King of the castle

Larnach Castle is the only castle in New Zealand. Built on the Otago Peninsula by wealthy Australian William Larnach. Tradespeople were sourced from all over the world – Plasterers from Italy, Stonemasons from Scotland, carpenters from France all to build a Scottish styled castle in honor of Dunedin’s links to the city of Edinburgh. The Castle has been lovingly restored and still retains the original 1 tonne solid stone bath on the third floor bathroom. Bit of job hoisting that up the spiral staircase I would imagine!!

The Larnach family history is a little twisted - littered with corruption, inheritance scandals, suicides and suspicious deaths. For a country that is comparatively light on history it’s a pretty unique place.

We left Dunedin after the castle visit to head on down south through a region known as the Catlins towards the country’s most southerly city, Invercargill. On route, the obligatory stupid picture was taken at the most photographed waterfalls in New Zealand, Punakaiki falls 

Tricky to concentrate on writing this at the moment. I’m rocking around trying to type on Nay’s macbook whilst the van swerves around the road pumping out Nicki Minaj…clearly not getting a look in on the playlist today.

Wonka Busts a Gut

Dunedin proudly boasts to be the founding city of all that is chocolate down under, and is home to the country’s only Cadburys factory. Jess was predictably high as a kite before even consuming a single E number. 

We were blessed with our very own umpa lumpa for our guided tour. A small limping creature on a power trip, with a striking resemblance to Roz from monsters inc, showed us round the process as we donned shockingly unflattering hair nets. Dad was pulled to one side as Roz singled him out as a “special one”, providing him with his very own mustache guard…

Not a single scrap of lickable tasty wallpaper could be found. The tour climaxed with the spectacle of watching one tonne of liquid chocolate cascade down a waterfall…but no little candy boats or lollypop trees. Cadburys make a sweet down here known as a “Jaffa”, small balls of chocolate covered in a crunchy orange flavored shell. Recently a charity event was held to roll 50,000 numbered Jaffa’s down a street with the first one down winning a prize. The street used was the steepest street in the world (Guinness book of records 1998) called Baldwin Street in Dunedin. After hearing the Jaffa story Dad and I felt it only right to head straight over and take it on. 

It’s a bit of beast. On the climb up we spotted an elusive wild postman crisscrossing the streets pouncing through all the hedgerows. We caught up with him and asked him what he was doing. “It drives the Chinese camera crew crazy!” he said. “I hide in the bushes so they can’t catch me!”. 

Every year they run an event on Baldwin Street known as the “Gut Buster”. The name speaks for itself. The objective? Up and down as fast as you can…no official record of how many guts have bust.

Stone, stone and a man from the office

Oamaru holds a special place in Dad’s heart. For those of you that don’t know, he has a second marriage – to stone. About 3 years ago he began carving with a unique type of soft limestone only found in the South Island of New Zealand at Oamaru (www.turntostone.co.nz). Today was the day the sculptor would meet his craft head on. We’d been tipped off by a local, that by special arrangement you could visit the largest quarry in the world where Oamaru stone was cut out. Dad took the plunge and called the quarry and had a quick chat with the owner Bob Wilson. Dad explained a bit about what he did, and that we were in town for the day, and Bob very kindly, and rather unexpectedly, invited us all down for an exclusive quarry tour!

The quarry is a spectacular site. For over 120 years the stone has been cut from the ground in blocks weighing around 2.5 tonnes. They are then shaped into smaller chunks and were used to build the town of Oamaru, before quickly gaining an international reputation and a place in the hearts of local sculptors.

Off cuts are ground down into limestone powder and sold to farmers across the country as fertilizer for the acid-deficient soil in the region. We got to see the whole shebang. The massive circular saws that cut into the ground, the monster dumpers and diggers that shift all the stone, and the kilns that burn down the limestone powder. And get this – all without any safety shoes. Not a single hard hat or hi-vis vest in site – Nothing. The holy “safety” word was not mentioned once. Jess was wondering around machinery clutching a milkshake in one hand, I was dodging forklift trucks as I tried to fit the landscape into my photos. It was awesome. Sure, its dangerous - and yes its important to stay safe and make sure you keep all your fingers….but these blokes are real men. They breathe in rock dust like its oxygen and crunch stones with milk for breakfast. They laugh in the face of safety and jump on the “man train” that heads in the direction of JCB’s, gigantic circular saws where everyone necks beers at lunchtime before heading back out for the second half.

