The Coromandel

Having flown back up to Auckland, we spent the last week or so visiting a couple of places in the north that we’d missed at the start of our trip. First we took the bus over to the Coromandel peninsula, a popular holiday destination among the Kiwis.

Our driver was a slightly odd chap and a bit of a jobsworth. Having rigorously enforced the bus company’s rule stating that there is to be no food on board the bus, he proceeded to buy several hot buns and pastries from a bakers which he dumped on an empty seat where we could all see and smell them.

As he hurtled along the narrow windy road that circles the peninsula he regaled us with the usual patter interspersed with repeated warnings about which bus stops not to use and which hostels he didn’t do pick-ups from. He particularly enjoyed pointing out the consequences of drink driving – we passed numerous wrecked cars and vans at the bottoms of valleys, evidence of the popularity of this particular form of foolishness in New Zealand. I had to restrain the urge to point out that driving a full bus like a nutter was also a potentially dangerous. At least he stopped every so often to let us get off, swallow our stomachs and even take the odd photo of the coastline.

[Coromandel Coast with islands]

We stayed in the small town of Whitianga on the eastern side of the peninsula. It’s close to two of the area’s well known attractions, the Hot Water Beach and Cathedral Cove. Whitianga itself is a pleasant place on the shores of a bay with a long beach and a harbour filled with small boats of all kinds. The beach is covered with countless shells gradually being worn down by the sea.

[A macro shot of shells on Whitianga Beach]

We made the obligatory pilgrimages to the Hot Water Beach and Cathedral Cove in the company of a fellow guest at Whitianga YHA, Des from Chepstow, who kindly acted as chauffeur. The beach was a bit of a disappointment. Sink your feet into the sand a few inches and the temperature rises fast. An interesting phenomenon, but not one that takes your breath away. Cathedral Cove was a bit more spectacular, but we both felt that we were perhaps suffering somewhat from scenery fatigue by now. Still, it’s amazing what water and wind can do to rock given a bit of time.

[Eroded Rock at Cathedral Cove]

We weren’t anywhere near as underwhelmed as an American tourist we encountered who seemed to regard the entire country as a complete disappointment. He blamed this on an exaggerated marketing campaign by the New Zealand tourist industry which had raised his expectations too high. I thought he was just a bit of a tosser. Who could walk down the beach at sunset and still be so negative?

[Sunset over the sea at Whitianga]

It was the tail end of the summer, so it felt as though we had the town to ourselves – quite a contrast to peak season when the whole area is heaving. Whitianga had the air of a place on the verge of becoming a victim of its own success, there were signs of development everywhere and the network of new roads surrounding the town implied quite an increase in size. This is a common problem faced by all popular holiday destinations across the planet – expansion so often spoils the very things that drew people in the first place. Still, the local people seem well aware of the potential problems and there was evidence of a debate over the best ways to manage the expansion. Good luck to them, it’s a lovely spot, and it’d be a great shame to spoil it.

Milford Sound

Quite possibly New Zealand’s most famous destination, Milford Sound (actually a Fiord, not a Sound, as you are often told) is located in the Fiordland National Park in the South Western corner of the South Island.

The Sound is comparatively remote. Most tourists do a day trip from Queenstown, something almost beyond belief when you realise that you are going to spend eight hours on a coach and about two hours actually at Milford Sound itself. From Te Anau you can easily drive in a or take one of the smaller tours that are more leisurely and much smaller and more personalised. We went with a company called Trips and Tramps, and they were very good.

From Te Anau, the journey is an experience in itself as you pass up the valleys and into the mountains. Most of the tour parties (small or large) stop off at a few well-known spots for photo opportunities, like here in the Eglington Valley.

[Eglington Valley]

There are plentry of places to stop along the way and take in the surroundings. The car parks and picnic areas are often frequented by Keas, large alpine parots with vicious looking beaks, insatiable apetites and a complete lack of fear of humans. They will strip the rubber parts from your vehicles, so keep an eye on them.

[Kea, an alpine parrot]

The road winds up into the mountains and through the Homer Tunnel, carved during the Great Depression as part of a government employment scheme. The tunnel is quite narrow but has only recently been made single track due to the increasng volume of coach traffic using the road – previously everyone just squeezed in and hoped they’d get through without getting stuck. When you come out on the far side of the tunnel, the road winds down through some spectacular scenery to sea level again.

