Tsunami, Tsunami....

Two months since our last update and we’ve swapped South America for South Sydney via New Zealand and Fiji. Having enjoyed our ‘Wicked’ campervan so much in NZ, this latest instalment finds us a few dollars poorer, but one Mitsubishi Express van richer after a speedy acquisition of our own (more on that later). As the sellers make their way back to Holland, we intend to make our way up the east coast, chasing the warm weather north to Cairns. So, whilst Jess tops up the oil and flushes out the radiator, here’s as quick a synopsis of the last 60 days as I can muster.

Despite a successful (and somewhat lengthy) shuffle across the southern hemisphere, we hadn’t suitably prepared ourselves for the zealousness of NZ’s border control, falling foul to one customs official who had the dubious honour of inspecting our tent. The tent itself hadn’t seen the light of day since Torres del Paine, having been hastily stuffed into its case after some torrential rain, hence we were concerned not to see it after 30 minutes of inspection. Some time later, the official emerged looking a little rouged and announced (presumably to alert the entire airport) that our tent was the dirtiest he had come across in all his years with customs. Whilst that was certainly a little embarrassing, I suspect any red in our faces had disappeared long before his since we now had a nice clean tent to take with us on our way.

Having collected the van early that same morning, we set about our month-long Kiwi adventure, covering every inch of the north and south islands during the 6000km road trip. Our journey started in Auckland, taking in the deserted 90-mile beach (amongst countless others) and body-boarding so much that my stomach is still red from the chafing (that could be sunburn!). From there we headed to Rotorua, which I had presumed to be Maori for ‘town with egg-like stench’ (actually it more mundanely means ‘second lake’) on account of the sulphurous odours spewing out from the numerous geothermal geysers in the town. Braving the smell we took to the waters, rafting the highest commercially raftable waterfall (7m from top to bottom) and emerging with one bruised nose and some minor knicks after a collision with fellow rafters on the way down. Fortunately Jess is made of tough stuff and we were back on the waters in Taupo, checking out Maori carvings from the relative serenity of our sea kayak, before heading south to complete the Tongariro Alpine Crossing. The Alpine crossing is renowned as the most beautiful one-day trek in New Zealand with vistas across the smouldering volcanoes and rainforests below, but it was typically cloudy the day we visited so I could barely make out Jess, let alone the various hobbits that modern day Tolkienites would have you believe are lurking in the surrounding hills.

A short journey south, and a hop on the ‘interislander’ ferry, deposited us in Picton at the northern end of the South Island and nestled amongst the various wine-producers of the Marlborough region. We resisted the opportunity to slurp down sauvignon blanc and settled instead for a drive down to Kaikoura and the Banks Peninsula, where we temporarily sated Jess’ thirst to swim with sea mammals by boarding ‘Dolphin Encounters’ and frolicking with the world’s rarest, Hector dolphins. I’ve always preferred freshwater to salt (less salt, less jellyfish, less dolphins!), so I dipped in the stunning Lake Tekapo before we drove down to cloudy Mount Cook. One low-visibility, high-moisture trek later and we were back in the van, drying our pants on the heater as we headed for Queenstown, NZ’s adventure sports capital.

In Queenstown we stayed with Matt, Jess’ friend from Townsville, who was busily employed by a Glenorchy stable to guide tourists on the popular Lord of the Rings tour. That Matt hasn’t seen any part of the entire trilogy didn’t seem to worry his boss and nor did it worry us as he took us for a ride amongst the surrounding countryside and even (unsuccessfully) set about teaching us how to drive cattle. The next day, with an arse as red as my belly, we headed down to the nearby farm to see Timmo (Matt’s housemate) shearing and de-licing sheep. That was surprisingly interesting and we were actually sad to leave when we headed across to Milford Sound for more kayaking around stunning fjords, a trip ruined only slightly by incredibly persistent sandflies. Still itching from the bites, we headed north through the Franz Josef and Fox glaciers before sampling NZ’s finest beers during a Monteiths brewery tour.

