Our second day in Queenstown and the weather couldn't be different from the crystal beauty of yesterday. It's raining, and the sky is thick with uniform darkness of grey clouds. The opposite shore of the lake is hardly visible. But we only have two days…Read More

Our second day in Queenstown and the weather couldn't be different from the crystal beauty of yesterday. It's raining, and the sky is thick with uniform darkness of grey clouds. The opposite shore of the lake is hardly visible.

But we only have two days here, so we do need to get out and see things. This is, after all, travellers' duty: to go out and see things.

Into the car it is, then, with our host waiting at home for the news of snow situation on the ski slopes, we set off for Glenorchy. 45 km from Queenstown, Glenorchy sits at the tip of the Wakatipu lake, near the borders of Mount Aspiring National Park and Fiordland National Park.

In the straight line, Glenorchy is less than 50 km from Milford Sound – but the wall of mountains stands between us and the Fiords and the only road connection is via the incredibly round-about route through Te Anau. Hikers (or trampers, as hill walkers are known here) can do the 32km Routeburn Track, one of New Zealand's great walks which takes the walkers from Glenorchy to Te Anau road across the hills. The mountains are covered in snow, though, so doing any high levels walks is out of question.

We drive along the mist-hidden lake, stopping on the way to look at rain-filled waterfalls tumbling off the rocks at the roadside (we will see hundreds of those later on the route through the West Coast).

It's still raining as we park the car and get out for a wee walk and a look. Even in the rain, though, the lake is wonderful: moody,misty, subdued and yet powerful. The boat shed is empty, and there is only a few cars in the car park, but as we venture into the shop and a cafe, we find people and warmth, and information on local walks and places to go.
We have a cup of tea and then venture out, contemplating a walk up a hill or around the lagoon. Lagoon it is, as it's a gentle and easy walk and we still have plans to drive on - to Paradise.

The lagoon walk has good paths (although the Younger Child still manages to fall into the water on a little detour across a plank-bridge to a sandbank opposite) and further in, a boardwalk that takes us a few inches above the water. There are reeds, willows and lovely reflections in the still waters, but what draws all the eyes and all the oohs and aaahs is the grand, craggy massif emerging from behind the mist and clouds. It's Mount Earnslaw, but I can't help but think of it as Caradhras, the peak that defeated the Fellowship on their way across the Misty Mountains, the mountain raising above the Redhorn Pass and the gates of Moria. I do wonder how much Lord of the Rings did for New Zealand's tourism, and how much New Zealand's beauty did for the popularity of Peter Jackson's film version of Tolkien's epic.

The Glenorchy viewpoint provides the right angle (at least from the Lord of the Rings perspective) to look at Mt Earnslaw, because it's this side of the mountain that featured in the film.

Caradhras is only one of the Lord of the Rings locations that can be found in this part of Otago. A short drive on a gravel road towards the hills from Glenorchy and we enter the broad valley that marks the confluence of the lake Wakatipu and Rivers Dart and Rees.
This is the way to Paradise, a mountain-surrounded, broad and flat valley; idyllic pasture land, apparently named after Paradise shelducks that are common in the locality (though the romantic etymology, seeing the origins of the name in the beauty of the area, also has its supporters).

Paradise represented Parth Galen in the Rings' film, and the thick and misty beech forest on the way to Paradise stood for, quite appropriately in the scheme of things, the woods of Lothlorien.

The gravel road becomes a very much a dirt track, and all the traffic we pass (the whole two cars of it) on our way into the valley consists of four by four jet boating tour vehicles whose inhabitants eye our normal car with a look of incredulity. Still, we are not doing too badly when we come across what seems to me plainly impassable mountain stream.

The Other Adult, though, has different ideas, and clearly encouraged by my rather hysterical protestations, decides to ford the waterway. We are herded out of the car, cross the stream on foot as to reduce the vehicle's load. Quite amazingly, by a stroke of luck or an instance of great skill, the Other Adult makes it to the other side so we can drive further in.