One of the workers, Brett, handed me a block of the stone so I could feel the weight of the blocks that the guys have to lift all day. I winced and handed it back as Brett smiled at me. The noise of the machinery was loud, and although I couldn’t hear them I saw that mum share a joke with Brett. “What was that all about?” I said to mum as got back into the cars. She laughed and said “When you gave him back that rock I told him you were an office boy. He told me that he could already tell that because you have soft girly hands”. For the record I don’t have soft girly hands. A lumberjack would have soft girly hands compared to Brett. There’s also a lesson in there…try hard at school so that you can work in a cushy office…and moisturize…particularly your hands.

Bail anyone?

Hit the road

Mum, Dad and Jess joined us in Christchurch as we set off on our tour of the south island. First stop breakfast, and breakfast in Christchurch means only one thing – Drexels. You can never get a table here by walking in. Its always necessary to book and sometimes weeks in advance.

Akaroa is east of Christchurch on a peninsula. The French tried to claim it many years ago but were forced out by the English who set up a whaling colony there. It’s a pretty little town with colonial style houses dotted all along the harbour front.

A blitz down the highway took us onto the town of Timaru where a “park gym” session made sure everyone took full advantage of all the fitness apparatus dotted around the park.

Oamaru further down the coast is home to two penguin colonies, the blue eyed and yellowed eyed penguins. We located a neat little hideout from where we could watch the yellow ones come in from the sea around sundown and waddle up the beach to their nests to guard their recently laid eggs.

Skip on down another 50 k’s and we hit another awesome spot known as the Moeraki boulders. We couldn’t find much written info on them but apparently they have formed naturally as lumps of rock fell away from the cliff edges and over the years have been smoothed down by the rolling tides. Silly photo time began (as is normally the case when we find a site of significant and historical and cultural importance). In amongst all the other rocks we spotted movements…it looked like something was coming out of the rock…like something was being reborn! We caught some snaps of the beast as it took its first breaths after hatching. Hideous.

Dino's

Saw these crazy dudes and thought of you...

Rumble in the ghost town

I was in Christchurch around two years ago the last time I came out to visit mum and dad for Xmas. The city I saw then was virtually incomparable to what now remains. The tv images we saw in the UK don't tell half the story. As we approached the city centre on foot we came across a cool container city where shops, banks and restaurants had all relocated to into converted 40 foot shipping containers. 

We passed about 40 of them hoping to head to cathedral square in the Center. It was then we came across what's known here as "The Red Zone". You can't get in. A perimeter covering virtually all of the city Center district is fenced off with no entry signs everywhere. The view through the cage walls is horrific, truly devastating. 

Everything and I mean literally every building has either been, or is in the process of being demolished. Vacancy signs are still in smashed shop windows, table and chairs still arranged where people would have been sitting eating lunch before everyone picked up and ran for their lives. It's hard not to feel somewhat emotional but at the same time very great full for life having been sat on the other side of that fence under the now unrecognisable cathedral with mum, dad and jess just under 2 years ago. 

We met up with Neil to partake in a red bus tour, the only way you can get into the red zone. A quick safety briefing ends with "whilst every effort has been made to ensure your safety there is the possibility that in the event of another quake you may not survive". The lady then asks "so everyone wants to continue?". Only an idiot would not then realise the risk they were about to take. Sure it's easy to say "well it's not likely to happen to me", but at the back of your mind is a small voice which says..."well it's happened before...and it could happen again..." Undeterred Neil, Nay and I remain determined to witness the devastation first hand. The tour was awesome. 

 

For 40 minutes we cruised around slowly and safely around a city which you would have thought had been totally bombed in a war. We passed the now totally levelled site where the television Center building came down and over 100 people I think lost their lives. Flowers were pinned to the fence in memorial. I remember the news coverage in the UK repeating pictures of the event and making it look like just a few buildings were destroyed. In fact over 900 (yes 900!!) buildings have been so badly damaged that they will demolished and rebuilt. 

The job at hand is unimaginable, and the determination and spirit of all the locals we have spoken to is truly inspiring. They don't dwell on it, the kiwis are "can do" people and are rolling up their sleeves to muck in and rebuild what they have lost. Seriously impressive. That can't be said for everyone however. Over 50,000 people have left the city and an entire generation now refuse to work in or enter high rise buildings. You get a sense when they talk about it that this has had a horrifying but at the same time very humbling effect on their lives. 

