Traipsing Around: Travel and Psychogeography

Saturday, 22 August 2015

Doors of Time Travel Confusion

I have spent a couple of hours today trying to rearrange my travel schedule, so as to be correct this time. (At least, I think I have it right now, and luckily I double checked today, before checking out of the hotel!).

When I travel to Tahiti, I leave Auckland tomorrow (not today) on Sunday 23^rd of August at 15.20pm. I arrive in Papeete at 22.10 on 22^nd August, that is, on the day before I left.

I have become the toy-thing of time travel! Instead of being about 12 hours in front of the UK when I leave, I land about 12 hours behind the UK. I have gone from trendy Avant Garde to Dull Derriere in an instant! My impeccably trendy and bohemian credentials are in tatters (Will I have to buy a new, brightly coloured scarf and fedora as per The Doctor? Who knows how this will play out? Tragically? Triumphantly?) Does that mean I experience what happens in the UK twice, whilst they only experience it once? Does that means that the Swindon Town players play two games in my time, but only one game in the UK? Which is the result accepted by the League? Can I choose? Have I gained an extra day in my lifetime, as opposed to the me that may not have travelled? Between 23^rd August at 15.20pm and 22.10 on the 22^nd August, does time actually go backwards? Will I see myself receding into the future as I walk forwards into the past? Hmmm! Mr Easily Confused is now Mr Mightily Confused!

As a relaxant, some doors, not too many, just one or two! Ahh, Yes, let me indulge some doors...That's better!...

Lucky Me. Lucky You.

This Safe House won't Let YOU in!

Hello, Hello? Is there anybody home...?

Smart Casual

I like that. I really like that. You walk through a doorway and there are all these things which are great and really tactile And it's free, and it gets you thinking and you can do whatever you want. Apart from touch. Look but don't touch. That's no good then, is it? Bastards. Why can't I touch the stuff?

Thursday, 20 August 2015

Briny Creatures: Penguins, Whales, Seals and Dolphins

Oamuru is a city that has lost its human inhabitants. It has wide pavements, much wider than the widest pavements in London and a main high street with an Anglican cathedral, two, double lane roads, separated by a wide, grassy divide but no traffic, a run-down railway station and lots of art galleries. When people colonise a geographical area, mostly they build churches and courts. In New Zealand, they build art galleries and coffee shops, usually combining the two. The town has I don’t know how many of both. Many of the buildings were built around the turn of the century and have either a gothic or a classical, symmetrical exterior that tells of a town once very wealthy. Indeed, it was the first port to send frozen New Zealand lamb to the UK and its wealth was built on lamb exports and wool. It also has a small harbour, a great little campsite on the harbour front itself, a brewery and a number of bars and restaurants. Perfect! I arrive at mid-day, am taken with the place and decide to stay.

In the evening, I go to a blue penguin colony attraction, which is great. Blue penguins are very small, only 30cm tall, max (blue, dinky little things) and it is fantastic to see them arrive in small groups, called rafts, from the sea, negotiate the steep, rocky climb to the colony nesting site and then run like mad to their nests. Or at least try. Often their body travels faster than their legs and they stumble and fall, in a good impression of slapstick circus clowns, looking around surreptitiously whilst on the floor to see if anyone has seen them fall and pulling themselves quickly to their feet in an exaggerated display of dignity. It is a closed colony, in that it is protected and a lot of emphasis is placed on subdued lighting at dusk, keeping is as quiet as possible so as not to disturb them. There are only 4 people watching, but a French couple are admonished at one point for gesturing too wildly and talking too loudly. I spend about 2 hours in the freezing cold, watching them arrive, 32 in total, each avoiding the two, harmless, languishing fur seals that ignore them with lazy disinterest. The penguins make a very characteristic sound as they communicate, like a chronic asthmatic, who breathes very hard and deeply with a gravelly rumble on the intake and then expels in a reedy shrill of relief on the exhalation. I leave after about 2 hours, having seen around 30 arrive home, feeling very privileged. On the way back, I see a number crossing the road in front of me and at the campsite there is an almighty asthmatic racket. They have populated the space beneath the wooden decking area that skirts the pre-fabricated kitchen and toilet buildings. Subdued lighting and minimal movement my arse! The raucous, lively little blighters have colonised half the bloody town! Fair play to them!