[View down from the Homer Tunnel]

As you come down to the Sound itself you are greeted by the classic postcard view. Don’t expect views featuring clear skies and reflective waters – the chances are that if it’s not raining it’s at least going to be fairly misty and cloudy, but this has it’s own beauty. We were lucky and the weather held for our trip. There was just enough mist to add some atmosphere but not enough to obscure the views completely, and all the moisture was feeding the waterfalls which cascade down the cliffs into the dark waters, further adding to the ambience.

[Milford Sound]

The obligatory boat trip was fun, although there are a lot of boats out on the water at any given time. Fortuantely the Sound is pretty big so it’s not too bad, but forget any fantasies of a sense of splendid isolation – you’ll never get away from the fact that there are hundreds of other people around. Milford Sound is a beautiful spot with many things to recommend it, but being off the tourist trail is not one of them.

Don’t let that put you off, though. It is an amazing place – the cliffs tower above you to almost dizzy heights. Getting across a sense of scale is very difficult. The boat in this picture is around the size of a double decker bus and probably had about sixty people on board.

[A ship at the bottom of the cliffs]

The trip takes you down one side of the Sound, out into the Sea, then back down the other side. Almost all the boat trips do the same route, but offer slightly varying levels of comfort.

When the boat emerges from the entrance to the Sound you can look out across the Tasman in the direction of New Zealand’s nearest sizable neighbour Australia, several hundred miles away, and ponder just how far from everywhere else the place is as the boat swings around and starts to sail back inland.

[View from the Sea entrance to the Sound]


blosxom plugin: altlinks

This is a trivial plugin I wrote to scratch a bit of an itch. It had always slightly annoyed me that while blosxom itself was designed to use the filesystem hierarchy as its structure and allowed you to view pages based on their position in the hierarchy, there was no simple method to include alternate <link>s to syndication feeds or alternative flavours that mirrored a visitor’s position. Hence altlinks.

Currently, the plugin works for path-based views right the way down to individual story pages, but date-based paths are ignored completely – the href attribute will be formed from whatever path information is available in the requesed URL. That is, if you request, the alternate will have an href attribute pointing to I originally thought this wouldn’t matter, but I suppose for the sake of completeness I should I add this at some time. When I get around to it, I will post an updated version here.

I wasn’t going to post this code at all, particularly since it’s not quite finished, but then I thought it might be useful to someone somewhere sometime, so here it is. The plugin provides three variables for use in templates, allows the user to specify which flavours these variables point to, and contains full documentation.

Queenstown and Te Anau

From Lake Tekapo we backtracked south through the Mackenzie Basin, over the Lindis Pass and then on to Queenstown on the shores on Lake Wakatipu. This is one of New Zealand’s most famous resort towns and as a major base for adventure sports, sight-seeing and winter sports it’s popular both in the summer and winter and almost permanently busy. The approaching roads are clogged with coaches, crowds of people stop only for a few hours and an awful lot of construction lends the place the half-finished air that many expanding resorts seem to have. Consequently, Queenstown isn’t as beautiful as the stunning mountain-lined lake that forms its backdrop.

[Sunrise over Lake Wakatipu]

Perhaps I’m being a little harsh, we didn’t spend much time there at all. Queenstown is popular with those looking for a bit of nightlife, and it’s a handy base if you don’t have the luxury of time. Day trips to all sorts of places can be arranged there – many people do a day trip to Milford Sound from Queenstown but, as this means four hours each way on the coach, I’d recommend heading to Te Anau if you have the time. Right on the edge of the Fiordland National Park, Te Anau is a quieter and less brash base for many of the activities there. Not to mention being quite scenic in it’s own right. And cheaper, too.

[Snow-capped mountans beyond Te Anau]

We spent three days at Te Anau with the aims of a trip to Milford Sound, a day on the Kepler Track (we don’t have the necessary gear for multi-day tramping), and a day spent with our feet up. We managed to do all three, with varying degrees of success. The weather held up for an excellent trip to Milford Sound – more on which to come in another entry. The second day started well when we got the morning boat over the lake to the foot of Mount Luxmore with a plan to hike up as far as the first hut on the Kepler Track before turning around and walking back into Te Anau.

