cute and I loved it. But I was finding it hard to take it all in beyond the cacophony of alarm bells which were blasting in my head.  ‘A campervan!’ exclaimed the Littlest Hobo, ‘I love it! Where’s my bedroom?’ I glanced up at the mattress suspended in the ‘master mezzanine’ above our heads, as she and Mr T went off to find her bedroom. At the end of the truck, at the same level as the hanging mattress was a small door, high up in the wall above our heads, with a ladder below it. Mr T climbed up and pulled it open to reveal a bedroom fit for a princess, and they both bounded up the ladder enthusiastically.

I sat on the staircase that led from the entry level up five or six unguarded steps to the raised living area, looking down at the unguarded wood burner by my feet. I listened to their happy chatter, as I took in every toddler-unsafe area and tried to imagine sleeping here over night, with the littlest hobo in a separate area to us; an area that was accessible only by a  two or so metre drop to the floor. It was blowing a gale outside, and the house was gently jostled by the wind. I sat and imagined how it would feel if we experienced one of the aftershocks that I had heard so much about the people of the city living through. I sat and imagined trying to sleep.

I glanced out of the window again at the unimaginably beautiful seascape, and noticed the cliff walk three or four metres in front of the truck. The info pack had mentioned a walk at the edge of the property that had been closed since the earthquake. I loved and feared this little place with each shaky breath I took. Mr T and the Littlest Hobo appeared in front of me, she was so excited. Í can’t do it’ I said to Mr T.

So we replaced the key, got in the car and drove, in search of a motel. I think the Littlest Hobo thought I was joking - she kept saying ‘no, we are staying here’ and ‘no, we love our campervan’ and I felt quite stupid - wondering if I was being all over the top and unnecessarily cautious when so many of the people of Christchurch have been living with conditions probably far more terrifying than this since February 2011. But I felt more comfortable with my decision than I did stupidity or disappointment at my wussiness, or frustration at wasting so much money. So we found a motel for the night, negotiated a relatively reasonable rate, and headed off to explore Christchurch. But that, my friends, is a story for another time.

Travel inertia

A couple of days ago we were hit by an attack of travel inertia. I had expected this to happen, but not so soon (three weeks) into our New Zealand adventure. When we were travelling through Europe last year, we learnt that travelling slower works better for us; seeing fewer places, but getting to know them more intimately, and from reading other travelling families blogs, I’ve found that this seems to be a trend when travelling with young kids.

The drive to Glenorchy was simply stunning - wouldn't have missed it for any amount of upheaval!

But New Zealand is jam packed full of awe inspiring natural wonders dotted here there and everywhere across the country. The last few days, we’ve seen some amazing sights, but we’ve also covered a large number of kilometres, and we’ve been staying in places for one or two nights, taking things out the car, putting them back in, repacking bags so that we don’t need to get them all out at every stop.

As far as accommodation goes, it’s proved to be more costly than we expected (or than a certain unnamed popular guide book led us to believe), maybe partly due to the fact that we haven't keen to stay in youth hostels as the shared kitchen facilities make us nervous with the littlest hobo’s nut allergy (although I've just booked our first one to give it a try next week - watch this space!). But that means that I’m feeling a bit of frustration that we could have afforded a campervan after all, thus avoiding the constant bed hopping and lack of a firm base. Every time another motor home pulls up beside us in a car park (and believe me, there are so many there’s a very high chance of it…) we enviously check out their digs with a few sideways glances and marvel at how marvellous that particular one must be.

To top it all off, a couple of nights ago the Littlest Hobo was restless in the evening and started complaining of a sore tummy. As I was cuddling her, sitting in the bed that we were going to share that night, she vomited in a much more voluminous and projectile manner than I had even known before in her short life. Of course we were at a farmstay where we were only staying one night, there were no spare sheets in the cabin, and our spare pj’s were in one of the suitcases we’d left in the car, which was accessible only by being attacked by twenty thousand sandflies, so it all turned into a bit of a debacle, which we sorted in the end, but needless to say, it’s not what you need at 10pm in an unfamiliar place.

So when we arrived in the little cabin in Greymouth that we are currently staying in, we heaved a sigh of relief, filled the washing machine and swore that we were never travelling again. Once the littlest hobo was snuggled up in her bed we opened the maps and tore apart our plans for the next two and a half weeks until we meet our friends for Easter, taking out the stops that we’d been so keen to take and instead replacing them with a couple of days with long drives with a week in one place and a week in another. We came up with three different options and on a last minute whim, while we were trying to decide which of the two simpler routes we would take, I said ‘let’s sleep on it and make a decision by tomorrow night’.

I woke to a crisp sunny morning, opened the curtains and looked out to the ocean. There was a whole world out there and it was very inviting. I sat down with the guide books and read a little about the areas we had been trying to decide about, then when Mr T got up we made a plan for our day. We decided to keep it low key; a well needed rest day, stick to the cabin  for the morning, let the Littlest Hobo play with her toys and dance around to her music while we made our final decision so that when we headed into Greymouth in the afternoon we could find some internet access and start making bookings. The thing is, a good nights sleep and the promise of a day off had changed my mind, and I was all set to go with the original plan. Lucky for me , I didn’t need to call on my persuasion skills too much - Mr T really wanted to see some of the stops we had planned too. So it’s back to our first route, minus a stop or two, and I’m sure we’ll get fed up with the moving around again before we get to stop for a longer period, but we just need to keep reminding ourselves that this is our big chance to do it, so it’s now or never!

On a side note, we’ve booked our flights to Hawaii from here, and we’re just about to start planning our Canada/US adventure. We’ll have approximately 12 weeks from start to finish and we need to start on the West Coast (either San Diego or Vancouver looking most likely, as there are people we want to see in each of them) and we have flights booked out of Washington DC. I’m hoping we’ll be able to do it in a campervan this time, but we’re still working out the logistics and budget etc. Any suggestions of anywhere we mustn’t miss would be most welcome at this stage!