1403 - 170312 BLOK, Queenstown to Invercargill (the southern most city in N.Z.)
After eight days in Q-Town, time to move on. Sufficed as I was to see, and to know, my curiosity about N.Z.'s premiere adventure town, had been quenched. The best part, besides the good food, bicycle expertise, and getting my tent pole repaired (by Jonathan at Small Planet), was developing a relationship with Lee Cook, a 21-old computer guy from the Isle of Man. He just happened to be in the 'Ski Room' at Bungi Backpackers. Note, all the rooms named at Funky Bungi.
I had helped 'Watch,' and was feeling good about that, even though I never really understood (Asians always inscrutable) what he was all about. However, if I'm ever in Hiroshima, Japan, I will look him up (as invited to stay at his house).
I think the best part of traveling the way I do is meeting people, and people from all over the world.
I was up by 0700, cold as it was. But, I opted not to turn on the electric heater in our room, as I thought it would awaken people. I'd showered the night before, taking Lee's advice.
I did the usual 'drill,' (packing, eating breakfast, cleaning and lubing the bicycle chain/loading Mr. Fetes, etc.) And about the time of departure Lee showed up with a chicken sandwich for my lunch. We took some group pictures, parting with the usual good wishes and warnings to be careful. I always part by wishing 'Safe travel!'
On the way out, I noticed my front brakes not working, and checking discovered the pad on the right, the safety pin (remember months ago in Matapouri, losing/finding it on Bruce's property). I asked Pam (Jay's girlfriend) if she had another, but no after checking). I wasn't worried as Frankton, a small commercial community was on the way to stop and solve.
I was rolling by 10:15, and in Frankton in maybe 20 minutes.
In Frankton, I stopped for cash, and then at a pet shop the woman produced a safety pin.
I took Highway #6, heading for Invercargill. This a lovely route as if follows Lake Wakaputi (? -- Note, all the Maori names baffle me.) The only problem, of course, the usual too much vehicular traffic. But, if they're weren't motor vehicles there wouldn't be good highways, and then I couldn't do… All life is a trade off!
But, this turned out to be a perfect cycling day, as sunny, with the wind (from the N.E.) pushing us along as in 'engine.'
I stopped for lunch, ate Lee's sandwich and a banana. I basked in the sun for almost an hour. It's unusual for me to stop in the middle of the day, but I've been 'sun starved' in N.Z. Plus, my goal only 50KM, and a community called Kingston at the bottom of the Lake.
I was in Kingston by 3P.M. It's basically nothing more than one petrol station, a restaurant (selling groceries), a caravan park, and a steam train. I figured out, it's probably a summer home for those in Invercargill, only a 2-3 hour drive in a motor vehicle (something like 180KM / 110 miles).
Pushing to the Caravan Park, a man stopped to tell me about the train, and that I should hurry as departing in 4 minutes. I turned into the Park, and rented a tent site for $20. I wasn't interested in the train, as grew up with them (my father's love).
This Caravan Park turned out very good, as few people, and good facilities. I was the only tent in my area, near a babbling brook.
The afternoon sun, was alined perfectly, and I lay in my tent (in the sun) and took a nap.
Later I walked to the store and bought some Wattie's tomato sauce, and one banana.
Back in 'The Internet Cabin,' I put a 2-dollar coin into the 'Internet machine,' and sent Jim (in Auck.) a message about arriving packages.
After dinner of rice, with the cold wind as a warning, I put on my Icebreaker long underwear, and got into my sleeping bag.
During the night it got progressively colder, me adding clothing, until I was wearing everything I could. I even took my fleece blanket (found in the trash weeks ago) and put it on top of my sleeping bag. I found out later, it got down to 0 C., that morning. Note, this is summer in N.Z.
I've made several big mistakes cycling in N.Z., and one of them was having my summer bag, when I needed my down one, and vice versa.
One Swiss couple, a German couple, a German girl, and an English man all showed up eventually. I slept in 'till 0730, then went to the Kitchen to make breakfast. I immediately turned on their electric heater.
Antony, from London, and I were simpatico, so I committed to helping him with his trip to the U.S. I also passed on the tip about the mopic., 'Zeigeist.'
