Pictures posted under great pressure...

World War I replica with Bull's Eye

Warrick our pilot and Virginia our leader

View from the window of our Cessna

On Through New Zealand

Sorry for such a long post, but internet access is very limited; must do it when I can.

 The next morning we flew to Rotorua which is south of Auckland where we began.  Rotorua is an old spa town which sits on a bed of thermal springs.   From the air you can see the steam rising from the ground and thermal pools of brilliant colors of yellow and orange.  Rotorua is a town of 72,000, 1/3 of whom are Maori.  So far we haven't gotten as much information as I would have liked about the Maori but apparently the reason so many of them are concentrated in the Rotorua area is because they traditionally used the geo-thermal activity of the area for everything from cooking to heating their homes and still do till this day.  The town is built on a fault line creating up to 1,000 earthquakes a year, most of them minor, but no one knows when the big one will come.

We were met at the airport by a lovely gentleman named Gary who drove us directly to the Rotorua Museum, a beautiful old timbered building which has been completely restored and houses much of the original baths in addition to many artifacts of the period when people came to “take the cure”.   Before touring the building we were treated to a 20-minute film which Gary promised would be full of surprises. Housed in a small theatre, the film was about the original settling of the area by the Maoris, how they utilized the warmth of the thermal springs and the arrival of the Europeans in search of cures for their numerous ailments.  It showed people being taken into private rooms where they would be soaked in tubs made of Royal Doulton china and in mud baths to ease the stiffness of their joints.  Apparently the effect was so miraculous that people would return to their homes believing they had been cured, only to find that the symptoms would return and the cure was only temporary.

Of course, then as now, earthquakes were always a threat and suddenly our chairs started to move—no they started to quake!—all the while the screen showing scenes of devastation, buildings collapsing, people buried under the rubble and the fear in everyone’s eyes.  Then the quaking would stop for a few seconds and then begin again, actually becoming quite intense.  It was very realistic and extremely well done.  When the short film was finished we left the theatre feeling we had had a taste of what it would be like to experience a real earthquake.

The highly enthusiastic Gary then showed us around the museum to the actual rooms where the baths were, the basement which housed the pipes which pumped the water and the mud into the baths, and some of the displays.  When we left to go to lunch it was already after one.  On to the Caf said Gary.  We stopped along the way for a brief look at some giant redwoods which had been imported from California some hundred years ago, strictly for their timber, but it was found that they grew so quickly in the fertile soil that when they were harvested the wood was too soft to be of much use.  The redwood forest was similar to what would be seen in northern California.

By now some of us were getting a bit hungry, but Gary insisted on one more stop, for what he wouldn’t say.  Jeannie said she’d stay in the van but Virginia said no you must come!  There must be a cage of the elusive kiwis we thought—that national nocturnal bird which is so difficult to spot.  So we dutifully traipsed through the woods again not quite knowing what to expect.  Then we entered a clearing where we were greeted by a gentleman holding a tray of champagne!  In the middle of the forest!  Just down the clearing was a table set with white tablecloth, full china and crystal place settings, where a chef in chef coat was presiding over a buffet table bursting with delicious looking food.   Rare roast beef sliced au table, salmon with hollandaise, a variety of salads, fish, cheese, roasted veggies and more that I can’t remember.  So lovely and such a surprise.  The food was out of this world, especially the salmon, cooked perfectly and with that lovely sauce.  Any kind of wine was available following the champagne and dessert was an array of amazing sweets—Pavlovas which I must add to my repertoire, fruit tarts, miniature chocolate tortes, chocolate dipped strawberries and pineapple and more.   A Pavlova is a popular dessert which we would call a meringue, filled with sweetened whipped cream and sitting on a fruit sauce.  Totally decadent.  How in the world did you manage to transport all this lovely stuff into the woods we asked!  Tucked back in the woods in the opposite direction from which we had walked was the catering van.  Sneaky devils!  It was truly a couple of hours we will always remember.  And the weather was perfect.  I shudder to think we would have missed it had it been raining or too windy.

