It started with a hissy fit. Not just a grumpy glance and sharp retort. A right royal tanty, it was. Apparently I was responsible for misplacing an ‘essential’ item that was required for the chilly bin – a divider of some sort – and heaven and earth had to be turned upside down to find it. The interesting thing for me was that, when it was located, it was proved to be unnecessary and everything settled back into its own orbit without major calamity. Not an auspicious start to a long distance trip, I thought.
However, by late morning we were on the way to two delightful nights staying with a part time car dealer who used us as decoy for an inspection visit to a retirement village in Christchurch. To all intents and purposes, we were the couple from out of town who wanted to look through the establishment with a view to purchasing. In reality, he and his wife wanted an excuse to sus the place out.
On Friday morning we bid farewell to our hosts and headed south to lunch at Geraldine. It has become a favoured place in which to take time out of the car and sometimes to overnight at the camping ground. Later, as we approached Omarama, I was appraised of the fact that it was time for another stop and so we got to make the acquaintance of a couple of lively ladies running the Glider Café. Someone there had a sense of humour.
While we learned the hard facts of managing a hospitality business in Covid conditions, the owner sparing few details in the narrative, a couple sitting near us casually took their leave and sauntered a few metres away from the seating area and proceeded to fire up a plane, the prop wash of which had us grasping for all soft furnishings not nailed down.
Suitably refreshed and aerated, we carried on to arrive in Wanaka in time for a late check in at The Pines timeshare where we were booked to stay for a week. We had stayed at another timeshare facility around the side of the lake previously so it was good to try an alternative and compare benefits of each. One major advantage this time was its proximity to the shopping centre and our favourite coffee dispenser, ‘The Ritual’. There I spotted another attempt at explaining some of the current lexicon, if not cause for confrontation.
The Pines timeshare
Saturday had us on our bikes and re-familiarising ourselves with the town and lake front area. The first thing we noticed was the paucity of punters and we began to understand the impact being felt by business owners in an area right in the thick of an Omicron outbreak. The café owner of yesterday had given us the good oil, it seemed, and the crowds were conspicuous by their absence. The supermarket was visited for stocking our self-catering department and the movie theatre was cased for upcoming attractions. It seemed there was a showing of ‘Belfast’ that evening so a booking was made as that was on our viewing list. Then it was a quick blast out to Albert Town to check our bikes were still in good working order.
Movies in small centres can be interesting for a number of reasons and Wanaka’s version did not fail to entertain. As we arrived to claim our tickets we were asked if we wanted half time refreshments and the necessary arrangements were made. Half way through the film it suddenly stopped and the theatre lights came up. We filed out to the foyer where two hot cups of coffee waited, plus a still warm biscuit fresh from the oven – as ordered. Others were served the meals they had ordered and we all sat in the adjoining café to consume our delectables. We, personally, had completed the process of consumption when we were advised it was time to re-enter the theatre and the diners, who had not completed their meals, gathered up their plates and cutlery and we all filed back in to resume the showing to the accompaniment of muffled eating sounds. PS. It was a very good movie but incredibly sad.
The following days took in various activities such as a drive to Glendhu Bay where we were amazed by the size of the camping ground. Because it was the local anniversary day on Monday there had been a sizeable crowd camping and at the end of the weekend it was just beginning the process of dispersal. We marvelled at the brave souls swimming in the lake and it afforded an opportunity to quiz some of the caravan owners about the delights of their particular model. I’m unsure why we do it but we do. At every camp. We are creatures of curious habits.
We also rode out to Hawea where we got into conversation with a couple who had been in Wanaka at the time of the first lockdown and who had stayed. She purchased a house while he wasn’t looking and they then began the process of selling in Auckland and transporting their possessions south. When asked what they did it transpired that she was a brewer for DB for some years and he flew cargo planes to America. He casually mentioned he was flying from Auckland that evening and I checked my watch and did some mental calculations. Just as well there is a busy airport in Queenstown with direct flights to the other end of the country.
