Monday 2nd March 2009

Our final night in Christchurch, the most English of New Zealand cities. It almost out-does Engand in Englishness if your idea of England is leafy streets, with trams running along them, acres of parkland and flowers, punting on the river and a gothic style cathedral sitting cheek by jowl with slate coloured colleges and schools and elegant wood-panelled victorian villas. It then plunges you back into the 21st century with a glass and steel art gallery and it all fits so well together. We have had, surprisingly, two good weather days here. Yesterday we spent strolling around the city and visited, among other things, the excellent museum with its exhibition of Antarctic exploration. Today we took a bus across town and then the gondola up into the Port Hills, the remnants of the extinct volcanic crater which forms the Banks peninsula, jutting out into the Pacific Ocean, just east of Christchurch. We walked for 4 hours along the crater rim, fab views of the coastline and Lyttleton, the port of Christchurch, which sits in the base of the crater.

We left Mount Cook on Thursday. Adverse weather meant we decided to walk up to the Mueller Hut, which sits 1800m up in the mountains, and back in a day - rain and high winds were due for Thursday night and Friday. We managed the steep ascent in three hours, including an entertaining scramble up Mt. Olliver (1933m-reputedly the first peak Hillary conquered) and enjoyed tantalising glimpses on Mt. Cook and Mt. Sefton. The peace was shattered repeatedly by the explosive sounds of avalanches falling from the glaciers on the slopes of Mt. Sefton. We got back to the car park, just as the rain started to fall, only to find that some kind person had scratched the car. Luckily, he had been spotted. We had a note on the car giving the culprits registration number. So, something to sort out on our way north. We arrived at Lake Tekapo, in pouring rain, and stayed overnight in a very 70s retro motel lodge. Remember PYE radios? Brown & orange furnishings and wallpaper? The bar next door had a curry night, so we sat there, gazing out at the mirk across the lake. The rain stayed with us as we drove to the Banks Peninsula the following day. We had intended to walk over Mts. Herbert and Bradley - the highest points on the Peninsula - but low cloud and yesterdays walk still in our legs meant we stayed below the cloud level. We stayed the night in what was reportedly the oldest hotel in Canterbury (the district). The bar was packed with locals watching the rugby match on TV(between Christchurch & Wellington). We downed a beer or two just to be sociable. We took time to visit Akoroa, the only part of NZ which the French managed to get a toe hold on, before the British saw them off. They are still proud of this Gallic conection; even the Police call themselves the Gendamarie!