We’re back! Our final post…

We left our resort at midday on 2^nd February, and boarded a local bus, a Chinese made bus with three seats in one row and two in another so it was a very tight squeeze; especially seeing how Fijians can be quite large. I was sat next to a 20 stone man and his only slighter slimmer wife meaning I was left less than half a seat and Nicola fared little better in the row behind me. It was a horribly long two and a half hour drive to the airport and we were both relieved to get off the bus and stretch our legs, not to mention being able to breath out again!

We had a bit of a drama at the airport, we tried to check in to our flight but we were told that we could not board as we didn’t have a VISA for the US. STA Travel booked the flights for us and as we were only in LA for a few hours whilst waiting for our connecting flight we didn’t realise, and were not informed by STA, that we would need a VISA. 30 minutes later, after a quick rush to log on to the airport WIFI and apply for a VISA on the ESTA website, we were allowed to board. We did panic a little, well more than a little, as we were down to our last $50 USD and would not have had enough money to book another night in Fiji and buy two more flights back to the UK.

Our flight to LA went okay, the plane (Air Pacific) was unchanged from the 1980’s and the entertainment was pretty awful but other than that it was okay, well about as okay as a ten hour flight can be. We left Fiji at 22:00 on 2 February but due to the time difference between Fiji and LA (LA is 20 hours behind) we landed at LAX at around 11:00 on 2 February – crazy. We landed in LA and were surprised by how long the immigration process was, and were more surprised that we had to collect our bags and re-check in for our connecting flight. 

LAX was surprisingly poor, very few shops and a lot of construction going on; not much by comparison to Heathrow. After a nine hour wait we boarded our flight back to the UK.

After a comfortable flight with Virgin Atlantic (where I stayed up and watched three films and a documentary – Nicola had a short nap but otherwise stayed awake for the duration) we landed at Heathrow at 15:55 on 3 February, and with our landing, spelled the end of our travels. We were greeted at Heathrow by two welcome faces, Nicola’s dad and brother.

After five months, three continents and a whole number of time zones, our travels were over. We’ve had a wonderful time, seen some amazing sights and had the experience of a lifetime. Our itchy feet have been soothed for now, and for the foreseeable future at least our fate lies in the UK. The grass is not always greener, especially so if you come from Wales. So we sign off from our blog, there’ll be no more posts from us but we thank everyone who has read our blog and followed our adventures; we never thought that we’d have over 5000 views when we started writing this blog! Back to normality, back to job hunting and back to coats and trousers…but we wouldn’t have it any other way!

Bula (hello/welcome) to Feejee

After a short three hour flight from Auckland, during which the on board entertainment started to work as we landed, we were met by the taxi driver who would take us to our resort – the Wellesley Resort. We were told that the resort offered a subsidised transfer from the airport, but at $150 Fijian Dollars, or £50 on a good conversion rate but closer to £75 on the conversion rate we received, the transfer did not feel very subsidised; unless subsidised now means the resort paying the driver up front and you paying them back in full. We had missed the final bus to the resort (which was allegedly at 17:30) which would have cost us the princely sum of $20 FJD, an as such arrived at the resort after a two hour drive feeling quite taken advantage of. Nevertheless, the room we were staying in – really a self-contained bungalow – was lovely. As the hour was now quite late we went to bed early and didn’t do much the first night. 

The next day we arose and had the complimentary breakfast, although we thought (erroneously) that we were only entitled to one item from the breakfast menu and as such I had pancakes and Nicola two pieces of toast as opposed to the food binge from a buffet I had been expecting. We thought it would tie us over until tea time as the taxi had reduced our finances from $500 FJD to $350 FJD and there were no ATM’s near; the closest being at Pacific Harbour which the resort “kindly” offered to arrange a taxi to for the sum of $90 FJD. 

We chilled out in the pool, which was nice, and then took a walk to the beach which was stunning; a scene straight out of a Bounty commercial. We put our feet up and relaxed, it was after all, the last leg of our five month holiday. We went for dinner the first night but discovered that the prices were as over-priced as the transport costs we’d experienced thus far. We were paying prices that you would pay in the UK for a meal, and let’s be honest, Fiji is a developing country not a developed one; you wouldn’t expect to pay £15 for a pasta in Thailand would you? We went for an entrée each, neither of us were particularly hungry as we had a snack of crisps and biscuits during the day, before retiring to our room for the evening. Sky TV was included in the room so we watched a film before going to bed.

