Week 10 Oamaru,
Christchurch, Driving through Kaikoura, Lake Tekapo, Arhtur’s Pass and more...
January 29, 2012
So I left the excitement of Dunedin and headed north
towards Christchurch, intending on stopping for a night first in the small
coastal town of Oamaru. Hitch hiking has
become such a natural part of my traveling these days and this day like those
before it, proved yet again to hold the same consistency of the days
before. I walked my way out of town and
up the hill to the last good spot someone could stop before punching the
accelerator as they near the 100 KPH sign in the near distance. It was another sunny day, the rain and wind I
had arrived with had subsided. After 15
minutes a car slowed and pulled over only to drop off another hiker, someone
who was unwilling to walk up the hill I had climbed. Roxanna was her name and she was, as
expected, German. I could almost guess
her story before she told it, as it rang with such familiarity to those I had
heard in the preceding weeks. I told her I thought that she was 19 years old
and traveling NZ before going back to Germany to attend University; she’s
likely been here for 3 or 4 months already and is totally surprised that everyone
else traveling NZ is also from Germany.
I was right on all counts. She
seemed more surprised than me. I smiled,
turned back towards the road and stuck out my thumb. I have gotten along with the German travelers
exceptionally well and it was nice to have some roadside company while waiting
for a ride.
We were soon picked up by a mother and daughter heading
our direction but not as far as we wanted.
Making space in their station wagon the two women and their Ridgeback,
Millie, accommodated our luggage. I
continue to be grateful that I elected to travel with a noticeably smaller
sized backpack and shoulder bag than those I have met along the way. Whether it means walking longer distances (or
up hills) while hitchhiking, or making it easier to load into the drivers’ car
it has proven a worthwhile decision.
Poor Roxanna never made it up the hill because her backpack was
literally half her size and still didn’t have enough room thus requiring her to
be laden with two additional bags in her arms.
As we drove we learned of the lives of those seated in front; the mother
now older and retired while her daughter who I guessed was just past 30, was an
upcoming doctor. The range of
professions I’ve met in the cars I sit in have run the gamut but the personalities
are remarkably similar. They are
empathetic to those on the side of the ride and display a certain kindness when
picking me up.
Our next ride took longer to secure; we spent that hour
and a half comparing notes on our road side experiences and laughing about the
drivers that would pass. It’s funny
really, the expressions that you see as those who do not stop drive past
you. There are those that never look at
you, but you know they see you, avoiding your eyes so that if they pretend
you’re not there they won’t feel guilty for passing. And there are those that are gesturing,
pointing to the lift or the right or lifting both hands up and maybe even
shaking their head. The flapping of arms and waving of hands seems unnecessary
but provides some entertainment. I’ve decided when they point left or right
they are telling me they are turning off the main road soon and when they throw
their hands up it usually means the car is too full. Why they bother to provide an explanation is
beyond me. I doubt if their situation were different, if they weren’t turning
or their car wasn’t that full, that they would really stop. And then there are the best ones, people who
appear to be talking to you as they drive past, those looking and laughing or
the grandparents who stare and shake their head or mouth the word “no” with
such conviction. But someone will stop,
someone always stops. That’s the beauty
of it. Our last ride appeared as a van
came screaming towards us in reverse, windows rolled down and yelling over the
engine to ask where we were headed.
Already inside were two young Chinese girls he had picked up earlier and
we piled into the rattrap and headed north.
I was the first one dropped off, electing to spend my
night in the small town of Oamaru. It is
here that you are supposed to see penguins as they come in at dusk from the
ocean and waddle up the beach. That was
the reason I chose to stop here before heading to Christchurch. Yet, after arriving I put little effort into
finding the penguins and when I didn’t see them because I went out too early I
never made the second effort to go find them later that night. Oamaru doesn’t offer much else and my hostel
was run by a woman who had too much interest in herself and the power she
thought she had as the hostel manager.
At one point she came into the dining room and began yelling at two
workers, screaming and cursing as she fired them. I ate my dinner and went to bed, happy to be
leaving tomorrow and heading the final distance to Shaker City (Christchurch).
January 29, 2012
Well, what a fine day it has been on the roads of New
Zealand. I am glad that I have found
some comforts and interests in hitch hiking otherwise I fear my time here would
be met with certain disdain. While
timing is unpredictable and conversations can feel contrived and veer towards
monotonous (due to their repetition) I still would otherwise miss out on
meeting all of these people. Today
required the assistance of four vehicles to reach Christchurch. The first was with an unlikely Pakistani /
Afghanistani (born in the former, raised in the latter) man driving a tow
truck. Of a similar age, we began to
chat and immediately produced new and original conversation as I enquired about
his history. He had moved to New Zealand
with his family when he was a teenager and has since learned English and is
enrolled in some level of University in pursuance of becoming a civil
engineer. I was interested to learn his
views about America and of his home country and the answers he provided were
revealing. He said that being a Shiite
and being in the minority of Afghanistan he was very pleased with America and
what it had been trying to do in Afghanistan.