A couple of Village People turned up and stayed with us at the timeshare and we did a number of touristy things in the time they were with us and when they moved on we tackled a couple more tracks. On the way to Hawea on Tuesday we spoke with a couple setting out from Albert Town and they reported they were planning to ride down the Clutha river to Luggate for lunch. It seemed there was a pub there and they would enjoy a meal and return, they said. Fortified with this information we set out on the Thursday morning, accompanied by another couple of Village People who were lurking in the vicinity in their motorhome. Some sad but clever person once observed that the best laid plans of mice and men . . . I think you know the one.
At the beginning of the track was a sign that advised, among other things, that we could look forward to a vertical elevation of 149 metres between there and our intended destination. What it failed to mention was that the elevation was confined to a few brutal sections and that they coincided with washed out sections of track. It also added insult to injury by repeating the up and down bits several times. I’m unashamed to confess I resorted to walking and pushing although I mention in my defence that it was an admirable opportunity to check the walk function on my bike. It worked well. Having reached Luggate we discovered the pub was shut until 4pm and the sad little excuse for a shop next door (same owners) offered a paltry excuse for takeaway food and very poor customer service. None of us could face a repeat of that riding experience so we found the bridge over the Clutha and returned to Albert Town via the track on the other side of the river. That ended up taking us part way to Hawea before we could get back to our starting point. The view below makes it look like a doddle but I can assure everyone that while some was straight forward, a lot wasn’t.
The next morning our timeshare tenure came to an end so we repacked and headed for Cromwell where the first item of business was to visit the now famous Highland Park Motor Racing track. I turned down the offer to drive a Mustang at pace around the track – little could top driving a Ferrari in Italy several years ago – so we enjoyed a nice lunch overlooking the track. If you visit, you will be encouraged to visit the Loo With A View. While some might find the exercise tasteless, it was interesting, to say the least. A small sample is added for your optional edification. I hasten to point out that the glass is definitely one way mirror glass.
Our intended destination was an old hotel in Alexandra, the Criterion. It is now owned by young Indian men who appear to be doing a really good job. We were amazed by the coolness of the room in a 27 degree afternoon (very thick stone walls), the low cost of our self-contained room with ensuite, the full kitchen facilities that allowed us to self-cater, and the friendly customer focus. We set up for four nights and reacquainted ourselves with the town.
It wasn’t long before it was discovered a nephew and his partner were camping at Bannockburn so the next morning we drove through Clyde and Cromwell to meet up with them at the much vaunted Bannockburn sluicings. I was frankly sceptical about the virtues of this walk and the signs in the carpark were far from reassuring, given the heat of the day. Before half an hour was up I was a convert. The gentle breeze wafting the scent of wild thyme added to the atmosphere as we viewed what can only be described as gargantuan engineering efforts made in early times in the search for gold. What those old timers must have endured in privations and sheer effort can only be imagined.
Our next adventure was a little more of the wonderful tracks that follow the course of the mighty Clutha River. Matt and Andy came through to Alexandra with their bikes and the five of us (I forgot to mention Mose the dog) rode from Alex to Doctor’s Point where one has the option of paying $125 per person and be transported to Shingle Creek, further down the river, where the track resumes for the ride to Roxburgh. We passed on the jet boat experience and returned to Alex for a picnic lunch and then a ride into Clyde along the first section of the Otago Rail Trail and return to Alex around the river track on the other side of the river.
The Narrows is named for a very good reason.
Matt and Andy met us at the Clyde end of the Dunstan Track next morning. We rode through to just past half way where we stopped for refreshments, a bacon butty and a very acceptable coffee, each from a moored boat. I can’t let the narrative proceed without mention of my trepidation. I do not have a head for heights and, while the track is well engineered and constructed, parts of it are simply way over my head, if you get the drift. I set out at a brisk pace while others stopped for photo opportunities because I was determined not to be holding others up with my not infrequent sessions of determined close examination of the here and now immediately around my bike. These were sometimes accompanied by straddle walking, particularly on the downward sections where a portion of the cliff face was traversed by a zigzag track running back and forth across its face. It would be fair to say I wasn’t a particularly happy camper on occasions. I’m glad we took the advice of someone who declared it safer to travel against the flow because you can keep close to the uphill bank and it helped. We rewarded our efforts with lunch at a winery we found along the track.