We turn back when it starts to rain again (I have visions of the ford becoming a veritable rapid but it's nothing of the sort) and drive back to Queenstown for dinner and sleep. Close

Having given up on Milford Sound (reluctantly but in a fairly good humor, it's only now that I really regret not making more effort, it's strange how a mindset changes when traveling for a long time), we set off for this other South Island tourist…Read More

Having given up on Milford Sound (reluctantly but in a fairly good humor, it's only now that I really regret not making more effort, it's strange how a mindset changes when traveling for a long time), we set off for this other South Island tourist Mecca, the skiing, partying and adventure capital of New Zealand, Queenstown.

It's not far form Manapouri to Queenstown, a total of 170km which shouldn't take more than two, two and a half hours to drive, even allowing for toilet and cigarette stops. We take half a day: this is the beauty of this place, where a scenic spot follows a spectacular view with a regularity that borders on inane.

The first part of the drive, though, is fairly mundane. The weather is still mixed, and although there are some attractive patches on the road between Manapouri and Mossburn, with appealing rugged areas covered by red tussock grass (and no livestock for a change) it's only as we pass the Dome hills and drive into an area which feels distinctly colder, drier and higher that we start to oh and ah again.

This is, in addition to all the scenic beauties, Lord of the Rings land. Many of the sweeping panoramas of Peter Jackson's epic have been filmed (to be later computer-edited) in Central Otago and a lot of the time one has a feeling of faint memory, not quite a deja vu, but a recognition that goes beyond memory of tourist brochures.

We stop for lunch at an elevated rest area, with sweeping views of the Eyre Mountains. It's sunny, crisp and very cold. The mountains, and the fields below, are all around us, a perfect combination of pastoral and wild. One almost expects the band of the Fellowship to come galloping out of one of the valleys.

Soon we are nearing the Wakatipu Lake, a long and narrow, z-squiggle shaped mountain loch in the central part of which Queenstown spreads. We can't resist stopping every few miles (or maybe even more often) for a photo, for a look, for a view. Each view is different, each is breathtaking, each spectacular; dark crags crowned with shining snow raising from the water into the cobalt sky.

We manage to find our host, a fifty-something snowboarder, biker and a tour guide with a new agey streak. We get set up and then go back to the center of town: fish and chips, and a play park, and a view of the lake in the falling light, the steam excursion ship TSS Earnshaw returning to town's harbor.
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Our last day in Manapouri, and Milford Road is closed, again. There isn't much snow where we are, and the sun is positively shining so we decide to drive up – the road is not closed at Te Anau but further up at the Divide,…Read More

Our last day in Manapouri, and Milford Road is closed, again. There isn't much snow where we are, and the sun is positively shining so we decide to drive up – the road is not closed at Te Anau but further up at the Divide, which means that we should be able to at least have a look at the Mirror Lakes and some of the landscape even if we can't get to the other end.

The shining sun becomes somehow overcast as we drive past Te Anau, with a large board stating that the road is still closed, and now ominously, lower down at Knobs Flat.

We drive on, though, with occasional looks at the landscape and misty photo opportunities.

As the road starts climbing up, more and more snow appears; snow on the roadside, in the fields, on the cows and sheep. The sky is a white cloud, and snow starts to fall in slow, large, wet flakes. We drive through a patch of woodland and great clumps of snow slide with wet splats, of the heavy branches and onto the bonnet and windscreen. The road is getting snowy too, and as we drive out of the woods onto the flat area nestled among the mountains, it's a white-out. All colour is gone from the world, the dark green of trees appears black; the sky and earth are in shades of grey and white. A van is starting up the road, having left behind a "road closed" sign. By the sign, colourful splashes of other travellers' clothing, and a family of snowmen built by the roadside.

We turn round, defeated, again, by the Milford Road and the Kiwi spring.

On the way back, we stop for a walk to Lake Mistletoe. It's sunny, and the 45 minute return loop along a comfortable woodland track, then boardwalk, to a small, pretty lake feels like a different world to the snow-bound reality a few miles up the road.

**

Milford Road, part of the New Zealand State Highway 94, climbs up to almost 1,000 metres above the sea level in its crossing of the remote stretch of the Southern Alps. It provides access to the world-famous Milford Sound, the only of the Fiordland sounds accessible by road and the only one that can be visited without either paying for an expensive boat excursion (Doubtful Sound), having your own boat or trekking for days (Dusky Sound).

