Good Things Come To Those Who Ride

On a typical morning, I'd get up at my own pace. Unless I had something booked and paid for, I used to plod. I hate rushing in general but found that the further into my travels I got, the more laid back I became.

This particular morning I did have a sense of urgency. I was meeting Nathan to go out for a ride with him on his motorcycle. I still felt bad about messing him around when I first stayed at his place. I was incredibly ditzy and got lost on the bus system. I didn't want to make the same mistake again.

Speaking of ditzy, my first hurdle of getting ready proved a bit trickier than I anticipated. I wanted to have a shower before heading out. The toilet was in a separate room and the shower stood in a door-less cubicle in the kitchen. So I'm supposed to shower with everything on view whilst my hosts cook breakfast...my morning-brain could not fathom this. The logical thing to do was ask, but I didn't want to offend nor did I want to be laughed at.

Hoping that my brain would catch up, I gathered my things and made my way to the shower. I didn't have to announce this as I only had two directions to go in the flat - outside, or the kitchen. Tom glanced at my towel and clocked on to where I was heading. Thankfully he wasn't the kind of person to sit back and watch me struggle and explained that the door to the kitchen is also the door to the shower. I nodded, still confused.

This is like the three seashells in Demolition Man. Has everyone else used a kitchen shower but me? By fluke, I figured out the puzzle. I pulled the door towards me once I was in the shower and it snapped shut through a magnetic element in the side. I was still fully clothed so it wasn't a complete win. After a bit of hokey cokey, I had a successful shower.

With one victory under my belt before breakfast, I felt confident that I'd find my way to Nathan's place without inadvertently taking the scenic route. Don't worry, you're not the only one who must have scoffed at this thought as I ended up arriving slightly early and Nathan was still in the shower! Nobody has faith in me these days ey!?

Once Nathan was ready we headed out for breakfast. Yet another tasty bagel with the addition of an indulgent caramel latte. Fuelled and raring to go, it was time to tick off a bucket list experience. Riding on the back of a motorcycle was not something I'd ever imagined doing in my life. But staying with someone who happens own one, well I'd be an idiot not to ask for a ride!

Suited up and helmet in tow, I was ready for my next adventure. Getting onto the bike was a bit awkward and certainly wasn't graceful. I plonked my weight on a little too haphazardly and Nathan almost dropped the bike. I never have been very light on my feet!

Motorcycle passenger etiquette wasn't something I was well versed in. I had the choice of gripping the edges of the seat behind me, or linking my arms around Nathan's waist. My balance is terrible and I certainly wouldn't feel comfortable reaching behind me so I opted for the latter. In fact, it was more of a bear hug with the thought that if I'm falling off this thing, you're coming with me!

Unexpectedly, the ride was smooth and I had no butterflies nor did I feel like I was about to projectile vomit my breakfast from nerves/fear. I felt amazing! We zoomed through the hilly districts of San Fran up to and across the Golden Gate Bridge. I couldn't believe my luck. I'd walked and cycled over the bridge but meandering through traffic was a totally different and exhilarating experience.

Next up was Muir Woods, a towering redwood forest. It was great to escape from the city-chaos and take in this natural wonder. Nathan and I walked the main trail along with a moderate stream of tourists. This was probably the longest concentrated period of time that I'd spent with Nathan. We had a good chat about life, travel and relationships. It was nice to speak to someone who's had a lot of life experience.

Watching the sunlight peer through the trees was a beautiful sight

Me and a big-ass redwood tree

The trail wasn't too packed which made for a nice photo

From Muir Woods, we moved on to Muir Beach. Although it was a nice place to visit, we didn't hang around for too long. Firstly, we had our cycle gear on and nothing vaguely beach-related with us but mainly because we were hank marvin'! We turned up, took a couple of photos, walked along the beach for a bit and took off.

Food is always a priority in my eyes and I've seen dozens of beaches on my travels so it wasn't anything new to me.

Nathan discovered a sweet Irish pub that served proper pub-grub. I ordered a dish which was served with wedges. That must be something hot and potato based. It's silly I know but I keep forgetting that chips are crisps. I know of course that fries are chips and now I discovered that wedges in America are what I'd call homemade chips in England - thick chips with skin on. The food was delicious and was washed down with a crisp cider.

At this point I thought Nathan would be sick of me by now but he showed no signs of tiring. We got back on the bike and zipped about for a bit longer. We found a great spot for some posey photos.

All good things must come to an end. My legs were starting to cramp up so I couldn't hold out for much longer anyway. To end on a high note, Nathan stormed it by hitting over 100kph at certain points. I bloody loved it! All these adrenalin-inducing acts I've completed (sky dive etc) has got me hooked.

My legs had locked and I thought I'd need a winch to get me off the bike. I slumped on Nathan's sofa with no plans to move anytime soon. Soon after, Nathan invited me to a party him and his girlfriend were attending. I text my hosts but disappointingly I was locked out until after 11pm. I couldn't get to my things or have time to even find somewhere to buy something to wear. Sadly I had to pass. Couchsurfing can have its drawbacks and today was an example. Although I was gutted to miss the party, I still had a fantastic day.