[Lake Te Anau]

We made it as far as the treeline, where we were defeated by high winds and decided to turn around early as condtions were worsening and we didn’t fancy being stuck any higher on the mountainside. As we descended back through the forest the rain set in, and by the time we reached the first signs of civilisation a few hours later we were completely drenched. Still, even in the rain the forest holds some great sights.

[Rainbow over Mount Luxmore]

At least the long hike and the soaking meant that we really appreciated the next day when we sat around and did really very little indeed. Nice.

Over the Lindis Pass to Lake Tekapo

Our initial plan had been to head to Mount Cook from Wanaka – we’d had such bad luck with the weather in Franz Josef we thought we might try the mountains once more. As it happened, all the accommodation within our price range was booked, so we decided to visit Lake Tekapo instead.

From Wanaka we followed the same route we would have had we been heading for Mount Cook. A short hop west to a tiny little place called Tarras, which is little more than a shop and a cafe, then north along State Highway 8 and over the Lindis Pass, down to Twizel then a hard right for Lake Tekapo, which lies somewhere in the Mackenzie Basin en route to Christchurch.

[The Tarras Store]

Neither of us really knew what to expect from the journey, but it turned out that the Lindis Pass particularly beautiful in a sort of desolate and remote way. I found myself half expecting to see the Riders of Rohan galloping over the hills in search of some Uruk Hai to slaughter.

[The Lindis Pass]

The Mackenzie Basin looks a barren and empty land but it is in some ways a large engineering project. Most of the lakes and rivers are linked into a hydroelectic power scheme by vast canals which mostly remain invisible from the road. Every so often the supporting walls become visible, and the extent to which humanity has marked this area becomes apparent.

[Canals and dams stretching away fromLake Tekapo]

As it turned out, the lack of accommodation on Mount Cook was fortuitous – Lake Tekapo was fantastic. The eponymous town is a small ribbon of buildings on the edge of the lake itself. The water is a striking turquoise colour, so garish it resembles a badly touched-up seventies postcard. The colouration is caused (so I am told) by the fine dust washed down from the glaciers at the sources of its tributory rivers.

[View of Lake Tekapo]

Most people stop to take a few photos of the bright waters and the picturesque Church of the Good Shepherd on the edge of town. However the area deserves at least a day or two to explore properly and the lack of overnight stayers means that you can walk through the forests and hills surrounding the lake and meet pleasurably few others.

[Chruch of the Good SHepherd by Lake Tekapo]

The views from the top of nearby Mount John are well worth the hike to the top, and there’s a track down the far side which does a long loop away from town and then back along the shores of the lake that makes for a great hour or two. The views towards the mountains just make you want to carry on walking and really get away from it all.

[View from Mount John away from Lake Tekapo]

We only spent two nights at Lake Tekapo; you could certainly spend at least twice that and probably more if you had a car. It’s perhaps not the sort of place you’d enjoy if you like to party every night, but it the peace and quiet is great and the clear nights mean the stars are particularly bright and clear (the altitude helps here, too).


From Franz Josef, we headed directly for Wanaka. This entailed a long bus journey south down the west coast and then across the Southern Alps over the Haast Pass. The journey itself is worth a few notes as we passed through some spectacular country on the way. We got a brief glimpse of the Fox Glacier and saw some beautiful coastline before turing inland at Haast up the river valley to the pass.

[The River Haast high in the Southern Alps]

The road over the Haast Pass has only been sealed all the way through since 1995. The area feels remote and sparsly populated even now, it must have really felt a long way from anywhere before the roads were completed. After we crossed the mountains, we headed down towards lakes Wanaka and Hawea via a tiny place called Makaroa, and got our first taste of the spectacular views of New Zeland’s lake country.

[Lake Hawea]

Wanaka itself proved to be a pleasant little town, just as we’d been told by various people. We caught it at a good time as it wasn’t too busy – a peaceful lull in between the summer crowds and the skiers and snowboarders of winter. We spent an enjoyable few days walking the shores of the lake, eating in good restaurants (of which there a several) and generally relaxing.