Milford Road stretches for 120km between Te Anau, the tourism centre of the Fiordland, and Milford Sound. It was completed in 1952 but the Homer Tunnel that cuts through the Homer Saddle in the Southern Alps was started in the 1935, as a public relief works project. It links the valleys of Eglinton and Hollyford Rivers to the east and that of the Cleddau to the west. The tunnel is 1270 m long and runs down from the 945 meters above sea level at a gradient of approximately 1:10.

Winter road closures

In principle, the road remains open all year, but as it is a high alpine route, and it passes very near mountains of almost 4,000m high, in the winter (May to September) snow, ice and avalanche risk force partial or complete closing of Milford Road.

New Zealand Transit which is the government agency that manages Milford road, have a avalanche prediction and control programme, but despite that the road closures still happen. Most of them are due to avalanche risk (it doesn't help that the entrance to Homer Tunnel is in the area with a particular high avalanche danger) and the road is closed for an average of eight days a year (this can be fewer or more in any individual year) between June and November. On some occasions the road is closed for part of the day (for example it closes at 3pm).

Chains required

During winter, even when the road is open, cars might be required to carry chains. These can be hired at Te Anau. There is on average some twenty days on which chains are required and the cars are checked for that at a seasonal Transit check. The chains are a legal requirement and fines of up to 750 NZD apply to those who don't carry chains on the days when they are required.

To check the status of Milford Road, call Transit’s free-phone number 0800 444 449 or check the website at http://www.nzta.govt.nz/projects/milfordroad/RoadStatus.do

Driving the Milford Road: practical information

It takes about two hours to drive the 120km between Te Anau and Milford Sound, but it's much better to budget significantly more (even as much as a whole day) as there are many places to stop, look and several shorter and longer walks on the way. On the other hand, stopping is prohibited on long stretches due to rock or snow avalanche dangers
Many visitors travel to Milford Sound from Queenstown, which is approximately 300km and at least a three-hour non-stop drive, although five hours should be allowed for a journey that takes some advantage of the spectacular scenery on the way.

There are also tour buses that cover the distance (with photo and short walk stops on the way), operating from Te Anau or Queenstown and if you are not used to driving in snowy and icy conditions, you should seriously consider using one of those if visiting Milford Sound in the winter or even if you are not confident driving long distances on mountain roads (remember also that New Zealand drives on the left). Milford Road is the third most dangerous road in New Zealand and has significantly higher accident and fatality rates, much of it due to tiredness and lack of experience of drivers.

If you decide to drive to Milford Sound yourself, it's definitely much better to spend a night in or around Te Anau and start fresh in the morning. There is some accommodation at Milford Sound itself, and on the way, and camping in the summer.

However, there is very limited fuel beyond Te Anau so make sure you have enough (a full tank just in case is probably a good idea) for the 240km (almost 150 miles) round trip and any detours you might care to make. There is a fuel at Gunns Camp in Hollyford Valley (a detour off the main road) and at Milford Sound (cards with PIN only).

The traffic on Milford road is quite heavy in season (half a million people visit the Sound every year and the vast majority come via road) and as many visit the Sound as a day trip from Queenstown (and most of the remainder come for a day from Te Anau), the road is very busy towards the Sound in the late morning and very busy towards Te Anau in the late afternoon/early evening.

If you start from Te Anau early in the morning, or even better, camp further up the road or even stay in the hostel in Milford Sound, you will have much better chance of a less crowded visit. Close

Snow is covering the world in a thin but persistent layer when we wake up on our first morning in Manapouri and, as a quick look on the New Zealand Department of Transport website confirms, the Milford Road is still closed. Manapouri is a village…Read More

Snow is covering the world in a thin but persistent layer when we wake up on our first morning in Manapouri and, as a quick look on the New Zealand Department of Transport website confirms, the Milford Road is still closed.

Manapouri is a village twenty kilometres south of Te Anau, on the shores of the Manapouri lake, the fifth largest and second deepest in New Zealand. The lake's main outflow is the Waiau River and the whole hydrological system is used to generate electricity at the West Arm power station. The lake narrowly escaped having its levels raised for the purpose of electricity production in the 1960s, but the efforts of conservationists resulted in official protection and the lake becoming managed but within natural levels. It is thus still one of the most beautiful lakes in the Fiordland, surrounded by mountains and with many short and longer walking tracks nearby. The lake is also where tourist cruises to Doubtful Sound and the underground West Arm Power Station depart from.

