The Great Journey South

- The Coromandel Peninsula and Rotorua

If you'd ask me what is the best month to visit Paris, then I'd say right away "August". The reason for that is simple; Paris in August is empty, because everyone is down in the South of France. I call that the "French disease", because I think the French are fools in that respect.
But how surprised I am when I find that Kiwis also suffer from this disease. Motorparks and campsites outside the main tourist attractions are almost deserted, though the weather is fine and warm.
It appears that people around here take their vacations from Christmas up to around mid-January. During that time there is not a single place available at any campsite in North Island or northern South Island. This behaviour is about as foolish as the French way of vacating. This is the more so because during that period North Island is far too warm for comfort - while at the same time the deserted south of South Island is at its most beautiful.
All this simply means for me that I have to be in the far South by Christmas to escape the mad rush of Kiwis choking the North.
My plan is simple; to travel down south along the eastern coast of North Island towards Wellington, then take the ferry to South Island and stay on South Island until maybe the end of February, then return back north, this time along the West Coast.
The first scenic area south of Auckland is the Coromandel Peninsula. This peninsula is known for the rough beauty of its nature and also for its great roads along the coast of the Hauraki Gulf. On the Eastern side I am already driving along the shore of the Bay of Plenty. If you want to know more about the various places I suggest you follow the link and check out the Wiki. After staying overnight in Thames I continue along the coast of the bay until I reach Tauranga.
On the way I come across another "Must-Do" for Kiwis, the Hot Water Beach:

Hot Water Beach

Have a look at the kid on the right in this picture. Can you see that he is carrying a spade? Well, you may think he is a bit too old for building sand castles on the beach. But that is not what he is after. Instead he wants a hot tub. Yes, on Hot Water Beach there are two geothermal springs. Two hours either side of slack water you can dig yourself a hole in the sand. The hole will fill with hot water and you can enjoy your own, private hot water spa right on the beach.
At Tauranga I turn south to see the famed geothermal activity around Rotorua. I stay for three days in the town. It is the biggest disappointment so far in New Zealand. The attractions are there, but what is a small-sized geysers, some bubbling mud and a geothermal power station, if they are crowded by thousands of tourists?
I see none of the attractions, as they are so ruthlessly marketed that even Disneyland could learn a thing or two from these Kiwis. I find the place disgusting. I think after this I need to find myself a quieter spot.

- The Eastern Cape

I take the road back north towards the coast at Whakatane. A young Maori is holding up his thumb at the end of Rotorua, so I give him a ride. He lives in Whakatane and knows every stone along the road by first name. I thus get a a running commentary about everything along the 80 km road to Whakatane.
About 40 miles beyond Opotiki I find a splendid motor park in the middle of nowhere. This is the East Cape region, about as lonely as it gets. Europeans will find it difficult to believe how empty this country is, so I'll try an example. Imagine you'd live in Hicks Bay on the Eastern Cape. How big is that place? Well, on my map of New Zealand it shows about as big as Coventry would on a map of the UK. Here is a picture of it:

Hicks Bay

Yes, those few dotted houses behind that not really overcrowded beach, that is Hicks Bay. Now while being a rather scenic location, living here is somewhat different from Coventry. Imagine your family has decided to spice up a rainy Sunday by renting a few movies. Your nearest movie rental place would be either in Gisborne or in Opotiki - in both case it would take you about three hours by car to get there, six hours return. Of course, then you'd have to return the movies next day...
Luckily I came prepared; I hired a couple of movies in Opotiki, so in spite of the lonesome campsite I stay at, I can watch the occasional movie in the evening on my laptop. I first thought about using my TV card, but Kiwi TV is an atrocious blend of commercials and boring programs - that is if you have any reception at all. Most people out here have rigged a satellite dish and receive an adapted version of the UK's Sky TV.
But who needs TV anyway? It is much nicer to sit on the rocks at the waterline, feet dangling in the Pacific Ocean, smoking a pipe and thinking about the meaning of life. This empty country is much more to my liking than the bustling masses at Rotorua, so I stay for three days. You can do fantastic hiking here, and you have miles and miles of great beaches entirely for yourself. You can walk all day without ever seeing another human being.
Like with Cape Reinga in the north I do not bother driving out to the East Cape itself - again that is a 15 mile dirt track just to see a lighthouse, which I don't need to see. Instead I follow the main highway no. 35 south towards Gisborne. This area is very popular with surfers. No wonder, as the waves crashing against the shoreline had a long way to build up strength - all the way from Chile.

