Hello, hello, I'm at a place called....

Franz Joseph Glacier

This blog begins in much the same style as the last one ended, with Ryders on Tour in hot pursuit of the cephalopods of New Zealand. With this in mind, we headed south past Christchurch, the centre of which is sadly deserted and blocked off following the February earthquake. We were aiming for Akaroa on the Banks Peninsula, where the highlight was swimming with Hectors dolphins, the smallest and rarest ocean-going dolphin in the world. These dolphins usually swim in ones and twos, but luckily we managed to get dropped into the middle of a pod of 100 or so following a trawler, and had an amazing experience of them skipping around us and swimming under our feet.

Hectors dolphin

Recent travellers to New Zealand may have noticed that for citizens whose once proud pound sterling is now a laughing stock on the international currency exchange, this is not cheap country. Hotel accommodation is a hefty expense, so with a focus on value for money that would do the Audit Commission proud (an ethos now so ingrained it will be with us for ever), we decided that £80 is too much to pay for a night in a grim motel room. Instead we have been staying at a variety of establishments, including a number of backpacker hostels. This does not mean, however, mattresses on the floor and paper thin walls – the hostels are usually excellent, full of friendly people, spotless facilities and at great locations. We think we might have found the best hostel in the world after we left Akaroa – judge for yourself.  

After getting up at silly o’clock to watch endangered yellow-eyed penguins waddle off in to the sea for a hard day of catching fish, enjoying lunch at one of NZ’s best restaurants and playing on the giant boulders of Moeraki, we headed for Dunedin. Perched at the edge of the Otago peninsula, there are some great coastal walks, even when it rains for two days solid. Walking to Tunnel Beach in treacherous conditions gave us the chance to break out our all-weather gear again and put our trail shoes through their paces. Numerous falls later (one preceded by the confident statement of ‘I am like a mountain goat’) and J’s jeans were going in the bin, no washing machine being powerful enough to remove the stains of shame.

Thinking we might have missed one, more yellow-eyed penguins were jostled on the next leg, a drive through the beautiful Catlins in the far south of the country. C managed to briefly resurrect a previous career and go all school mistress on a group of lads who were disturbing the penguins and using flash photography (a big no-no). If anyone is going to bother penguins, it’s going to be us.

Next up was fjordland, specifically Doubtful Sound (technically a fjord rather than a sound; the difference was explained to us, but we were busy throwing rocks at the penguins at the time). About as remote as you can get in New Zealand, it can only be accessed by a combination of boat, coach and boat again, but it is worth it. Fearing a Saga experience, we took an overnight cruise, which thankfully didn’t feature spam sandwiches and milky cocoa at 8pm. Just to prove our youth and virility, we went for a kayak round the sound and even jumped in the Tasman Sea – a toasty 12 degrees - for a very quick swim. The cruise gave us amazing views of the fjords, the native seal population and the transformation the area undergoes after rain, when literally thousands of waterfalls appear from nowhere.

Kayaking in Doubtful Sound

Bungy jumps, canyon swings, rafting, river surfing, skydives and jet boat rides are just some of the things you can do in Queenstown, the adventure capital of the world, constantly re-inventing new thrills and heart-racing activities. Accordingly, on our first day there, we went for a leisurely drive and played crazy golf. The second day (also J’s birthday) we tried to redeem ourselves and went for a tandem ‘flight’ on the world’s highest swing. Strapped in to a harness we were released to a 70 metre drop followed by a 200 meter swing. As a birthday treat J had a second go; flying solo this time, he lost all sense of reason and decided to go upside down and backwards. Whoever thought that was a good idea? We found a good way to calm down after that was to play another game of crazy golf in case the excitement got too much.

Canyon swing in Queenstown

From Queenstown it was a short drive to Wanaka; home of some great hiking and, for the more cerebral tourist experience, ‘Puzzling World’. Feeling confident after cracking the two storey maze without the need for couples counselling we decided to head back to the hostel to conquer a 1000 piece jigsaw, a marriage wrecker if ever there was one.

We are now on the west coast en route to Wellington for a ferry back to the north island and eventually our flight to Sydney in five days.

Highlight: swimming with the dolphins in Akaroa – imagine fun-sized dolphins with killer whale markings, but playful and friendly.  

