New Zealand 1998

Tuesday, 27 January 1998 Arrival

The Canterbury Plain looked pretty parched as the plane from Sydney approached Christchurch. We landed about twenty minutes early at ten past one and I had no problems with Immigration or Agriculture where the official accepted my assurance that my tent was clean before directing me out through a door which bypassed Customs. It took me a wee while to work out from where the bus left but I managed and reached the Square at ten past two.

I consulted a map in search of the new youth hostel in Manchester Street, four kilometres from the railway station, but without success – I had to resort to asking at the Visitor Information Centre and felt a bit silly when I was directed just two blocks away. No-one had told me that the station had been moved out of town. (The old station building is now a multi-screen cinema.)

While checking in at the hostel, I booked the Tranz Alpine train trip (across the Southern Alps to Greymouth) for Thursday, got some advice on local brew-pubs and went off to check out the Loaded Hog where I enjoyed their Red Dog Draught and Hogs Head Dark but left the lager and wheat beer for another day. Then it was round to Baillies near the cathedral, the only pub I know in New Zealand where they use thin glasses rather than dimple mugs, but alas, now the thin glasses are only for Guinness or Kilkenny. I preferred to drink Canterbury Bitter, which used to be called Ward’s which I came across only once on my previous visits, in the Station Hotel in Hokitika. It’s still a good pint (by Antipodean standards). All the big brewers now have multiple beers, including Speights, none of whose beers now, I’m told, is Lion Red. I bought some soap on the way back to the hostel – Knight’s Castile is available at even the smallest shops.

Wednesday, 28 January

I went off to Ferrymead this morning using the service bus, get off at stop 21 but I didn’t spot any stop numbers until the bus was pulling away from stop 21! I suspect the walk back from stop 22 was shorter than the walk forward would have been.

Ferrymead was a big disappointment, it has regressed in the last ten years. The whole place seems a bit run down and overgrown, especially around the train sheds. I doubt if I saw more than a dozen other visitors in the two and a half hours I spent there. I wasn’t even moved to take my camera out of the bag. The trams stopped running yesterday as the schools have gone back, but the tram people seem to be the only people with some optimism as trams have been reintroduced as a tourist attraction in the city centre.

I walked to the bottom of the Gondola (which ascends the side of the Port Hills near the Bridle Path) hoping to get the free bus back into town but that required over an hour’s wait so I caught a service bus. It was time for some essential food shopping, some tea, milk, cheese and crackers. There was a surprisingly limited choice of crackers and I settled for some small ones. After doing my laundry, I went off to check out the produce of another brew pub, the Dux de Lux, where the beer was reasonable (Blue Duck Draught) but the staff were useless. I booked another two nights at the hostel so that I can go steaming on the preserved steam tug Lyttelton on Sunday.

Thursday, 29 January

Phoned home, all well but my dollar seem to buy a lot less connect time than it did in Australia. I set off for Christchurch Railway Station, now out at the former railway yards at Addington, a couple of kilometres south of the original city station. I eschewed the free shuttle bus which collects around the town, apparently it sits for twenty minutes at the bus station before doing anything useful, and walked there in 45 minutes which would put the distance at a little under the quoted four kilometres. En route, I donated 50 cents to a disorganised motorist at a parking meter outside the hospital.

At the station, I was in time to see the Southerner depart (two coaches plus baggage car), hauling the Tranz Alpine into the platform as it went. This was five coaches plus baggage and observation/generator car – ten years ago, the Southerner was five coaches and the Tranz Alpine three. We left more or less on time at nine o’clock, with a brief stop at Springfield before reaching Arthur’s Pass about quarter past eleven. It was only as we went into the tunnel that I realised that all was not as it had been and when we reached Otira at the other end, the light came on – the overhead electric power cable had vanished. The train staff thought they had been removed last year but weren’t sure. In any case, the couple of dirty diesels (DX5212 and 5327) I’d noticed at Arthur’s Pass are now the tunnel bankers. The yard at Otira is much reduced.

At Greymouth with just an hour and ten minutes turn round, there was no time for more than a couple of pints of Monteith's in the Royal Hotel before taking a couple of photographs at the station. The return journey passed smoothly, I lunched on a cheese platter and small bottle of red wine between Moana and Otira, and we were a few minutes early back at Christchurch, just after six thirty.

In the evening, I dined in a Korean restaurant, on bull-go-kee (beef and vegetables) and kiruchi which I think covered the soup and three small side dishes – cold spinach, chestnut jelly and pickled cabbage, followed by a pint of Canterbury Draught in Trader McKendry’s.

Friday, 30 January A walk in the Port Hills

I looked at some maps of the Christchurch area in Whitcoulls but none seemed quite what I wanted so I tried the Visitor Information Centre and found a good map of the Port Hills, with walks marked. A handy place that centre, they told me the free bus would be leaving shortly (about ten o’clock) for the half hour run to the Gondola, and no-one counted heads. The bottom station of the Gondola is beside the start of the Bridle Path which provides a pleasant hour’s walk over to Lyttelton, with fine views from the summit.