I was slow getting out, as had to let the tent dry in the sun, not rolling on the highway until 1115.
Kingston to Lumsden (60KM)
I had the wind helping in the A.M., so I 'zipped' along in a warm sun. Of course, I was closely observing my new Continental touring tires, and trying to assess how they performed, if they made going easier -- I think they do... But, when you spend money you're likely to go with 'the program!'
I stopped at Garsten, N.Z's 'most Inland town.' I thought to myself, this is where I'd live in N.Z., not only inland, but 300M / 1,000ft. ASL. Note, every community in the world makes some claim to set it a part from the others (see picture of the sign at www.cyclingpeace.org/gallery/. There was a Hotel, and a shop selling honey, a garage of course. After using the public toilet I headed south again on Highway, #6, Lumsden the day's goal.
At a community called Anthol, I happened to stop at a Cafe for lunch (old and woody it was thus inviting). This turned out to be a wise choice, the vegetable quiche and carrot cake maybe the best in all of N.Z.! Sitting outside in their 'patio in the sun,' I enjoyed both. I asked about the name 'Anthol,' 'but no one can agree where it came from' to be the name of the community. I quickly shifted from Garsten to Anthol, as my #1 'inland' place (so fickle am I)! I think I was there for 45:00 minutes, before 'hitting the trail again.' Note, it's unusual for me to stop and eat lunch at a restaurant no less, but I've learned to 'stop and eat the flowers along the way.'
On the road again, I noticed building clouds, the wind now out of the southwest (against me). I should have known the sun wouldn't last. There were some hills to climb, the ridges coming off a 1400M / 4.500ft. peak. But, as I turned east the wind started helping. Plus, when I got up higher, the vista to the right (Southwest) was what I long for… these 'wide open spaces!'
I got stuck behind a farm tractor for a time, but being cautious thought better to pass. He turned off after a time, and going down, I was in Lumsden about 4:30P.M. (1630 hours). Now, the wind and clouds were beginning to be forbidding. I passed a camp ground on the right, but wanting to be indoors if it rained, and kept going.
In town I noted the seedy looking Lumsden Hotel -- every little town in N.Z. has an old hotel, a 'pub Hotel I call them, with a bar, but no Internet -- some of these are good, some not so. I thought about it, but opted to ask at the 'i' tourist site. I cranked through the commercial area, but couldn't find such. The woman at the Library, was helpful, however. She pointed out a Motel I'd missed, and explained about the campground (the one I'd passed on the way into town), that it had 'cabins.' Suddenly, I was interested in the Campground. I bought some groceries at the food market, then cranked back, into a stiff wind, to investigate.
The Campground was deserted except for one truck with a fancy (expensive) tent-camper. There was no one in the office, but signs on the walls explained what to do, that the smaller cabin cost $30 per. Both the cabins were locked, so I asked the one resident what to do.
This guy, whose name I never got, turned out to be interesting. Not, only did he help by calling the 'manager,' but they next day shared much information about fishing in N.Z. Additionally, because he lives in the Christchurch, I learn much about the recent earthquakes.
At the same time, a neighbor drove up and offered me a bed in his house. I'm less likely to take people up on these invitations, as the evening turns out to be an investment in socializing (explaining my story).
I waited for the manager in the Kitchen. While I'm waiting a pretty woman with children drives up and asks if she can fill her water bottles. Then a lone man arrives, and I explain the situation. After investigating he finally drives off as 'having a bed at a friend's house somewhere.'
Finally, an aboriginal-looking woman arrives, and gets the key for me. She explains when I depart in the morning to put the money and the key in the 'Honesty Box' (slot). Turns out she was born in New Guina, so I know the Australian Aboriginals came through there, 50,000 years ago.
I move into the tiny 'cabin,' parking Mr. Fetes in the Kitchen. The cabin has a combination pull-out couch, above a bunk bed. I opt to pull out and sleep on, having a 'lumpy,' albeit warm, night. The wind builds, and builds. I hear it whistling through the trees, maybe gusting to 50KMPH. I'm warm and dry, and feeling a bit smug that I opted for $30 inside versus $15 outside (in my tent). Note, I've been in my tent in similar situations, and although dry, less warm.