More surprising though was that he felt, in so many words, that his
country was too screwed up to be fixed, at least any time soon. He said that the police that stand guard
during the day are the same men that become the Taliban at night. And that those who are supposed to protect at
even the lowest levels are engaging in bribery.
He feels that with this sort of situation there is little hope for real
change, until perhaps at least the next generation. He feels little pity for his country though
as he believes it and the people seem to perpetuate their own problems.
The second ride came from an older gentleman who
demonstrated a slight deterioration in driving skills. I was never in any real danger but I could
tell that this great-grandfather wouldn’t be my first choice as we sometimes
wandered out of our own lane and into the shoulder or worse, the other
side. It was a brief ride though before
I was waiting again and picked up by a middle aged couple in a new Ford
car. Ford seems to sell quite well in
New Zealand but the cars have different names and have a slightly different
look than those sold in America. I got
along with them quite well as we discussed their farming business and
hobbies. After they explained that they
raise sheep and deer we were soon discussing the cooking methods of venison and
how so many people proclaim they would never like the taste until they have a
bite. They shared a likeness with my
parents in age, disposition and as it turns out, for their love of
motorcycles. The asked what my parents
rode and I disappointed them by only knowing the make and nothing more. They pressed me for more, asking about the
bike culture and if they went to rallies and what they were like in USA. I really had no idea but faked it best I
could. From the sounds of it they liked
to work hard and ride harder.
My final ride picked me up only minutes after be dropped
off by Hell’s Angels. It was little old
lady in a little old car with a little old dog in the back. She pulled to the side and rolled down her
window telling me she was headed to Christchurch. Perfect.
As I put my bag I the back with the dog she laughed asked me “you’re not
going to hit me over the head now are you”?
She was a quirky old lady who had no qualms about slamming the
accelerator down and keeping it there while her mouth moved faster than the
car. I’m not sure if we had a
conversation if I just sat and listened for an hour and a half. She even got out of the car to say goodbye
to me, holding her dog in her arms and talking about god knows what as I waved
goodbye.
January 30th
2012
Although my time in Christchurch was brief it was more
than sufficient for me to experience what it has left to offer. Perhaps experience is too generous of a word,
my interaction with the city was quite passive; I was more of a spectator. Like a man slowly walking through the halls
of an old museum, pausing at times to cock his head to the side and take
another look at the oil spread on canvas.
You see, since Christchurch has suffered two substantially damaging
earthquakes in the past 18 months, much of what the city was has vanished. The old city center has been fenced off,
buildings are being torn down and others have been deemed unsafe and thereby vacated. Walking the inner blocks it felt like a ghost
town, as if a war had been waged behind those fences and there had been no
survivors. Vacant, hollow and sad; those
would be the descriptions I would bestow upon Christchurch. I concede that there are still many people
living in the suburban sprawl and there is yet life, but concerning the
characteristics of a city, this one had virtually none.
January 31st
2012
Today I picked up my free
rental car from Jucy Rental at the Christchurch airport. “Free” you’re probably asking? “Nothing is free” I can hear my grandpa
saying. And to an extent he is right,
even with my free rental. There is a website that posts listings of
rental cars that agencies want relocated to other New Zealand cities. In exchange
for you relocating a vehicle for them (at no cost for the car) you also get a
particular time and mileage allowance to use the rental to your benefit as
well. This includes campervans,
motorhomes, cars and SUVs. I chose to go
with the El Cheapo from Jucy and drive it back to Queenstown for them. They are giving me 3 days and unlimited miles
to do it and I intend on putting that to work.
It seems that the cheaper the car the more willing the company is give
you more time and mileage. Anyway, the
car isn’t completely free, after the first tank of fuel you have to pay for the
rest and I also decided to pay for the optional insurance on the thing. I knew
it was a clever upsell when he pitched it to me but I reasoned that $50 would
be worth it since I’d be getting the car free…and I figured I might be testing
the car’s limits. And for the record,
there definitely are cities that you can reach with the one tank of fuel and
you don’t have to buy the insurance and in that circumstance it would be
completely FREE. But I wanted to drive
all over the whole damn island. I had 3
days to experience life in the left lane and buy petrol at about $8 a gallon. I was not going to let this opportunity go to
waste!
My El Cheapo was a Nissan Sunny that came with power windows,
manual transmission and a tape deck. I
hadn’t bought a tape since that used copy of Steve Miller’s Abracadabra when I was 12 years old. And
NZ isn’t exactly full of radio stations in the countryside so much of this road
trip would be done in silence. Except for the conversations I would have with
myself, after all, I needed someone to talk to.
