The Long Day's Journey Into Night (In Toronto)

This will be the longest post of this trip, because without a doubt, Friday was the longest day of our lives.

We arose around 10:00 in our crappy, but expensive hotel room in Auckland and spent some time getting ready for the flight home. We re-packed, yet again, our carry-on bag and the laptop backpack. After checking out, I sat in the hotel lobby using the Wireless connection there to update the blog while Debbie went out to explore some of the neighbourhood shops.

Once done these chores, we went out for a traditional Kiwi lunch as our final meal in NZ, but failing to come up with what that might be, we settled on Mexican. The restaurant is located on the second floor of a street-level shopping strip on a very steep hill near the Sky Tower. We sat with everyone else out on the rickety looking deck that overhangs the sidewalk and had a very enjoyable meal. Given that we still had several hours before our 7:30 pm flight, we decided to take a short drive across to the west coast to see one of the many beaches located there.

On the way back to the hotel to pick up our car, I took some scenic pictures to save you from having to visit the Sky Tower if you ever visit Auckland. Here is the Sky Tower from below.


In the hotel lobby, they have a three story wood carving that is quite impressive. Here it is


Note also in this picture the three story waterwall on the wall just to the left of the carving. I, of course, was immediately interested in how the carving was put together, and went underneath to have a look. It seems to be made of 2X6 planks laminated together, and bolted securely to some fairly hefty steel infrastructure.


We set off with some relatively coarse maps, but a lot of confidence, and after an hour's journey on a combination of 4 lane highways and some of the narrowest twistiest two lane blacktop we have encountered, we ended up at Bethel's beach.

The day had become heavily overcast threatening rain at any moment. There is a small sand covered parking lot with a walkway leading out towards the beach.


There are a number of signs posted on the way to the beach, some asking you not to walk on the sand dunes so as to allow the vegetation a chance to grow, some asking you to keep an eye out for some sort of endangered bird, and one notifying you about the Quicksand.


The problem with the Quicksand sign was that it wasn't very specific about where one might actually encounter the Quicksand. We decided that since this was a public beach, there wasn't much likelihood of encountering it if we stayed to the main paths, and there were, in fact, a few other hardy souls in the area, so we soldiered onwards.

The wind had picked up considerably by this time and the path from the parking lot to the beach led out to a wider path of sand that stretched perpendicular to the ocean. The wind howled down this natural channel and as it went it picked up the tiny black sand particles and flung them at you. Debbie bundled herself up as well as possible to face the elements.


Once we reached the ocean beach proper, the trek became completely worth it. The wind was whipping the ocean into a frenzy, and the waves crashing on the beach created a mist that gave a surreal look to the distant rock formations.


There is a piece of the shore that has been cut free by the relentless waves and tides, and several people were on the other side of the chasm apparently fishing, although to be honest I can't imagine how anyone could cast into that wind.


We spent a while enjoying the scenery and then made the significantly easier downwind walk back to the parking area. The drive out from Bethel's Beach was uneventful, although the roads were no less narrow or winding. We got stuck behind a School Bus for much of the trip out, and Debbie tried to capture the sense of the roads.


Note how the bus is pretty much as wide as the road. The bus had dual rear wheels, and at every turn, the driver dropped the outer wheel into the ditch while the inner wheel kept the bus out of the chasms below.

This, unfortunately, is where our well scheduled day started to unravel. As dedicated readers of this blog might remember, Auckland is a city totally bereft of planning or order inasmuch as the city street layout is concerned. The outskirts have not escaped this blight. The other factor compounding our difficulties was the lack of a detailed map. We at one time had had a detailed map, but Debbie in her zeal to reduce the amount of clutter we were bringing back to the New World had disposed of our detailed map, and instead we were left to rely on the tourist map.

We made the best of this, however, and with the confidence that comes from having three and a half hours before our flight, we set out towards the airport. After a half hour of heading in the approximate right direction, we stopped for gas, and at that point asked for directions. We got some vague indications of where to go, and a warning that at rush hour, which was almost upon us, it was going to take us two more hours to get to the airport.