Kiwi Traffic Jam

Gisborne itself is like most rural cities around here; just a few roads lined by shops and restaurants, a superstore etc. But one has to consider that this is the centre point for the entire population of an area about the size of Switzerland.
Beyond the town the road to Wairoa turns hilly - and I notice that on the steep climbs the temperature needle is beginning to creep above its normal position. I stop and check the fan; yes, the viscous coupling is loose again. The casing must have a fracture that allows the oil to slowly seep out.
I might just as well fix that in Wairoa as anywhere else, so once there I ask at "Norton's Auto Electrics" where I can find a decent workshop. When I mention that I could do the job myself (having once been a mechanic myself) the guy offers me the use of his tools. Great, I like that attitude.
It takes me 40 minutes to cure the problem. I take the coupling apart and simply put a square inch of an old rag between the gearwheel and the casing. This does lock the coupling solid, regardless of whether there is oil in the it or not.

- Lake Taupo

Beyond Wairoa I divert west to Lake Taupo on HW 5. The drive is very scenic, but the lake is even more impressive - it is the biggest lake in NZ and well known for its trout fishing. The unofficial capital of trout fishing is Turangi at the southern tip of the lake, where I find a fine motor park 6 miles north of that town. It'll be nice to dangle my feet in sweet water for a change when I smoke my evening pipe.
An earthquake strikes this night, the epicenter apparently somewhere near Opotiki. That happens very often in many parts of the country. But a measly 5.4 on the Richter scale doesn't impress me - I just lived too long on the Jura mountain range in Switzerland where that also happens frequently.
I take a leisurely drive around the southern shore of the Lake today - look at the picture to get an impression how nice it is here:

Lake Taupo

My plan was to stay only for a day, but in the evening it starts raining badly and continues so through the entire next day. I drive to the local tourist info place and ask for indoor activities. The only thing they have to offer indoors is the local trout museum 2 miles down the road. Well, thanks, but not for me. I'd rather have a lazy day and see a few of the many movies I have on board - the day is a complete washout.
Movie rental stores are quite easy going with campervan travellers; you just show a picture ID and they give you a temporary membership, the name of the motorcamp I stay in is enough for an address. It is also quite cheap to hire DVD's: usually you can hire five or six discs for a week for 10 to 11 dollars. As I haven't been to the movies in over four years (because the Swiss dub them) I have a huge choice of stuff I haven't seen yet.

- Tongariro National Park

Next morning I am heading south. The main route towards Waiouru is the highway no. 1. But I strongly recommend to take the much longer, but also much more scenic route via highways 46, 47, 4 and 49. This leads me straight towards the highest mountains in North Island, the Mount Ruapehu volcano, Mount Ngauruhoe and Mount Tongariro, all within the Tongariro National Park. Murphy's law has it that the cloud base is still very low after all that rain yesterday - the mountaintops are invisible. I will just come along here again next year on my way back up north. There are two small airfields around here which offer scenic flights around the park - something else to look forward to.
In spite of the low clouds and the occasional rain shower the drive is very scenic and the park is breathtaking.
Having missed out on the volcano tops I shall however not miss out on some fun today; a few miles south of the backwater town of Taihape I turn left, following the signs for Gravity Canyon. A scenic drive leads you to a deep gorge in the volcanic rocks. I can highly recommend the double adrenalin kick you get if you are willing to shell out the 180 bucks for the double whammy: jump the 80 meter bungy and ride the Flying Fox - these rides are far better than what you get at your ordinary fairground. The view from the bridge down into the gorge with its wild river and thinking that you are about to jump from the bridge without anyone forcing you at gunpoint will get your heart rate up, I promise you.

