Touring New Zealand Days 18 to 20: Fairlie to Alexandra

Day 20:  Alexandra

20 December 2010
25 km (15 miles) Mountain Biking

I am almost too hot to write this.  Yesterday we went searching for the sun and without a doubt, we have found it.  Here in Alexandra today it’s been in the 80’s.  Sounds lovely and it is, except for the part where the hand lotion is too hot to dispense and I fear that my chapstick has melted.

We went for a lovely mountain bike ride today, a welcome change from sitting on our indecisive bums in the car most of yesterday.  From Alexandra we rode the Otago Rail Trail to the “super cute” (you know who said that) town of Clyde.

While enjoying a cold soda by the church, we contemplated what our New Zealand bike tour may have been had we had quiet (paved) country roads such as the one running through Clyde upon which to toodle all day.  But that was not meant to be so instead we enjoyed the peacefulness from the mountain bike saddles and spiced up the ride back by returning via the Alexandra Anniversary Trail, a fun, cruisy single-track route along the river.  It was shaded and curvy and up and down and with not many obstacles besides the railings along a few narrow boardwalks.  Gina declared it one of the nicest trails she’s ever ridden, right up there with Sun Mountain.  I declared it a “Two Rudder” ride, meaning I had to use my Fred Flintstone foot to steer only a time or two.


While out on our ride, we received a very welcome call from Neighbor Cynthia.  We are trying to talk her into joining us for a tramp on the Queen Charlotte Track, as Gina may have worn me out by then so we’ll need to make a substitution.  We’re all quite familiar with Neighbor Cynthia’s power-walking ability (see We’re In Training).  She could tear up that track in a heartbeat.  In fact, we’d probably need to add on a tour of the Marlborough vineyards as Neighbor Cynthia would have us down that track and on to the tasting room before we knew it.

Tonight we are continuing to plot and plan our next several days, starting with tomorrow’s foray onto the Otago Rail Trail proper, from Alexandra to (probably) Omakau.  While reading the Rough Guide about the town we’re currently in (we often do things after-the-fact like this), we came across this startling bit:

“To combat the problem [of rabbits being a major menace throughout the South Island], the town holds an Easter Bunny Shoot every year, and hunters from all over New Zealand congregate on Good Friday to slaughter as many as they can.”

We are counting our blessings that it’s Christmas and not Easter.

Day 19:  Aoraki Mt. Cook to Alexandra

19 December 2010
258 km (160 miles) Driving

Today we drove from Mt. Rainier to Spokane.  Not really, but not a whole lot different except that our trip took probably half the time.

We awoke to pouring rain.  The kind of rain where you say to yourself “Hmmm, how will we get the tent down without everything getting soaked?” when you already know that the answer to that question is “Not possible.”  On the positive side, we had the nice campground shelter to retreat to for breakfast and coffee, the latter being the most important part of any day and all the more important on one as crappy as today.  We needed the caffeine to stay on high alert – high alert for the warden who should have been at camp by now to give us our $8 in change.  This was very important to Gina to ensure that the White Horse Hill DOC could remain recorded on her spreadsheet as our cheapest night of camping yet.

We had hoped to stay at Aoraki Mt. Cook at least one more day to get in another hike and a dink on the bikes, but the awful weather was not worth hanging around for.  Instead, we opted for a tour of the Aoraki Mt. Cook Visitor Center – an A-number-one facility – and then pointed the car toward Twizel.

We thought we might camp there for a night to get in an afternoon mountain bike ride, but the two campgrounds in town were pretty crappy and besides, we’d stayed in Twizel a few weeks ago, so back on the road we went.  (If there was a theme of indecisiveness developing here, we could sense it but not quite stop it.)  A short 38 km farther down the road, we pulled into the campground at Omarama thinking once more that we’d stay there and go for a ride the next day.  But once again we weren’t feeling the campground and so back to the road we went, deciding that we were wasting time and should just get our bums down to Alexandra to start our Otago Rail Trail ride.

Our drive, then, took us from alpine scenery with a 12,000+ foot mountain (think Mt. Rainier only pointier) to the brown tussock hills of the Otago region (think Lake Chelan, Wenatchee, and Spokane all rolled into one, which I have dubbed “Spokanatchee”).  Just like home only not.

Finally in Alexandra, our definite stopping point for the day, we checked out the two available campgrounds and picked the lesser of two evils.  The facilities where we’re staying are actually pretty nice, as is the view from our campsite, but it’s no Top 10, our favorite camping chain here in New Zealand.