The next day we discovered that you could order as much from the breakfast menu as you liked, so naturally I ordered everything bar the fruit platter (I’m on holiday, no need to be healthy). Full of food, coffee and orange juice we took a dip in the pool and enjoyed the sunshine. A Danish couple invited us to come see a coconut demonstration and we accepted. The resort handyman, Sabil, had gathered four coconuts and chopped them up for us with his machete so we could have a drink from the coconut milk; we learned that the fresh green coconuts are full of juice and weigh a tonne, unlike the dried brown ones you can win at a coconut shy at the fayre.

In the afternoon we decided to visit the local village for fish and chips (which cost £5, still a lot given the surroundings and the fact the lady cooked them in her kitchen) where an Australian man went on at us about how his company had paid for this and that in the village and how he had taught them to make money – which from what we saw involved teaching them how to rip off tourists. We were quoted over £3 for a bag of crisps, $50 FJD each to ride wild horses, and $40 FJD for an hour massage in a shack that had two walls and a bench too narrow to lie on. We were told by another couple that they were quoted $5 FJD for a coconut despite coconuts literally falling off the trees all around you and lining the beaches. We felt that we were being treated like nothing more than cash cows by the local people (and not for the first time in the last five months either) who thought we were too stupid to realise we were being ripped off; we did realise which is why we didn’t give them the satisfaction of our business (aside from the fish and chips).

The next few days followed very similarly to the first three; eating everything on the breakfast menu, avoiding paying a king’s ransom for food (which was greatly helped by us walking ten minutes to the resort next door and eating from their reasonably priced lunch menu), and chilling out in the pool or sea collecting shells. Aside from a few thunderstorms the weather was sunny, but we were eaten alive by insects – especially Nicola – and we were quite relieved when our final day came as by this point we were more than ready to head home.

Fiji was alright, we wouldn’t go back though as it was over-priced, remote and the locals seemed to want to rip us off. But saying that, we did stay on a resort so maybe that was the reason for our complaints, rather than the complaints being to do with Fiji as a whole. Who would have thought that we would find the best prices for food and souvenirs in the airport than outside? We were glad to leave Fiji and preferred Thailand, so if you are thinking of an exotic, tropical beach holiday we would recommend Thailand over Fiji.

Our final trek in New Zealand

After our day kayaking in Abel Tasman we were pretty tired with aching shoulders and creaking joints, however, no rest for the wicked and the following morning we woke up to catch an early morning bus to Wellington from Nelson. The bus ride was nice, lovely countryside and a commentary from our driver, and we arrived in Picton by 11:00 prior to catching the interislander ferry to Wellington.

The ferry ride went smoothly, the weather was a lot nicer than our first crossing from Wellington to Picton, so we were able to stand outside and admire the views afforded to us from the ferry. After arriving in Wellington we realised we had two hours to spare so we had a cheeky Maccers and decided to have a little walk around Wellington city centre where we bumped into a friend of ours from our Thailand tour – literally the only Kiwi we knew before arriving in New Zealand – small world, eh?

We boarded a bus at Wellington station, an eleven hour overnighter to Auckland, and tried to get comfy. The bus driver was unusually cantankerous and we figured his attitude must be why he is on the night shifts and not the day shifts where the drivers are friendly and provide a commentary. We were lucky that Nicola is organised and booked our seats on this bus when we were still in Sydney because we actually booked the last two seats – we would have been stuck if she hadn’t been so organised, or if she had listened to me and not bothered until we arrived in New Zealand.

The journey was long at first but we soon nodded off and before we knew it we had arrived in Auckland tired, sleep deprived and looking forward to heading to Fiji; our final destination before flying back to the UK. We killed some time in Auckland, actually in the first hostel we stayed in, and bought a few souvenirs before heading to the airport to wait for our flight. We are going to miss New Zealand, the friendly people, the beautiful scenery, and the fact that Kiwis have actually heard of Wales. It won’t be the last time we visit its shores, but it may be the last time for a few years at least. We would heartily recommend New Zealand to anyone, and we would say don’t be put off by the long flight as the sights you’ll see will make up for it ten times over. I say all that from free will and not under the influence of the tourist board of New Zealand either, in case anyone thought it was a little too positive!

Sea Kayaking in Abel Tasman National Park

One of the things Nicola most wanted to do in New Zealand was to go kayaking, and what better place (and actually the last possible chance so quite convenient!) than Abel Tasman National Park a mere hour ride from Nelson. We organised to go kayaking via our hostel (Paradiso Accommodation – not bad but considerably better than the Guest House Paradiso from the “Bottom” film starring Rik Mayal) and were picked up at a very early (for us on holiday anyway) 07:00. We drove across to Abel Tasman, picking up two miserable and awkward European travellers who thought they could kayak with their massive rucksacks in tow – idiots – and had a safety talk on arrival.