- Hawke Bay

After this kick I need some quiet, rural scenery. Of that there is plenty here. I turn back to Taihape and turn east on Annie Road towards Napier. The road is an absolute treasure; no traffic, fantastic views over the rolling hills and tranquil valleys full of cattle and sheep.

Annie Road

 

As you can see in the picture, about 20 of the total 100 miles are unpaved, but the gravel section is in good nick and perfectly suitable for any car. By 5 pm I arrive in Napier. If you haven't followed the above link to the Napier Wiki I suggest you do it now, because Napier is a very special town; it was destroyed by an earthquake measuring 7.8 on the Richter scale in 1931. The town was rebuild in the styles favoured by the architects of the time: Art Deco and Spanish mission. I just drive to the Tourist info and enquire about campsites; unfortunately the two sites in town are located next to busy roads. That is not my cup of tea, but I find a nice place in the village of Clive, halfway between the twin cities of Napier and Hastings.
Next morning I take a closer look at Napier. The architecture is really excellent. All buildings are in excellent condition. New Zealanders in general live in cardboard boxes made from cheap plywood and plasterboards, badly designed and often infested with damp or mould. About a third of the housing I have seen so far on North Island is unfit for human habitation by European standards. The general ignorance of this fact throughout the country is quite a surprise for me.
But here in Napier the buildings are made from stone - and with style. A look down Tennyson Street is very soothing for the eye after having seen so many ugly, ramshackle structures elsewhere.

Napier

Napier is a very busy place. In the afternoon I drive the 20 km to Hastings. This town was equally destroyed by the great earthquake in 1931. But here the water mains supply remained intact. While Napier was gutted after the quake by huge firestorms, the Hastings firefighters were able to rescue many buildings from complete destruction. Though Hastings overall population is bigger than Napier's, the town centre has preserved a much more rural style. Plenty of buildings are in the Art Deco style and it is another proof that Kiwis can build proper housing if they want to.
Both cities form the core of the Hawkes Bay region, named after Hawke Bay on which coast the region is located.

- Wairarapa, the paradise no one has ever heard of

After a second night at the Clive campsite it is time to continue further south. The weather all these days was fairly cool for the time of year with afternoon temperatures seldom climbing above 20 degrees Celsius. I find that much better than having scorching heat that early in the season as is often the case these days in Europe.
I take state highway no. 2 south via Dannevirke and Woodville. This region is called Wairarapa, which means in Maori something like "Glistening Waters" - and I immediately fall in love with it. The hills are not as high as further north, the road not as spectacular as in the Tongariro park, but this is exactly the kind of place I like. The country is thinly populated, and the few tiny towns are far apart. The only bigger town is Masterton with about 25000 souls.
After a closer close look at my map I decide to make the small town of Martinborough my base for a few days to explore this prime area. Though the town has just 1400 inhabitants, it has all I need; a cash machine, a motor camp, a supermarket, a cafe and an excellent tourist information office. Even a Video rental exists on Jellicoe Street in case I want to see a movie. But what really knocks me off my seat is that they have a brand new cinema. This of course is only possible, because the town has a large number of visitors from the farms and hamlets in the surrounding outback.
At the motor camp I have a chat with my site neighbour Dave. I want to know why Kiwis prefer to live in damp, mouldy cardboard boxes instead of proper houses. I have found the right man to answer that; Dave is a builder by trade and like me is quite disgusted with the ordinary Kiwi building standards. He invites me to inspect a place he is building at the far end of the town. We take a look and the place is a far cry from the usual pisspoor buildings. It is made from stone, properly insulated and has a modern underfloor heating system. I still find things to improve; inner walls are still mainly from timber frames, there is no cellar and the large sections of outer wall that have been finished as sliding glass panes in aluminium frames will allow too much heat in in summer (requiring air conditioning) and loose too much energy in winter because they are not triple glazed.
But we have a good chat about how Kiwis do things and the building is yet another proof, that these people can build proper housing if they want to.
Next morning the rain is hammering on the roof of my van. I am remembering the words of the tourist info lady in town from yesterday: "Martinborough is the driest area in North Island". Murphy's law again. It doesn't stop once all day, so I get me a couple of DVD's and download a few more books - the Martinborough Village Campsite has a WLAN set up for the guests and ranks among the top ten sites I have seen so far in the country. I strongly recommend to make this place your base if you ever come to this peaceful part of the world.

