New Zealand 1988

Tuesday 29 March — Wellington to Christchurch (350km)

After a light breakfast, I said farewell till next time, to the McGees and took the trolley bus down to town, near the railway station from which there is a shuttle bus service along to the ferry terminal. I booked the pack through to Christchurch and went looking for more tobacco. The ferry terminal is set amongst docks and rail freight yards with a sad dearth of tobacconists in the vicinity so I ran out of time before I found any and had to half-run back to catch the boat. The shop on board sells tobacco.

The sea was officially described as moderate, but I thought it was only slight, which is just as well as I’m not a good sailor. I spent most of the trip in the bar, as I wouldn’t have to drive on the other side and there would be a toilet on the train. When we reached Picton, I made a quick rush to the bank to pay in a cheque for my accumulated VISA bill, a small matter of two thousand dollars or so but most of that is for the Sydney to Perth trip. Back to the station to watch the luggage being loaded on the train. My pack was there all right. I don’t know why I worry, they’ve never lost it yet.

The weather was reasonably bright as we headed south but got a bit duller as we approached Kaikoura, where I was well up the queue for refreshments after deciding that the light was not good enough for photographing the engine. Leaving Kaikoura, the guard announced that we might be late into Christchurch owing to a bad storm down there. There was some rain as we went further south but it was dry again when we reached the city. It seemed the worst of the weather passed south of the city, adversely affecting the Southerner which arrived just before us. I don’t know why a bit of bad weather should delay a train but apparently it does.

So, out of the train and off up the street. Instead of heading straight for the Youth Hostel, which probably would be full, I decided to head for one of the Backpacker hostels, Latimer Hostel which is not the non-smoking one. There I got a single room for $20 per night, which is pretty reasonable in a city, and booked for two nights. The general standard of amenity was a bit lower than one would expect in a city youth hostel. However, I don’t need much amenity and after dumping my gear, I headed into town for a beer at Baillies, the pub with the straight glasses, and a cheap fish supper.

Back to the hostel intending to wash a few socks and things to find that I had no soap. I must have left it in Napier as I definitely had it there and I’d had no occasion to use it since. Seems odd that I would pick up and pack an empty soap box without noticing, but there it is.

Wednesday 30 March — The Tranz Alpine Express (510km)

Up at half past six and shuffled off down to the railway station to catch the Tranz Alpine Express across the Midland Line to Greymouth (and back again). My seat was in the buffet car, the advertising describes it as new for this run but it is just a standard coach rebuilt with larger windows and the buffet. I was surrounded by members of some elderly ladies club who gossiped their way through the mountains while I looked out of the window.

The run was very pleasant with the stretch between Springfield and Cass probably the most impressive as the line follows a ledge above the Waimakariri River, tunnelling through buttresses and crossing high viaducts over tributaries and, on occasion, the Waimakariri itself. Diesel hauled through the Otira Tunnel where there were four electrics and two DF diesels in a row which looked as if they were waiting to go through in the other direction.

We were a couple of minutes late into Greymouth and I shot across the road into a pub. The guard off the train was there before me, and the buffet car hostess was not far behind. The guard was the same one who was on the train from Picton to Christchurch yesterday. I asked him if he would be on the Southerner tomorrow and, yes, he would. This was the third consecutive day working for the hostess, at more than twelve hours per day for the return trip.

On the return journey, we were all supposed to change seats to the other side of the coach. I had no-one beside me, but some seats were apparently double booked and there was some confusion before everyone got sorted out. The return journey was equally pleasant, with sun on both coasts and on the eastern side of the Alps but cloudy on the western side with some spots of rain at Otira on the way back.

We were a couple of minutes early back at Christchurch where I bought some soap on the way to the hostel and washed my socks at last, before going out for a beer or two and then to bed.

Thursday 31 March — Christchurch to Invercargill (594km)

Time to move on to Invercargill on the Southerner. Up at seven, showered, packed and wandered down to the station by eight, in good time for breakfast in the station tearoom before checking in my pack and boarding the train.