By 0400 it's raining hard enough to awaken me, and this continues until 0900. I stay in bed, sleeping later than I ever have before.
When the rain slackens I get dressed and go to the kitchen to make breakfast.
Here the 'fishing man,' no doubt lonely, 'drops his list,' (as Dick H. would say), enlightening me about N.Z. fishing, Christchurch, earthquakes, Australia, where he has another house, and generally what's wrong with the world! I listen. At some point he sets up his iPad, and online shows me pictures of his Christchurch mansion. Of course, he's so proud of it, I'm never invited to his house.
Later, he drives off in his GMC truck, waving, on the way to Invercargill for the day.
I load up and go.
In town I find a pay telephone and call John (and Rhonda) in Winton (where they have my 'lost' gloves at their farm). During the conversation, he invites me to spend the night!
What a contrast between the rich man, and the Cowies! John and Rhonda Cowie, who'd turned around to stop and to help me when they noticed I had a flat tire. This, two weeks prior and the reason I ended up in Wanaka, giving me the opportunity to cycle over the highest sealed highway in N.Z. (1076M) Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when we 'inadvertently' leave possessions in other people's automobiles! But, thank God 'I'd' done so, as meeting them, knowing them, staying with them on their farm, such pleasure. You can have all the $ rich people in the world, the 01%. I'll take people with less, that know how to share! I'm suppose to call again when at Centre Bush, and they will meet me there.
The terrain opens up into a wide valley, and with dissipating overcast my spirits rise. This is farm country for sure, 'more cows and sheep' than people!
Besides the building traffic (nearing Invercargill), the ride is easy and uneventful.
I arrive in Centre Bush about 3P.M. (1500 hours). There's nothing there except a 'gallery,' and a petrol station/Kiwi Post/Cafe. I buy a packaged muffin, with machine coffee, 'only' $5 (I remember when you could buy a cup coffee for .10 cents. Then, having no pay telephone, the woman calls the Cowies from their telephone. They'll be there in 30 minutes. Perfect, timing, giving me a chance to rest and partake of the muffin/coffee. There's a place to sit, and I read the local paper (full of farm news).
They arrive on time, and we load up Mr. Fetes in their truck.
The Cowies are 4th Generation New Zealanders, and have had the 1K acre farm for more than one hundred years. The house, rebuilt in 1936, is a home, having raised three kids. My room/bed, like a 4-star hotel.
We sit in their kitchen/family room and have afternoon tea. Afterwards, John takes me on a tour of the place, ending up high on a hill. The vistas are bucolic, rich in green, cows and sheep in every direction. See the pictures at www.cyclingpeace.org/gallery/
Dinner is blue cod, a solid farm meal. But, the treat is a banana split for dessert! I haven't had such for years, and I had to take a picture of (also in the 'Gallery' at www.cyclingpeace.org ) They can't do enough for me (probably all guests)! Note, I'm always humbled as this kind of loving-kindness!
I luxuriate in a hot bath, then 'melt' into bed.
My life runs the gamut from 'rough' to the luxurious, from cold and wet, to warm and soft. I can't count the number of different beds I've slept in, during my life time, but I'm sure the number is in the hundreds. I can barely surmise the number of houses I've lived in, most likely approaching one hundred.
Some people like the same (familiar), I like different (unfamiliar). Some people only know one flag with borders. I'm a citizen of the world without borders. People are surprised when I tell them I'm not returning to the country of my birth. When they ask, 'Where are you from,' my reply, 'Planet Earth, where are you from?' Note, Asians are particularly 'local,' hardly ever able to 'escape' the confines of family. My family… the 'family of mankind.' Blood is not thicker than water, in my case!
I hear the Cowies get up at 0700, as I'm already awake. I get dressed and join them for breakfast. We share some 'intimacies,' as friends, rather than just hosts and guest. I reveal some of my life (sex, drugs, and rock n roll) as so different from theirs . Rhonda prepares a sandwich for me to take for lunch. This with bread she's just pulled out of the machine. She also offers a ride into Invercargill as going in later, but I decline. I know if I start riding in a motor vehicle (too much) I'll start wanting more and more of the same, until…
After pictures, I retrace the route driven the afternoon before. The first couple of kilometers are gravel, but I'd wanted to test my new touring tires. They do fine. Go Continental, down with 'Bikebox.com' in Australia!