After the bus tour we headed a few meters down the road for a hot chocolate. As we reflected on he tour and sipped our drinks Neil said "there's one" and immediately at about 1:35pm the ground began to shake right under us. Lasted maybe 3 seconds and wouldn't have been a scratch on the big one but I'd be lying if I said my heart wasn't racing and that for a split second I didn't think about heading for the door. Neil picked it up as if it was a sixth sense which has no doubt developed after experiencing both the big ones and the many thousand of aftershocks since he's been living here...

Jailhouse Rock

Cell 29 was our spot for the night. Up until only about 15 years ago the addington prison, which is just on the outskirts of Christchurch city Center, was used as a holding prison for female criminals awaiting trial for murder and other serious crimes. 

The cell had a twin bunk and that was pretty much it! Whilst it had been whitewashed and very effort made to make the place a little less intimidating I could still make out scratchings on the wall of our cell particularly the word "PRIEST" in large letters. As you run your fingers over the markings it's a little unnerving, but equally fascinating, to think of the types of characters that were homed in the very room we were about to spend the night in. If walls could tell stories!! 

After grabbing something to eat we settled down to watch a film. I had the choice and decided that the movie Shutter Island might be suitable...surely enough I got a bollocking from Nay as soon as she worked out the storyline!

Pray For Powder

Don't know about praying for powder, but I was certainly praying I would still be able to walk again once all this was over as we headed up the mountain pathway of Mount Hutt for our first day's skiing. 

For those of us who are novices at all types of extreme sports I'm sure you'll understand what I was fearing. Yes I have been skiing before - but over two years ago and it wasn't a pleasant experience. It was cold, wet, I had plastic carrier bags for socks and wore jeans and a jumper. Also those of you who know me will know that I have the knees of a baby chicken and whats the first injury associated with skiing? BAD KNEES!

Besides all that I had the equal pressure of feeling like I had to keep up with Naomi the Widworthy Slalom Champion who I had no doubt would whiz past me in a flurry of snow that would surely blind me and send me over a diff edge....

Once kitted out we started on the beginners slope. I say slope, its more of a ramp that you couldn't even roll a potato down its that shallow. We spent an hour or so with Nay telling me how to turn and stop, with me heading straight into the sides trying to explain that "its no good. It doesn't work" - trying to blame everything else but my own crappy ability at this point.Soon enough, as tends to happen all too often when I'm trying to learn something, I got frustrated and demanded that we go on a ski lift up the mountain where I could chuck myself head first down a real slope. I figured it would be a kind of sink or swim moment in my life where I could swim and slalom my way nicely to the bottom as my body was forced to pick it up immediately....or I could sink and despite my best efforts likely end up eating snow all the way down on my face. I like a challenge. 

Nay went first, slowly to lead the way. I followed.....and stayed up....AND TURNED.....AND SKIED!! I couldn't believe it. We stopped a few times on the way down, whilst I flapped like a fish out of water, but eventually got down the run! Evey muscle was aching and every joint felt like it was on fire - mostly because I was constantly tensed and poised for an enevitable impact with a small child who was unknowingly about to meet their maker. But I didnt crash. Well....not on the first go anyway :-)

Nay took to it like a duck to water, as she does with pretty much everything. She made it look so graceful and elegant. Everyone must have been thinking she worked for a charity coaching "special" people how to ski as I wobbled behind grunting and drooling....

Over the two days the snow was awesome. I had a great time and Nay headed off for a couple of runs on her own to challenge herself and let rip. We found some pretty amazing hot chocolates....which upon consumption made some equally amazing milk mustaches...

the scenery was incredible. The horizon seemed to stretch for miles and made for a stunning backdrop as you looked up and felt yourself gliding from side to side in the snow. Really amazing stuff.

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We've been staying in a town called Methven, which was a 6.5 hour drive from Nelson. For the past 3 nights we've been in a homely little hostel where tonight we are the only guests. The season is nearly over here and everyone we've met seems to spend their time split between here and Europe - in their words "just chasing the snow man" (I don't know if that means they are following the actual white stuff or weather they are all part of some big ski-poled army that are hunting down a giant snowman....) 

Onto Christchurch tomorrow to basically take a look at what remains following that tragic Earthquake last year. Tomorrows accommodation? Well we are spending a night banged up in a hostel which used to be a prison! (http://www.jail.co.nz/) We have a cell all to ourselves, so we'll fight it out for the top bunk when we arrive and make sure not to drop the soap! :-)

Amongst a riverbed of millions of tiny pebbles we Stumbled across one of natures little gifts...