After getting into the sea and into our two-man kayak, Nicola and I paddled off towards Coquille Bay across the beautiful blue waters. It was great fun but a little tiring on the arms and we stopped for a break on an unnamed little bay (well, we were not aware of the name as none appeared on the map) – now called Bay of Nicola – for a relax after spending 45 minutes paddling across Apple Tree Bay and onto Stilwell Bay.

After a little break where we had some food we paddled across to Adele Island where we didn’t see Adele but we did see fur seals up close. The paddle across took around 30 minutes and we had to watch out for speed boats in the channel but it was a pretty straight forward passage. After checking out the seal population we paddled back and by this time we were really starting to tire. We would have been on the kayak for around three hours at this point. We stopped at Apple Tree Bay and had our lunch before starting our paddle back to where we began – which was around an hour and a half from where we were.

On the way back we realised that the tide had gone out some way so we had to land on shore and drag our kayak some way before it was picked up by the kayak company’s tractor. We walked back to the HQ and as we couldn’t get a lift back for another hour and a half we stopped for a drink at a café before returning and getting a lift back to Nelson. We were knackered on our return and decided to have an early night – which was not helped by the party going on in the hostel. Nevertheless, we were glad it was our final day in a hostel and hopefully we’ll never have to stay at another hostel again. In all, the day was wonderful, loads of fun and the perfect way to send off from New Zealand.

Dead Possums and Pancake Rocks

We had a nice early start from Franz Josef and a long day of travel ahead of us – almost ten hours on the road! Although, as mentioned before, the bus rides were not so bad as the drivers tended to treat it as more of a tour than a bus ride so we had plenty of commentary on our way towards Nelson where we’d be spending our penultimate night in New Zealand.

We drove North through the Glacier National Park and after an hour and a half or so we stopped at a place called “Bushman’s Café”, an interesting place that had a ten foot model of a fly on its front wall. This was one of our lunch stops so Nic and I had some lunch before walking into the café (we made sandwiches for the journey). Inside everything was a bit…creepy, and…stuffed. Almost everything was made out of something that had once lived (and I don’t include trees in that by the way). The chairs were made of antlers and on top were cushions of fur. Almost all of the souvenirs were possum related i.e. possum fur hat, possum fur gloves, dead stuffed possum and so on. The bushman who owned the café seemed to have reluctantly entered the business world as all his signs were written by a bitter hand towards tourists and, well, everyone who didn’t kill possums. In New Zealand they have a problem with possums, and you can get a job as a possum hunter if you are so inclined. Although, from the evidence of the Bushman’s Café I’d say such a profession would have a markedly negative impact on your sanity. There was a museum at the back of the café which I can only assume was a macabre sideshow filled with a multitude of skeletons and badly stuffed animals, quite the setting for a low budget horror movie which neither Nicola nor I wanted to be part of. 


After leaving the Bushman’s Café behind us we continued on our journey until a few hours later we reached a place called Punakaiki; home to the Pancake Rocks. We had considered staying in Punakaiki when we were planning our journey around New Zealand but we were glad we didn’t. Don’t get me wrong, the pancake rocks were quite a sight but we managed to see it all within the 20 minute break we had on the bus. With the precious little time we had in New Zealand I think Nicola and I would have been disappointed had we stopped for the night. The path to the pancake rocks takes you through what looks like some sort of corn fields (although they’re not actually corn it just looks like that sort of flora). As you head towards the sea you get an image of a series of rocks, flattened at the heads and seamed with a number of eroded lines throughout. They were pretty interesting looking, and the area was nice and certainly a nice stop off on our bus journey, but not worth staying a night unless you were in New Zealand for a few weeks and had some time to kill.

After getting back on the coach we travelled on to Nelson, a large port town, where we would spend our final nights in a hostel (which we were relieved at the thought of) before heading on to Wellington and finally Auckland (which would be another mammoth day of travel ahead of us).

Glow Worm Cave

We woke up on our final day in Franz Josef wondering what to do, initially we fancied walking to the lakes but decided not to after discovering how far away they were. We thought they were nearby but it turned out that the map we were given was correct in saying “not to scale” although perhaps it should have said “woefully out of scale” as the lakes were 10km away and not just down the road as they appeared on the map. As we were talking to the girl in reception she suggested going to Tatare Cave, the walk to the entrance of the walkway was a ten minute walk from the hostel, as there were glow worms in the cave. We thought why not? Nothing else to be done that day after our lake plan went up in smoke.