Lunch was an excellent fish (brill) and chips in the Royal Hotel. I complimented the cook on her batter, much lighter than any I had encountered in Australia, she thought the flour was different over there.

Before two, I wandered off east up the Sumner Road which crosses the Port Hills by Evans Pass to the beach suburb of Sumner, a stroll affording excellent views on the lower stretches over the docks and from higher up over the whole harbour. From the top of the pass, I followed the Bluffs Track to the Gondola top station where I spent twenty minutes in the tea room before returning to the top of and down the Bridle Path to take advantage once more of the free bus.

Back at the hostel, I booked passage on the Southerner on Monday and four nights at the youth hostel in Dunedin. There was still time for a walk around the town before bed.

Saturday, 31 January

A warm day was forecast so I decided to do nothing, and did it very badly, wandering aimlessly, achieving nothing of any significance (beyond the purchase of some maps); I couldn’t even raise the energy to photograph the city centre trams properly. In the afternoon, I went back to the Dux de Lux pub to try more of their ales, Blue Duck Draught again and Hereford Bitter, not bad beer but the girl behind the bar had no interest in any of her customers. (One girl asked – could she have a black straw in her drink – no, we haven’t got any here – and the barmaid went back into neutral.)

In the evening, for want of anything better to do, I went into an Irish pub, Sullivan’s, and watched the band set up. A brief flutter of hope as first in was a girl with a fiddle but she was followed by lots of amplifiers etc. I decided to leave after the first couple of numbers but somehow stayed much later.

Sunday, 1 February Steam Tug Lyttelton

And so woke up a bit later than usual, but still in good time to catch the 1120 bus for the 25 minute journey through to Lyttelton, where I had plenty of time to wander around admiring the activity in the port. The P&O cruise liner, Sky Princess, was in port, attended by a fleet of buses to ferry passengers around the local attractions. A coal train was unloading, edging forward as each wagon emptied its load over a bank with earth movers removing the coal to a large pile, and there were several irrigation sprays operating to keep down the dust.

Back to the port to buy a ticket from a man who only that morning took into Christchurch someone who had something to do with the Shieldhall. I wandered around the dock and photographed an oddly configured ship with nice lines. (Of which more anon.)

Then it was time for the two o’clock cruise on the preserved steam tug Lyttelton. She was built by Fairfield’s in 1907 as the Canterbury but her name was changed a few years later when the Lyttelton Harbour Authority acquired a newer more powerful tug and wanted the name for her. The cruise was very pleasant, out to the harbour entrance and back with close up views of the coal boat and the liner. All the staff aboard were friendly, they had a very nice t-shirt design but didn’t take credit cards so I could afford only one.

We were back in Lyttelton at twenty to four and, as I had some time to kill before the bus, I went into the Canterbury Hotel for a quick refreshment. One of the other customers noticed my Waverley t-shirt and told me he worked on the harbour dredger which is steam powered and was built in Scotland. The captain had worked on Waverley before emigrating but as that was 20 years ago, it must have been for CalMac. Then it dawned on me, and he confirmed that the oddly configured ship with nice lines was indeed that dredger.

Dandelion Fountain	Peacock Fountain

I was back in Christchurch just after five and wandered around a bit before dining on beef in oyster sauce in a Thai restaurant a few blocks out Colombo Street. I’d actually been looking for a vegetarian restaurant where I dined ten years ago but it has gone up market with the addition of a bar to become a bistro. I finished the evening with a couple of expensive beers in Sneakers Sports Bar, a rather glitzy place. I wonder why they have a model of DEPV Talisman above the door.

Monday, 2 February

I needed the alarm to remind me to get up at five past six but still managed to be out by half past, again spurning the courtesy coach and walking to the station in 40 minutes this time; it’s always faster when you know the route. I was in time to see the Coastal Pacific depart for Picton, three coaches plus (un-refurbished) backpacker coach plus baggage car. The Southerner was three coaches (it’s only been two every other time I’ve seen it) plus baggage van while the Tranz Alpine was ten coaches with the observation/generator car in the middle. I had to seek confirmation that this was indeed all one train and was assured that it was the five coaches last Thursday that was unusual.

We left on time at quarter past eight hauled by DX5483, far from full, mostly tourists. There were very few passengers on/off at Ashburton (0915), Timaru (1015) and Oamaru (1115), while almost everyone got off at Dunedin when we arrived at two o’clock. I doubt if this train will survive much longer, a pity as it was always a pleasant experience to travel with a high proportion of local passengers.

The hostel was still where it was ten years ago, up a hill but not as big a hill as twenty years ago. I booked in for four nights and went out for a bit of shopping, deciding to head for the nearest supermarket (Countdown) which was back past the Octagon. The selection of cheese and crispbreads was not much greater than had been available in a small shop in Christchurch. On the way, I stopped at a bank to cash a travellers’ cheque and get rid of my remaining Australian currency and, much to my surprise, they even took the small coins!