I text Tom and met up with him instead. He was out with one of his friends called Dan. It didn't take long for the evening to turn sour. Dan was a complete dick. I'm sorry, I'm not going to sugar-coat it. He judged everything that I uttered and before long I just let them do the talking. Dan is a journalist who works in Thailand. He got his job through a friend or family member (I can't remember which) yet didn't hesitate in telling me what I should be doing and where I should be working. Oh and everything nice that a guy has done for me, including Nathan's help today, is only because I'm a girl. So a guy wouldn't do something nice for another guy?

That was enough cynicism for the evening. Tom and I headed back for my last night at Ryan & Maria's place. I decided to spend my last two nights back at Andy's where I planned to pack in as much as I could before departing for Chicago.

Hot Stuff

Waking up in a large double bed, stretching out and starfishing was such an indulgent way to start the day. It reminded me of lazy duvet days at home.

After googling starfishing in bed in order to add a link explaining the term I was astounded to find it means something entirely different. I must be clear, for me, starfishing is an elaborate pastime. It's a cross between lolling around and having the best morning stretch possible. According to Google it means freezing in said position during another popular bedroom pastime. Mad.

Moving on, I enjoyed my belated morning ritual but winced as I knew it would be a while until I could do it again. The closest I come to stretching out in bed is when I reach for the nearest heavy object to lob at the token dorm-room-snorer. Starfish would not be a very apt sea creature to compare myself to at those moments. Perhaps a sole sea cucumber rolling from side to side, searching tirelessly for a comfortable resting position.

Happy times! No I mean that sincerely. When I look back on my travels I may laugh at some of my sleeping situations but they won't be my strongest memories. Although I must say that this conclusion wasn't something that came instantly. Moving from place to place is disorientating. With each day comes a different bed, a different dorm and a different city to contend with. For some strange reason, the one thing I found difficult to attune to has become the very thing I miss the most.

There are plenty of pros and cons to travel but I would say to people, never let something that small hold you back. I've had plenty of people tell me that they couldn't travel the way I have for reasons ranging from not wanting to stay in a hostel to not wanting to travel alone. I do offer my point of view for reassurance but there are times where I feel like my breath has been wasted.

Staying in hotels and only mixing with people from your own country sounds comforting to some put pointless to others. We each make our own happiness but I do believe that the best experiences come from mixing with locals and making friends with people you would never meet at home. It's so enriching and I will cherish my adventures and serendipitous encounters for years to come.

As much as I wanted to starfish in bed and daydream about my past adventures, it was time to get up and get moving. From Las Vegas we would travel on to Bishop via Death Valley.

A knock on the door startled me. Ken was having a lie-in and gave us vouchers for breakfast. I wasn't expecting anyone to come round.

One of the tour passengers smiled as I opened the door. For a brief moment, I thought she'd come over for a chat but that idea was soon dashed. Straight to the point, the girl asked if she could use my notebook to go on Facebook. Wow. No, "Hi, how are you? Did you sleep well?" Just straight to the point, I want something, can you give it to me? Am I wrong for thinking this was all a bit rude?

There was no point in kicking up a fuss as it will only make things worse for me in the long run. I reluctantly handed her my laptop and sat in agitation as my sole connection to the world perched precariously on the girl's lap. Silence. A rare moment in my life where I could not think of anything to say. I'm the queen of waffle, surely I could muster up some weak small talk. 

Thankfully only a brief internet visit was needed. I packed my things away and made my way down to the hotel restaurant for breakfast.

Ken's donated vouchers were shared out but part of me wished I hadn't bothered as the service was terrible and the water had a strange aftertaste. They'd put on a compulsory gratuity for added bite. Paying the bill caused more problems as two members of our group only had $100 bills. Alright for some!

As I tried to imagine what a $100 bill looks like, we boarded the bus and headed out to our next stop, Bishop. I tried to find an impressive fact about Bishop but, for us, it was just a place to crash before we ventured further to Yosemite National Park.

Looking out the window, there was nothing separating the sandy landscape and milky-blue sky. Dust clouds danced outside the windows as our bus tore through the gritty terrain. I gazed out at the vacant scenery in hope of a distraction to the bubbling boredom that was rising with the heat. It felt like I was in mirage territory when I saw something which made me jolt upright. 

"Stop the bus!!!" The words bellowed out of my mouth before I actually considered the consequences. Everyone on the bus was half asleep, even Ken was startled at my sudden outburst. As we were in the middle of nowhere with no traffic in sight, it wasn't like anyone was going to get hurt as Ken slammed on the brakes obediently.

Lunging for the door, I had no plans on waiting for the dust to settle as I sprang out of the bus. By this time everyone on the bus had woken up a bit more and wondered what the hell was going on. Seeing me run out with my camera made them all the more curious. Cue their disappointment as they saw me take a photo of this...

Come on!

My fellow Brits will understand the hilarity of that surname. You would not be able to walk down any street in Britain with a name like that, and not be jeered. Nobody else saw the humour in this but that didn't stop me. Something as simple as seeing a sign with a ridiculous name on it can make me smile. 

The surprises didn't stop there. Our first roadside break came at Death Valley Junction. That statement alone sounds like I'm stood at Devil's crossroads questioning whether I should sell my soul for greater powers. Nothing that exciting, but still worthy of a mention.

Amargosa Opera House can be found here and is a building that holds a mesmerising history. Marta Becket took a camping break in Death Valley back in 1967 with her husband. After finding a flat tire on their trailer, they were directed to Death Valley Junction to get help. It was here where Marta discovered an abandoned theatre.

