Poor Christchurch

According to the Quake Museum, 80% of all buildings in Christchurch's Central Building District will have had to be demolished as a result of the earthquake. And you can see that. During our walk from the Motel, the vacant lots, cranes, scaffolded buildings and dug up pathways grew more frequent until in the centre it just looked like one giant building site. Really depressing - especially nearly six years after it happened (22nd February 2011). The tragic symbol of the quake was the destruction of Christchurch's loved Cathedral spire and rose window - having seen how a hundred year old ordinary house gets its own brown tourist sign ("Historic Site 300m"), we could better appreciate how important this genuinely old and majestic building was to the city. And now there is a raw, gaping hole where that end facade used to be, with hoardings and wire fencing, and piled up rubble - it looked like it happened last week, not years ago.

The Quake Museum, not far from Cathedral Square, was depressingly good - I wasn't sure there would be enough to see on what seemed a simple, single issue; but what it brought home was the terrible complexity of the problems the quake presented: loss of power for days; the destruction of 300km of underground pipes, meaning (as the mayor said at the time) that Christchurch's sewer system was "seriously munted" (chemical toilets and portaloos for weeks); it needing 6 months to take down just one building floor by floor; plus of course the horrors of local versus central government versus private finance, leading to enormous delays for rebuilding; and the even worse horrors for individuals of dealing with insurance companies; let alone what they called "quake anxiety" (we noticed a lot of posters up on hoardings talking about the need to share smiles and support friends and family). 

But on the positive side, there were displays of ingenious solutions: nearly all houses have now taken their chimneys down, as it was a 2-3 tonne weight of bricks to fall on someone, so they've created brick-looking chimneys around a metal frame to look right but weigh less; similar facades are being used to rebuild old stone buildings so they are more resilient; and they showed videos of some amazing "shock absorbers" to be built into the foundations of buildings. And the human interest stories: the Student Army that mobilised to attack "liquefaction", the pools of silt that seeped above ground everywhere; and a brilliant compilation of cartoons that illustrated in the most visceral way the issues and pain resulting from the quake. It was really good, and very moving. But Jemima liked the table filled with white Lego best, where you could design your replacement Cathedral - we each did a little building, before we had to drag her away.

There were, however, some wonderful bits to Christchurch despite the desolation. They have made a bit of an effort with public art to brighten up the wasteland areas, the most successful of which was the colourful flag wall in Cathedral Square, which did (as intended) bring warmth and movement to the grey depressingness (although Kevin and I were surprised they hadn't done more, actually). And there was the Container Shopping Mall, which was the solution to help central businesses reopen as soon as possible - appropriately called Re-Start. It was the first lively place we'd found, with banks, shops, and cafes all in converted, brightly painted shipping containers, and people bustling about (we had an excellent wood-fired pizza lunch). 

But the jewel in the Christchurch crown is the Botanic Gardens. We walked in past some traditionally, garishly planted beds - "just like the Abbey Gardens!" said Jemima (and of course, that was the point - to remind the expat 19th century resident of their English home). But then there was so much more: the pretty river snaking around the edge (with punts!); a long Mediterranean border; landscaped lawns with enormous monumental trees; a beautiful rose garden; a playground and pool; and all the bits we didn't see: a water garden, a New Zealand garden, glasshouses, a magnolia walk - it went on and on. And it was immaculate (unlike Christchurch, the first place in NZ where we've seen litter, another part of unloved-ness); and the plants and trees were huge and healthy: it was full of life, and felt life-affirming. An amazing oasis among the destruction.

After a lovely wander, feeling a lot better, we walked back to the motel for a Thai takeaway from the container round the corner, past the bright neon sign outside the art gallery flashing "everything is going to be alright". The Botanic Gardens gave us hope that might be true; the rest of Christchurch, sadly, less so - or at least not for a long time yet.

 

All's well that ends well

When we went to sleep last night, our only problem was the lack of air-conditioning - it was still a really hot and sticky Christchurch night. It could all have been very different.