We left on time at ten to nine but ran slow out to Rolleston, apparently behind a freight bound for Greymouth, and were fifteen minutes late at Ashburton, and stayed that way down to Dunedin. Only ten minutes late out of Dunedin where there was not much confusion over seating arrangement but lost another five at Balclutha and were still fifteen minutes late into Invercargill.

I had mince, peas and mashed potatoes for lunch, the alternatives were things like pies or sandwiches, it was acceptable and reasonably priced. The dining arrangements consisted of a long buffet counter running most of the length of the carriage, with stools to sit on. The beer on the Southerner was $2.50 per tin, as it had been on the Tranz Alpine Express, compared with $3.00 on the Silver Fern and forbidden on the Northerner. I’d only bought one beer yesterday but I had a few more today.

After Dunedin, there was a young woman sitting in front of me with a small child. At Balclutha, the wee girl pointed out of the window and said “look, there’s Lorretta”, apparently her cousin. It seemed that this was unexpected but a couple came aboard with three small children, including Lorretta, and dumped them. They explained that there had been a change of plan and they had tried to get in touch but failed, and would she please take all the kids to Invercargill. There was a quick shuffle of seats to allow them all to sit together.

At Invercargill, I collected my pack and was about to set off towards the YH when it started to rain. Now, it’s about three kilometres to the YH, while just across the road there was the Railway Hotel which charged only $44 for bed and breakfast. I took the easy way out.

After a shower, it was time to eat but by now the rain was very heavy so I decided to use the hotel dining room. At $27, it was one of the more expensive meals that I’d eaten in New Zealand (which says more about my eating habits than about restaurant prices) but it was very good, half a dozen Bluff oysters “Kilpatrick” and blue cod fillets in green pepper sauce, definitely better than a wet hamburger. The Glenlivet was extra.

Friday 1 April Good Friday — Invercargill to Milford Sound (280km)

The breakfast was good, despite the lack of kippers, then I went to watch the northbound Southerner depart. Since the booking office was open here, I went in and booked ahead for Christchurch to Dunedin via Timaru, the lad in the office was surprised that the Dunedin office was open at that time on a Bank Holiday. However, he couldn’t raise any office which would handle a change I wanted to make between Greymouth and Westport so I’ll have to try that one again at Queenstown.

The next bit of my trip demonstrates an interesting piece of logistics. Every morning a bus leaves Invercargill for Queenstown and another bus leaves Queenstown for Invercargill. Similarly, there is a bus in each direction between Dunedin and Te Anau or Milford. All four buses are timed to arrive at Lumsden at the same time for lunch and to transfer passengers as necessary. The Invercargill to Queenstown bus left about fifteen minutes late but there was very little traffic on the road and we were only two minutes late at Lumsden. However, that made us the last to to arrive and the tearoom was stowed.

I had to settle for a pie in my hand before buying some tobacco and watching to ensure that my pack was transferred to the correct bus. We left on time and went via Manapouri to Te Anau. In winter this is the end of the run but in summer there is an evening service to Milford, returning in the morning. When we left Te Anau, there was the driver, myself and two trampers who got off at the Divide. They had arranged to meet friends at Mackenzie Hut, about five hours up the Routeburn Track and they had one and a half hours of daylight left. Rather them than me.

So I had a forty-one seat chauffeur driven limousine to myself for the rest of the journey to Milford, with an interesting commentary from the driver. The weather deteriorated a bit as we approached the Homer Tunnel but never got worse than a light drizzle. Just before the tunnel, there was a flock of about a dozen keas on the road. Most of them moved as we approached but one decided to play chicken and did not move until the bus was about a foot away. It did a sort of upside down take off from under the nearside wheel arch, giving me an excellent view of the colour on the underside of the wings. Quite a contrast to the dull aspect it presents when standing around.