It was love at first sight, so much so that the next day Marta and her husband organised to rent the place. Marta is a trained dancer and was taking a break from her solo-show tour when she discovered the isolated theatre. Marta gave her first performance at Amargosa on February 10th 1968. Marta performed show after show, whether it was to curious tourists and locals or to nobody at all. It was at this moment where Marta became inspired and decided to paint her very own audience around her. The murals took her four years to complete and a further two years for the ceiling work.

Unfortunately we arrived a little late as Marta had stopped performing a few months earlier. Instead we were shown through to the theatre by a worker from an adjacent hotel. We had free reign, within reason of course. 

At first we took photos of the murals and the stage. The room screamed theatre despite the beaten up building exterior. From the red velvet cushioned pull-down seats to the long billowing stage curtains. The murals reminded me of panto season back home. It was more animated than portraiture. 

Once we had our photos we descended onto the stage. There was a large black piano at the base of the stage but nobody could play a tune which was a shame. I could attempt chopsticks but felt that I'd probably get a few odd looks. Instead we picked up the props we could find and had a little game of dress-up. The only guy of the group took a particular shine to the feather boa and tiara crown. We all had a go at being theatre royalty until the novelty wore off and the spooky silence and distant echos brought a hint of awkwardness to proceedings.

Before we left, we entered the hotel and the gift shop (naturally). It was here that we realised it was a haunted building. No we didn't see a ghost, well I don't think we did. There was information about it dotted about and something about how a ghost hunt TV show filmed an episode there. We heard stories about a ghost cat, a ghost child and phantom smells (whatever they are). Part of me was interested in the history but I was more fascinated with how everyone who worked there truly believed that the place was haunted and was so passionate about the building's heritage.

It provided a welcome break from the road and the biting heat. We later stopped off at Zabriskie Point. By this point, each sandy mountain looked the same as the next. I got out, took a few photos and went back inside. 

Ironically, the billowing landscape was created by water and earthquakes. Pity there's none of that around now, the water, not the earthquakes. I'm parched!

After taking photos purely to say that I was there, I rested in the bus and waited for everyone else. I felt like such a wimp as the endless blanket of heat engulfed me.

Our bus crawled up to Death Valley. We weren't the only ones 'keen' to have a stroll along the pathway that holds the record for the hottest place on earth (134°F/54°C recorded at Furnace Creek on 10th July 1913). A team of cars were already parked up and a few stray passengers could be found craftily fanning themselves in the shade. I felt no temperature difference so the shade came as no saviour to me. 

We all hastily applied our sunscreen and donned our hats. I managed to pick up an embarrassing bucket hat from our stop at Route 66. It was only a few dollars and I knew I'd need it for this precise moment. If it's a choice between looking like a wally or catching sunstroke, I opted for the former. I didn't want to try my luck. Looking ridiculous actually comes quite naturally to me, it's somewhat of a talent of mine so the hat only acted as an added flourish.

As we made our way to the platform, a giant gauge informed us that we were standing in a scorching temperature of 110°F (43°C). I'm pretty sure I could hear the crackle of my feet burning it was that hot. My sunscreen was doing nothing for me. I was pretty sure I could fry an egg on the pebbled wall, maybe a few rashers of bacon...I miss good food!

My behaviour saw a marked improvement from Zabriskie Point as I took my time to take in my surroundings. Looking up towards the mountains behind us I could see a small sign that simply read 'Sea Level'. I'd been to many that boasted great heights above sea level but never anywhere below it, as far as I'm aware. I saw another sign that informed me that I was standing in Badwater Basin which sounds like another place where water wreaked havoc at one point. It also read that I was standing 282 feet below sea level. That sounds about right. 

You should also make a note that the highest summit in the contiguous 48 states is Mount Whitney which is also located in California. It might come up in a pub quiz one day, you never know.

Before we took our triumphant photos, Ken told the story of where the name Death Valley came from. A group of explorers got lost in the winter of 1849-50. All but one survived and as they were leaving the hellish hot-spot, one of them said, "Goodbye Death Valley" and the name stuck. Some might find that story impressive but I get lost all the time and shout stuff out dramatically as I leave. Next time I'll remember to be a bit more poetic.

We made our way down onto a wooden path which curved to one side and then trailed off. To me this was a hint that you should only go so far out. There were others who agreed, walked up and around, took a few photos then went back to their cars. Then there were some nut jobs that decided that wasn't enough and started walking further and further out into the valley of death. I've had my fair share of challenges that I've conquered on my trip but this wasn't going to be one of them.

In disbelief I stood on the platform and looked out to see a trail of people tackling the walk. Some with hats or some form of protection from the sun and others decided they didn't need it and shorts, flip-flops and a flimsy vest top would suffice. I wasn't prepared to put my bucket hat to the test and opted for the easy route.

I can see Death Valley just fine from here. I don't need to walk through it thanks.

So it came to that moment where I best have a photo taken so family and friends know that I've been here. Of course I could just Photoshop myself onto an image from Google but said family and friends know that I could never be arsed to do that.