But there was still more to come.  After lunch Gary drove us to the thermal springs, reminiscent of Yellowstone, steam rising everywhere, boiling ponds and a very strong sulphur smell.  Poor Jeannie was completely grossed out by the smell but unfortunately for her there was no escape.  I will post some pictures because it’s was truly other-worldly and beyond my ability to describe.

Several days have passed since I’ve been able to catch up with these meanderings.  Our time in Marlborough country was spent learning and tasting the various wines of the region culminating with a six course tasting dinner at an exclusive winery called Hans Herzog, started some years ago by a German gentleman of the same name.  Earlier, we also went to an aviation museum that housed originals and replicas of World War I planes in beautifully realistic settings complete with life size mannequins of Admiral Richthoven and his contemporaries.  I had the poor taste to ask our (I later found out) 93-year old guide why the planes had bulls’ eyes painted on them and he answered in horror, “Why that’s not a bulls’ eye, it’s the insignia of the Royal Airforce!” (you stupid fool).  Sorry…  That’s what I get for not doing my homework.

The next day in Marlborough country we drove to a Maori art gallery where we saw an exhibit of Maori carvings, traditional furniture, feather capes and other memorabilia with a commentary given by the Maori chief’s wife and young daughter.  Preserving their heritage is their life’s work and it seems to be a difficult calling.

Afterwards, we boarded a lovely catamaran called the Odyssea, beautifully outfitted and captained by a young man named Ryan, whose family had started the mussel farming industry in the Marlborough Sounds.  There was a lovely lunch of green shelled mussels cooked in various ways and plates of meats and cheeses—and wine—before we sailed down the sound to see a mussel farm and have a demonstration by Ryan about how the mussels are farmed.  Row after row of floats keep hemp ropes in place; the mussels cling to the ropes and the “mussel men” hoist the very heavy ropes aboard their vessels and knock the mussels off.  Backbreaking work from the sound of it.  Ryan’s Dad, uncle and two others started the mussel trade some 30-40 years ago and today the area produces 80% of the world’s supply of green shelled mussels.  They are the large ones we see in restaurants which I never order because I prefer the small moules or Prince Edward Island mussels that are more common in the states.  After the demo, Ryan’s mate Graeme served freshly steamed mussels and yet another glass of Pinot Gris and now I am a green shelled believer.  Ryan was truly a joy to watch and listen to and I had to tell him how impressed I was to see a man who loves his life and his work with such a passion. 

After two days in Marlborough we again boarded our Cessna and flew over the Southern Alps, reminiscent of our beloved Colorado Rockies or even the Swiss Alps, snowy peaks with rocky or forested hillsides.  The crystal blue Lake Tekapo was a stark contrast to the white mountains.  Warrick landed the plane in an airstrip that was literally in the middle of nowhere—at first I didn’t think there was even a building, but there was a small one to handle the operations.  I wondered if we were the only people in the area, but after being picked up by our new Nepali driver named Phrenji, we were delivered to an enormous hotel, aptly named the Hermitage—and like the airstrip, smack dab in the middle of nowhere.  We were directed to our rooms—a good distance from the lobby—and I will post pictures of the view from the room.  A huge picture window overlooks the famous Mt. Cook, where Sir Edmund Hillary trained before conquering Mt. Everest in 1953.  And we weren’t the only people there—there were quite a few people staying at the Hermitage and it isn’t even high season.

A quick break and we were whisked off in a van to a waystation where we boarded a four-wheel drive jeep type vehicle driven by Phrenji.