It's only about 17KM into Winton, this distance taking but one hour (a petrol-using vehicle would take on a few minutes). It's a fresh, late summer (note we're going into Autumn, not Spring, in the Southern Hemisphere).
Winton turns out to be charming, a farm town complete with an old movie theatre, now a pawn shop. Note, I long for watching a movie in a dark room, a part of an audience -- it's a difference experience! I think about stopping for a 'cuppa,' but continue on like a horse sensing 'the barn' (Invercargill and the very south of N.Z.)
The traffic grows too much on the way into Invercargill (only 30KM from Winton), but I'm inured to such by now. At one point, however, I have to deal with a couple of irritant, a 'rattle' in my front left pannier. I stop four times to adjust the contents, but I'm never successful (the 'Ides of March'). At some point I hear something else I don't like, and I stop to discover, my 'Grogs' (rubber sandals) have slipped down and one is rubbing against the back tire. This easy to fix.
I reach the 'outskirts' of Inver. in two hours, but it takes another hour to reach 'In town' Inver. as it's so spread out.
My 'drill' always (if I don't know better) when arriving in a new town, is first to go to the 'i' Tourist Center, get a map, and ask about Hostels or Campgrounds.
I'm supposed to stay with Carl's sister Margaret in Inver.'ness,' but I think better, since he's flying in today from Palm. No. Being a 'professional' guest, I know better to let them alone first, before adding to the 'mix.' Carl has set up a meeting with his old friend, the highly visible Mayor, Tim Shadbolt.
At the 'i' Tourist Site, a part of the Museum, I'm told there are three Hostels. Because 'Southern Comfort,' described as 'quiet,' I go there first. It's a lovely old house, but the manager out until 3P.M. (it's 2 P.M. when I arrived). I decide to check out the other two, plus I need to locate an ATM.
The first, next to the Library looks too noisy (on a busy street), and so off to 'Sparky's,' a ways out…
Sparky''s is cute, but no one there and also on a busy street (Highway #1). I opt for 'Southern Comfort.'
On the way, back I stop at a Countdown food market,' and buy groceries. I also find an ATM.
Invercargill, at first glance, appears interesting. It's the 'sense' I get of communities, riding around observing… And the defamed by others, turns out sometimes to be just what I'm seeking. Queenstown, rich and trendy, versus Invercargill, more N.Z. real. I notice more young people dressed in black punk and I'm encouraged to replenish my 'camping supplies!' There's two bicycle shops, one called 'Cycling Surgery.' The Library offers WIFI. But, it's a sea coast city, and ultimately I couldn't live here (too damp cold). Settled by Scottish whalers, the primary industry has become agriculture (many places selling tractors).
Southern Comfort Hostel turns out to be more expensive ($28 per for a common bed), but at the same time smaller and more intimate with private bathrooms (with showers). It's a converted old house in a residential area.
I first fix my lunch, to eat at a picnic table in the sun.
I park Mr. Fetes, in the backyard, and meet a young English man cycling N.Z.. I am shown, by a young German woman (manager), my bed in a room with a fireplace (now electric heater). The sun shines in on the best bunk bed I'd partaken of yet, wood rather than metal. I'm sharing the room with two young men from Europe.
In the Kitchen I meet two young women from The Netherlands, and a cyclist from Switzerland. He's never heard of Carl Gustav Jung! These are the 'hipoise' traveling the world on mom and dad's money (no doubt). They come from Western Europe (mostly) winter, to N.Z. summer. And most of all to have a good time, on the lookout for a 'Mr. or Miss' Right!'
I'm on the look out for 'camping supplies!' Go Carl! Go Nephew! Go 'Electric Puja!'
Today, is St. Patrick's Day and time to celebrate! Mr. Fetes and me have now cycled from the very north of North Island (Cape Reinga) to the southern most city on the South Island, thousands of kilometers, over many steep hills including the highest pass in New Zealand! This with the help of my 'deceased' dear Irish friend, James B. Feeney, whose bicycle helmet I wear!
'Erin go Brau!' Ireland forever!