Armed now with this information, and a little less confident, we pressed onward. At some point, the directions we received completely fell off the rails, and we found ourselves heading back into the downtown core - for once I thanked the Sky Tower ... you can see it from quite a ways out. We finally stopped at another gas station and here we invested the critical NZ$4 to buy a map. We did a small backtrack and then made a direct drive towards the airport. Unfortunately, rush hour was now upon us, and we inched along through some sections getting increasingly anxious. Mercifully, we got free of the in-town traffic, and got onto an "express"-way that moved at a better clip, and in time made our way to the rental car drop off and then to the Air NZ checkin counter.

The problem with showing up late for check in is that you are among the last people in line. The labyrinth at the Air NZ counter was pretty full and we spent a full half hour waiting to check in. Then it was off to the security labyrinth and finally to the departure lounge. With 30 minutes before boarding. Two and a half hours since we talked to the helpful gas station guy. Here are two travellers sad to be leaving but relieved to have arrived in time.


We had pre-booked our seats for the outbound flight when we arrived so as to avoid the problems of rude fellow passengers, so we settled into our two abreast seats near the rear of the aircraft with neither of us having neighbours. This turned out to be a terrific choice, and I highly recommend this to anyone travelling on a 747. Check out the seating plan for the flight you are on and look near the rear where the fuselage narrows. There should be a few rows with isolated pairs of seats. Book these!

After takeoff, we were treated to the sight of the inflight entertainment system in our section doing an endless re-boot cycle. In the end they were never able to get the system to work in our section although it worked fine in the front 5/6 of the aircraft. This would have been fine, as Debbie and I had brought books and puzzles to amuse ourselves, but the overhead light is controlled on the same remote control as is used to run the entertainment system, and we were unable to turn on these lights. The result of this is that after the dinner is served, the interior lights of the cabin are dimmed so people can sleep and we had no light to read by.

As a result, we made the best of the situation, and tried to sleep, but in all honesty, sleeping sitting up is not something either Debbie or I do well, and we flopped around a lot but probably only got 4 or 5 hours un-restful sleep out of the 8 hours of darkness. To add to the distractions, the LCD screens on the seatbacks in front of us would flash white and stay on for 30 seconds or so on about a 3 minute cycle. I eventually hung a blanket to cover them up.

Early in the flight, the flight attendant told us we would be given a voucher to compensate us for the inconvenience. I pictured something we could use for food or drink in the airport or perhaps in the Duty Free. The voucher turned out to be an Air New Zealand voucher worth NZ$60 each to be used within one year for another flight. This, as you might imagine, is not very helpful for people living in Toronto. We gave ours away to someone who said they would be able to use it.

We got to L.A. at around 10:00 am local time, and then had to go through the retarded US security system. First we had to wait in line to go through US immigration. Being situated at the back of the aircraft (one down side) we were pretty much the last off, and thus near to last in the immigration lineup. Of course the ladies in charge of keeping the lines moving kept taking people out of the back of the line to fill up the shorter lines, until we were literally the very last people on our flight to step up the counter. The immigration officer asked us what we did for a living, and after he discovered Debbie was a Paralegal, he started asking her more probing questions. We became quite nervous until it became clear that his brother had suffered an at-work accident in Brampton, and he was looking for a good lawyer on his behalf.

After the immigration line, we then waited at the luggage carousel for our luggage to arrive. We then had to haul it all outside, around the building, up an escalator, and then wait in line at the Air Canada desk to re-check it. Once the luggage was cleared, we then got into the even longer line to go once again through airport security, this time the American Homeland Security version (does the name "Homeland Security" have the flavour of every totalitarian regime you've ever heard of?)

In standard Don luck, we watched the line-managing lady take people out from behind us into the shorter lines, and in all we spent almost 40 minutes in this line. Then we had to take off our shoes, unpack the laptop into a separate bin, load all our stuff into bins, pass without a trace through the metal detecting arch, and then re-assemble our carefully constructed travelling ensembles. They didn't even ask me to turn either the laptop or the digital camera on. How useless is that?

In all it took over 2 hours from the time we got off the 747 until we were in the departure lounge waiting for our next flight. Keep in mind we had already passed airport security in Auckland, we weren't staying in the US so the immigration check was a waste, and our luggage wasn't staying either. A total waste of effort on everyone's part. All they need is to have the luggage transferred (isn't this standard practice? What the hell is wrong with Air NZ?) and an escalator up from the secure arrivals area to the secure departures area.