We spend a day taking our bearings, chilling out and resting in the cottage, doing shopping in Te Anau (which is a fifteen minute drive, a much larger settlement and clearly a major visitors' centre with numerous hotels and tourist businesses. The Te Anau lake, although also attractive, is not as pretty as the Manapouri one.

In the afternoon (having checked the Milford Road status as still closed and decided not to go on a Doubtful Sound trip simply because the cost for our family of four would be something in the region of 600 NZD, or 300 GBP, plus any extras) we drive to the harbour from which the Doubtful Sound trips depart, but not in order to go on a trip (it's too late anyway) but to go for a wee walk as described in one of the DoC booklets ( Fiordland National Park Day Walks) as the Manpouri circular walk.

We hire a rowing boat for 20 dollars and after much flapping and excitement, manage to cross the Waiau River and moor at the little jetty on the other side. I am a bit doubtful as to whether we'll manage to complete the loop that is marked as "moderate" and estimated to take 3 hours if done by normal people (by normal, read ones not encumbered by a four year old), as it's 4.30pm by the time we tumble out of the boat and clamber onto the jetty and it's going to get dark by 7pm. Still, off we go into the woods.

At first, it's a comfortable and easy walking on springy, moss covered ground among tall trees. We have to cross a stream or two, but it's not too bad and even the Younger Child is enjoying it.

The path follows the river back towards the lake for a while and then we turn inland and the route (just as the booklet warns) starts climbing and becomes muddy. Or so we think. After ten minutes it is clear than there are degrees of muddy – and we have only seen beginning of it. The path becomes a waterlogged bog and we have to find ways round or across giant puddles. The Older Child seems to relish the challenge, including occasional falling in, while the Younger Child is anxious, whines for being carried and doesn't like the mud (his boots are much lower, tough – why don't they do proper walking boots for small children?) For both, The Very Muddy Walk will remain an oft-recalled highlight (or a low point as it might be) of the trip for months to come.

The wood gets darker (or is it the dusk getting closer) and we – reluctantly – decide to turn round as the prospect of negotiating the same bog in the dark (and we have no torches) is not one anybody relishes.

On the way back, the river is like a rippling surface of mercury, gleaming metallic, with all colours intensified in the falling dusk.

We arrive back at our cottage ready for the washing of pretty much all garments and through the back doors we see Takitimu Mountains on the horizon, blazing white on the background of the cobalt sky. Close

Tourism in New Zealand is a funny, double-sided thing (and by the way, if you just want the practical tip, just skip to the next section past the three stars). On one hand, it's an industry par excellence, generating close to 10% of the country's…Read More

Tourism in New Zealand is a funny, double-sided thing (and by the way, if you just want the practical tip, just skip to the next section past the three stars).

On one hand, it's an industry par excellence, generating close to 10% of the country's GDP, and the marketing skills applied to creating the New Zealand brand are truly awesome.

There are countless operators on the ground, companies which not only provide accommodation, food and transport to the visitors, but also sell EXPERIENCE: this is added value tourist industry at its most developed and subtle; New Zealand is not full of crass resorts or theme parks, but around every corner there is a company waiting to take you for an adventure. From bungee jumping (Kiwis invented that, surely the most expensive thrill on earth at close to 100 GBP for what is less than ten seconds of a jump) to heli-snowboarding to guided helicopter-transported glacier walking to private long-distance walks with hot showers, king sized beds and all meals cooked for you; Kiwis know how to package and sell their country.

Tours are everywhere, and it takes some research and some cunning to avoid them.

But, and this is the other aspect of the tourism-in-New-Zealand , it's also a country open to free (or almost free) exploration. The basic travel infrastructure, from motels to car hire, is affordable and easy to access. People are friendly, helpful and knowledgeable about their areas. Kiwis are proud of their country, they travel a lot themselves and will do their best to tell you what and where and how to see.

And the official, government bodies, who on one hand encourage the commercial operators and organised tourism, are also excellent at maintaining facilities in many a scenic area and national park, and providing great quality information that is otherwise hard to find.