We do tend to splash a smile across our faces no matter where we are or what we're doing. You could be in the bitter cold with someone you absolutely hate but when someone points a camera at you your face transforms into artificial glee. It seems that nobody wants to be seen as a grumpy sod. Sometimes a bit of indifference would be better suited. The amount of times I've seen people pose outside memorial plaques, charred buildings or any place synonymous with death and grieving, with massive cheesy grins on their faces is mental. This photo sums up how I'm really feeling at Death Valley.

I was getting frustrated as sweat kept pouring into my eyes whilst I was posing for this photo. Lovely.

Once our baking session was over we headed out of there as quickly as possible. I was thankful that nobody wanted to venture out further into the scorching abyss.

Someone had the grand idea of splitting the cooking duties. Oh dear. Despite being the senior member of the group, there were a couple of the girls who loved cooking and were really good at it. I was an embarrassment. I wish I could have been on dishes duty throughout. I'm good at that, washing dishes, drying dishes, putting them away, you get the idea.

Bishop was not my night for cooking, phew! Instead, the Austrian girls cooked a traditional dish from their home country. When I first heard the dish I thought they were doing a poor Jamaican accent. Kaiserschmarrn is a pancake based dish that can be dressed up or down to taste. The girls did a fantastic job and I went back for seconds without hesitation.

It may not look that much but after a sprinkle of icing sugar and a dollop of apple sauce, I was happy 

My journey through California is almost complete. The next day we'd be visiting the mammoth Yosemite National Park. I'd heard great things from the group we met in Las Vegas and Google images brought up some astounding results. It'd be great to end the tour on a high.

Got Coconut?

One would think that I’d have a fuzzy head given the amount of alcohol consumed the previous day. Alas, I felt my usual groggy self upon the morning of departure to Manta Ray Island.

Two nights was enough for me to enjoy South Sea Island. One weak goodbye later and I was aboard the Yasawa Flyer.

Farewell...

My mood was bright and hopeful for the continued quest of rest and relaxation. To reinforce this sentiment further, I had a Cornetto. 

I remembered the little girl who skipped to the tune of the ice cream van as it trundled down the street. Coming to a standstill, the truck’s humming heartbeat could be heard from the living room window. Sweet frozen goodness was within reach and all that stood between the little girl and happiness was a silver coin. Eyes bright and smile wide, the little girl turned to her Mummy and attempted a forced cuteness set to stun and hypnotise. Unfortunately Mummy was immune to such dastardly manoeuvres and, for the most part, the answer no reverberated sharply shooting down the little girl’s dream. But sometimes the answer was yes. The little girl hadn’t even thought that far ahead and indecisiveness took hold – strawberry or chocolate..?

When Granddad visited however, it was a different story. Every day was Cornetto day! It is one of few memories that I have of my Granddad as he passed when I was young. It may surprise you that one cone-shaped confectionery could cause such a swell of happy memories!

Happily reminiscing, I chowed down on a chocolate Cornetto intermittently speaking to a Danish guy from South Sea Island. We poked fun at certain passengers – guy with funny shirt, Asian girl with average looking white guy (that never gets old), smelly guy…The conversation did move forward and we spoke about our travels and how it has affected us.

For the most part, we agreed on certain personality traits that have evolved and benefited from the independent trail we have embarked on. However, Mr Danish also divulged his sexual experimentation. Apparently he’s not gay but used this trip as a trial to see what sleeping with a guy is like. It’s something that he’s always wanted to try. It wasn’t something I could really contribute to. Other than the odd drunken kiss to impress the guys around us or a random dare, I can’t say I’ve ever dabbled in lesbianism. It’s not something on my list of things to do around the world. Not long after that revelatory bombshell, it was time for me to leave.

Another musical Bula welcome embraced me like an old friend and, just like South Sea Island, it didn’t take me long to meet people. I met Helen, a Brit who has been living in Hong Kong running her own practice (psychiatry). I also met Heather and Sacha, two Canadian girls living and working in Australia. I spent my two days in Manta Ray flitting between them but found Helen to be more relatable and easy to get on with. The other two girls were carrying a lot of drama and I didn’t think they saw me as anything more than a way of moving conversation forward.

After a deliciously filling lunch, I made my way to the beach and watched a coconut demonstration. I watched one of the workers retrieve a coconut from the tree with ease and laughed along as others tried (and failed) to do the same. I think we need a bit more practice! I stayed to watch a bit more as the worker explained the many uses of coconut (e.g. jewellery) and observed people peeling open the coconut using a sharp splint of wood sticking out of the ground.

With an expanded knowledge on coconuts, I rested on the beach to catch the last bit of sun.

That evening, Helen, Heather, Sacha and I joined a few others for a sunset tubing trip. We each deposited alcohol in the cooler and set out on a small boat to find the best view of the sunset.

All but one of us plopped into the sea with our rubber rings. Awkwardness ensued at first as I struggled to get comfortable. Soon enough I found the right balance and leant back, beer in hand. Ahhhh…

Sun worshipping

Cheers!

I need to work on my tan lines

Dinner waited for us as we returned. A three course meal filled me up nicely. The evening was finished off with a dancing ceremony.

The resort put a great effort into proceedings and it was great fun to watch. I even got a chance to join in as one of the girls pulled up spectators for a disjointed hokey cokey. We then did a giant conga. I felt like I was at a school disco. I loved it!

With the possibility of swimming with manta rays early the next day, I decided to call it a night.