[Postscript 2016 - The young couple owning the place in 2006 have gone and obviously sold the place to a conglomerate owning numerous campsites throughout the country. Their website is now available in English and Chinese, so you may want to check it out before making a booking based on my (outdated) advice.]

Next day the weather is much improved and I set out for Cape Palliser, the southernmost tip of North Island.

Lighthouse

I actually climbed those 250 steps of the ladder in above picture. Until 1986 you may have been greeted by the lighthouse keeper in this forlorn part of the coast. But these days the lighthouse keeper sits in an air conditioned office in bustling downtown Wellington, 30 miles away, and controls the lighthouse via computer.
The coast is just populated by a few fishermen who live in the tiny hamlet of Ngawi - together with about ten times the number of bulldozers needed to move their boats in and out of the sea.
The drive back to Martinborough is sheer bliss:

The road back

In the evening I make good use of the campsites internet connection and book myself a ticket to cross the Cook Strait in a few days time. There are only two ferry companies offering transport of passengers and vehicles; the Interislander and the Bluebridge company. Bluebridge is cheaper at 169 dollars for my Toyota and myself, so I book me in for the noon sailing next Thursday. That leaves me two more days to explore this magic part of the world.
Next day the weather is once again fine, but cool and windy. This, I am told, is a consequence of the "El Niño" effect; it keeps the anticyclones from reaching us here. Instead the road is clear for lots of cool air from the south. The positive side of that; while the European Alps will be glacier-free within a few decades, the glaciers of the Southern Alps down here are currently growing larger.

Wairarapa

I think that this day will be ideal to visit the Waiohine Gorge, a few miles north of Carterton, in the Tararua mountain range. While Wairarapa is mainly flat, the region is separated from Wellington by this range of mountains. Into one of the valleys of this range a river has dug a deep gorge.
I take my Toyota through a car wash, not having noticed that the access road to the gorge is unpaved - within two hours the van again looks like it has taken part in the D-Day landings. The last bit of the road is even fairly tricky to drive. Once at the gorge I notice that I am the only one up here without four-wheel-drive. Kiwis are not only the worst drivers in the civilized world (yes, they are even worse than the notorious Belgians), they are obviously also pussies when it comes to taking the family saloon a bit off the beaten track.
The gorge is badly signposted. If you ever come here, follow the gravel road to the campsite for abseiling. Beyond that the road deteriorates. Be undaunted and continue another two miles until you reach the forestry campsite. At the far end of the site you will find two unmarked paths. The left one (closer towards the gorge) leads you to the bottom of the gorge. Be careful down there, the river banks are a paradise for sandflys - once bitten you'll have a nasty, itching blister for about three days.
The right path is the one leading to the swing bridge over the gorge. Traversing that bridge gives a good rush of adrenalin - especially if like myself you suffer from mild vertigo. For all of you who always want to see these things, but never find the time, here is an impression:

Swing bridge    Lauressergues

The next day is overcast and showery again, but it is supposed to clear up later. A good day to drive to Masterton, the biggest town in Wairarapa after Palmerston North. I am interested in the foodstuffs that are on sale in New Zealand. I mean the one's I fancy.
I find that even the biggest supermarkets have no cheese on sale that is not produced in New Zealand. Swiss people may be annoyed with the French labeling some mass-produced rubber "Emmental", but the label piracy carried out down here is shocking; Many renowned European cheese brands are remorselessly copied by various Kiwi cheese makers. I wouldn't mind them copying the stuff, if they had the "real thing" on sale as well. But no luck here. Soon some Kiwi will get stinking rich by importing the originals from Europe - and allow his fellow countrymen to sample cheeses that have not just two decades of tradition, but two millennia instead.
The same applies to wine; a huge selection of Kiwi wines, but a decent Beaujolais or Rioja are nowhere to be found. When I have some time in a larger city, I will have to check out a deli, to see if the foreign food situation really is this desperate.