***

i-site (official tourist information offices) often concentrate on booking tours and acting as agents for the commercial operators, but they also always have (either free or for sale for token amounts) the Department of Conservation booklet guides to interesting and scenic areas. These usually cost 2 NZD or less and often cover a particular route, area or national park, and, crucially and most importantly, they point out, grade and describe free to enter and access nature spots, walks and lookouts (which are often missed by commercial leaflets or brochures and too detailed to be covered by major travel guides).

We have used booklets on Fiordland National Park Day Walks and on Southern Scenic Route and they were both excellent, to the degree that we didn't really use our main guide book at all while touring those areas. Close

After a night in Gore, we drive back to the coast through the rather flat and only very mildly inspiring farmland. There is not many people, or cars; there are many sheep: but we are used to it by now. The day is beautiful, the…Read More

After a night in Gore, we drive back to the coast through the rather flat and only very mildly inspiring farmland. There is not many people, or cars; there are many sheep: but we are used to it by now. The day is beautiful, the sun blazing and for a moment, on a roundabout in Gore where signs point to Milford Sound we feel an urge to abandon the round-about route plan and go straight there. We will regret not having done that later when we embark on the Saga of Not Getting to Milford Sound, but as for now we continue our Southern Scenic Route drive, missing Invercargill (which we don't really mind) and Stewart Island (which is just a few dollars to far) and heading for Riverton and then the Fiordland.

Riverton is a small town or a large village, a resort at the Jacobs River Estuary, with a picturesque harbour and windswept beach with views of what must surely be Stewart Island from a huge pile of large rocks amassed in one place. The highlight is, however, a walk in the More's Reserve, atop the steep (and mostly gravel) Richard Street. We park in a small car park and set off on a path (mixed earth and boardwalk) through the forest. Ten minutes later we emerge to a sweeping view of the coast (and the Foveaux Strait). There is also a rough path leading promisingly down towards the sea, so we take it and after another ten or so minutes we are rewarded with another, wilder and emptier view of the coast. Between us and the beach is a steep pasture and I start dreading the clamber back (and not only the clamber but having to encourage if not push the Younger Child up). And thus only Himself gets to walk on the empty beach and see the boulders balancing as by magic.

All this exploration always takes more time that one thinks it would and thus as we set off from Riverton the light is starting to fade. We pass Colac Bay, renowned for its breaks among the surfers, and as most of the time the road passes near the coast and we have to restrain ourselves from stopping at many a picturesque lookout or beach. We do stop, however, at Monkey Island, where a small rocky islet just off the beach can be walked to at low tide (it's not low tide, but it still looks good from the distance), and then at McCarken's Rest, for the last look we are going to have of this side of New Zealand, where a small platform gives more sweeping views of this beautiful, rugged coast, now even more attractive in the dying light.

We spend a night at a couch-surf near Tuatapere, in a small wooden house in desolate middle of nowhere; our host making (and drinking) his own hooch and regaling us with stories from his life of travels everywhere from Europe to the Antarctic.

Next morning it's snowing, or sleeting, and very misty: and we are setting off for the wild west. It's only about 130km to Te Anau, less than two hours' drive, but we are going to take it slowly as it's our first look at the Holy Grail of South Island travels, the Fiordland. Close

Dunedin, named as a Gaelic translation of Edinburgh (Dun-Edin), is a small university city on the eastern coast of the Otago district of New Zealand's South Island. Despite having a population of only about 125,000, it's the second largest city on the South Island, and…Read More

Dunedin, named as a Gaelic translation of Edinburgh (Dun-Edin), is a small university city on the eastern coast of the Otago district of New Zealand's South Island. Despite having a population of only about 125,000, it's the second largest city on the South Island, and both historically and geographically, one of the important centres of population in the country.

The area was settled by the Maori in the 14th century, while the European settlement dates to the beginning of 19th century, when sealing and whaling were the main activity. The town of Dunedin was founded in 1848 as a special settlement of the Free Church of Scotland (a breakaway branch of the Scottish Kirk dating to 1843). The town was designed specifically to resemble Edinburgh down-under and the result is still both enchanting and grand. Dunedin's population exploded when gold was found in Central Otago soon after the city was established, and it became New Zealand's largest city and a location of the country's first university, daily newspaper, art school and more. Although long overtaken in size and importance by cities further north, Dunedin is still a major cultural and academic centre, and in the 1990's it has position itself as a heritage location and a tourism centre.