We woke up to beautiful views, the bay shining gently in the morning sun outside the motorhome windows. We moved to park up in town, and after an amazing croissant (Jemima and I agreed the best we'd ever had, those French settlers had their uses), I did my packing while Kevin and Jemima went to the playground, and then he did his while Jemima and I went for a walk. And then a combination of circumstances resulted in a horrible near miss: it could have not been near at all, if things had been different; or it could not have been a miss, which doesn't bear thinking about. 

Anyway, just as Jemima and I were heading back to the van (parked on the main road through town), Kevin emerged on the opposite side of the road looking for us, asking about something to do with packing. So he and I (foolishly) ended up having a conversation across the street. And I (distracted) let go of Jemima's hand. And Jemima (excited to see her Daddy), ran across the road straight in front of a large pick up. Thankfully he was alert, slammed on his brakes, and he didn't touch her; and we all ended up very shaken in a family cuddle safe on the other side of the road; but it all could have been so different: if she'd run out later so he didn't have time to stop; if he hadn't been looking. In that moment our lives could have changed irrevocably. But thank god, they didn't. And we drove out of town together, safe, and very grateful to be so.

An easy drive to the outskirts of Christchurch; a final stop to empty the tanks before returning the van; plus a late lunch (and me determinedly finding people to give the last of our food to); and then we said goodbye to the motorhome - a much easier and friendlier process than collecting it; loaded our (many) bags into an Uber and we were off to our Christchurch Motor Lodge.

There was still a slight shadow over the day after our shock in the morning (for Kevin and I anyway- Jemima seemed completely fine); and it felt like this was reflected in the scene outside: our chatty taxi driver grew subdued we asked him about the 2011 earthquake, pointing out the many vacant lots where there had been buildings; and explaining the gaps in the Christchurch skyline. It didn't help that it was a bank holiday, so everything was shut; or that our Motor Lodge was on the edge of a road he laughingly pointed out was famous for prostitutes. But the city did look forlorn, with so many unproductive spaces, and so much scaffolding around the buildings left. I'd never thought about it, but the damage of the earthquake was far more than just those buildings that fell down during the actual earth movement: all buildings over 7 stories have been taken down under new rules; and so many more that were just damaged have had to be taken down for safety too, with a huge impact on businesses and residents - it's so much more widespread than I'd thought. (And the lack of air conditioning when we arrived, on a very hot day, certainly didn't help the mood - a bad booking mistake.)

Things didn't improve that much when we went out, grubby but hungry, to get dinner. A Thai was supposed to be around the corner, so we went there, to find a container restaurant (following the earthquake lots of restaurants and businesses used repurposed shipping containers), brightly painted with pictures of Thailand - but sadly firmly shut up (that bank holiday again). So we walked through the weirdly empty streets to the restaurant road - to find most of them closed; and the few that were open either full, or only offering high stools for seating, so not ideal for Jemima. It was all getting a bit farcical, but persistence paid off, and in the end Kevin found us a haven: a lovely Thai, with a wonderful welcome, colouring for Jemima, Singha beer for Kevin, Riesling for me, and great food (Jemima loved her satay). After quite a day, it was a good moment - and only enhanced by the wonderful reaction of the staff to Jemima's Thai, which obviously made me very happy. All's well that ends well (despite the lack of air conditioning). 

 

Morning views:

 

 

 

 

Yum!:

 

"I just wish we could stay here for every day"

Locals were arriving at the marina with various seafaring craft as we got up this morning (speed boats, jet skis, kayaks, you name it), and people were wandering around looking nautical in life jackets and bare feet. It was a beautiful day for it - the Sunday of what we later found out was a long weekend, and the sun was shining hot and strong. So after a short stop in the playground on our way past, we went to the beach.