Here are two tired travellers decompressing from their security ordeals.


Astute observers will notice that this is the same bar we sat at on Superbowl Sunday on our way out. We ate a bar pizza to avoid having to eat the pay-as-you-go Air Canada food. On principle. Cheap #$&*'s.

The flight to Toronto was uneventful and the passage through Canadian immigration and customs was quick and painless. We caught a cab and were safely home by 10:30. We fished out our winter gear (bah!) and drove out to the neighbourhood wing joint for a (very) late dinner. We savoured two things you can get in Toronto that you can't get in NZ: any food whatsoever after 9:00 pm and nummy nummy chicken wings.

All in all, it was one long day. Friday started at 10:00 am, we left Auckland at 8:00 pm, we arrived 11 1/2 hours later in L.A. at 10:30 am (still Friday), left 3 hours later, arrived in Toronto 5 hours later at 9:30 pm, and went to sleep at around 1:00 am Saturday (3:30 for Deb). Friday was a 32+ hour day for us.

I'll post a quick update on our fairly painless re-assimilation into the Canadian identity and a few final musings on our too-brief adventure in New Zealand in a day or so.

Until then ...

Don

It's Astounding, Time Is Fleeting

The drive from Taupo to Auckland is not at all like the drive from Wellington to Taupo. Although there are short hills in the way, there aren't the fun winding bits, so it's a bit dull. Except for the stunning scenery, but really, how much of that can one person take?

We re-packed (we hope) for the last time our suitcases such that we wouldn't need to look into the big ones in Auckland, and they could go straight from being packed into the car in Taupo to being loaded onto the 747 bound for L.A. After a gas/coffee stop in Taupo, we made it to the road by 10:30 and made excellent time to Hamilton, a small city with no apparent reason to exist other than there isn't another city nearby.

Here is where kismet steps in (for those not in the 35-50 age range, this next section might not make much sense, but trust me when I say it's plenty strange). We had decided to lunch in Hamilton early, but having no knowledge of the area, decided we would simply head for the city centre and see what we saw.

We followed the signs leading us through the outskirts, but still following Hwy #1, and when the directions finally diverged between Hwy #1 and the city centre, we chose the latter. Passing from suburbs into downtown buildings, we drove randomly, looking for a "restaurant row" type of street we have in the last few weeks come to expect in just about every town in this country. We eventually found the street and also found a convenient parking spot in front of an appealing street front cafe.

We settled in to our table and after ordering our drinks and lunch began to look around. Directly across the street I noticed a couple of people taking each other's picture in front of a bronze statue that looked for all the world like a Flash Gordon statue. Debbie and I discussed the possible connection between Flash Gordon and NZ, and because we came up with nothing, decided to investigate after lunch.

After lunch (Debbie had a standard steak salad, but I had a very weird pizza, but not the weirdest on the menu) I went inside to settle up while Debbie went across to investigate. When I approached, she was all smiles. We had found the hidden shrine to Riff Raff. Yes folks. That's right. This was a life sized bronze statue of Richard O'Brien in full Riff Raff regalia from the Rocky Horror Picture Show. Just to prove that we are not completely bonkers, here is the plaque on the ground in front of the statue ...


... and here is the statue in its full glory. Please do click on this picture so you can admire the detail with which the sculptor modelled this figure including the pantyhose hold-up clips and straps.



Now to those of you who have never seen The Rocky Horror Picture Show, do not let me put you under the impression that this is art worth pursuing. It is a very twisted, surreal look at the evil that absolute power can create. It is also, for those with a (very) open mind and an appreciation for modern musical theatre, an entertaining romp, and when it first appeared in theatres and for decades thereafter the movie was a genuine unqualified cult classic. I personally find several of the songs really catchy. As soon as we got into the car to continue along, Debbie started singing the most popular song, the opening lines of which are the title of this post.