Plus, while pitching our tent, we were stalked by the Children of the Corn.  One, about 7 years of age, was pushing her brother, probably 18 months, in a stroller around our tent site, mostly staring intently and following Gina around but refusing to answer any of her questions.  She was like some creepy little exorcist child and I don’t say that to be cruel but only to describe how utterly odd the entire scene was.  Gina walking to the back of the van, creepy little child following her.  Gina walking to the tent, creepy little child following her.  Gina walking to the kitchen block, creepy little child following her.  I was starting to wonder if we’d need to go to the store to get some garlic and silver bullets.  The only time the creepy little child wasn’t standing in our camp staring was while she was busy launching and re-launching the stroller like a rocket down the gravel hill by our tent with her helpless toddler brother onboard for the ride, a maniacal little laugh coming from her heretofore silent mouth while we looked on dumbfounded.  It was all quite weird.  But other than that, we like it here.

Evening Follow-Up:  Our favorite Child of the Corn reappeared at supper-time, standing in the doorway of the kitchen block staring intently at Gina and Gina only.  She then followed Gina and our burritos to our picnic table and took a seat across from us as though we had invited her to dinner.  Only we hadn’t.  Again, I know this sounds strange for two grown adults to be creeped out and fearful of a 7 year old girl, but seriously, something was not quite right.  Ultimately, after we finally couldn’t take it anymore and I asked if she was going to stare at us all through dinner, she left of her own accord.  That was the perfect time to forget about her and I had until much later in the evening, well after dark, when we were tucked in the tent, at which point Gina decided it would be good to discuss what we would do if we woke up and she was standing outside, staring in at us through the window.  Clearly Gina forgot that scary ghost stories are only allowed to be told around a campfire.

Day 18:  Fairlie to Aoraki Mt. Cook

18 December 2010
153 km Driving / 9 km Hiking

Early start to our day today, drying out the tent from yesterday’s rain and getting on the road before all the buses.  We were headed to Aoraki Mt. Cook.  A mountain we’d seen from a distance on our short-lived bike tour and one we hoped to get closer to today.  On our way out of the Holiday Park we said our goodbyes to all of our friends from the kitchen and wished them all safe travels, particularly those still intent on cycling the island.  Hopefully with an early start on their part they would miss some of the traffic as well.

It was only a two hour drive from Fairlie to Aoraki Mt. Cook.  Google Maps said we could do it in 1:15 but it must have been programmed by a Kiwi.  Here I am practicing my driving:

(Note the perfect “10 and 2” position.)

After a quick stop at the Visitor Center in the tiny village of Aoraki Mt. Cook, we made a beeline 2 km farther down the road to camp at the “DOC” or Department of Conservation campground.  There are DOCs scattered throughout the South Island in reportedly quite beautiful locations and we had decided it was time to try one.  Well, truthfully, if there’d been a Holiday Park in Aoraki Mt. Cook we would more likely than not have opted to camp there instead.  We’ve grown quite attached to their kitchen blocks.  Here’s the one we spent most of yesterday hanging out in:

For us, camping at a DOC is roughing it.  No electric stove (or any electricity for that matter), no refrigerator, and in the case of this particular DOC, no shower.  No hot shower, that is.  Cold ones are available for free, but some things are worth spending money on.  There is, however, a nice enclosed but well-ventilated shelter with fresh water, stainless steel counters upon which your camping stove can sit and be lit, and new picnic tables and benches.  All of this with a splendid view of the surrounding glaciers and mountains.  Not bad for $6.10 per person.

Tent pitched (and later reinforced with stones on every peg and line in defence against the swirling winds that are noticeably picking up speed), we headed up the Hooker Valley trail, a lovely 9 km return hike with bouncy suspension bridges and blue-sky views of Mt. Cook.






Along the way back Gina decided to fall into a hole.  It wasn’t a conscious decision, more of a misstep as she was distracted by the view.  We pulled her out and she was fine but decided to blame this minor accident on her backpack – her “too big” backpack.  This backpack is a 70 liter pack.  Most women carry a 60 to 70 liter pack.  Gina, being tall and spindly, can certainly handle a 70 liter pack.  However, I have a 60 liter pack.  A 60 liter pack that has become Gina’s envy.  Nevermind that I am smaller than her and so it would make sense for me to have a proportionately smaller pack.  Nope.  Gina, like Goldilocks, is convinced that her pack is too big and mine is just right.  You can only guess what happened after the hole incident.  Yep, I’m now the keeper of the 70 liter pack and Goldilocks is soundly sleeping with her smaller bag.