A good strip of slightly grey-ish sand (you can't have everything), shelving gently into the bay, lots of people were out enjoying it. In fact, there were lots of people generally, many wearing lanyards... It turned out there was a cruise ship in. Apparently since the 2011 earthquake, they've been coming up Akaroa, as their previous port, Lyttelton, was badly hit. A mixed blessing - lots of money pouring in, with the entrepreneurial making the most of it running businesses from their front gardens (an elderly gentleman in a chauffeur's cap offering tours in his vintage car; and another, younger man, doing the same (for $50 dollars each) with his five-person Harley-styled trike). But also lots of people. But it was still lovely on the beach - Jemima had a great time playing in the sand with whoever was nearby, and splashing in the waves; and I did my customary chilly swim, this time out to a platform in the bay which I then (inelegantly) jumped off (I normally do breaststroke with my sunglasses on, so actually going under is testament to my excitement at the setting - I couldn't resist...).

Time to move on: we walked to the other end of town to see the lighthouse, through the throngs of visitors on the main strip, and then into peace and quiet just beyond that: Akaroa is just so pretty, with charming old wooden houses and front gardens full of flowers; and so French: the tricolor was everywhere; the road names are French (we had to walk down Rue Jolie [Pretty Road] to get into town from the marina; and even the Thai restaurant was called La Thai. Then back to the main strip for lunch. By this time it was really very hot - hot enough to get us worried about how we're going to survive in Australia where temperatures in Sydney are over 40 degrees at the moment - as Kevin said, we might miss the rain (that'll teach me for moaning...). So after lunch, we retreated to the motorhome for some shade and a siesta.

Restored, it was time to move. We'd noticed some freedom camping spots near the Lighthouse, so fancying a change of scene, and planning a dinner in, we moved from the central marina to the very far, quiet edge of town. We parked up on the edge of the road along the bay, looking over a little beach and sailing boats moored on buoys. Jemima and I packed a picnic (she got very excited about choosing what to take), and we all gingerly trod down a rickety wooden chicken-wire-covered plank onto the beach. Beer and crisps for Kevin and I; biscuits, cucumber and water for Jemima; then a play, drawing in the sand, throwing pebbles in the sea, and looking at the snails and mussels stuck to the rocks. The sun was finally cooler, and it was a beautiful evening (although there was nearly disaster returning from the beach - Kevin and Jemima decided to take a short cut up a grassy slope, but got stuck; so I came out of the motorhome where I was making dinner to help, and then I nearly slipped back down to the beach. At one point we were in a chain: Jemima at the top holding my hand, Kevin at the bottom holding my ankle, and me in the middle, flat on my front, laughing too much to move. But we got to the top safely in the end, and Kevin even managed a return trip to retrieve Jemima's water bottle while had been sacrificed in the ascent).

Dinner in the van (burgers, lamb steaks and salads), and then bedtime to the sound of the waves. What a great last motorhoming night in New Zealand. As Jemima said at dinner, "I just wish we could stay here for every day."

 

Akaroa:

 

 

 

 

Beach:

 

 

 

 

Tickles at lunchtime:

 

 

Picnic:

 

 

 

 

"K" and "J" drawn by Jemima:

 

 

 

 

 

Via Arthur's Pass to paradise

The day started with a disappointment: Jemima and I have wanted to see glow worms since arriving in New Zealand; but the main cave on North Island was miles out of our way; and the main cave on South Island (which we drove right past) involved a two hour walk underground, which would be too much for Jemima. And then it turned out Hokitika had its own "glow worm dell"! So on our (rainy, again) departure from the campsite, that's where we headed. Kevin led us up the path; then up another path which took us to a dead end; and then back up the first path; and it turned out the destination was not quite what we were expecting: rather than a cave, more like high rainforest-y walls where (apparently) you could see glow worms. But not at 11am. Ah well. When we come back to New Zealand...

Mission 2: Hokitika town, a centre of New Zealand jade (also known as pounamu, and very important to the Maori), and the purchase of a souvenir for Jemima - she might not be able to remember this trip, so at least she'll have a physical memento. A pleasant amble in the emerging sun, including a dance to some buskers, and a wander among the driftwood sculpture festival on the beach; lunch in a cafe where they had a beehive behind glass on the wall with a pipe so the bees could get in and out; and finally the purchase of a heart made from flower jade - Jemima's choice. Mission accomplished.

