It's been a while..

Well it’s been a while since I updated anything on here. It’s been a busy, and also a quiet time for a few weeks here in Wellington.

I’ve not updated as the majority of things going on here have been related to supporting and helping a good friend as they went through a horrible messy court case with their ex.

It’s been up’s and downs, with the downs slightly outnumbering the up’s, as I would imagine is the norm in situations like this. Although I find it hard to see any normality in why people will use their own children as pawns and weapons against someone else, regardless of how acrimoniously their relationship ended.

In some ways it has made me thankful that I don’t have kids of my own.

I have nephews though, and a sworn duty to be their ‘idiot uncle’, and that’s good enough for me!

Anyway, it’s over now. The case was thrown out, and my friend is able to start breathing and living again.

I can’t begin to understand what they’ve been through over the last couple of years, but I’m glad that I could be here for them if only to offer what support I could or to be an amusing(?) distraction.

Not scooting around all the time has also given me time to kick back and reflect on a lot of things too. Time well spent.

As a Mr D.Adams put it “I seldom end up where I wanted to go, but almost always end up where I need to be”.

THE END.

(of that!)

I have managed to get out and about around the area in this time, the majority of the excursions have been scribbled about already on here, and I felt that I’ve put you through that once already…

I did discover a little gem of a place outside of Wellington called Carlucci Land.

Sat alongside Happy Valley Road (excellent road name!) and scattered across a hillside, is the most wonderful collection of ‘salvage’ art.

(If Tim Burton did attractions)

Sculptures and oddments constructed from scrap ships propellers, chains, tools and unidentifiable detritus. Cut, welded and imagined into the weird wonderful and quirky.

The best part for me though? Snaking through a section of the park is a lovely mini golf course. Mini golf as you may be aware, being the enlightened souls that I hope you are, is the only golf that I can consider fun.

‘Golf’ golf is not in the same league at all. Golf’ists’ seem to treat the game as either a way to grease their way up the corporate ladder, or as an escape from a mundane marriage, and on top of that have to make questionable fashion choices just to be allowed to play.

Retirees playing golf though? That’s ok; it keeps the pensioners off the streets and away from causing mayhem with drive by ‘tuttings’ and the such.

But mini golf? I can’t imagine anyone thinking they could impress a client while punting a small ball across astroturf, bouncing it into a clowns mouth to see if it will fall out of the aforementioned clowns bum hole into a different hole. Admittedly, if I were their client I would commend them on their thinking. Although if they then said that they always ‘thought outside of the box’ or some such buzz phrase.. I would then have to bludgeon them with the putter.

Carlucci land alas doesn’t have a pooping clown obstacle, but it does have a fun collection of Heath Robinson-esque contraptions to amuse and frustrate in equal measure.

Playing around (Playing ‘a’ round = Golf…. ‘Playing around’ = mini golf. SEE!) was as childish as I hoped it would be, with Marc and myself instantly dropping into abusing each others prowess with a putter, and while waiting for the next hole to be free we busied ourselves with finding more little welded people dotted around the course.

I could only have been happier had they had a bar and waitress service to the tee!

Wellington has a lot to offer, I dig this little city as I’ve said before, and as the weather is warming by the day, there will be more and more to do, and then the South Island will call…. It will…. I’m sure.

On the subject of the weather, I’m still getting a tad freaked out simply by walking around in boardies and a T-shirt while shops pump Christmas tunes into the street.

Yes yes, I know it’s nearly Christmas, but I’m not sure how to deal with Crimbo in the sun. I’m English dammit!

I’m used to drizzle, cold and fog for this time of year. I can’t say it’s a struggle to put up with, just odd, but I’ll try my best to get by.

At least that’s what I was thinking as I swam in the bay this afternoon…. in December…

Nope, it still feels weird, maybe wearing a Santa hat would help?

Maybe tomorrow….

On days like these.

With the sun shining and a barely noticeable breeze in the air it was decided that breakfast and a lazy cruise around Wellington was on the cards.