*****

Sleeping quarters were slightly claustrophobic. I was stationed in the bottom of a low rising set of bunk beds. To fend off attacking insects I was cocooned in a mosquito net.  It must have made an eerie sight to an outsider. I’m just glad I didn’t need the toilet in the night as it’s around 50 metres away from the room down a winding cobbled path.

My alarm rang out and I sprang out of bed. It is the only way to wake myself up sometimes. If I just lie there, I’ll need at least half an hour to motivate myself to get up. I don’t think I’ll ever be a morning person.

I fed some fish…

I got a coconut…

…thanks to a hungry worker!

And his friend...

As well as this, I sunbathed and snorkelled. In doing so, I added to my expanding collection of underwater videos.

For my final night, I ended my stay with a watery cocktail and toasted to another successful island.

Better Late Than Never

Drinking the night before departure wasn’t the best of ideas. Nor was the decision to pack before I went to bed.

A 5:50am wake-up call is not pretty. My bus didn’t leave until 9am but I planned to Skype my friend from home. The temptation to sleep in was strong but a promise is a promise.

It was lovely speaking to my friend Nat. I spent a good two hours wittering on about my adventures in New Zealand. I completely monopolised the conversation. It didn’t feel like we were chatting for that long either. I felt bad about the one-sided conversation but we agreed to chat again soon.

I boarded the bus and headed for my usual seat. I positioned myself next to the wheel as nobody wants to sit there. It means I have a spare seat for all my crap. My plan backfired though as we had a fully booked bus.

Everyone was recovering from the night before. Some chose to stay silent and others ate breakfast Fergs. The smell of grease that early in the morning made my stomach churn in revulsion.

Before I speak to anyone I try to gauge the bus and see where I fit in. It was tricky as not that many people, including myself, were up for talking. I’m glad I’m not the only one who isn’t a morning person.

Faint whisperings of the sexual encounters from the night before reached my ears. It amazes me how frank some people are about certain elements of their lives. I know more about peoples’ sex lives and bowel movements than I’d ever dare to ask!

I’m no prude, but I’d much rather talk about guys with my girlfriends than some random strangers. Obviously that’s just me!

Sleep caught up with me and I snoozed for the first couple of hours. Every now and then I got chatting to a couple of the girls from the bus and everyone seemed quite friendly and chatty. Even though it was the largest group I’d been with, nobody was left out which was encouraging. There were no dominant personalities on board. It’s not great when people feel the need to control or be the loudest.

We arrived at Mount Cook, checked in, ate then headed out for a two hour walk. Getting my hiking boots from the bus seemed like too much of an arse so I chose to plough through the snow in my faux ugg boots. Not the wisest of choices but you’ll be surprised to know that I was one of the few who didn’t slip on the ice. Trainers were the worst for this walk. I wasn’t bothered about soaking my boots as I’d be throwing them out in a couple of days. They were on their last legs anyway.

It was a pleasant walk, one of many I’ve had in New Zealand. I anticipated there would be a lot of walking trails in NZ and I was worried that I’d hate it. I’m so impatient back home that I hate walking. I’d much rather cycle or go by car/bus, if the journey was further, than walk. I guess now I have all the time in the world, there’s no need to keep thinking about when I’ll get to the end as much. It also helps that my surroundings are idyllic. 

A narrow pathway had been carved into the snow which made the likelihood of getting lost near impossible. A high level of concentration went into making sure that I didn’t fall over. It meant that I didn’t get to truly appreciate the mountainous backdrop but I had fun crunching the ice either side of me. I loved the sound it made and the texture. It was the same satisfaction you feel when you crack the surface of a crème brulee.

We finally arrived at the viewpoint and took several photos.

I'll only bore you with one!

A quicker pace on the way back meant that we arrived in good time. People veered off separately for showers and power naps and reconvened for dinner. I wasn’t that hungry so had part of a fresh quiche I’d bought earlier in the day. It was a triumphant moment which may sound slightly strange. Other than Yorkshire puddings and the lack of a decent curry house, quiche is a food choice which I’ve unexpectedly missed. There was no sign of it in S.E. Asia which didn’t surprise me but Australia was practically void of the stuff. I found it in the odd supermarket but only in frozen form. When do I ever have access to a bloody oven?! So imagine my delight when I found a fresh quiche at a bargain price. Yes it’s weird but it made me enjoy it all the more.

As we were almost finished tucking into our food, the manager from the bar upstairs came through and asked if were interested in taking part in the pub quiz. It’s free to enter and each team gets a pitcher of beer. Hey, you had me at pub quiz mate.

I wasn’t confident that I’d know a lot seen as I’ve been completely outcast from society for the past nine months or so. If there are any questions on topical issues, I’m screwed. But low and behold, I flipping nailed that quiz. Ok, we didn’t win but I managed to access the deepest darkest crevasses of my trivia memory. I knew books written by Ben Elton and I knew the title of a Bruce Springsteen album. I felt like the guy in Bradley Cooper in Limitless as I was picking answers from random faint memories.

Unfortunately we did not have a clue about New Zealand

Most people, including me, headed to bed after the quiz. I needed to catch up on some sleep. There was no sign of anyone Irish or an offering of goon so I was safe.

Making Feathery Friends

Somehow I managed to drift off back to sleep despite the freezing temperature. It wasn’t long until my alarm went off though. It was time to throw off the duvet and get dressed.