- Across the Cook Strait into South Island

Next morning it is time to say goodbye to Wairarapa for a while. I head over the mountains those 50 miles towards Wellington. The ferry leaves at 1 pm, so I have time to drive into the city. Other than Auckland this city is a compact place with a well defined city centre. This allows the efficient use of public transport (which is nearly impossible in spread-out Auckland) and I even see passenger railway carriages. Many people from Wairarapa commute to Wellington using the railway.
Later at the harbour I have some sort of maritime "déjà vu"; the Santa Regina, the ferry boat of the Bluebridge line seems strangely familiar. It is an old rustbucket, but I distinctively remember it. A quick enquiry with the purser clarifies matters: the Santa Regina was operated by a French company out of Marseille to Corsica ever since her launch in 1979. In 2003 the Bluebridge company bought it, and ever since this worn out RORO ("roll on, roll off") ferry is the flagship of the company.

Wellington

The crossing of the Cook Strait takes over three hours. The main reason for this slow progress is that our destination harbour, Picton, lies at the far end of the long Queen Charlotte Sound. Even worse, the boat has to take the narrow Tory Channel, the southern entry into the sound. At its mouth the channel is just 64 meters wide - a maritime eye of the needle.
Our captain gets the old lady into port without a mishap. Queen Charlotte Sound is a wildlife paradise, and my plan is to hang out here for a few days to see a bit more of it.

- Marlborough county and the Kaikoura coast

I find a suitable motor park just north of Blenheim, at Spring Creek. But the following day another cold front is moving in from the south. In the morning the rain starts hammering down on my van. Not a good idea to join one of the many boat cruises offered in the Sound.
Instead I drive into Blenheim and see a movie at the excellent cinema they have (Casino Royale, the current blockbuster). Diner consists of a Turkish Kebab. The kebab forge is run by a turkish family, but the adjustments they have made to make their kebabs acceptable for the Kiwi palate would probably net them a few blood feuds if they'd ever dared to sell them like that in Istanbul.
The next day is Saturday. The rain is gone, but it once more blows a gale - no chance to enjoy a trip in an open boat - Marlborough county is not wanting me on the water, it appears. But that is no problem, because today at Omaka, just outside Blenheim, the brand-new Aviation Heritage centre opens its doors to the public for the first time. I am even given a splendidly decorated commemoration card - number 148 out of the 500 they give away to their first ever visitors.
They have one of the finest collections of World War I aircrafts on the planet - many are originals and most are perfectly airworthy. It is truly amazing to see these machines so far from their original locations.
To celebrate the grand opening they also have a big air show at the airfield next to the museum. While inside the museum WW I aircraft are on display, outside I can admire many WW II aircraft, on the ground and in the air. The sound of the numerous fighters with their big radials or 35-litre V12 engines, doing mock dogfights at low altitude, gives the event a bit of a Battle of Britain flair.

Vintage fighters

Rummaging through the museum in the morning and watching these fighters in the air in the afternoon is a perfect replacement for the boat trip I missed out on. I can still do that when I come through here next time on my way back north.
Next day I set out further south on HW 1, direction Christchurch. After continuing for a few miles inland the highway finally hits the coast. There are only a few sand beaches here, but this coast is not known for its beaches, but for its spectacular views and wildlife. Check out the fur seals in this picture:

Fur seals

I count over thirty of them. This picture I did while having a break at a parking lot - the seals are just a few yards off the main highway.
Another highlight is the seaward Kaikoura Mountain range. These mountains are not overly high if compared to the Southern Alps, but the scenery is nonetheless nothing short of spectacular. Have a look at this snapshot, made just above Kaikoura town (which is in the foreground):

Kaikura

That is much nicer than sitting out a winter in the Northern Hemisphere. Only the temperature is far too low. I am about 40 degrees south of the equator and mid-December is equivalent to mid-June in Europe - and the day maximum temperature struggles to make it over 20 degrees Celsius, while the sun on the other extreme is nearly shining vertically out of the sky.
I find a nice campsite a few miles south of Kaikoura, at Hawkswood Farm. The location is fantastic, a good kilometer off the main HW no. 1. The farm is family-owned for 139 years now. In Kiwi terms that that's the equivalent of HBC ("Here before Christ"). The landlady, Gypsy by nickname, resides with her husband over a magic kingdom of crumbling wooden buildings, ancient sawmill machinery (with which she won't part at any price) and a great view of the mountains on the horizon. At eight dollars per night all included I won't mind the basic equipment and the ramshackle buildings.