Food was duly served at a great little café on the Terrace, where we munched on their Hunters Breakfast while discussing the quintet of window cleaners, working and squeegy-ing their way down the glasswork of the office building opposite.

Plates cleared and coffee finished we headed off towards Oriental Bay to the east of the centre.

This was reversing the first route and views of Wellington I saw when Marc picked me up from the airport. Back just over a month ago, on that wet and windy afternoon.

Today, Oriental Bay, and the city itself were bathed in sunlight. The promenade dotted with runners, walkers and people sat in street side cafes enjoying the blue green hue of the bay, and it’s fountain.

With old Stones albums on the stereo and all the windows down we continued along the coastal road, through Evans and Scorching Bay.

Past the artists and small film studios and secluded rocky coves, too small to be named, out to Breaker and Tarakena Bays. Stopping frequently to walk on the foreshore, and marvel at the rugged beauty that was only minutes, yet a world away from the city centre.

This was a side of Wellington I had not seen, and a side I have fallen for. Everything you could want or need, twenty minutes or so away from tranquil meditative beauty.

After having spent a while clambering over the spit of land, and sitting on the rocks in the serenity of Moa Point we moved on.

Passing under the end of the airport runway, we emerged into the bustle of Lyall Bay. On one side the runway, and the planes carrying their travellers. On the other the sea, rolling into the Bay carrying the surfers on its crests in towards the wide dark sand beach. Watched over by a cluster of homes, businesses and restaurants hugging the beach road.

And out to Houghton Bay, stopping at the Headland Reserve to watch the tide push waves onto the spit of land from both west and east, and through the now familiar to me Island Bay until reaching the Bach Café.

That’s Bach, pronounced ‘Batch’; a Bach over here is a holiday/summer/retreat home, not a composer. Although looking at some of the Bach’s (Batches?), I can’t imagine why you wouldn’t live in them year round.

The café sat over the road from the sea, and we took our seats outside, cold ciders in hand, and settled back to absorb what was laid out in front of us. There was only the slightest of breezes, and it was the surge of the tides that pushed the swells into the shore, breaking the waves onto the rocks. The clearest of skies above us, and across the blue waters, the most wonderful view I have seen of the South Island as yet, and it’s snow-capped peaks rising above the horizon.

The South Island, how I long to get over there, and seeing the mountains across the strait, it seemed it was calling to me, teasing me. It will happen soon, but as I’m aware, plans can change with little if any notice, and the South Island adventure may have to be put back by a couple of weeks.

Until it does happen, at least I know a good spot to sit with a drink and watch the south from, and on days like these, that’s all I need.

It's all so quiet....

So, the last couple of weeks….

It’s been quiet, there’s been a lot of vegging out in the sun, on the days we’ve had glorious weather. There’s been helping a friend with a lot of legal matters he has going on at the moment, especially on the days where the weather has tried to throw everything at us.

I’ve been out to the coast quite a lot, just to sit, to commune with the sea, to think, to relax.

From the calm waters of Lake Ferry to the expanse of black grit beach that separates the lake from the sea. The short, by local standards, drive there back over the Rimutakas, and along the lake side through thin country roads and single lane bridges.

Back to Paraparaumu, to watch the local small fishing boats being dragged back onto shore after family fishing trips.

To the shore at Petone, and a walk on the pier with Wellington City opposite us, across a sunlit blue bay. Watching the families fishing.

(Couldn't see why......)

Lyall Bay, lying alongside the airport runway. Which gave interesting views of the planes coming into land below the top of the hills.

The rocks of Island bay, clambering over them, jumping from rock to rock like a child exploring, and sitting on the tallest, gazing at the snow capped mountains behind Clifford Bay on the South Island across from us, over the Cook Strait.

Add to that a little soaking up of the sun on Marc’s balcony, by Titahi bay, and alongside Porirua Harbour. An evening drinking and chatting with a rather lovely young lady, a meal with friends, and it’s been a quiet, but enjoyable couple of weeks.