Back in Wellington, we were very generously hosted by Will and Sarah, who took us for a slap-up meal before putting us up in an incredibly comfy bed. I couldn't resist perusing the lonely planet guide to GB and everyone slept well after my detailed embellishment of the Yorkshire chapter!! From there we moved on to the East Cape. Jess’ thirst for sea-mammals had clearly reemerged as we were back in the plankton-stuffed waters of Mahia beach where she promptly made friends with Moko, a Flipper-like dolphin, which after much coaxing was encouraged to come shoreward and entertain her. After a tussle with a German lady eager to keep hold of her body board, Moko turned her attention to Jess and spent the next 20 minutes seemingly trying to remove her swimming costume (Jess' not Moko's). Our Kiwi experience was wrapped up with a trip to the Super 14s, although given that Jess and I seemed to be the only ones watching the game, I’m sure to this day that I missed a streaker doing laps of the stands wearing nothing but a pair of jandles!

On to Fiji, where we spent five nights ducking rain storms in the Yasawa islands and a further five nights ducking coconuts on the beach at Nananu-i-Ra. Our first island ‘paradise’ was the Mantaray Resort, so called because the shallow waters that surround the island are a breeding ground for rays. Typically, we timed our visit to coincide with the off-season, but we were lucky enough to have a huge coral reef just ten seconds snorkel from the beach and spent most of our time searching vainly for Nemo and co. Jess swears she saw a turtle and whilst I’m prepared to take her word for it, I was less convinced by the claims of a fellow backpacker that he had seen a plethora of reef sharks and clown fish. I know my snorkeling is erratic at the best of times, but I refuse to believe that I scared them all away.

After an infestation of bedbugs (which thankfully didn’t make it as far as us), we decided to move on and spent a night on the mainland before heading for the wharf at Rakiraki. That should have been a short if bouncy journey on the local buses, but was elongated somewhat by a tsunami alert, which sent Fiji into a state of momentary confusion. The Fijians are not the sort to panic so, whilst I could sense my palms growing ever clammier as Jess asked the driver what the usual response to these warnings was, the bus’ radio returned to the more important matter of music. It transpired that no such warning had ever previously been issued and the response was uncertain. We really started to panic when we were unable to board the next bus and the market started to close, but the Fijians remained characteristically horizontal despite orders to find high ground away from the coast. Jess and I had decided to head for the airport thinking we would be able to fly out, but on the way were told that the warning had by that point been cancelled. Suddenly urgency reached the radio waves as Fijians who had taken the opportunity to steal a couple more hours kip were called to work. It was only later that we realized those empty streets weren’t people taking refuge, but people hitting the coast ‘to see the waves come in’.

Once the fuss (and seemingly the seas!!) had calmed down, we headed safely to the next island and spent the next five days with an Aussie expat (Stephanie) and her daughter (Aleesi) who very quickly became our ‘best friend’. We sensed that the resort was just coming out of the quiet season and that she hadn’t had many guests to talk to, because it became normal to wake up in the morning to the sound of Aleesi carrying her toys across the lawn to play, all the while barking orders at her pet dog. But, the dearth of guests brought us a host of advantages, with Steph loaning us windsurfs, tennis rackets and snorkeling gear and even arranging for us to wakeboard with the resorts boat so that we had no chance of growing bored. Jess was soon back into the swing of waking, but I took a little longer and probably swallowed more fish that day than I’d seen snorkeling in the whole of the previous week.

We had grown accustomed to the home comforts and were almost as sad to leave as we were excited to be going to Sydney. Thankfully Renee, our friend from London and a fantastic host (along with Ash) to us here, had planned to meet us at the airport. Whilst I had expected her to change a little in the three years since we last saw her, to be met by a middle-aged man with greying hair was surely a change too far. That turned out to be Terry, Renee’s dad and a proud Sydney-sider, who was entertaining us with a great tour of the eastern suburbs while Renee finished work.

To be continued.....

Love Mike and Jess