The search for whales was one of the most fantastic things I have ever done! I had seen a whale watching pamphlet advertising Kaikoura (pronounced Kaikoda in Maori) somewhere or other and it had stuck in my mind, so I head for that, arrive at the town, follow the signs and there is one place left on the boat, the last sailing of the day. I hesitate, but agree to go later this day (luckily, the next day the weather turned and all sailings were cancelled). We see 4 male sperm whales in total. Absolutely fantastic animals, about the same length as our 18 metre catamaran, but way heavier, at around 60 tons. They are the largest toothed animal on the planet and immense. Two guys stood as look out and when they saw a plume of spray, we were quickly ushered inside onto seats and the boat went like crazy mad to reach them before they dive, bouncing heavily off the hard water towards the surfaced whale, a long, black, sleek, glinting elongation in the water. They stay on the surface for about 10 minutes between dives, so to catch them in this vast expanse of water is quite special. 1 or 2 sightings per trip is good, to see 4 is exceptional! They are just amazing, diving to over 700 feet deep and staying underwater for as long as 2 hours. For communication, they use a sort of clicking noise, which can be as loud as 230 decibels, which is also loud enough to stun fish and squid. Isn't that just brilliant? That is louder than a Jumbo Jet. Truly amazing creatures!

I stay in the area a few nights, camping right on the black sand and grit beach and enjoying fires again in the evenings and then I follow the East coast road, past colonies of fur seals (lots and lots of them which stink heavily of badly rotting fish) to Picton and then the ferry to Wellington, across the Cook Straits, where 3 or 4 pods of dolphins, consisting of perhaps 5 or 6 individuals, follow the ship for a few miles. There was one that did continuous launches out of the water, spinning in the air and then crashing back into the water and then doing it again and again for maybe 10 or 11 times. It was obviously just doing it for fun. Just a larking around dolphin. Fantastic!

I stay for a few days in Taupo, at a campsite which has hot springs. It is just amazing to wake up in the mornings, go to the springs and to watch the sun come up, through the slowly rising steam from the water. There are two geo-thermal pools, one at a temperature of 41C and the other at 37C. The water actually comes out of the ground at 60C (at source it is 90C, 70 metres below the ground) and it has to be cooled down by running it through a fountain and a number of pools and cascades before it reaches the public areas. It is not treated in any way, apart from being filtered and it smells vaguely like dry wood smoke. At 8.30am there are only 3 people including myself in the two pools and I have the warm green water of the slightly cooler pool to myself for about an hour. My head is cold but my body is warm. Luverly!

What can I say? Just magnificent

Bloody Hell, Was I dreaming that?

Fur seal enjoying the Sun

A little test. How many Seals can you see?

This was amazing to watch. The large rock pool in the centre was full of seals, just playing around together. I counted at least 7, swimming backwards and forwards

A campsite with a view: Rarangi Beach

Orakei Korako Geo-Thermal Area. A very special place!

The water is very hot. Almost too hot to put your hand in for more than a few seconds

Mud, Mud, Glorious (Boiling) Mud!

Thursday, 13 August 2015

Te Anau to Magnificent Milford Sound Fjord

The road from Te Anau to Milford Sound must be one of the most stunning 120km drives in the world! I have driven over the Alps twice, but that was a simple lowland jaunt compared to some sections of this road. At first, it is relatively flat undulating farmland, with mountains in the middle distance on either side as the road follows a flat river valley which runs past cold, clear, tranquil lakes mirroring perfectly the surrounding countryside in what seem like sheer flat plates of glass. Gradually the valley starts to narrow, the road starts to climb, slightly at first and then suddenly steeply and instead of swooping downwards after a while, keeps on winding and keeps on climbing and the mountains crowd closer to the winding road until I have to crane my neck skywards to see the summits towering precariously above.