The next big trip is probably the biggest of them all while I am here. The South Island awaits. We’ve gone through and budgeted for various possibilities, from camper vans, flights or ferries, rental 4X4’s, motel/hotels… Until we just thought sod it, we’ve a car, a tent, and list of the Department of Conservation campsites.

It also means that I get to do the ferry crossing to the South Island. I want to sail through the mountains, the bays and the splendour of the approach into Picton that I’ve seen in so many photos.

I want that to be the opening chapter in exploring Te Wai Pounamu, the South Island. 

Thumb twiddling and google mapping

A quiet one this week, so this is mostly random ramblings.
After jamming in a few road trips, I've had a long week of chilling out, nipping into Wellington for no real reason, hitting a few coffee shops, and trying a few local eateries.
One evening after a couple of beers in Wellington I convinced Marc that a New Zealand kebab needed to be tried. On Courtney Place he introduced me to a small Turkish restaurant, where I had a different interpretation of a kebab than I'm used to.
In the UK, a kebab (doner) is long strips of mystery meat, slapped inside of pitta bread and generously covered with salad, green chillies and a large squirt of chili sauce.
The purpose of all the salad, if you've been drinking, is to give you something to complain about as you rummage for the enclosed meat.
I can't say whether this was how all Kiwi kebabs are prepared, but I'm pretty sure I was given a doner burrito. The meat was as unrecognisable as it should be, although shredded, there was salad and chili sauce. What threw me was that it was all wrapped and rolled in a flour tortilla.
It was like a parallel universe kebab. Spooky!
Although that could describe many things I've found over here, the bit about a parallel universe, not the kebab part. There is so much that is familiar, and so many little things that are different enough to throw you a curve ball. Then there are the things that have knocked me right out of the playing field such as the sudden scenery changes, landscapes that have loomed in the distance only to suddenly envelope you, and the occasional earth tremor 'wobble' as I'm sat.
All in all, I like this place, it's still exciting!

So, relaxing, mooching about the area, cooking slap up meals at the house with Marc, and generally being a man of leisure has been a good change this week. It's also given me time to sit and start planning(ish) the south island trip.
It needs some sort of planning, or even a tiny bit of thinking about, as it'll probably take a good two or three weeks to see it properly, and I don't see any need to rush it.
As my mate Marc has finished his current contract, he's keen to hit the south with me. At the moment we're looking into balancing the costs of taking the Kiri, and shelling out for hotels, motels and/or campsites, against the cost of renting a big ol' RV (camper van).
It'll all come down to how the funds are best spent, so parachute jumps and bungee is probably going to take a back seat. If I want to be scared I'll go back and have another of those kebabs.
Although we're leaning towards the RV, as it should be more of a laugh, and give us the freedom to pretty much park up and stay wherever we feel like. We'll have to see how it all pans out.
As I was working out a south island route that would take in all that I wanted to see, and all the Marc wants to see, I played around and tapped in the routes travelled around the north island so far on Google Maps. I'm surprised that I've covered over 2,500kms since getting down to Welly. A few have been travelled more than once, and a couple of places, although passed, have not been properly visited.... Yet.

(Routes so far....'ish')

Surprised that It's only 2,500kms? Just because it feels like we've covered more than that, but then we've stopped off at a lot of places, and experienced some wondrous things, taken our time, and also some of the roads have been far removed from being describable as 'fast flowing'. As I've mentioned before, outside of Auckland you're on the UK equivalent of A roads, at best.
There's still a lot to see up in the north too. We didn't make Cape Reinga at the northern tip of NZ last time, as we got distracted by a whim, there's hot water beach to see, the bay of islands, the list is long. Changes to plan will keep happening, and the bits I've missed will happen in good time. As so much more will.
All in all, so far, so groovy.
Happy? Yes.
Relaxed? Yes.
Still a few worries hanging over from the 'real world'? Of course, but they're fading.
I'm sure there will be a few small jaunts before we head south, but no rush, no worries.

Stay happy all, and love your adventurous hearts, even if they do take a week off!