As you know I’m not a morning person so this is usually a slow process. I never know what I’m going to wear and I always end up rummaging around in my bag to pick things out.

This time was different. I sped up like a Benny Hill comedy sketch. I layered up as fast as I could and made my way to the kitchen where I hoped that the fire was on.

It was and the place was pretty much empty. I think everyone else sensibly stayed in bed that bit longer. I needed some breakfast so I made a dash for it.

With muesli in tow, I nestled down in front of the fire.  I was joined by three Brits who were staying there in a campervan. We got talking about our travels and swapped our STA Travel traumas. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone that has had a nice thing to say about them. How are they still running?

It happened again. Japan was mentioned and one of the girls, Louise, was really interested in visiting the country. Off I went on my little Japan tangent. By the end of it, Louise was still smiling and said that she wants to go more than ever now. I passed her my details and said that if she ever goes, to drop me a line and I’ll help the best I can. I’m not sure if I’ll hear from her as I wrote it on a flimsy piece of paper that could easily be misplaced. I’m happy to talk about Japan to anyone though so it’d be nice to hear from her.

We’d managed to talk all the way up until it was my time to leave. We said our goodbyes and I left with the bus for Invercargill. Most people from the bus chose to stay here for the night. Neil and Simone were going to hop off at Bluff to go hiking and I and one other were taking the ferry boat out to Stewart Island.

On the way to Te Anau I fell asleep. Even though I was right at the back, E.T. noticed and told everyone to turn around and stare at me. Nobody took a photo which is what usually happens!

We stopped off to get food for the evening. I wasn’t in a sensible mood whatsoever. My basket consisted off Tim Tams, snakes, bread and a potato. I was happy with my purchases!

Before we left Te Anau, we picked up another passenger – Michael from Munich. Normally when I meet someone from Germany I instantly ask whereabouts. As I was born in Germany, I always hope to find someone who is from the same city as my birthplace.

To say that, in my opinion, Germans make up most of the travelling population, I’ve only met one from Hannover. Even though there are Germans everywhere, I’ve also noticed that they’re not always the friendliest so I start with that. It’s something different and they react positively to it.

On the way down, we played a game called This Is Your Life. Someone comes up with three statements about themselves and one is a lie. It’s a really good game as you hear some crazy stories. Mine were all Japan related and most people guessed the lie which was annoying. I said – I’ve eaten Fugu, the potentially poisonous fish, I’ve fallen off of Mount Fuji and I’ve walked around naked in public. The third one is a trick as I was naked in public in the onsen pools but phrasing it like that makes it sound like I just walked down the street with no clothes on. I thought everyone would think that was a lie but no, I look like someone who randomly takes their clothes off in public!

E.T.’s choices were hilarious – he’s had 18 operations, he’s a hermaphrodite and Pamela Anderson introduced herself to him. I obviously thought the second one was a lie but most people opted for the Pamela Anderson story. E.T. is not a hermaphrodite and if he was, I doubt he’d let a bus full of strangers know!

When everyone stopped off at Invercargill I was a bit jealous as there’s a cinema, bowling and free pool. I’m probably going to miss out on a good night. I was still looking forward to Stewart Island though.

Before we boarded the boat, the few of us who were moving on from Invercargill stopped off at a viewpoint.

I made loose arrangements with Neil and Simone to meet back in Queenstown to go skiing. It would be great to get back out there and have another go.

Now it was just Caroline (French-Canadian) and me left to take on the ferry ride to Stewart Island. Caroline had taken anti-sickness tablets but I was confident that I wouldn’t need anything as I’d never been sea sick before.

What a joke. This was some kind of demon ferry ride. We spent more time in the air than on the water, it was crazy. I was ok for the first ten minutes but then I caved in. I thought I was going to be sick.

In a desperate bid to evade the vomit, I plugged in some music. The Lion King soundtrack came on. Hakuna Matata would not help me right now! I skipped to the next album which was Michael Buble. I bobbed to I Haven’t Met You Yet but everything else was too mellow. I needed something raaargh

It distracted me long enough so that I wasn’t sick everywhere. The song choices were a little unnerving – Apocalypse Please and the talk of the end of the world or how about Time Is Running Out with the opening lyrics, "I think I'm drowning, asphyxiated..." Damn!

The boat had been moving for a while and I was tempted to ask the captain how long we had left. I hesitated as I felt like I’d vomit Exorcist style if I opened my mouth.

Finally, the hellish ride stopped and I dashed off. I managed to keep everything down. The fresh air relieved me of my nausea as Caroline and I trundled off to our bed for the night.

Finding the hostel wasn’t a problem but locating the reception was a mystery. Eventually we figured it out and entered our room. Although it didn’t look like it was well heated, we had a million blankets and a duvet to snuggle under so I was looking forward to a toasty night’s sleep.

There didn’t seem to be much to do that evening so I snuggled up in bed and watched a few programmes on my laptop before I went to sleep.

*****

I awoke to a surprisingly crisp cool morning. It wasn’t as cold as I thought it would be so getting ready wasn’t a big issue. I was able to take my time, grab some breakfast and make my way out to Ulva Island for some bird watching. I was on the prowl for a kiwi.