Although I haven’t owned a manual [transmission] before I was excited to
grind and find the gears while driving on the left side of the road. When you first pull out onto the road it is a
strange sensation to put yourself on the opposite side of the highway. You know
that is where you are supposed to be and yet that part in your brain, you know
the part that should prevent you from jumping off buildings and stop you
walking into a wood chipper, that part begins ringing like a fire alarm in your
head. You have to fight the urge not to
slip back over into the comfort of the right hand side of the highway. But soon you acquiesce and find yourself
listlessly humming along, taking in the scenery and playing with the gears like
it’s your turn on the racetrack.
My first stop was in the town of Kaikoura, a place famous
for whale watching and swimming with dolphins.
All of which comes with a pretty steep price tag of course. Kaikoura is north of Christchurch and would
seem to be out of the way for relocating the car back to my final destination,
Queenstown (which is SW from Christchurch).
But this road trip isn’t about being practical; it’s about driving as
much as I can to fill in all the gaps that I have missed on the south island
while I have been hitch hiking around.
While hitching is quite favorable for my wallet, it hasn’t allowed me
the flexibility that is otherwise enjoyed by one with his own transport. So basically I’m going to drive the entire
south island and Kaikoura happens to be lucky destination numero uno. While I didn’t splurge to go out on the water
it is still a worthwhile destination if only for its scenery. Here the Southern Alps come spilling into the
sea; a rarity across the world for mountains to end so abruptly at the edge of
an ocean.
While I had considered going further and even crossing
back across the island to the west coast to stay in a hostel others had raved
about I decided instead to hold up for the night in Kaikoura. Afterall it was already evening and the drive
would have been 5 hours. As I made the
short drive to the grocery store I spied two young men standing alongside the
road with their thumbs wearily stretched in hopes of ride. Having been in their shoes before I decided
to help them out, even though I wasn’t going but another 200 yards down the
road. They were German (total surprise!)
and told me they had been standing there for a couple of hours and were
desperate to get out, any distance, from here.
Alright I decided, I could take a scenic drive up the northern coast and
drive them part way to wherever they were going. And so what was supposed to be a quick trip
to the supermarket ended in a something more like a 3 hour excursion. We chatted briefly, but this time I was the
driver and I was asking the questions.
It was a nice change of pace for once.
February 1st
2012
My second day with the El Cheapo was all about
driving. Having finished a paltry 300 km
yesterday I seemed determined to fill up the gas tank as many times as possible
today. For some reason when you pay for
petrol by the liter at first it seems rather cheap, until you realize that the
car holds nearly 50 liters. After which
I slightly questioned why I chose to criss-cross the middle of the island
today, going first across the northern Lewis pass from the east to the west
coast. And then again coming through the
southerly Arthur’s Pass only hours later.
On the plus side I witnessed some amazing scenery matched only in
amazement by some of the strangest weather to accompany it. Rain, fog, sun, repeat. As if each were carefully selected as part of
my 700 km rally course for the day.
Winding up the hills throughout Lewis Pass in the sun before descending
through the murky fog of Arthur’s Pass back the other direction. If I couldn’t see it from the car then
there’s a pretty good chance that I missed it.
Even my pictures were taken usually while zipping along the road, camera
held out the window or shooting through the windshield. Probably the only places I spent outside of
the car were the rest area toilets.
February 2nd
2012
Last night I finally stopped for the night at Lake
Tekapo, completing a long day behind the wheel.
I had intended to stop earlier but the first place I came to was
empty. There wasn’t even a worker there,
just a sign that they had gone out but no idea when they might return. The place had a funky smell too so I decided
to take my chances at the next town only to find that hostel fully booked. I pushed on until coming to Lake Tekapo and
finally finding a room at the last available hostel. I cooked one of my traveling favorites,
ground beef with onions and tomato sauce, took a picture of the lake and then
went to bed. This morning I hiked up the little hill behind the lake, ran back
down, jumped in the car and made my way back to Wanaka, a town I had stayed in
earlier and quite enjoyed. I had hoped
to see Mt. Cook on my way here, even drive to it and do a hike but it was cloudy
and you couldn’t see anything. As I
pulled over in the rest area at the view point about 50 km away, there was
nothing to view but overcast skies. Even
after taking a nap I awoke to the same dreary outlook and figured Mt. Cook
would just be something that I’d have to miss.
Anyway, it’s been a great few days with El Cheapo and I’m about to
return it to Queenstown airport tomorrow morning. By the time I drop it off I’ll have put 1400
km on it and bought enough gas to fuel a jetliner. No doubt my Andretti driving style did little
to aid in fuel economy.
February 3rd
2012
There is not much to say except I am back in
Queenstown. I won’t be eating Fergburger
or going out to party. I’m tired and
broke. I just finished the Ben Lomond
trek today which lies just outside of here and had an excellent day cruising up
to the top and jogging party way back down.
Unfortunately it was cloudy so there were limited views worth
photographing. But by this point who really wants to see anything picture of a
mountain? I’ve got to rest up now before
my final big trek in a couple days….The Routeburn Trek.