I decided to stay at the THC hotel, quite posh, $55 for the night which I could afford but I was not hungry enough to pay their restaurant prices. The public bar had already closed for the season and it was $2.50 for a small bottle of beer in the cocktail lounge so I didn’t drink much either. There is no television or radio reception in this neck of the woods so they show videos in the bar, a western with the usual trick of Indians who couldn’t hit a barn door at ten paces and Palefaces who shoot with amazing accuracy with hand guns off the backs of galloping horses.

Lots of mist, cloud and drizzle so no sunset.

Saturday 2 April — Milford Sound to Queenstown (307km)

There was a lot of rain in the night and it was still drizzling at half past seven. Cloud base was variable down to one thousand feet in places which rather shut out the view of the six thousand foot mountains around. There were no new passengers on the bus, not from the hotel, the lodge, Hollyford Corner of the Divide so I had the bus to myself all the way to Te Anau. The weather improved on the way, there was the odd patch of blue and the occasional mountain top visible on the way up to the Homer Tunnel (though no keas), but not much more till we were past Lake Gunn.

Breakfast in Te Anau was a pot of tea and a bacon bun in the Jailhouse Cafe. It didn’t look much like a jailhouse so I presume the small group of shops was built on the site. The bacon bun was hot - microwaved - the lady realised the setting was wrong the first time and did it again. Even the plate was hot when it came out.

There were rather more people on the bus from Te Anau for an unremarkable trip to Lumsden, where we were last to arrive again. I didn’t bother with the tearoom, just sat on what once was the railway platform and smoked my pipe, writing this and dreaming of steam. On the next stage up to Queenstown, the driver gave a bit of a commentary as we went along, previous drivers (excluding the lad who took me to and from Milford) have restricted their comments to where we were and timetable information. Didn’t see the Kingston Flyer as we passed.

The Queenstown Road Services office were unhelpful about my travel plans. As far as they were concerned, everywhere else was shut on a Bank Holiday Weekend so they weren’t going to do anything. I walked along to the YH and, wonder of wonders, got a bed for the night. Walked back into town and ate some food, then watched the Earnslaw return from its afternoon cruise to the Mt Nicholas Sheep Station before having a couple of beers.

Back at the hostel, I took advantage of their cafeteria and had a vegetable curry, quite good. Pottered about doing this and that for a while and retired at a reasonable hour. I deduced that the film on TV finished at 2315 as there was a sudden flurry of activity then.

Sunday 3 April Easter Sunday — Queenstown to Fox Glacier (381km)

I swept the kitchen floor around peoples feet before walking into town for breakfast and the bus. There was no complaint about the seat allocation, the driver gave me the front aisle seat, which gets a very good view. The window seat was occupied by a girl from Christchurch who was covering as much ground as possible in a long weekend.

The weather was reasonable, with some cloud and some blue sky. We took the long way round via Cromwell to Wanaka where there was a short stop before proceeding to the lunch stop at Makaroa. Further on, the driver stopped to allow photographs at the Gates of Haast and at Thunder Falls, which I had missed when driving through the Pass. There was another stop at the Haast Hotel while the bus was refuelled, then off up the coast road with a photo stop at Knight’s Point where there is a plaque to mark the completion of the road in the early sixties.

As we arrived at the Fox Glacier Hotel, Gary, the driver, pointed out that Sunday Closing on the West Coast meant that the bar door is locked and intending customers must use the side door or go in through the hotel foyer. There was a sign outside advertising budget accommodation from $13, so I enquired and opted for a room at $21 including linen, rather than trying the Backpackers Hostel. The normal room rate is $55 plus GST but for that you get private facilities and colour TV. A number of other passengers also stayed at the hotel, including four climbers that we’d picked up at the end of the Copeland Pass track.

I settled in, had a couple of jugs, and went across the road to the tearoom for a takeaway, chicken drumstick and chips. There are supposed to be glow worms by the main road to the south of the settlement, so I walked in that direction for a bit and did indeed spot the occasional glow in the roadside bush, but not much. Back to the pub for a few more jugs. Some of the locals (female) had a guitar and were singing, and a tourist came in with a fiddle and played what I took to be bluegrass. The evening went well till they played Loch Lomond (they didn’t know too many words) and, having had a few jugs by then, I got homesick and retired.