- Otago, the south of South Island

Next day I continue south on HW 1. Just under two hours later I arrive in Christchurch. I have a good look around the town, but after having seen so many others I can't bring myself to stay very long. Soon I find myself again heading south.
My original plan was to drive further inland, via the more scenic highways 73, 77 and 72. But somehow I get lost in the Kiwi signposting and find myself again on HW 1. That highway is rather boring compared with the inland route, but after a few hours I find myself at the turnoff of highway 79 and later HW 8 westwards towards Geraldine and Fairlie. Immediately the countryside becomes interesting again.
After staying overnight at Fairlie I reach the southern shore of lake Tekapo by noon. Here is an impression of that lake:

Lake Tekapo

In the background the Southern Alps are clearly visible. The highway then turns south, running parallel to the Southern Alps until I reach the junction with HW 80. This highway is a forty mile long cul-de-sac, running north-west along the shore of lake Pukaki into the heart of the mountains; to the eastern flanks of Mount Cook. This mountain is 12000 feet high and the highest mountain in all of New Zealand. I reach it around 2 pm after battering the stormy wind all the time, which nearly blows my van off the road.

Mount Cook range

The town Mount Cook itself is not very attractive; 12-storey hotel buildings, ugly backpacker dwellings and fast food stalls ensure, that after just 15 minutes of enjoying the breathtaking scenery I am heading back the way I came. I take one last picture of the lake at a place aptly named "Peter's lookout":

Lake and Mountains

By 4 pm I am back on HW 8, which is now turning back south-eastwards along the Waitaki River towards Oamaru on the coast. The local I-site tourist office recommends the Olive Grove Holiday Park just south of the village of Herbert.

[Postscript 2016 - The campsite apparently no longer exists, a quite common event in fast-moving NZ.]

When I tell the owner, Kim Simpson, that he was recommended to me by the tourist office, he is quite perplexed. Apparently I am the first person ever that they sent him.
He is even more surprised that 10 minutes later another campervan arrives - also directed here by the tourist office. Kim is wondering whether the "spell" is finally broken. And his site is far from fully booked for the mayhem weeks during and after those Christian bank holidays coming up in a few days. Hmmh, at last a place where I could safely hole up for those mad days without being bothered by the maddening crowds. I book myself in for two days:

Next morning I set out back to Oamaru. The town is most famous for its penguin colonies right at the waterfront.
But I am more interested in checking out alternative options for the bank holiday period. My idea is simple; last week there was yet another military coup in Fiji. As a result 80 percent of tourists cancelled their holidays in Fiji, fearing unrest or civil war. That means that the tourist industry of Fiji, which generates 50 percent of these islands income, is in the doldrums. I am hoping that I can get some cheap bargain for myself. But to my surprise there are none. A friendly lady at the travel agency explains; sure the Fijians would be more than happy to offer excellent terms, but these would have to be negotiated with the New Zealand travel companies. And as all these companies explicitly warn tourists currently from going to Fiji (though the other coups in past year show that any violence is usually restricted to the capital Suva, not the tourist areas on the coral coast or the outer islands), for these reasons there are no special offers available.
The only method she can suggest is to just book a flight (around 1000 Kiwi dollars return out of Christchurch) and negotiate myself with the local hotels and guest houses for the best terms. I will not decide that on the spot, but look into this later.
The best access to the Internet in Oamaru can be found at the Lagonda café and milk bar. I spend two hours there, getting the latest news from around the planet.
The people at the local tourist information office also unveil the mystery, how a man can get a packet of pipe tobacco in this country: it appears that many barber shops double-function as tobacconists. And yes, just next to the milk bar is a barber/tobacconist where I manage to replenish my dwindling stock of pipe tobacco.
After another quiet evening at the campsite I set out on HW 1 next morning, due south towards Palmerston. I have a look at the Moeraki boulders, about 8 miles south of the campsite. But I am not very impressed; just a few rocks on the beach that have some obscure relevance to Maori culture. New Zealanders are extremely "politically correct". Maoris make up for about 7 percent of the current population - but 75 percent of place-names are in Maori language. Even the Kiwis themselves admit to have difficulties pronouncing these names correctly.
As you would have expected, I couldn't give a toss for political correctness. Keeping these place-names created by some stone-age warriors who never developed writing and who's language would put a knot even into a Dutchman's tongue is just another Kiwi speciality from my point of view.
At Palmerston I leave HW 1 for the more scenic HW 85 towards Alexandra and central Otago province. The countryside is great and the roads are empty - just look at this picture:

Otago

I am in Alexandra at about 4.30 pm. There are two Motor Parks in town, one directly on the main highway, the other on a quiet meadow at the edge of the town. No question, the latter one is for me.
In 1862 gold was discovered in Otago, at Gabriel's Gully near Lawrence. Like 15 years before in California, a massive gold rush was the consequence. The two prospectors who first discovered the goldfield gathered over 30000 ounces in just over a month - just look up the current rate per ounce to work out how much that is today in your local currency.
Even today the Kiwi gold mining companies refine several tons of gold each year. So today I am going to visit a mine in one of the original mining areas north of Clyde. The ancient mine has been opened for tourists and an interesting collection of buildings and machinery allows the visitor a good look into the hard life of those ancient miners.

Quartz crusher

The ground still contains gold - just this morning a twelve year old Dutch girl found a nugget worth over 300 dollars. So of course I have a go at panning a few pounds of rubble. This is surprisingly hard work, as the wet material in the pan weighs several pounds and needs quite a while of careful panning until at last one may or may not find a few specks of gold dust at the bottom. Of course I find absolutely nothing, so I decide that gold digging is not for me.
On my way back I take a look at the village of Cromwell. Suddenly a cop car appears behind me with blaring sirens. What on earth is that racket about, I wonder? Apparently I have just run over a stop sign without fully stopping my van. The cop is just as friendly as any other Kiwi. Once he realizes that I am a tourist, he spends the next 15 minutes explaining to me how I can dodge paying the 150 dollars fine. He need not to worry; I know already that the cops have to send out a reminder after 28 days if the fine is still unpaid. As that reminder will never arrive I am not required to pay, so I take it quite easy. The cop warns me that I need to drive more careful down here. I find it difficult not to laugh right in his face; I wonder whether he has 29 years no-claim-bonus or knows any Kiwi who ever drove half a million miles on motorbikes without any accident. In all probability I could start as an instructor here right away to teach these lethal Kiwi drivers a few lessons. The only people adhering to any speed limit here are the foreign tourists.
The next morning I continue my way south-east on HW 8, back towards the coast near Milton. I have in effect circumnavigated the town of Dunedin completely. At Balclutha I leave the main highway in favour of the "Southern Scenic Route". This route follows the south coast of South Island towards Invercargill. Unfortunately the weather is once more cold, windy and showery, but in spite of that the wild, lonely countryside is quite enjoyable.
Just north of Invercargill, about half a mile before the junction of HW 6 and HW 99 is a quiet motor camp. That's how I like to stay for a few days; five minutes from the town centre, but remote and away from the main road. I have look around town, go to the movies and enjoy the fantastic views off the coast towards Stewart Island. I realize that I have reached about the southernmost point of my journey, when I find this marker in Bluff, south of Dunedin:

Directions

Just under 19000 km to London and 15000 to New York - I have come around in the world, I can say. Afterwards I drive up to the Lookout Point on Bluff Hill above the village. The view is great and makes one forget the bitterly cold wind blowing up here. In the distance you can see Stewart Island, about 25 miles off the coast:

Stewart Island

From here onwards the journey will go back up north again, with the general idea being to be back in Northland by the end of April.

Below is the usual map with my GPS tracklog and some trip markers.






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