[Sailboats on Lake Wanaka]

We did a good walk up Mount Iron, just outside the town to the south, from where there are some great views over the lakes towards the Southern Alps and the rest of the surrounding country.

[View north over Lake Wanaka from Mount Iron]

At the foot of Mount Iron, about twenty minutes walk out of town, is an attraction called Stuart Landsborough’s Puzzling World. This started life in the 1970s as a wooden multi-level maze and has since proven so popular that it’s been expanded to include a variety of brain twisting attractions including false perspective rooms, a gallery of holograms and a room where all the visual cues for horizontal and vertical are wrong, which does some seriously strange things to your inner ear. This might sound a bit odd, but it is well worth a visit.

[The maze at Puzzling World]

There’s lots more to do in Wanaka, too. All the usual adventure sports, water sports on the lake, climbing in the mountains, ski-ing and snowboarding in the winter, heli-biking … I could go on. But it’s also a nice place to chill out for a few days, which is what we liked most about it.

Franz Josef – utter washout

Of the two larger and most famous of New Zealand’s glaciers we decided to stop at Franz Josef rather than Fox for no particular reason. It is said that there are differences between the two, but that neither is intrinsically better or more interesting than the other. Some travellers we encountered seem to rate Fox over Franz Josef, but I suspect that this is more down to backpacker snobbery as the former is less visited and thus no doubt mysteriously purer or something due to the lower number of coach parties. I even met one person who enthusiastically argued for the merits of Fox entirely on this basis, having never actually visited either. But I digress.

Unfortunately our brief stay has left us none the wiser, as the clouds descended and the rain didn’t cease for the entire period. The west coast is renowned for it’s high rainfall, averaging well over 200 millimetres every month of the year. The driver on the bus assured us as we came into the Franz Josef village that we were experiencing average conditions and that the chance of seeing vistas like those pictured in the brouchures was roughly equivalent to winning the Lotto.

[Cloud shrouded slopes near Franz Josef Glacier]

Nonetheless we attempted to view the glacier, getting thoroughly soaked and becoming closely aquainted with the inside of a cloud in the process. There were still tour parties being led up onto the ice despite the rain, but the returning trampers looked so invariably miserable it didn’t seem worth the effort to get any closer.

[The Franz Josef valley, obscured by cloud]

Still, the environment was pretty awe inspiring anyway as there was so much rainfall that water was cascading down the cliffs on all sides. Here’s a last photo of cloudy mountianside and waterfalls just to make sure you understand just how wet it was up there:

[Waterfalls in the Franz Josef valley]

So the stopover wasn’t entirely futile even though we missed out of the main attraction. If you want to see the glaciers, then perhaps it’s better to allow a bit more time in case of similar conditions, although the problem with this is that the accomodation is limited and tends to get booked up very fast.


Punakaiki is a tiny place sandwiched between the rugged west coast and the Paparoa National Park. Most passers by only stop for a few minutes to take a look at the Pancake Rocks and the blowholes – eroded rock formations where the spray from the breakers is forced up through holes in the rocks and emerges in spectacular spouts.

[Pancake rocks and blowholes at Punakaiki]

These aren’t the only attractions in Punakaiki. The coast in general is rugged and beautiful, and so sparcely populated that it always feels quiet and isolated.

[Punakaiki coastline]

As the town is also one of the gateways to walks in the Paparoa National Park, there are several tracks you can take that meet up with the Inland Pack Track. These trails also make pleasant shorter walks if you don’t fancy a longer trek – the walk up the Pororari River is particuarly beautiful, running between great limestone cliffs clad in tree ferns and Nikau Palms.

[Pororari River valley]

The Nikau Palm is a distinctive tree, quite common along this stretch of coast, and particularly notable as the only species of palm native to New Zealand. It is quite a stange sight when in flower – long thin pink tendrils extend from the juncture of the trunk and the leaves and look more like some kind of parasite than an actual part of the tree itself.

[A Flowering Nikau Palm]

There’s a great hostel in Punakaiki named for the palm – the Te Nikau Retreat. Located near the Truman Track about 3 kilometres north of the Pnacake Rocks, it comprises a series of cabins scattered through an area of thick forest.