And then the real mission of the day. Yesterday was the Great Coast Road; today was the Great Alpine Highway, across the Southern Alps via Arthur's Pass and its National Park towards Christchurch - we were on the home stretch now, two days left... And it was magnificent. The familiar forested mountains and creeks (favourite names so far: Cockney Creek and Deadman's Creek) led us up and up; Arthur's Pass itself was a very high up settlement of 62 people on what was the first main road to the west coast from Christchurch (men died building it); and then we were up in the high plateaus, still surrounded by mountains but huge scrubby, rocky ones this time, looking down on the wide spread of a hill station (farmland), with icy-looking rivers and bright blue lakes. And snow topped mountains! That's it: literally all weathers in New Zealand. 

It was a brilliant drive, definitely deserving of its title. And as we descended onto the low level farmed plains running into Christchurch, we decided (with Jemima asleep) to push on, past Christchurch, into the supposedly beautiful Banks Peninsula. A long journey past little farm after little farm; then a huge lagoon; and finally up an astonishingly tiny (for a State Highway) road winding up through an English-looking landscape of grassy hills. And finally, after six or so hours' driving (Kevin did amazingly), we got to the top and started to look down over the Peninsula (and the chance to take one photo before our phones died): a stunning view of a peaceful volcano-formed valley with a large sea inlet studded with boats running through the middle, surrounded by the green hills. 

It was 7pm by this time, so late for parking up, although it was still hot and sunny (the van temperature reading got up to 29.5 degrees, woo hoo!); and we had a campsite destination in mind; but worryingly there were a number of motorhomes heading back our way, out of the peninsula. We kept going, and kept hoping; but fears were realised: no room at the campsite, not a single space. But Kevin didn't despair, and drove us towards the main town, Akaroa, with the hope of a freedom camping spot (as they call wild camping here). And there, on the marina (we love a marina), with one space left: designated freedom camping spots, only a short walk across the village green/ cricket pitch through the amazingly pretty town to a restaurant on the water front with a view of the jetty and boats bobbing in the bay and the sun setting behind, right next to a playground. It would be almost impossible to beat this setting. And after a great meal (Akaroa was founded by French settlers, so is full of little bistros), we walked home in the dusk, feeling very lucky.

PS I'm afraid I'm struggling to upload photos as we've run out of mobile wifi. Annoying as the main theme of this post was the amazing scenery! Anyway, I'll put them up as soon as I get some wifi, hopefully tomorrow.

 

No glow worms...:

 

 

Dancing:

Beach sculpture interactions:

The Great Coast Road

"This'll do," I said to Kevin as we ate our lunch in the warm sunshine, with a pretty cove to look at and the sounds of waves crashing against the rocks. 

The day had started wet and foggy, so we started local: a fun explore of a nearby site, a restored coal mine, perched high up on the top of a hill, with the remains of a gravity-defying track down the amazingly steep incline where the coal buckets would careen down the hill towards the sea. I was standing on a rock at the top, looking down at where the track ran downwards into a sea of fog, when suddenly the clouds lifted, and the landscape below started to glow in the sunshine. It was the start of a beautiful day on the West Coast.

From the mine we went south along the aptly named Great Coast Road; driving this road was a key part of our South Island route planning. Kevin and I have been lucky enough to drive along some wonderful coast roads in various countries and this was up there with the best. Big rolling seas crashing in on our right, one minute at our level, and the next far below us as the road wound up and down the mountains - another green, forested, untouched National Park, the Paparoa National Park in this case. And then Kevin saw a sign off the main road towards the sea; and the next moment we were having our lunch overlooking a pretty beach (obviously a good spot because as we arrived Neil Oliver from Coast was just leaving with his TV crew). A brief play on the sand, and then we were off down the Great Coast Road again.