The temperature drops significantly and there is snow and ice on the side of the road and treacherous black ice on the road. The van slips unexpectedly a couple of times (can you believe it is rear-wheel drive?), but thankfully I am climbing upwards, driving on the left so I’m closer to the sheer rock face instead of the shear drop on the other side of the road. I’m not looking forward much to the journey back on the other side. The road snakes higher and higher, passing through breath-taking valleys and inclines, where signs advise no stopping due to the risk of avalanches and rockslides. The vistas make the hairs on my arms stand on end. I have never been anywhere so high and dramatic in a land vehicle in all my life. It is just so beautiful, I cannot really begin to describe it adequately. The road gets even steeper and with the ice on the road, I have visions of the wheels failing to grip, of slipping backwards out of control, of careering over the edge, of somehow surviving a terrible fall of hundreds of metres, until, days later, someone by chance recognises the skid patterns to the edge of the precipice and, stopping and peering down, sees the wreckage of the van below and raises the alarm. I am rescued, very weak, but alive. People say it is a miracle I survived so many days without food or water and for a short while, I am a minor celebrity. Thankfully, instead, I wait 3 minutes at the start of a one-lane tunnel through the mountains, chatting to the man at the stop sign. He tells me the weather is good for the next couple of days, but that the road is very icy on the other side and that I should take things slowly. With the drop on the other side of the road and my very recent imaginings, I’m taking it easy! Once through the tunnel, I see a couple of snow ploughs clearing the road, which is reassuring and I descend to valley level, still in wonderful, warm sunshine, to arrive at Milford Sound. There is nothing much here: a small ferry terminal, a car park, a slight airport, (well, a longish strip of tarmac anyway), a coffee shop, a lodge (where I stay the night. It is easier than taking the mountain road again, to the cheap DOC campsites). What it does have is a fantastic location, surrounded on 3 sides by majestic mountains and on the fourth side, straight ahead, the surprisingly (at least initially), shallow, blue beauty of the Sound itself. The flow of the water is confusing, with a river running into the Sound one way, from the land, and yet the tide is carrying the water back against the land, so that they meet in a rippled confusion in the middle. The sea wins. I think that’s a general rule.

I’m writing this in the communal area of the lodge at Milford Sound. There are 4 couples. Two people are not speaking and there is a coldness between them, although the lady is trying to soften that and make things better and it is gradually warming between them. One couple are in love and do not see the world around them, except for themselves. Another are laying on a sofa, and are enjoying each other, although separately. It is nice and I type my blog and drink beer. I am looking forward to the cruise tomorrow. A hitch-hiker I picked up a few days ago, from Argentina, advised me that I could get good deals on a website called Book Me.com, so I have booked a cruise for $23, reduced from $72, so I’m very happy with that. Thanks Max, on the off chance that you are reading!

The next morning is crisp and clear and icy, with the condensation from my breath frozen on the inside of the van and once again I have to tug hard to get the sliding door open due to the ice. The sky is again blue. Brilliant! I arrive at the tranquil harbour at 10am. The fjord comprises both fresh water and salt water, with the fresh water sitting on top of the heavier salt water to a depth of about 10 metres, with a total combined depth of about 396 metres at its deepest point. It is really difficult to gauge and describe the scale of everything, given that very tall things are placed against even taller, tall things, but the mountains extend, at their highest, to 1 mile above sea level and the fjord itself runs around 12 miles to the Tasman Sea. The highest waterfall (The Sterling Waterfall), is almost as high as the fjord is deep, at more than 300 metres. Each day I think the scenery from the previous day can’t be surpassed, and the trend continues. The photos don’t do justice to what must be one of the most picturesque places on earth, although I have to confess that I found the ride through the steep chasms leading up to the Homer Tunnel, high in the mountains, more exhilarating, with an edge of fear that the fjord lacks. But what beauty!