Having dumped my provisions back at the hostel, I set out for a brief familiarisation tour in a southerly direction and came across a small chip shop offering fish and chips at $2. At that price it was worth a try and I was pleasantly surprised – the portions were of reasonable size, the chips were acceptable and the fish was quite good. A far cry from my previous visit when a cheap fish supper at the other end of town was quite the worst I’ve ever eaten in the Antipodes.

Since I didn’t want to wander too far, I turned and walked back along Princes Street, through the Octagon and along George Street (all a straight line) as far as the Knox Kirk at the corner of Pitt Street. I sampled a pint of Otago Draught Ale and another of Otago Strong Ale in the Albert Arms then a pint of Mac’s Gold (which turned out to be lager) in the Robert Burns Pub before dining on cheap Cambodian beef and vegetables on fried rice in the Asparce.

Tuesday, 3 February

I frittered away the morning doing not very much except buying the 1:250,000 Dunedin sheet and checking out the Speights at the Royal Hotel, beside the brewery. It was in this establishment ten years ago that I decided that Speights was just Lion Red under a different name. I don’t know why I drank DB Draught on this visit.

At half past two, I joined the Taieri Gorge excursion train, six coaches behind DJ3228 and a baggage car. In 1991, New Zealand Railways decided to close the line on completion of work on the Clyde Dam (which had been the main earner for them) so Dunedin City Council bought it, up as far as Middlemarch (now within the “city” boundary), and four DJ class locomotives. The train runs as far as Middlemarch only on Sundays and I had to accept the shorter run to Pukerangi, still a very pleasant excursion with stops at Deep Stream Viaduct and Reefs Hotel Cutting (a new stop since my last visit). There is now a connection at Pukerangi from/to Queenstown which provided a small change of passengers. However, we had to wait 25 minutes for a tour group whose coach had broken down.

We were back in Dunedin at seven o’clock and I noticed an interesting meteorological phenomenon in the distance – a cap of mist on top of Mt. Cargill with the television transmitter mast showing above it. I managed another couple of pints on the way back to the hostel.

Wednesday, 4 February

I booked a passage on the Bottom Bus from Dunedin to Queenstown via the Catlins Coast, Invercargill and Te Anau, starting on Friday and stopping in Invercargill and Te Anau for a couple of nights at each. I also booked accommodation at the hostel at Invercargill. Handy things hostels.

After dropping three films in at ProLab for processing, I wandered along to the Otago Settlers’ Museum (in what was the bus station), very interesting (as it was on my last visit) but they had no “Josephine” t-shirts, I had to settle for a couple of books (on Dunedin Trams and the Otago Central Railway) and a few postcards as souvenirs. For a late lunch I had spare ribs and a couple of pints of Monteith's Black, then went looking for a haircut. The shop in Moray Place has been done up since my last visit and just as I was about to enter, I spotted the dreaded word “hairstylist” (synonymous in my vocabulary with “expensive”) and beat a hasty retreat. I found a “barber” on Princes Street near Exchange and was neatly trimmed for $13.

My films were not yet ready so I decided to send off a package without them and proceeded to the post office to buy a postpak. Size 2 was smaller than its Australian equivalent and size 3 looked a bit large but I bought it anyway, I can always buy a few more t-shirts to fill it if necessary. In the event, it turned out to be just too small to clear all my current junk.

In the evening, I walked out to the Carrisbrook Hotel for a couple of beers, Trapper’s Red, another new variety from the West Coast.

Thursday, 5 February

To facilitate an early start, I headed for the post office sharp at nine o’clock, only to discover that it opened at half past eight! However, having got rid of my postpak, $48.50 for 4.5 kilograms, I still managed to catch a bus at twenty past nine which deposited me at the suburb of Normanby at ten to ten. I started walking on suburban street, progressing to metalled road, unmade road and track, a very good track, all the way to the summit of Mt. Cargill (676 metres) in just over an hour. It was a bit warm by then with a distant heat haze but the views were excellent over the city and Otago Harbour and up the coast to the north.

From the summit, I followed the track over Buttar’s Peak to the Organ Pipes (a geological structure with an obvious appearance) then down across Mt. Cargill Road into Grahams Bush and ultimately to Sawyers Bay where I could have caught the 1320 Port Chalmers to Dunedin bus but decided to drink some milk and walk into Port Chalmers for a look around before catching the 1505 bus.

I was back in Dunedin at half past three, collected my processed film and had a pot of tea and a bit of bacon and vegetable quiche in a cafe on the Octagon before returning to the hostel for a shower before going out for a fish supper, walk and pub crawl along Princes Street. This included a couple of beers in the Empire where I didn’t meet any drunks from Hamilton.