Monday 4 April Easter Monday — Fox Glacier to Greymouth (212km)

A beautiful morning, with the sun shining from a clear blue sky and the mist lying on the paddocks. The bus was fairly full out of Fox but I managed to get the front window seat. At Franz Joseph, the girl from Christchurch got on and took the seat beside me. I offered to swap but she was quite content with where she was.

Now, it had been announced that for economic reasons the Franz Joseph THC hotel would close over the winter, though many believe that it would never reopen, and today was closing day. We picked up some of the staff, including the man from Falkirk, whose father had been a bailie, that I’d been talking to on my last visit. A short photo stop for a last look at the summit of Mts Cook and Tasman.

We had to change buses at Hokitika. The train from Greymouth to Christchurch was fully booked and the bus from the West Coast to Christchurch is a summer-only service so NZR had decided to run the bus from Franz Joseph through to Christchurch and provide a connection from Hokitika to Greymouth.

This posed a dilemma for a couple of Germans - they were on the waiting list for seats on the train but, as all the booking offices were closed for the holiday, they would have to check with the train guard at Greymouth. By that time, the bus would be long gone. They decided to play safe and stay on the bus.

The Tranz Alpine leaving Greymouth

The girl from Christchurch secured the front seats on the bus to Greymouth, where she had a seat booked on the train. I said cheerio, the train departed and the onlookers dispersed, except for another couple of Germans. They were going to Westport and had been told by the bus driver (and I heard him too) that the Westport bus would go at 1330. Now, according to the timetable, it was due to go at 1415 but as it was a holiday, perhaps they were using the Saturday timings. However, it had not appeared by 1335. I went for a beer and when I wandered back past the station at 1425, there were the two Germans and no bus. They decided to give up and spend the night in or around Greymouth.

I walked along to the hostel to dump my gear. There was a chap called Quintin there, from Arbroath, and we sat in the sun jawing till the office opened. Showered, a pot of tea, then out for a cheeseburger and chips and a few jugs in the local hostelry. Back at the hostel, the fiddler from Fox was jamming with a German girl who played a small accordion. The tunes which they both knew were mainly Scottish and Irish dances. Shared the dorm with two Poms and a Brazilian. Not a lot of Brazilians around.

Tuesday 5 April — Greymouth to Timaru (484km) via Christchurch

I slept in. I was awake and ready to get up at five to seven and suddenly it was twenty to eight. So it was a bit of a rush to get packed and off to catch my bus, saying goodbye to Quintin on the way out. It had been pleasant having a bit of a crack with a fellow countryman. I must remember to check if Iain Stewart comes from Arbroath, he has a similar way of speaking.

No problems with the bus to Reefton. The driver delivered a few newspapers as we went up the road, either opening his window a couple of inches and flicking the rolled-up paper out and across the road, or opening the door and doing a sort of reverse underarm toss on to the verge in the vicinity of a mailbox. I wonder what he does when it’s raining.

The bus from Reefton was fairly full, I had an aisle seat halfway back beside an elderly lady who had told me most of her family history by the time we got to Christchurch. My seat was not a good one for watching the scenery which was a pity as by the time we were over the top of the Lewis Pass, the sky was clear and what I could see of the scenery looked marvellous.

At a place called Lochiel, a large lay-by in the middle of nowhere, the buses between Christchurch and Westport meet with another bus which provides a connection from and to Hanmer Springs. It must look a bit ridiculous, three buses by the roadside swapping drivers, passengers and luggage. What did surprise me was that all the buses arrived within three minutes.