The modern city (if a place that small can be referred to thus) is a pleasant and interesting place to spend a few days, and if used as a base to explore the wider area, it can easily occupy at least two weeks' period.

Dunedin, as befits its name and origins, is rather Scottish in feel, though the architecture is in fact mostly 19th century Neo-classical, with very Italianate and even Flemish (the train station) touches. It is also very young & studenty, with over 20 thousand students in the total of 120 thousand population. There are many bars, cafes, off-beat shops and several take aways of every corner. The city centre, focusing on the plaza of the Octagon, is easily negotiable on foot and all town attractions can be walked to. The most notable include:

== Otago Museum (a great regional museum with good displays on the geology of the island, Maori artefacts and kids' attraction of the Discovery World);
== Otago Settlers Museum, with an emigration theme;
== Dunedin Public Art Gallery;
== Cadbury's world;
== the world's steepest street (Baldwin Street);
== Dunedin Railway Station (the terminus for Taieri Gorge Railway);
== Dunedin Chinese Garden;
== Botanical Gardens.

Within half an hour drive from Dunedin are unspoilt beaches and the rural and wildlife idyll of the Otago Peninsula. Close

The scenic alpine route from Christchurch to the West Coast that leads through the Porters' and Arthur's Passes is spectacularly scenic, and crosses some excellent hill-walking land too. There are many short and day hikes in the vicinity of Arthur's Pass village, but perhaps the…Read More

The scenic alpine route from Christchurch to the West Coast that leads through the Porters' and Arthur's Passes is spectacularly scenic, and crosses some excellent hill-walking land too.

There are many short and day hikes in the vicinity of Arthur's Pass village, but perhaps the most unique and also very accessible site is twenty kilometres or so west from Springfield, just past the Porters' Pass towards the Arthur's Pass. It's called the Castle Hill, and it's an extensive area of limestone outcrops forming a veritable labyrinth on a hillside.

We drive there from Springfield on a sunny and pleasantly warm day and spend at three hours there: but you can go for as little as half an hour and it will still be fun.

We walk around, attempt bouldering, pose on and hide beneath the rocks which vary in size from small stones to larger than a house. The variety of shapes is fascinating: smooth, Henry-Mooresque, organic, the young sharp edges of just-cracked rock worn to flowing curves by the years of wind and water.

To the side of the main three groups of outcrops is a raising hillside, with more boulders and a high ridge behind which one of the Narnia films was partially made. We set off to climb it rather fool-hardily.

The path up is relatively short but extremely steep: at times I feel I am going to actually fall off backwards and luckily it is dry and we eventually make it: it is much higher than it appears, or at least it feels much higher. We scramble down (partially shuffling down on our bottoms, which is fun on the tussocks of grass and less fun when one hits a stone).

After three hours in the sun on the hillside and all this hillwalking we are tired and sun-dazed, but the views were fabulous, the boulders fascinating and the whole experience a fitting last day to our whole New Zealand trip. Very much recommended if you are in the area and easily worth a day trip from Christchurch too.
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Arthur's Pass is an every-day name for the State Highway 73, a road that was originally traced in 1865–66 to connect Christchurch to the West Coast goldfields. The road includes actually two two passes, the more famous and higher Arthur's Pass at over 900m and…Read More

Arthur's Pass is an every-day name for the State Highway 73, a road that was originally traced in 1865–66 to connect Christchurch to the West Coast goldfields.

The road includes actually two two passes, the more famous and higher Arthur's Pass at over 900m and perhaps more beautiful but lower Porters' Pass at over 700m. The whole route is spectacularly scenic even in a country that does scenic on an everyday basis, and what makes it more attractive is the great variety of landscapes in what is a barley 200km stretch of a road that can be driven, if not stopping, in about three hours flat.

But it's much better to devote a whole day to the Arthur's Pass, to allow time for photo and picnic stops, even if you don't include any proper hiking (or tramping as Kiwis would have it). Even better, spend some days exploring the Alpine glories of the high country on foot, or if you are a skier, take advantage of several ski fields in the eastern section of the route.

