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Wednesday 15/12 - Saturday 18/12 1999 (Queen Charlotte Track) This was our introduction to New Zealand's South Island: a soul-strengthening four days walking up and along a path laughably described as 'easy'. Easy? Yeah, right. That'll be why we spent the third day climbing for a solid three hours. So we raced down to Wellington, traded in our car for a torn-up insurance policy and found ourselves waiting far too long for the Picton ferry. On the crossing over, I won $70 on the pokies, much to Charlotte's chagrin. (I'm banned, rightfully, from gambling in any form.) The Queen Charlotte Walk boasts many 'breath-taking views' and a few DOC campsites (where you pay $5 for the privilege of pitching your tent in the middle of a gaggle of irritating Germans and Brits, where there's an open toilet and nothing else). Breath-taking? Probably, but you try enjoying them out of breath and condition, while your head itches from the relentless sun. Third night in, we cracked and took ourselves a very nice cabin ($16 a head) at the Portage Hotel, where we dried our tent and sleeping bags, and heaved a collective sigh of relief with all the other wusses when it started to bucket it down fourth morning. Second night, we borrowed' the facilities at the hotel, not having recourse to any stoves. First night, we cooked pasta in a manky yet friendly communal kitchen, and later spent a pleasant hour on a pier, watching the reflection of the sun's descent on the water. Throughout the walk, we were plagued by the weka birds, striving to defend their territory, facing us off across single-file bridges, and attempting to pull our shiny tent pegs as dusk fell. Kayaking was called off in Portage upon rain-fall. Only one of us slipped over in the mud during the tramp, but for the sake of some suspense, I'm not going to reveal who until later. (Don't worry. No one was hurt.) The tree ferns all have skirts of old fronds. Both of our knees started to hurt alarmingly on the downward walks (trots). Passed by some folk running - these Kiwis! Mad, I tell you. Mad. Bought a Y2K (chocolate) bug and sat on it, squashing the evidence. We finally cracked on the fourth day, when faced with more rain. At Te Mahia, we called in at the motel and begged, pleaded and sobbed to be allowed on a boat back to Picton. Fortunately, one was forthcoming rapidly. *The person who fell over and got mud all the way up their jeans and in a few unmentionable places as well? My good self. |
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