Caroline and I set off in good time. We had half an hour to get there but it was only a five minute walk. The hostel receptionist pointed out where we needed to be on the map. The boat was due to depart from Golden Bay.

As we exited the hostel, there were two roads to choose from. One was called Golden Bay Road and the other one wasn’t signposted. I suggested we went up the Golden Bay Road as the title in itself is a giveaway. Caroline looked at the map and said that the receptionist told her not to go up the road with a hill. Now we all know that I have no sense of direction and I’m forever getting lost. I decided to trust Caroline and went up the other street.

The funny thing was, the road that we were walking on was also a hill. I didn’t have a good feeling about this at all and hoped that the road linked back up to Golden Bay. It didn’t and we got lost. I flagged down a car and asked for directions. We were a long way from where we were supposed to be and only had ten minutes to get to the bay. I was worried.

After a lot of power walking and a mad sprint finish, I made it to the bay in time. I asked the woman at the ticket desk if they could wait a minute for Caroline who came down a few minutes after me.

We made it! I bought a ticket in the form of a leaf and boarded the small boat. Two guys were already sat down and joked about my sweaty demeanour. It didn’t take long for me to cool down as there was a peep hole right at the front of the boat. It was very much a Titanic moment.

As we had an afternoon ferry booked back to Bluff, we spent around three hours on the island following the various trails in an attempt to spot the elusive kiwi. There aren’t that many around and not that many people get to see them in the flesh. I was hoping that today was my lucky day.

A parakeet whooshed by me within minutes of stepping off the boat. I wandered around at a snail’s pace taking in the glorious nature around me. My eyes darted all over – to the branches for the common birds and the ground for the flightless kiwi bird.

I took a lot of nature shots. I wish I knew what this was!

Branches that reminded me of spider legs. Creepy

My buddy the Stewart Island Robin

New Zealand Pigeon - the only other birds that would sit still and let me take photos!

Overall I saw eight different types of bird. I never thought I’d be this excited about seeing a feathery creature but I really did have fun on Ulva Island. I made a new friend too. A cute little Robin flew across to me and started pecking by my feet. I walked off only to find it had flown in front of me. We walked together and I listened to it singing.

Three hours passed by so quickly. Although the trails around the island take an hour and a half to walk, I only just made it back in time for the boat.

With a few minutes to spare, I bought a booklet and read the signs that describe the history of Ulva Island. It's so fascinating how people are working towards creating a haven for endangered species. Between 1993 and 1997 all of the rats on Ulva island were killed. This is just one of many steps that have and still are being taken to eradicate weeds and pests from this island. I hope that all their hard works pays off in the end.

Once we were back in Stewart Island, hunger took over and I decided to head back to the hostel for lunch rather than walk along the bay. I wanted to make sure that I was fully alert for the boat ride back and not exhausted from all the walking.

Thankfully, the ferry back was nowhere near as bad as the previous journey. I managed to get a window seat and plugged in my music as a distraction.

E.T. met us at the ferry terminal and took us over to the viewpoint to meet the others from the bus. It turns out that everyone decided to have an early night in Invercargill so I didn’t miss out on anything.

We had a little photo session…

A long way from home

Chain that links the south island to Stewart Island (not literally!)

…then made our way back to Queenstown. It was a long journey and Bryony had prepared a game for us. The classic pass the parcel. For those who have never played this childhood party game, a prize is wrapped up several times. Music is played and when it stops, whoever is holding the parcel takes off a layer. As a child there would usually be sweets in between layers but what we found were dares. I love playing games that involve dares. It means I can be a complete idiot and have fun without any judgement as I’m just following through with a dare. It’s a great excuse to be a bit crazy.

Most of the dares were pretty tame. I had to lick a window and smell someone’s hair. I also had to catch a sheep. Unfortunately it was pitch black and we could not see any sheep. It was a dare I had to postpone. It was all good fun though.

We arrived in Queenstown quite late in the evening. I was too tired to cook so I had another Fergburger. It was delicious. I went for a Cock Cajun this time and it was the best chicken burger I’ve ever had in my life. That is no exaggeration. The chicken breast strips were thick, juicy and chargrilled. It had a lovely zingy spice to it that left your lips tingling slightly but it wasn’t too overpowering.

I didn’t time my burger demolishment well as some of the girls from the bus were going to head out for some drinks. Thankfully I had a little while for my Ferg baby to subside.

What started out as a bus outing, ended up being just me and a few others as everyone headed to bed for an early night. Great, as soon as I want to go out for some drinks, nobody wants to bother!

In the end we went to a couple of bars but I was in bed by 2am. Weak!

Cocktails in teapots, ha!

I love teeeea!

I made plans with the others to meet the next day to go to the viewpoint. I had no idea what I’d be doing for the rest of my time in Queenstown. My priority is to save money so I won’t be jumping out of any planes or crashing into fences any time soon!

Looking For Some Hot Stuff

Queenstown is the party town. The place is packed with bars and great eats. By day I tried to be as active as possible. This week I skied and did two canyon swings but by night, I mellowed out. Instead of partying, I skyped my parents and friends. I really enjoyed catching up with them.

Now that I’m getting down to my final destinations, my budget has grown tighter. It’s put things into perspective for me. Spending money on alcohol and partying with people that I don’t really care about (and vice versa!) isn’t a worthy investment. I’d rather put it towards more adventures and even a fantastic meal. You’d be surprised how much a great meal can lift your spirits after living off of baked potatoes, pasta and basic noodle dishes for weeks on end!