The northbound Southerner at Ashburton

On time at Christchurch where I booked another couple of days travel to get back to Picton for the early ferry on Saturday morning, in the hopes of seeing the sun rise on the Marlborough Sounds. The bus to Timaru departed on time, half full but filled up at Ashburton where we met the northbound Southerner running fifteen minutes late. Just south of Ashburton, we stopped three times in quick succession to pick up defeated hitch-hikers. All this takes time and we were ten minutes late from there on.

I wandered up to the YH in Timaru, no problem with a bed, showered and met Juliet from AVTEC in Auckland. She was on a four week trip with a week to go, going to Tekapo tomorrow. Good choice. I ordered a couple of fresh brown rolls for my breakfast tomorrow. Anne, the warden, goes out early for her family requirements and get extra for the inmates.

Wednesday 6 April — Timaru to Dunedin (200km)

The rolls were good. I refused the offer of fresh ground coffee and stuck as always to a pot of tea. On the way to the railway station, I had a look at Caroline Bay, Timaru’s answer to Vauxhall Gardens. The train was only eight minutes late, and the guard was that man again. I’m beginning to convince myself that he was also the guard on the Taieri Gorge Excursion but he couldn’t remember his duties that far back. He claimed that there were other guards but I’m not convinced.

Someone was sitting in my allocated seat so I sat elsewhere. Several other people had problems with their seat allocations as well, I don’t think I’d let NZR allocate seats on a children’s playground train. Service was a bit slow in the buffet. I don’t know what time we were supposed to arrive in Dunedin but we might have been on time.

I went in to the booking office to check the time for my bus to Wanaka tomorrow and discovered that it leaves fifteen minutes earlier than on the ticket, a change made last Friday but not widely reported! I also used their phone to get through to Australian Rail at Auckland to check progress on my Austrailpass. All was well, they’d booked all the bits I’d asked for (which was just as well as I’d lost the list and would have had serious difficulties trying to alter things.

Plenty of beds at the YH. I went for a walk through the town looking for a barber shop, but one was out for a minute, another had a queue and the third was just closing. So, my locks will just have to get longer. Had a few beers and the cheapest fish and chips so far, $1.50, and probably the worst, especially the fish, small, thin and dry.

Not a good night as I was stuck with an upper bunk and the chap in the bed below kept tossing and turning through the night, and his springs were noisier than mine.

Thursday 7 April — Dunedin to Wanaka (283km)

Up early, showered, packed and was down at the front desk at twenty to eight. I went outside and smoked my pipe for a while before I realised that the office was already open. Vacuummed the lobby then wandered down to visit the Early Settler’s Museum. Quite interesting. I bought a T-shirt with Josephine on it.

Fine and sunny this morning, with a bit of a wind blowing the leaves as I wandered along to the bus station in good time for the 1030 departure. We left more or less on time and proceeded through Milton and Laurence and up the Clutha valley, exchanging drivers with the Dunedin bound bus at Raes Junction.

The Clutha at Roxburgh

Poplars are popular round here and were looking very attractive in autumn gold against the generally dull green scrub. Some of the colour in the apple orchards we passed was even spectacular.

At Alexandra, the driver stopped, as is usual, before crossing the railway tracks. He then turned into the station yard and parked on the line against the platform.

I changed buses at Cromwell, only three passengers for Wanaka. The driver said that they were extracting 12 - 14 ounces of gold a day from the site of the old Cromwell town centre, before it goes under Lake Dunstan.

We arrived at Wanaka five minutes ahead of schedule. I walked along the lakeside for a bit then sat in the sun for a while admiring the view. Lovely lake. Round to the hostel for the third time on this trip. The first time the place was stowed, the second time it was busy but this time it looked like a quiet night. There was a pommie rucksack in the common room, and me. I booked in when the office opened, washed myself and a few garments, especially my socks, and made a pot of tea. The Pom arrived, then a couple of lads and then two girls.

There is a vegetarian restaurant in Wanaka so I decided that it was time I ate a few veges and went in search of it. It was closed so I had fish and chips instead. Into the hotel for a few beers in fairly plush surroundings before returning to the hostel and to bed.