We finally get all our ducks in a row except for those we didn't. Alternatively, "when the ducks come
marching in..." or, left, left, left right...hey, you in front, 'vat die pas, jou bliksem'.
Trying to say 'G'day, Mate' to a New Zealand robin.
More color on the trails although the stoats are destroying birdlife.
We left Hawaii, a state that is at war with the mainland over fruits. However, because we were leaving
for New Zealand via the Island, we passed through a special area in which we were not checked for dangerous
fruits. Hawaii could not care whether we infected any other country. Such is brotherly love amongst nations.
Our flight of nine hours took us across the international dateline meaning that we lost a day,
twenty-three hours to be precise. It’s quite confusing when that happens, particularly when relating to people
living in different time zones. This meant we did not live through a Thursday—a day in our life had been lost.
People say that when we return from whence we came, we will pick up the lost time. That’s all very well.
However, if we return and pick up, say a Monday, is that fair? It means a Thursday is lost forever and as
Mondays are more often than not, down days, we would have traded a day close to the weekend for one post
weekend. That’ll make you think. (Continued at end)
A view overlooking Lake Manapouri from a mountain above Pearl Harbor . We rowed across the river to reach
the trailhead, hiked and then returned to the jetty and rowed back. Simple. Nice, too.
In certain countries, we might expect the boat to disappear in our absence.
Four seasons in a day—welcome to New Zealand, never a boring season at Lake Manapouri.
At the peak. Doesn't look like there's much below the surface. The tree has adapted, I hope Jen, too.
Editor takes the swing bridge. Jen hates these crossings, so being concerned for my safety, (see below),
sends me across a solid section over the river.
I've heard of walking the plank but crawling...this is ridiculous...an editor dare.
We are pleased we are responsible adults!
The art/science of being a good husband...doesn't work too well. (The hiking may be the problem—couldn't be
the husband, could it?)
Preparing the boat so her ladyship can board comfortably and be rested when she reaches
the trailhead across the river.
Resting comfortably while crossing the river. Note writing on lifejacket. This is where
the song "Michael rowed the boat" originated. 'Call me Mike'.
The job of a husband is to be...on good days, a mule...other times, a donkey. This was Jenni's
method in avoiding the swing bridge. (Maui, Hawaii.)
Selection of mule (donkey) is a good start. (Indian Gardens, Grand Canyon.)
Fetching the kayak for the Memsaab...nice but this is going perhaps, a little 'overboard'.
While the donkey is at rear rowing like an engine, the Missus works...diligently...? Note the
vigorous paddling and disturbed water. MacDonald Lake, Glacier National Park, Montana.
We are not superstitious people but we might become that way inclined because one of us made
a poor mistake. We arrived in Auckland, the big city of the country, positioned on North Island. The plane
was late which exacerbated our already late-night expected arrival. We had to collect luggage, deal with
the environmental police, arrange transport and reach our hotel for the night. An early morning flight
for Queenstown, arranged for Friday 13th, put on the pressure. After very little sleep in a room the size
of a small carton—one of us slept on the bed, the other underneath—we returned to the close-by airport.
In fact, it was in walking distance but between the luggage we were carrying, being unsure how to find
our terminal, we opted for the shuttle. Fortunately, we arrived early as we were expecting luggage problems.
The airline on which we flew has strict requirements regarding size and weight for items in the cabin.
We had already purchased extra-weight coupons for the luggage going into the hold.
By the way, on leaving Hawaii, we had a problem with Jenni’s ticket for reasons never explained. It seems
when a computer does not want you to fly, you don’t. After a supervisor overrode the somewhat miffed computer,
both the plane and Jenni were cleared for take-off. As dictated by the system, we were checked through security,
twice before entering the plane and looked clean. As the doors were being closed, an airline employee
demanded to see Jenni’s ticket for the third time, threatening if she did not check it immediately, Jen would
be hauled off the plane. We still don’t know what that was about but noticed someone forgot to tear off
the stub. These days anything can happen. Some passengers show a telephone which allows them through the gate
(we never see them tear off part of the ‘phone) while most other tickets are scanned. Who knows?
We made a one-way reservation from Auckland to Queenstown last September. Our intention was to begin the trip
in the latter city, hike in various places on South Island, making our way back to Auckland over five weeks.
This means we’ll cross the Cook Strait by ferry when due to return to North Island. Back to the airport.
The attendant was experiencing trouble printing our ticket. She then asked for an itinerary. After more finger
tapping, she pointed out that the reservation was indeed for Friday, 13th. We wondered what the joke was—perhaps
some New Zealand humor. The issue was that I had booked for the incorrect month—March rather than February.
(I was only a month off, big deal!) Off we went to customer service.
After a while of more keyboarding, the attendant closed shop and said she had to confer with a supervisor.
Before leaving, she said we would incur a penalty. Fair enough. Although this was one of those innocent mistakes,
stupid but in good faith, I had made an error; we should pay for the mistake. For the one-way ticket, we had
originally paid $205 for a pair. In order to allow us to fly on the same flight, she announced a penalty of
a further $380. Original ticketing - $205; revised charge plus original—$585 for a one-way pair of tickets.
The penalty was nearly double the price of the original tickets. What choice did we have? Then we were expecting
baggage issues as we did have quite a lot of weight for the cabin, a backpack each and computers. It wasn’t the
beginning of a great day but it was a beginning. Fortunately, the baggage must have looked light and compact
but it felt anything but.
We collected the rental car from the airport, loaded it with our six pieces of luggage, remembered that we should
ride on the left side of the road and turned the key. Nothing. Our attendant, a young girl, seemed quite embarrassed
that she passed us onto the Scottish manager. A friendly guy, he was, and brought out a new battery. We had negative
feelings for the car and so he allowed us to swop it for a car that started first time.
Welcome to New Zealand. At time of writing, we have had thus far, a time of wonder and some fascinating experiences
on the slopes, met people from so many different countries as well as become close friends with so many locals.
To each of them, we are their mates already. Hello, Mate, sorry, Mate, have a g’day, Mate.
Cheers, Mates
Jenni and Jeffrey
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