The rest of the trip from Hamilton to Auckland was slow and filled with construction delays and inopportune passing lanes. We arrived safely but later than we had anticipated and checked into the Sky City Hotel room which we had, as you may recall, reserved. This motel room is the most expensive we have rented, and the most disappointing. Here is a picture of the harbourscape from the hotel.


This is not, however, the view from our room. This is the view from our room.


The rooms are very spacious (there are 2 plus the bathroom), but the furniture is kind of old and worn and very uncomfortable. In addition, they are in the "charge for every damn thing" mode as many major hotels are in the developed world, but it's not what we have become accustomed to in quality accomodations here in NZ. I would not recommend this hotel.

We settled in and then headed back down to the viaduct harbour area for dinner. After a few drinks at the Loaded Hog of previous posts, (but what's another pub pic between friends) ...


... we shuffled a few doors over to the Stonehouse Grille for dinner. Most of the meat items on the menu are served basically raw on a thick, extremely hot stone tablet. You are expected to cut your meat up and cook each piece on this stone tablet. It's a fairly creative extension of the fondue concept, and although we had a passable meal, I'm certain a second visit, knowing what we now know, would be much more enjoyable.

Given my success with previous night shots, I tried a couple more, with moderate success. As a result, you are now forced to view one more shot of us (keep in mind the exposure time was about 4 seconds, so although we don't look particularly jolly, we were under pressure to look the same for an unusually long period of time)


... and here is a picture of the SkyTower, which is kinda scrawny compared to the CN Tower, but still pretty big. They sure do light it up with gay (you know - cheerful) colours though. Tell me you don't think the art director was a smurf?


We cabbed back to the hotel and after a half hour in the casino (after losing most of her $20 and me losing $10 of my $20, Debbie won $50 while I was in the washroom on our way out) we retired back to our room.

Friday is our last day here. Our flight is at 7:30 pm, so we will have to see what trouble we can get up to before then.

Don

Ferries And Cars

The interisland ferry leaves Picton at 10:00 am and we needed to be checked in 1/2 hour earlier. We packed up and checked out of our clean but very functional Americano motel room, and then proceeded to haul our numerous luggage items the 1/2 km to the ferry terminal (by the direct route). The luggage is checked before boarding, so we don't need to worry about it while travelling. We boarded and headed to the forward viewing deck to watch the ferry leave. Once we were under way, we retired to a couple of comfortable seats midway down the ship adjacent to an outside viewing area on the port side.

Here is a shot of Picton I took as we steamed away.


A floating salmon farm had broken free from its moorings into the middle of the passage the ferry normally uses as a shortcut to Wellington, so we and all our fellow passengers were forced to go out to the end of Queen Charlotte Sound and around before heading across to Wellington. This added about 30 minutes to the voyage, but it gave Debbie and I a chance to retrace our journey out in the Zachary Hicks. Our two-day trip took about 40 minutes to travel on the Ferry.

Although it won't seem significant to you readers, it was a little melancholy for us to watch Bay Of Many Coves


and Endeavour Inlet


pass us by. For what it's worth, this is what it looked like for us.


For anyone thinking about travelling to NZ, Debbie and I agree that Queen Charlotte Sound, despite all the past logging and obvious human settlement, is still one of the most beautiful places on the planet (that we've seen thus far) and should not be missed.

As we passed farther out towards open ocean, the winds picked up significantly and the seas became increasingly choppy. Of course the interisland ferries are very large vessels and the one we were travelling on was not the deterred in the slightest by the swells, but she offers a large face to the wind, and whenever the broadside of the ship was to the wind there was a noticable list to the leeward.


Here is a shot of some rocks that mark land's end at the north end of Queen Charlotte Sound. We just thought they were rugged and you might enjoy seeing them.


The ferry ride ended without incident, and after claiming our luggage and rental car, we set off north on famous highway #1 towards Taupo. We selected Taupo because it has a very large fresh-water lake and it is a little over halfway between Wellington and Auckland.

The trip up from Wellington was just as full of ridiculously gorgeous scenery as on the way down, though we didn't stop to photograph any of it. We seemed to be in a hurry, but neither of us can say why we thought so. We did stop to take a picture of this DC3 aircraft that someone has turned into a shop.