Perhaps I haven’t done everything there is possibly to do in Queenstown but I’ll be back in a few days. There are a couple of bars I’d like to visit and I still haven’t been to the view point. Everything else there is to do costs a lot of money and aren’t much of an interest to me right now. I’ve already been rafting and done a skydive. Nothing else stands out as something that I MUST do.

Next on the list was Milford Sound and Stewart Island. Today was a big day which is why the bus departed at 6:45am. I already warned my dorm roommates that I’d be leaving incredibly early and apologised in advance if I woke them up! I had everything packed up and ready to go so all I needed to do was drag everything out. What I didn’t anticipate was the obstacle course that was set out for me in the morning. A mountain of clothes and a stealthily hidden bag were my main tripping hazards. I managed to get out safely.

To ensure that I wasn’t rushing, I got up super early and had some time to spare. I sat at reception and had a chat with the guy behind the desk. I always end up quizzing people about the job situation in New Zealand and how they managed to find work. So far, it just seems like you have to be in the right place at the right time with a bag load of luck.

Later, some girls checked out and I recognised two of them from the previous bus. Everyone else was new to me. We picked up Neil and Simone, a Canadian couple who I’d met on the North Island. There was ten of us in total which wasn’t too bad. All girls apart from Neil.

Despite our small numbers, there was no trailer (because of the icy roads) so all our stuff had to be shoved in the back. Our driver was friendly and helped us all place our heavy bags in the right place.

With a new driver, came a new weird nickname. E.T. which was a bit odd as he looked nothing like an alien. Far from it, he was the best looking driver we’ve had! This is more of a compliment to him than a dig at the other drivers I hasten to add.

As it was a long drive, we stopped quite often to take photos and go on brief walks.

Can't get any fresher than that.

At Te Anau we stopped for a bite to eat and booked our Milford Cruise. I also paid for the boat ride across to Stewart Island. I didn’t realise how expensive it was and that we’d only be there for less than 24 hours. If I’d known earlier I would have arranged to hop off and spend an extra day there to make the journey more worthwhile.

We moved on towards Milford and boarded the cruise. We were surrounded by Asian tourists and rude men who had no qualms about shoving us. Helen (from our bus) had one guy grab her arm and pushed her out of the way. I’m not quite sure how I would have reacted to that. Helen was too shocked to retaliate.

As the boat took off, we made our way to the top deck. I took plenty of photos, as did everyone else, but I didn’t really get it. This was meant to be a top contender for one of the wonders of the world. Not to go all Karl Pilkington on you guys but it wasn’t anything special.

They say that it all depends on the weather. It rains two out of every three days and we caught the day with no rain so there weren't as many waterfalls. I wasn’t the only one who was underwhelmed but it made a nice day out all the same.

Someone I know was told that the best way to see and experience Milford and Doubtful Sound is to go on a kayaking trip. I was originally going to hop off in Te Anau and visit Doubtful Sound but the only trip that was running was a cruise like the one I was on but it would set me back $200. I’d rather wait and come back another time.

On the way out of the boat, I experienced my own rude-man-incident. This guy held my arm slightly and pushed me out of the way. What puzzled me more was that he had a tonne of room to get by so pushing me out of the way was fruitless. I aired my grievance - "Err EXCUSE ME!!" He looked at me in shock and mumbled a weak apology. I told him that there was no need to push me out of the way. I felt like I made my point. Cheeky git!

We stayed in a place called Gunns Camp which was a series of secluded lodgings. The amenities were basic and the only heating came from wood/coal fires. It was our responsibility to set it up and keep it going throughout the night. I could already foresee that our fire would go out and I’d freeze. It’s exactly what happened on the Castaway trip in Australia!

Warming up was my first priority so I pitched up a chair right next to the fire, as did a few others. We sat back as our bodies sighed in relief. I was just getting settled when E.T. came over and said that there is a waterfall not too far from here if anyone would like to go. I’d managed to find the perfect seat next to the fire and a plug socket for my laptop. I needed to re-charge my camera and, without anything else to do around the place, I intended to watch a movie later.

For some mad reason, I decided to go and see this three tier waterfall.

When I came back, my chair was empty. I went and got my laptop and cables but when I returned my chair was taken. I should have marked my territory. Instead I found an even comfier seat and placed it within a good distance from the fire so I was still able to warm up.

E.T. suggested we all pitch in for a communal meal. Bryony cooked us spaghetti bolognaise and there was plenty for everyone to have seconds. I was thankful to her as I’d have had no idea what I’d eat that night. The meal was really tasty and it meant that we all ate together too which was nice.

Most people opted for an early night. I was tired but I knew I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep until later so I waited until the electricity was turned off. At 9:45pm I made my way across to our cabin and found that my roommate was fast asleep. I couldn’t see a thing. I threw on the first things I could find and curled up in bed. At that point the room was nice and toasty.

As predicted I woke up in the middle of the night absolutely freezing. The fire had gone out and there were no more matches to start it back up again. I wasn’t as cold as I was that night in Australia but it still wasn’t pleasant. I was told that Stewart Island is even colder so I lay in bed picturing the layers I’d wear for that day.