The SH73 (also called the Great Alpine Highway) leads from Christchurch (Canterbury district) on the east coast to Greymouth/Hokitika on the west. We drove it west to east in late September, in a lovely, sunny and dry weather.

The Arthur's Pass route branches off the main west coast highway between Hokitika and Greymouth, at a place called Kumara Junction and near a village called Kumara (one wonders what living in a place named "sweet potato" does to the inhabitants). It starts climbing, at first gently, and then much more steeply, through the Otira Gorge.

The road itself is bendy but not particularly difficult, at least in our sunny conditions. But I have seen wind and snow warnings for this route and the road, as any alpine road, can be closed or limited in its opening, as well as requiring chains because of snow and ice.

At first, it's a different landscape that I expected, with mountains still green and water-logged, and deep valleys: we are clearly still in the west, with its high rainfall and steep mountainsides covered in vegetation.

The pass itself, with a formidable viaduct in a steeply-sided gorge, and a waterfall streaming over a specially constructed tunnel-bridge inside which cars travel, feels wild and desolate: at over 900m above the sea level it's a true high country, and the falling darkness makes it even more atmospheric.

After the pass things change very noticeably: the eastern side of the mountains is strikingly drier, with the lush woods replaced by tussock grass. The night falls as we drive across the Waimakariri River, with the dusk pink and saphire and the Evening Star shining incredibly brightly above us.

The land between Arthur's Pass and Porters Pass is a real alpine paradise with ski fields and fantastic walking country as well as some good caves.

The road itself is wildly scenic in the manner that the South Island makes one quite complacent about: wild-looking mountains covered in reddish-yellow, tufty tussocks of grass, regular sequence of triangles like from a child's drawing, with snowy tops shining in the blazing sun.

Twenty kilometers or so, before the high country thrills finish past the supendous curve of the Porters' Pass, there is Castle Hill Basin, a lovely area surrounded by mountain ranges, and with a an extensive area of limestone outcrops in its centre.

The rocks form a veritable labirynth on a hillside, and a magnificent place for a walk, be it a ten minute stroll, a spot of bouldering or a more energetic and longer but less skilled climb to the top of the ridge where the boulders finish.

After that, Porters' Pass and then a quick drive to Springfield and then on to Christchurch through flat farmland. Close

We arrive in Christchurch two days after the big Sep-2010 earthquake. We stay in a suburb that has hardly been affected, but the city as a whole is still in a state of (excuse the pun) shock. Not only psychologically, but also literally: smaller and…Read More

We arrive in Christchurch two days after the big Sep-2010 earthquake. We stay in a suburb that has hardly been affected, but the city as a whole is still in a state of (excuse the pun) shock. Not only psychologically, but also literally: smaller and bigger aftershocks are still felt, like a rumble in the foundations, some like a large lorry passing by or somebody slamming a heavy door, and one or two get rather scary: a real, sharp jolt or two, the power going out for a few minutes, and then the wait – will there be another, bigger one? I can't imagine what it must be for people who lived through the disastrous one on Saturday.

The city is a little bit eerie, empty, obviously shaken (excuse the pun), the CBD still cordoned off and the public buses are not running, as buildings are being checked.

But the Kiwi spirit seems to be holding up pretty well, the lack of casualties shows how important both luck (the quake hit at 4.30am) and good planning and regulations (NZ has strict building standards) are: the NZ quake was actually stronger than the one that ravaged Haiti and yet not a single life was lost.

The earthquake and its aftermath make one realise how new New Zealand is. New, quite obviously, because the European colonisation is a fairly recent phenomenon (150 years roughly), just as - and yet quite differently – it was in Australia.

But it's also new in relative terms - the Maoris only arrived here about 800 years ago from Polynesia, as opposed to the Aboriginal people in Australia, who have been living there for 40,000 years plus.


But New Zealand is also new geologically, very much a part of the Pacific Ring of Fire (cf the earthquake): not an old, parched and eroded continent ground down to red dust by the millennia, but a sharp and jagged rocky island still frequently shaken up by the volcanic and seismic activity.

Altogether, it seems incredibly different from Australia. The colours are different too: lost of green, blues of all kinds, silvery greys and greyinsh blues.

There was no mammals in New Zealand before the Pakeha arrived. There is no venomous creatures. And as you look out from the East Coast, the next land is Antarctic.
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