As a counterpoint to my earlier post in which I wailed about the dangerous curves of Crazy Highway #1, I must say that in retrospect the road isn't really all that awful. I somehow forgot the hundreds of kilometers of gently winding roads, and concentrated only on the few kilo's of crazy winding sloping roads ... without safety barriers ... with precipitous drops into either a deep valley or a deep lake.

It really is a nice drive, but the winding sections remind me of a young child on one of those mechanical rides that show up between the automatic doors in the grocery store. He/she sits in the driver's seat as the ride rocks gently back and forth, and swings that fake steering wheel back and forth like the car was slaloming between pilons on a drunk driving test course. Add in the "G" forces, and you're most of the way there to a ride in the mountainous sections of Highway #1.

We arrived in Taupo in good time and after settling into our scenic but austere motel room, we set out on foot for the Taupo business section in search of dinner. After a short walk we found the main restaurant street and after perusing several menus settled on the one with the best patio.

The Tongue and Groove restaurant occupies the second floor next to a giant backpacker's motel. They have a huge deck that overlooks the street with oversized picnic tables to make the cottage effect complete. The beer and wine were fine and the dinner was better than average (Debbie's was just OK but if you get there you really have to order the Venison Hot Pot: Chunky venison stew in an extremely rich red wine gravy with a flaky pastry covering ... mmmm).

We then set out on a very very very long walk through the entire rest of the retail section of Taupo in search of the 6 pack of beer that I thought I wanted. If I had known at the beginning how arduous the trek would turn out to be, I would have done without, but it seemed like a simple task. Debbie was a good sport throughout, though she did find quite a bit of mirth in the irony (however unintentional) of how far such a walking-averse individual (that's me for those that don't know me) was willing to go for a brewski. In the end we found some at the Woolworth's, which for the uninitiated is open until midnight. Who knew?

After an equally long trek back to our motel room (only now carrying beer and licorice) we settled in finally for the rest of the evening which for Debbie consisted of falling asleep to the TV and for me, reading until too late.

Thursday will see us back in Auckland ... we're looking (sadly) forward to it ...

Don

The TransCoastal Railway

The second leg of our rail journey ran via the TransCoastal railway. The TransCoastal leaves Christchurch station at 7:00 am. What the hell were we thinking?

We woke to the alarm at 5:30 to allow us to shower and prepare, to repack yet again our suitcases, to haul it all out to the front of the hotel, and then wait for the shuttle that the hotel clerks assured drove by daily at 6:15. Skeptical, yet determined, we dragged ourselves and our gear to the lobby (the Stonehurst hotel is spread along several smaller buildings along a 1/2 block length, with our apartment pretty much as far from the lobby as one can get). We met another small group of travellers who also hoped to catch the same train, so we felt somewhat comforted inasmuch as we wouldn't be alone in being abandoned on the side of Glouchester Street as the train pulled out several miles away. While we waited, I decided to play with my camera in night situations, and got these two interesting shots.



The shuttle did, in fact, arrive on schedule and we were spirited safely and in a timely manner to the train station. The driver was one of a few kiwis I had met who had close relatives who had married (for some inexplicable reason) a Canadian. Aside from his own time spent living in the Don Mills area of Toronto (it was a peculiar treat to chat with someone other than Debbie who understood Toronto a little bit) he related that his sister and her husband were returning that very day from a visit with his sibling living in Canada. Who in their right mind leaves, knowing full well the climate differences, New Zealand for Canada in February? For all those out there who might think this slightly appealing, please - please! believe me ... the charm of a snowy landscape fades very very quickly.

After a disappointing meeting with the ticket booth (at which we discovered the helpful, but misguided lady in Greymouth had inadvertantly deceived us inasmuch as she was unable to pre-assign us seats on the TransCoastal) we were saddled with shoreward (as the train travels north) seats. We grumbled a little but settled into our assigned seats, and were thankful that no-one took the two seats opposite our forward facing two. My inital grumbling about the seating arrangements was fairly quickly extinguished when the sun arose, and the seaward seats were bathed in a really annoying bath of light that we, on the landward side could avoid. Nyah Nyah.