Lowlight: discovering we have been well and truly fleeced by an Argentine car company. While it is always a pleasure to keep in touch with the many friends we have made along the way, this desire to foster international goodwill does not extend to sitting quietly by while Mickey Mouse outfits siphon hundreds of pounds from our limited funds for months on end.

Ryder v Ryder board game challenge update: C now leads 5–1 at Scrabble, but J has a 2–1 advantage at Trivial Pursuits. For the sporting archivists out there, J’s steely nerve around the greens held true and he closed out a 2-0 victory in the crazy golf.

Over the dogs down below, they'll bark at our shadows

Abel Tasman National Park

After a gruelling 14 hour flight from Santiago we arrived in Auckland bemused and befuddled (and covered in crumbs), having lost a whole day of our lives due to 15 hour time difference. This disorientation was offset by the joy of being understood, for the most part, by the locals for the first time in three and a half months. 

Bunking down in one of Auckland’s best hotels – because we’re worth it - we took a chance on a self-developed theory that a good cure for jetlag is loafing around in a Jacuzzi and sunbathing in fluffy white robes. The theory has some merit. We also used the time to up our quotient of museums to internationally recognised safe levels and indulge in some much craved-for spicy food, a riotous digestive fiesta after the cheese and meat stodge-a-thon of South America.

Next stop Rotorua. For once the smell of eggs following Ryders on Tour had a clearly identifiable source, namely the multitude of volcanic hot springs and geysers in the vicinity. After nailing some fantastic mountain biking in the local redwood forests, which included one of the Ryders biting off rather more than he could chew and having to carry his bike down a particularly hideous stretch, we turned our minds to rafting. With the grade IV we conquered in Argentina still fresh in our minds, we decided to go one louder with a grade V run. The course along the Kaituna River includes a 7m drop, the highest commercially rafted waterfall in the world. The raft in front capsized and bodies were littering our exit from the falls so we weren’t hopeful but, as the pictures show, we somehow emerged with a full head count and dignity intact. In Kiwi parlance, the trip was ‘awesome’ and our performance can only be described as ‘sweet as.’ Our last night in the area was spent with friends in Tauranga; a lovely way to round off our stay here.

Tackling the falls

At this point the weather turned grim, so while the UK was enjoying a BBQ spring (© Met Office) most of New Zealand’s north island had flood warnings and power cuts. We decided to spend a couple of days in Wellington – a fine city - and then cut our losses and head straight for south island.

First stop was Nelson and a boat ride into the beautiful Abel Tasman national park for a hike along stunning beaches and sub-tropical forests. Not content with viewing the area on foot and from the water, we decided to see it from above…16,500ft above to be precise. After receiving oxygen at 15,000ft, we were bundled out of a plane strapped to two jolly Kiwis (one each, we aren’t greedy) who thankfully had the good sense to bring a parachute. The view was nothing short of spectacular and we could see over to North Island and half way down the South Island. C is now considering a career as a professional skydiver and threatens another jump every time we see a plane. Watch this space.

Flying high above Abel Tasman

Next up was the Marlborough wine region to sample the world famous Sauvignon Blanc. The vineyards are so concentrated that within a minute of staggering (or wobbling on a bike as we did) from one award winning winery you are guaranteed to come across another that takes your fancy. We began with a visit to Cloudy Bay, the wine beloved of the '30-something girls night out brigade’ (of which C is a proud card carrying member). Ignoring the spittoon, water and crackers, we ploughed straight in with a tasting of 12 different wines. After which we took the precaution of having a big lunch, accompanied by a glass of the recommended vintage, before visiting another two vineyards. We rounded the day off with a quick tasting at a boutique brewery (wine then beer feel queer?) and a game of scrabble, a test for any relationship without a dictionary on hand… 

We are now in Kaikoura and have spent the day on the water harassing the local marine life. Fortunately the whales showed up this time and we got up close and personal with a 15m male sperm whale (the largest toothed predator on the planet). We were also treated to a display of aquatic acrobatics by a pod of about 300 dusky and common (so called because they can be found all over the world not because they spit in public and belch during meals) dolphins. Other marine highlights include some cracking close-ups of the New Zealand fur seal and abundant birdlife, including the magnificent wandering albatross and various members of the shag family. Magic.

Sperm whale tail

Highlight: undoubtedly the sky-dive over Abel Tasman. C is still wearing the t-shirt with pride.

Lowlight: the smell in our motel room in Rotorua, which inexplicably seemed to get worse when we shut the windows. It could curdle milk at 50 paces.