Shades of the Tiger’s Nest in Bhutan

We were driven by van for ten minutes or so and then crammed into the back of the four-wheel drive for a ride up a narrow rocky path high up into the mountain with Tasman Lake below, icy blue and dotted with cubes of broken glacier.  Although the shores of the lake looked like ordinary ground, they were actually the solid ice walls of the glacier descending several hundred meters below the surface of the lake.  With Phrenji, who is actually a Nepali Sherpa, at the wheel, we drove for miles over bone-jarring, neck-snapping, teeth-chattering rocky road, holding on for dear life until we finally reached the first stop.  Warrick was with us and he ran straight up the steep rocky hill to the top ledge and stood perched there looking over the other side.  I thought “my my, how nice to be young and able to do that and to stand on top of the world.”  And with that Phrenji said, “come along now and follow me,” and we started up the hill.  It wasn’t as far as the Tiger’s Nest, but just as treacherous and one false move would have meant a nasty fall and a tumble over the rocks until a flat resting place could be reached. Jeannie made it about half way and said she’d wait there and was I ever tempted to do the same!  But no…Phrenji grabbed my hand and said up you go and up we went.  The top was truly a ledge overlooking a steep precipice which looked over the lake in the distance, snow covered Mt. Cook and all the other snowy peaks surrounding it. 

Now, my experience tells me that going down is often more difficult than going up and that proved true in this case.  Just as sweet Tchering had held my hand over the rough spots on the way to the Tiger’s Nest, Phrenji held my hand all the way up and down this treacherous terrain.  I think I may have crushed a few bones in his hand I was clutching it so tightly.  But I am here to tell the tale, though still wondering why I did it.  The view from the top was truly breathtaking, and that is why.

But wait there’s more.  We piled back into the four-wheel and continued on for another spine-shattering couple of miles and again we were ushered out and told to follow Phrenji.  We walked along a narrow path, safe enough in itself but on either side was a sheer drop which produced that stomach-churning sensation that is not especially pleasant. Don’t look down, don’t look down, DON’T LOOK DOWN…

 At the top of the incline there was a large rock where we each in turn had our pictures taken, another beautiful vista behind.  On the way down, with Tom behind me, I heard an oops and just as I looked around I saw Tom slightly trip and then catch himself, but only after a split second of wobble.  NO false moves are allowed on this ledge.  I did my involuntary audible gasp and between the two of us we scared the bejeezus out of Phrenji and all others within earshot.  Tom swears he was never in danger but I am not convinced and I would hate to lose him before our fiftieth anniversary has even occurred. I can still conjure up the rising panic I felt at that stumble.  It’s hard to believe they don’t lose the odd tourist on this particular adventure.

On the way back, as a reward for a job well done, we were treated to another picnic en plein air, not quite as elegant as the redwood forest one had been, but lovely just the same with smoked salmon and salad and fresh fruit.  No wine this time—believe me, just as well.

Sleeping in our lovely room with Mt. Cook in the light of the full moon was a lovely end to a most unusual day.  The next morning our whole group, except for David and Virginia, decided to pass on the glacier boat tour in favor of a whole morning to savor this special hotel and relax a bit before our next flight scheduled for after lunch.  Tom and Jeannie and I watched an excellent movie in the Edmund Hillary museum which told the story of Hillary’s life and how he came to be the first man, a bone fide New Zealander, to scale Mt. Everest.

Map of New Zealand

If you're like me--geographically challenged--it helps to have a map to orient yourselves to what is where.  Here is a 

Map of New Zealand

to help us get our bearings.  We began on the North Island at Auckland, flew up the west coast to the Bay of Islands, around the northern tip to Russell and Paihia, then flew the next day to the thermal springs at Rotorua, then continued through the center of the North Island to Marlborough which is near Nelson on the South Island.  Today we will progress onward toward Mt. Cook.

More pictures of the Bay of Islands

From the air flying over the Bay of Islands.  You can see the shadow of the wing of the plane on the left side of the picture.

Looking down over the town of Russell.