We had arranged for Cromwell Cabs to pick us up from the centre of town and take us back to the start of the track, which they did, complete with bikes. This for the same price as sitting in a crowded shuttle van. A no brainer, we thought. Again, good advice from some who had gone before. On the way back to Alex we paused to admire the colours beginning to be in evidence around us. Central Otago is a beautiful place when the weather is good.
Next morning it was time again to pack up and move on. First stop was the Roxburgh Dam where we joined the trail from the opposite end from the one we had taken earlier in the week. This time we rode with a woman called Lynne who was about to start a new job in Christchurch the following week and who happened to be attempting the trail on her own. She declared herself glad of the company and encouragement as she said she wasn’t a confident rider but was giving it a go. We rode all the way to Shingle Creek and back, again with interesting zigzag manoeuvres to be negotiated. There was a hut at Shingle Creek with all the modern conveniences, although some were of rudimentary design.
Next stop was Roxburgh where I amused myself with studying cards for sale while struggling with an indifferent lunch and fellow patrons who continued to sneezed loudly. It really is quite hard to ingest food while mask clad.
Our plan had been to stay two nights at Lawrence and do two days biking on the lower sections of the Clutha Gold Trail, a track on which we had enjoyed one section early last year. On the first morning we headed outdoors to mount our bikes with freshly charged batteries, only to find that her bike’s battery was dead and no attempts at resuscitation were successful. There was nothing for it but to change back into non cycling clothes, load the offending bike on the back of the truck and head for Balclutha where we found a kind and suitably qualified bike mechanic to check it out. He went to all manner of lengths to help us, including travelling to a relative’s house to borrow another like battery to ensure it wasn’t the fault of the bike. On finding it was the battery solely to blame for the power outage he also rang the Bosch wholesalers in Christchurch to see what might be the best remedy. After profuse thanks and handing over a modest sum for his troubles we headed back to Lawrence. The afternoon was spent exploring the environs and we even got to poke our noses up into Gabriel’s Gully, much vaunted for its namesake’s discovery of gold at the beginning of the Otago gold rush.
The following morning it was on the road again, after learning the fascinating story of the motel proprietors who promised us the best room when we return for another attempt at that track later in the year. Before Dunedin we detoured to the back of Lake Waihola to visit friends building a solar passive house on a lovely section overlooking the lake and the town on the other side. Then it was into Mosgiel for lunch and a look around as neither of us could remember visiting the place before.
At the appointed hour we lined up to take possession of The Old Sunday School, our AirBnB for the night, in Dunedin. It was quite cute and everything we needed. A quick sojourn across town to the student quarter found us in a student flat visiting a nephew studying physiotherapy. Then we braved the vagaries of First Table and lucked in with a very good meal at an older hotel near the Octagon.
Before leaving Dunners we took the opportunity to do a tour of Olveston House. I was blown away by the features built into a house that was designed by an architect in London 100 years ago. Also of note was the collection of art, fine furniture and other decorations. If you haven’t been, it is highly recommended.
There followed a procession of one night stands, first in Oamaru where we spent the night in a large motor hotel/motel complex largely occupied by power company workers who had been staying since January and who decided to party late into the night before heading for home early the next morning. I would not have liked to guess the blood/alcohol concentration of most of these workers, all driving the firm’s utes. Again, the ownership of this complex had passed to Asian people who clearly had the stamina for long hours and high delivery of customer service, under sometimes trying conditions.
Next came the wallaby capital of New Zealand where we deviated to visit a cousin, before making the obligatory stop at Nosh, on SH1 at the turnoff to Waimate. Although local gossip has it that ownership has changed hands, the standard of food was still up there. Timaru had us in one of the best AirBnBs we have encountered to date. It was called Rose Cottage and had the best bed we have slept in for ever! The outcome of that was that, on arriving in Christchurch, we went straight to the purveyor of such furniture and ordered one to be delivered to us at home. A pleasant evening with friends in Timaru was followed by the continued drive north, going out of our way to visit a cousin in West Melton before descending on car dealing friends in the leafy suburbs of Christchurch. She had to have a tooth attended to so we paused for a couple of nights before travelling to Lincoln to stay with friends there until the end of the week.
Our return home was uneventful and we now look forward to a new bed being delivered tomorrow. Wanna car? No, wanna bed.