Seriously, though, our seats were literally six steps from the door that led to the observation carriage. As the journey progressed, we found it very convenient as needed to step out to the (very windy, diesel smokey) observation carriage for a clearer view of the scenery.

The TransCoastal route was apparently chosen by politicians (surprise!) and headed inland for quite a while in order to bolster the economic fortunes of some of the towns on the route. After the long and quite dreary passage through endless (new-ish) subdivisions and (old and very run-down) industrial areas, we set out into some scenic hilly areas.



I thought this would be a perfect opportunity to get some blog writing done, so I set up the laptop and went to it.


The coast did finally appear, and as advertised the TransCoastal delivered some truly spectacular views of the east coast of the New Zealand south island.




Debbie spent quite a while in the observation carriage watching the ocean scenery while listening to her MP3 player. I did the same but without the diesel fumes.


The coastal portion of the journey continued for quite some time and the views did not diminish in scenic quality. The waves on the ocean were reasonably strong and made for some truly gorgeous views.


Eventually the track led us more inland, with only sporadic views of oceanic wildness. One particularly interesting sight in this segment of the trip was the salt evaporation fields. Basically someone has sectioned off large tracts of land, and they periodically flood these tracts with ocean water and let the water evaporate leaving the salt behind.


The evaporation fields are pink because of some benign algae (although since I'm currently halfway through reading Dean [don't need a middle inital] Koontz's "The Taken" in which there is an alien spoor laden rain I'm not currently inclined to sign off on any supposedly friendly algae). Yes I know there are reflections in the picture. It's what you get when you take your pictures at the last minute when you finally get your headphones off and listen to the train purser's narrative.

We disembarked in Picton and collected our luggage. We at this point are hauling three large (wheeled) suitcases, one small (wheeled) suitcase, one non-wheeled carry-on bag, one backpack containing the laptop and miscellaneous related gear, and the camera bag. Due to a minor navigational error on my part, we hauled and dragged this collection from the train station across the Picton waterfront park, up some wide stairs, under the war memorial, and then finally up the main street and to our second floor motel room at the Americano. There was no grousing I am told.

After unpacking, we headed out for a final walkabout in Picton and a little dinner. The early start to the day guaranteed an early finish.

Tomorrow we're off on the ferry. Fun!

Don

Christchurch

We split off again for the start of Monday's adventure. Debbie left for a walk around a supposedly art-y region of the downtown leaving me behind to do some backups of our photos onto DVD's. Once done, I also set out to explore the not-so-mean streets of Christchurch.

I stuck to the streets closer to the Cathedral Square area, investigating several antique shops. One "Art Deco" themed store has a large movie projector that caught my fancy. I took some pictures, but couldn't figure how I'd get it in my luggage.



I also took a fancy to a model steamboat that was about 24 inches long, made from steel and wood with a working steam engine under the top deck. Unfortunately, I was a bit late, as it was already sold, although the NZ$2500 price tag would certainly have prevented me from coming home with it. I stopped for lunch at a streetside Turkish cafe and took a picture of a large palm tree in the sidewalk.


We met up around 3:00 for a drink in Cathedral Square, and then set off to do the Gondola ride to the top of some tall hill. A 20 minute city bus ride takes you to the outskirts of town, and directly to the base of the gondola installation.

The gondolas have doors that automatically open and close at the top and bottom, but I was a little surprised to find the bottom entry platform unattended. We watched as a couple of gondolas went by, and then just stepped into one as it was carried slowly past. The ride up is pretty quiet, though the ventilation is seriously lacking, and the sun beating through the wraparound windows made the interior unbearably hot.


The view from the top is panoramic, and very scenic. Here are some shots we took while at the top.




There is a road along the top that Debbie thought might give you an idea about NZ road engineering (and driving - guess which way that car is going?).


We rode back down (which for some reason had a more impressive view - I guess we didn't look down on the way up) and then caught the bus back to the city centre.


We walked around a little while in search of a restaurant-filled street called Oxford Terrace, and after one unnecessary detour we found ourselves there. Oxford Terrace is a short stretch of street in which seven or eight restaurants have opened up side by side, each with a deep streetside patio. We stopped in a couple of them for a drink,


and then settled on the Mexican themed one for dinner (the Coyote Platter for 2 - a.k.a. fajitas for 2).