[The Jungle around the Te Nikau Retreat]

It’s simple but comfortable, and a great place to relax in for a few days if you enjoy being away from it all – the place is 3k’s out of a town which has no cellphone access, no shops, no bank and no broadband, but the scenery is spectacular, the locals are welcoming, the daily homemade bread and muffins are great and by all accounts it’s a nicer place to stay than anything either Greymouth or Westport, the area’s larger towns, have to offer.

Christchurch and the TranzAlpine

It was nice to be back in a city again, even if it was only for a day or two. Although New Zealand is a lovely place, it can sometimes be difficult to find a lot of goods and services as the population is spread so thin. Once you get away from the major urban areas, everything from bread to bandwidth swiftly becomes scarce and expensive.

We were a little sad that we didn’t budget another day or so in Chirstchurch as it seems, in the main, to be a friendly and attractive place. As we approached the city limits, our driver informed us that it is reputed to be perhaps the most “English” of New Zealand’s cities, and looking through the weeping willows at a punt approaching down the Avon, you might well be inclined to agree.

[The river Avon, Christchurch, complete with Punt]

Of course, the city is more complex than that. We felt a more continental European feel in the city centre where tramlines run through pedestrian areas and for a few moments we were reminded of Amsterdam as we looked this way and that in our efforts not to get run over by one or other form of transport.

[A Christchurch Tram]
[The Arts Centre, Christchurch]

Athough some of the city’s architecture reminds one of Oxford or Cambridge and the roots of the place, other areas bring forth memories of, say, Melbourne, and even Paris. Unfortunately this effect quickly dissipates when you reach the edge of the older central areas where a depressingly familiar sprawl of carparks, malls and large roads takes over. But it’s a modern city so that’s to be expected, and I was just commenting about the lack of facilities elsewhere in the country I probably souldn’t be complaining. It’s just another reminder that you can rarely, if ever, have it all.

We enjoyed our brief stay, and would go back given the time to explore a bit more. But as I’ve said before, you don’t visit New Zealand to marvel at the country’s cities, so we weren’t too sorry to depart for Greymouth on the TranzAlpine. This is reputed to be one of the world’s great railway journeys – certainly one of New Zealand’s which has only a few, a fact we reminded of when the taxi driver, on the way to the station, asked which train we were getting – North or West.

The journey didn’t disappoint. Some might say that the views in winter would be more impressive, when the Southern Alps are covered in snow, but the summer has it’s own beauty and the occasionally desolate-looking mountains towered above us and remained suitably impressive. The journey begins by passing through various nondescript towns on the Canturbury plains before the mountains start to appear over the horizon and it all suddenly get a bit more picturesque.

[The Southern Alps from Springfield]

Alongside the spectacle of the mountians themselves, there are several impressive viaduct crossings and numerous tunnels, fast flowing rivers and glacier-carved valleys, and a brief stop at Arthur’s Pass where everyone gets off to take photographs of the station sign (Arthur’s Pass – tick, and a photo to prove it. Still, I took one, too). The territoty on the approach to the pass is said by some to be Moa country…

[Moa Country]

This came out during some of the running commentary provided by the train’s staff along the way, normally the usual mix of factoids covering local history, economy and mythology. We were particularly lucky, it seems, as there was a local character along on our trip who was allowed to provide some frontier anecdotes of his own. Particularly interesting were his claims to have been one of those who saw Moa in the area some years ago. Widely believed to be a hoax, these sightings by a local hotel owner and his friends were successful in boosting takings at said hotel for the following season. (He was even awarded an unofficial marketing prize by HANZ.) Still, as I like to think of myself as a bit of a fortean, I kept an open mind and my camera at the ready, but in the end had to be content with photos of the scenery, minus cryptids.

[Mountainous terrain]

We were blessed with good weather for most of the journey, especially the spectacular approach to the mountains and it wasn’t until we began the descent to the west coast that it began to rain. But by that time we’d seen most of the sites and were content to settle back and read for the remainder of the trip. Well worth it, and far more comfortable than the trains back home, too, with plenty of leg room and good tall windows for admiring the scenery. I liked the observation car at the front of the train, where you can stand outside and get the wind through your hair and the light to your camera lense. Only slight drawback was the popularity.

But that’s just me finding something to snipe about, so don’t pay too much attention.