A bit of an inside joke:  Eric had requested that we have our picture taken kissing on a park bench to simulate when Tom proposed to me on a park bench in the Bois de Bologne in Paris 50+ years ago.  Then Mark and Martha went to the Bois a year or so ago and son Michael took their picture with Mark on bended knee as if proposing.  Maybe it will become a family tradition.  This was taken by our travel mate David in the town of Russell.  A bit complicated, I know...

Pictures from The Bay of Islands, North Island NZ

Our Cessna 12 seater (I think)

There were many more dolphins than this--amazing that I was able to capture a few of them.

The aptly named Hole in the Rock, quite impressive when seen up close.  Much more massive than it looks here.

Already on the fourth day of our Bill Peach tour...

David and Eric both have emailed me that the pictures are blurry, but they don't look blurry to me when I pull up the blog.  I don't know what to do but if anyone has any ideas please email me and I'll try it.  


A few words about our tour director and our mates:  


Virginia is our fearless leader, an Australian who wears many hats besides this one.  She is a long time flight attendant for Qantas,  a registered pilot,  a gourmet cook, cancer survivor and she even mans the telephones at the Australian equivalent of 911.  Divorced for ten years, she has one son, and a new man in her life who is making her very happy.  She's delightful and you will see pictures of her as the tour progresses. 

David is a radiologist with the Cleveland Clinic, one of the most respected in our country as we all know.  He travels often by himself because his wife doesn't like to fly long distances--he seems okay with that and they do travel together.  He has a son who is an first year ER resident in Detroit so we trade doctor stories.  He has a dry sense of humor and is helping me de-mystify some of more bewildering aspects of this new Mac computer.

Jeannie is a sweet lady from just north of Brisbane who lives alone with a variety of cats and dogs, loves all animals and travels whenever she can. 


Trish and Graham are traveling companions from Australia who both are veterans of several previous Bill Peach tours and have even had Virginia as their tour leader in the past.  They are excellent poster people for Bill Peach.  

And of course there is our young and handsome pilot with the unlikely name of Warrick Wild--more about him later.


Then there's us,  Tom and Sara.  We are three Americans, three Australians and an Australian guide, a Kiwi pilot and we are all getting along great.

A little bit about the airplane.  It is a whole new experience being driven to the airport, and immediately walking out on the tarmac and boarding our Cessna--no taking off our jackets, shoes, belts or jewelry, no waiting in endless lines, no hassle.  The plane is fairly compact, but we all fit and we're taking turns sitting in the cockpit next to Warrick.  Yesterday I sat up there and watched as he manipulated the controls on the instrument panel.  Because I was in the co-pilot's seat (we have no co-pilot), I could hear all of his communications with the ground through my earphones and could eavesdrop on not only his communications with the ground but that of other pilots as well.  Delta, Charlie, 6...3....8, Roger, and much of which is simply unintelligible jargon to the uninitiated.   I did figure out that we traveled fairly steadily at 240 knots, and I could read the altimeter as we climbed from 1,500 feet to 6,000 feet.  I think normally we will fly at the lower altitudes so that we can all see the sights clearly but yesterday was a windy cloudy day and it was necessary to soar above the weather.  We flew along the Western coast of the northern part of the North Island, we saw a cluster of three mountains covered in snow and Warrick told us that one of those mountains was a volcano that erupted just three months ago.  We flew over a large military training zone and then as we flew above the cotton candy clouds there were only glimpses of landscape and shoreline below.  Now I know what it feels like to be controlled by radar and not be able to see where we are going.  Have faith little mustard seed!