After packing some sandwiches we left the hostel and walked down the road passed a pub called the Alice May and turned up a lane past a few houses and onto the walking path to Tatare Caves. We had a shaded walk underneath a canopy of trees and up a reasonably steep path to the cave entrance. We had brought a torch as we were told it would be dark – the receptionist did say we could just feel our way down through the darkness with our hands on the walls but that sounded like a terrible idea. 

A small stream ranging from an inch deep to over ankle deep ran the entire way through the path of the cave, which was quite narrow; I did not need to duck but if I jumped I would have cracked my skull open (especially if I had been feeling my way through the darkness with my hands along the wall) and I could place my hands on both walls when standing in the centre of the path. We walked for around 200 metres, passing some Department of Conservation workers who had been doing something in the caves, but saw no sign of the glow worms. We stopped after a while as our feet were soaking and starting to get cold, it was only after stopping that Nicola noticed the glow worms around us. They were tiny, like little stars on a wide night sky. There were quite a few of them though, and as we walked back through the cave we stopped at regular intervals to see more of them. We had not seen glow worms before so we thought they were quite cool, but I must admit I thought they would be the size of earth worms just glowing so I was a little disappointed that they were tiny fellas. After leaving the cave we squelched our way back to the hostel to dry off and enjoy the rest of our final day in Franz Josef in the sunshine. 

  

 

Franz Josef…not to be confused with Franz Ferdinand

We rose early once again, packed our bags and checked out of another hostel and boarded yet another bus to get us to our next destination. This time we were headed north (as opposed to east when we went to Milford Sound) towards Franz Josef in the Glacier National Park. The bus ride commenced at 08:00 and we arrived at around 16:30, so another long day on the road but we had regular stops for photos (including Thunder Creek Falls, and a Salmon Farm) along the way and the bus was pretty comfortable (InterCity bus lines are the firm, they are really good). As is custom with InterCity, the driver gave us a bit of a commentary of the areas we were driving through which made the drive more interesting and pleasant.

We checked into our hostel and had a quiet evening as we planned to have a walk to Franz Josef Glacier in the morning. Franz Josef was originally called Victoria Glacier (after Queen Victoria) but for some unexplained reason someone let it be renamed after Franz Josef, the then Austro-Hungarian Emperor. Franz Josef town sits around 10km from Franz Josef Glacier terminal (foot of the glacier so to speak) and is a quiet little place with a few hostels, cafes and bars. On our way here we drove past Fox Glacier (presumably where they grow and harvest Fox Glacier Mints…), which used to be called Albert Glacier after Prince Albert (Queen Victoria’s husband? Son? I can’t remember) but was renamed after the first Premier of New Zealand, which back to the point is a similar little town nestled beneath Fox Glacier in the valley on the other side of Franz Josef. They offer helicopter rides on to the glaciers but they cost a fortune so we passed up the option.

The following day we booked a shuttle to the glacier car park (only 5k from the town but we didn’t want to unnecessarily add 10km to our walk) and headed towards the Franz Josef Glacier. Our driver stopped us partway and pointed out where the glacier currently is, and where it used to be. She said last year it receded half a km back and shrunk down 70 metres, quite some distance. In the last 250 years the glacier has receded 10km. Surely visiting these glaciers, and witnessing first hand their rapid melting, should be enough to turn the minds of any remaining climate change sceptics. In twenty years the Franz Josef Glacier will be no more (at the current rate of melting), a very sad thought for a Glacier that (looking at it even now, and more so from pictures from the 1870s) was once so large, rugged and beautiful. Even from last year the glacier has visibly reduced in size (we were told) and it’s hard to imagine that if we were here one year ago it would have been even more impressive.

The walk to the glacier – or as far as you are allowed to go, for they can be dangerous things what with falling rocks and slippery, sliding ice and that – took us around an hour. It was a flat, pleasant walk across shallow streams and shingle rock. The views were lovely and we took plenty of pictures.

      

We walked back and as we had around two hours until our pick up we walked along another path past Peter’s Pool – named after the brave, intrepid (nine year old) explorer who apparently named it after himself after camping the night there on his own in 1890 – which serves to reflect the image of the Glacier upon its surface, however, due to the receding glacier less is reflected upon the pool these days. After Peter’s Pool we walked on Douglas Path (not sure who that’s named after, Dudley Moore maybe?) which was hilly and largely just a forest path with no real standout features. We walked back across a cycle track which was nice and flat (we didn’t want to tackle the Douglas Path hills again) and waited in the car park for our shuttle whilst admiring the view of Franz Josef in the background.