We took a taxi ride back to our hotel and then did our packing in preparation for a ridiculously early start on Tuesday. Debbie read herself to sleep while I spent a couple of hours sorting through pictures before retiring.

The TransAlpine Railway

The drive from Nelson to Greymouth starts off reasonably flat and straight-ish, but it quickly becomes more like what we have become accustomed to. This is another drive through the mountains with sharp, narrow, winding roads with precipitous dropoffs at every turn. Because we were trying to catch the 1:45 train in Greymouth, and we weren't certain how long it would take to make the drive, we were on the road at 8:10 Sunday morning, and there was almost no traffic for much of the journey.

Because of the lack of oncoming traffic, and in particular the almost complete absence of transport trucks, the drive was quite enjoyable for both of us, and the scenery was beautiful.

We arrived in Greymouth in plenty of time, so we set to arranging our rail tickets before getting some lunch. We were able to get seats on the TransAlpine for the sunday trip to Christchurch, but unfortunately, the Tuesday trip back was completely booked. This put a kink in our plans as we did not relish the thought of coming back immendately Monday morning. The helpful attendant suggested we talk to the Avis rep in the train terminal to see if we could arrange an exchange of vehicles in Christchurch.

The thought of an early car dropoff had not occurred to us, but once we got there, everything fell into place for us, itinerary-wise. We arranged with the Avis person to take our rental in Greymouth with no penalty. We then booked the TransAlpine train trip for Sunday afternoon, and the TransCoastal train trip for Tuesday morning, which would take us conveniently from Christchurch to Picton where we need to be to catch the ferry on Wednesday. We also booked a hotel in Christchurch from the tourist desk in Greymouth.

We still had a bit of time after filling the car gas tank and re-packing our luggage, so we stopped for lunch. Here's a tip for North American travellers in NZ. A bacon burger has no ground beef in it. It is a big whack of bacon between two buns. Mine also had cheese, lettuce, and blueberries in it. This is the main drag in Greymouth.


The TransAlpine rail journey takes you from Greymouth on the west coast of the south island, over the southern alps to Christchurch on the east coast. The trip involves several tunnels and bridges and a stop at Arthurs Pass. It was strongly recommended in all of the guide books we had consulted, and we were not disappointed. The scenery was spectacular and the rail travel quite civilized. We took a lot of pics, so I'll just plunk a few of them here to give you a taste. Many of the pictures were taken through the windows, so there is a reflection of the interior of the carriage in some of these.

On the west side of the mountain range, we passed a few lakes


and some beautiful valleys


The train zips along some pretty untamed areas, and the vegetation literally brushes the side of the carriages. This shot is pretty tame but I wasn't reaching out to take a picture when the brush was that close.


This is approaching one of the many bridges and tunnels (all in one convenient photo)


Here is Debbie watching the mountains go by


A few shots taken at Arthur's Pass




Our seats ...


... were located right next to the snack/bar counter. The lines were pretty long at times


On the east side of the pass the terrain got quite a bit drier. Here is a stream passing through - when it rains it becomes quite a flood apparently


There is a viewing car on the train where one can go to get a lung full of diesel fumes while watching the scenery go by. Debbie ...


... went for a look.


We finally saw some of the famed multitudes of sheep. In all our travels through the north island and the little bit of the south island we saw, we only rarely saw sheep. Most fields were full of cattle - there are a LOT of cows here! But sheep? Not so much.

On the western half of the TransAlpine, we did finally see numerous fields of sheep. Notice the large hedges. They are apparently planted to provide a wind break. The one on the left has got to be 20 feet high and it has been trimmed!



Here is a closer view of the hedges. I would love to see the machine they use to trim these puppies (both the sides and the top have been groomed).


At the end of the rail journey (about 4 1/2 hours) an inexpensive shuttle van took us from the train station to our hotel. We settled in, and then set out in search of dinner. A short walk brought us to the Cathedral Square area of downtown Christchurch. We walked a while around the surrounding streets, and then settled on a streetfront cafe for a not bad, but not great dinner.

By this time, it was pretty late, and because of the early start, we were pretty bagged. A little TV and reading finished off the day.