But let's go back to the beginning of our tour.  After our welcome dinner at the Hilton, we were up at the crack of dawn and on the road to the airport by seven, we soon boarded our compact little Cessna, met Warrick and were on our way to the Bay of Islands.  Sadly, the day was not sunny like the day before so the pictures are a bit gray.   Still, flying at relatively low altitude up the coast and around the tip of New Zealand was lovely and surreal.  Lush green pastures, brooding hills, meandering rivers, a coastline dotted with inlets and bays, black sand beaches and an occasional village made for a breathtaking landscape.  We soon were flying down the east side of the North Island making our way to Paihia where the plane would land and we would be transported by van and then by ferry to the little seaside town of Russell.  We took a short van tour of the town hosted by Chris, an old gent from Scotland who spends his retirement years guiding tourists through the fascinating history of Russell.  Discovered by Captain Cook in 1769 it was invaded by the Brits in 1809, held a stint as capital of New Zealand, sacked by the Maoris in 1845 and held the dubious title of “hellhole of the Pacific” during the 1820’s due to the constant warring between the Maoris and the Brits.  During times of peace it was home to mostly “grog shops and brothels” according to Chris.   The Maoris burned everything to the ground in 1845.  The Americans came on whaling ships, convicts enjoyed the relative freedom of the island since there were no police at all until the 1830’s, and the turmoil among the various groups continued until the end of the century.  Now it is a lovely peaceful town of mostly holiday homes, quite streets and quaint inns, restaurants and shops.

Later we took a larger ferry from Russell to Cape Brett, spotting a huge pod of dolphins along the way.  We were headed toward the Hole in the Rock, a natural formation aptly named, and quite impressive it was.  Our large vessel motored right through the hole and the majesty of the volcanic rock made us yet again feel insignificant against the wonders of nature.

After the cruise to the Hole in the Rock we returned to Paihia and walked along the beach road to our hotel where we had a truly wonderful six course meal prepared especially for us by the hotel chef.  

Our last day in Auckland

We are now on the second day of the Bill Beach tour.  Our last day alone in Auckland was as beautiful a day as the day before had been grey.  We decided to take a ferry to Waiheke Island where we had heard about a lovely restaurant and winery where we hoped to have lunch.  Arriving at the island, about a forty minute ferry ride, we chatted with another couple who had the same idea, shared a cab and ended up spending the rest of the afternoon with them.  They are Barbara and Jonathan, he an anesthesiologist originally from Australia, and she a retired clinical psychologist from Boston.  They live in Sarasota now.  We had much in common with them and it is a shame we probably won’t see them again.  I promised to keep in touch though and they are forever immortalized on this blog.  The Mudbrick, a gorgeous setting with lovely food and wines, was the perfect setting for a relaxing afternoon. 

Later that evening, back at the Hilton, we met at last our guide and traveling mates for the aircruise of New Zealand.

A beautiful platter for two at the Mudbrick Winery on Waiheke Island

Tom with our new friends Barbara and Jonathan from Sarasota Florida

The Mudbrick Winery from a distance

The pictures that didn't post before--from our hotel room balcony

The Ferry Building

The Cloud

The Cloud at night

The City of Auckland

There is only time to post a few pictures before I turn into a pumpkin, internet-wise.  We are a bit put out because The Hilton charges a truly exorbitant rate for internet access in the room.  Having made a minor stink about it, we were grudgingly given a couple of one hour “passes” for the lobby, so now I sit in the lobby and under pressure, not good conditions for yours truly.  But enough griping, just let me say that if the posts are few and far between it will be for lack of access. 

We had lunch in a surprising good spot today—the weather was intermittent rain and pretty cold--so we were lucky to find such a cozy spot with delicious food.  Afterwards we took a one hour bus tour around the city so that we could get acclimated.  Auckland is not a walking city.  Everything is very spread out and although we are on the harbor and very close to downtown, we knew there is much more to see.  The bus tour was an excellent way to get a feel for the city.  Here are a few pictures. 

Auckland from across the harbor.  Sky Tower is quite impressive and taller than the Eiffel Tower according to the commentary

 

Another city view.

Avery beautiful apartment house in a classy section of town.

The Auckland Museum.  

An interesting city street.  I'm not sure what the red Asian looking building is but iI love the different styles.