Milford (Haven) Sound

We woke nice and early for our trip to Milford Sound which was due to depart at 07:10, after an eventful night in our dorm. An English guy came back roaring drunk, aggressive and was shouting and swearing during the night; he was punching and kicking his bed shouting at his female friend “don’t tell me to hush I’ll kick your f***ing head in” – shameful behaviour, especially considering it was partly directed towards a woman whilst the rest was incoherent gibberish. We left a note at reception (it was not yet open) asking to be moved rooms as we did not feel comfortable staying in a room with such a disgraceful human being. Unpleasantness aside, we boarded a coach with a glass roof and ample leg room for our 300km drive to Milford Sound. We did not really appreciate the length of the day ahead of us until we double checked our itinerary the night before the trip, but as our bus driver told us “it’s not all about the destination with this trip, it’s about the journey”; and he was right.

We drove along a (long and) winding road that ran beside a huge lake (the longest in New Zealand), up through mountainous passes, and down through rolling hills; a beautiful drive. We stopped after two hours at Te Anau (say tea-an-ee-ow), a lovely little town upon a lake, before continuing our drive on to Milford Sound. By the time we reached Te Anau we had driven approximately 120km so we were slowly making ground.

Two more hours passed, we had a lunch break, and we were entering the Fjordland National Park; a National Park boasting fourteen fjords and numerous mountains and waterfalls – a UNESCO World Heritage site and it was easy to see why. We stopped for numerous photo breaks and in total the drive there was wonderful, and we saw so many sights including these mischievous Mountain Keas – mountain parrots – who loved having their pictures taken and generally being centre of attention. We passed through the Homer Tunnel and the surrounding area, which is always in danger of landslides and avalanches and we made it to Milford at just gone 13:00. Despite the drive being six hours or so it passed by surprisingly quickly.

When we arrived at Milford Sound we boarded a catamaran called Pride of Milford and spent the next hour and a half on a cruise through the Milford Sound. We learned the difference between a Sound and a Fjord; a Sound is a flooded river valley and a Fjord is a flooded glacier valley (something like that anyway). The cruise was lovely, the mountains carved by the movements of glaciers (it should be called Milford Fjord apparently) towered over us and made for impressive sights and we also saw two colonies of fur seals along the way. Milford Sound was actually discovered by a Welshman named John Gronow who was seal hunting and happened to come across the inlet – there are two outcrops that run at 90 degree angles to each other which has the effect of making it look like a continuous wall of rock from the Tasman Sea, which old Gronow discovered otherwise. He named the place Milford Haven at first, but this was later changed to Milford Sound in keeping with the other thirteen sounds that were in the area (one being the Doubtful Sound, an uninspiring name if ever I heard one). We took some great pictures of the waterfalls and I narrowly avoided being soaked as the boat sailed underneath one – Nicola said I scampered away. The winds were strong and as we reached the entrance to the Tasman Sea the swells became quite large, rocking the boat back and forth making it difficult to drink our complimentary tea and coffee. Throughout the cruise (and from when we entered the Fjordland National Park) the rain had been lashing down – the highest recorded rainfall in one day was over 500ml! We didn’t mind the rain though as it improved the waterfalls and added a little something to the overall atmosphere on board. The trip was one of our favourites (each new one seems to be better than the last) and we loved the day despite it being long. We would heartily recommend it to anyone if they are to be in the area.

The journey back was less eventful, less picture stops and more driving, and we were back by 19:20. There was a note waiting for us at reception – we couldn’t be moved rooms as the hostel was fully booked. We were in our room and we saw a lad lying in the bunk where all the shouting and swearing had come from during the early hours, Nicola popped to the toilet and I thought I’d have a word with him and make him apologise to Nicola for how he acted…just as I started with “Excuse me, I want to have a word with you about your behaviour last night –“ he interrupted with “I only arrived today”, and true, we checked with reception; and his accent was also different – the boorish drunk had gone, we think he was a friend of someone and not a guest as reception said the only guy there last night was Felix and the drunken oaf was referred to as “Joe”. I made an apology to the guy, it was kind of awkward, but he was nice enough and understanding after I explained the circumstances, and Nicola and I at least felt more at ease in our room and prepared to have a final comfortable night in our most comfortable to date dorm room. We had another early (ish) start in the morning so we needed a good night’s sleep.