After more corners with amazing views of sea, rocks, waves and mountains, and even better, more sun, the road ended with a slight anticlimax in unattractive Greymouth; but we carried on through towards pretty Hokitika, and then inland to Hokitika Gorge. After cajoling Jemima through her bad tempered nap wake-up with promises of being able to "jog mummy", we got her down the hill along the rainforest walk to where a swing bridge crossed a wide, startlingly milky-blue river (apparently a combination of rock flour, which I've never heard of, and glacier water). Jemima did her usual fearless crossing while I clung to the handrail (this one really was joggy); and then it was back up the hill, and through the warm evening sunshine to our night stop, and a outdoor dinner of pan-fried prawns and Caprese and potato salads. I know everything looks better in the sunshine, but New Zealand was pretty stunning today.

 

 

 

 

 

Soggy South Island

Yesterday evening's sunshine did not return; we left Nelson under a cloud literally (it was pouring) and figuratively (I was grumpy). A supermarket stop, and an expensive purchase of some mobile data later, and we were on the road, going west.

It was three hours of more twisty-turny mountainous road, the only colours the dark green of the forested hills and the grey of clouds/ sky/ rivers (no clear blue water today); plus a sprinkling of red from the pretty little flowers that grow on the verges around New Zealand. We lunched on a cold mountain top (cloud obscuring the view), then started our descent. The manufactured pine forest gave way to the virgin mixed forest of the Kahurangi National Park, which increased the shades of green in sight; and the various creeks and waterfalls feeding into the main river we were following also attracted the eye; but the rain stayed the same.

Reaching the West Coast, famed for its beautiful beaches, we stopped by a beachside free camping spot (Jemima driving the motorhome along the dirt track, which she loved); but the weather reduced its appeal. So we retreated to a nearby campsite for a bacon, sausage, egg, beans, tomatoes, toast dinner in the camp kitchen to thaw out. Jemima got busy with her glue stick, lovingly creating some torn up paper masterpieces; then she and Kevin had lots of fun with some nerf guns (that and the glue stick also being supermarket purchases). So after a good meal, and a good play, and some mood-improving red wine for me, we turned in, still raining, soggy underfoot, but at least cosy in our tin home, and with the West coast to explore tomorrow.

 

Funny weather

Our original plan had been to spend another day on the beach, Tahuna Beach to be exact, a few minutes from this campsite. But the weather today was not in our favour. From warm but overcast and breezy, it got steadily cloudier and colder through the morning, continuously threatening rain, until we thought we may as well just lounge about the motorhome and our comfortable campsite instead. 

There was some reading; some bouncing on the jumping pillow; a bit of TV (Vinyl for us, now we've finished the Young Pope, Boogie Beebies for Jemima); clothes washing (that time again); and some crafting (Jemima had lots of fun ripping up bits of paper and arranging them in patterns). These were interspersed by lunch in the camp kitchen (in theory these are great - they mean you don't stink out your motorhome cooking bacon, for example; but I found a whole extra level of hassle in remembering to take everything I needed, and had to go back to the motorhome about five times for the colander or the cheese grater).

Then, after feeling like we'd been living in a cloud all day, in late afternoon it all cleared and hot sun appeared - like a different climate. Energised, we decided on dinner out: The Smugglers' Rest, just down the road. Spruced up and sparkling clean (for once - even Jemima had washed her hair), we wandered through the warm evening, had a good dinner, and returned home - much chillier now, but well fed.

Apart from winter snow, it feels like we've had four seasons in one day. Kevin likes the variety; I'd prefer the dependability of a guaranteed summer. But then we've got the heat of Australia to come. And in the meantime, we've had a good restful day, and we're off to the wilderness of the West Coast tomorrow.

PS I also used today to continue getting up to date with photos. Yesterday ("Gold and green") and " Mussels alive alive-o" are now done; only two left.

 

Jemima crafting:

 

Our lovely campsite in the afternoon sun (that is the camp kitchen/ lounge facing us):

 

Walking to dinner:

 

Kevin making Jemima laugh: