Mt. Cook and Rotorura

Writing this in Auckland with about an hour or so to go before the bus leaves for the airport and home. Wow. What a trip this has been. Left Queenstown for the drive north to Mt. Cook. The terrain along the way was merely beautiful, so I'll save the superlatives for Mt. Cook. Since Mom had the catbird seat (#1 row) in the bus, I joined her to be able to look out the windsheild. We spotted Mt. Cook from about thirty-five miles away, and it was an impressive sight. Took some photos through the windsheild, which I'll probably delete when I see them. Some more from a turnout about 25 miles away, but the best were at the Hermitage hotel which is about five miles from the mountain. I have to say, on a clear day like we had (only 3 days in 10, according to Scotty, this is something to see. The distances here are immense, as we drove up a huge glacial plain with steep mountains on either side, but many miles away. Cook was snow capped and looked like someone stuck a giant picture up there. I pity those who make this trip and end up with an overcast or misty day when the mountain is shrouded. We took a 2 mile (each way) stroll to a lookout point. Poor Loni was suffering from excruciating back pain, which we think is caused by the cold she has lodging in her muscles. She can't lift her arm above her waist, so I'm the beast of burden. She's gutting it out with mega ibuprofen, which isn't helping much. Once back from the viewpoint it was time to re-hydrate with another local brew. Very nice sitting on the deck of the lodge gazing at the mountain with ale at hand. Another buffet for dinner, but absolutely grand. Finally got my rack of lamb, cooked perfectly, along with salmon, etc. Fabulous desserts. Major diet when we get back. Nothing to do after the sun goes down, so plopped down in the room and watched (endured) "The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen." Good God, does Sean Connery need money that badly? Up at 5:00 am for an 0-dark hundred departure. At least everyone got another chance at 40 winks as we motored off to Christchurch to fly to the North Island. Once the light comes up, we were crossing the Canterbury Plains, which are wholly unremarkable. More dozing. One hour flight to Rotorura. We were warned it often is better named Roto-Rooter, as this is the home of the steam vents, geysers, sulphur pots, and not-so-ancient volcanoes. Turned out not to be bad at all, just an occasional hint of putrid odors. Did a quick bus tour around town and stopped at Rainbow Springs. This is a tourist trap, and the only one on the trip that everyone agreed they could delete from the itinerary. Who needs to see scads of Californian rainbow trout, no matter how big they are, nor the comatose kiwi bird, which wasn't at all fooled by the dark enclosure to make it think it was night (nocturnal beastie). Looked like a ball of feathers back in the gloom of its enclosure. Checked into the Rydges hotel, which had a nice gym, so I got my first (and only) workout of the trip. Oye. Going to need many more. That night we had dinner in the hotel showroom for an alleged traditional Maori hang-feast. Everything was supposed to be steam-cooked in the ground, but I didn't see any earth in the place, and what we had was your basic overcooked British-style meats. This was the worst of the included meals, again by unanimous acclaim, not just your finicky reporter. The show was ok, but I don't think the ancient Maori had guitars. At times, it resembled a Don Ho show, but the warrior posturing was kinda neat. They grimace and stick their tongues out to intimidate the enemy into not fighting. I kept trying to get a photo of this, but the #*$%)$*!@ 1-second delay on the camera while it's focusing caused me to "miss the moment" more than once. I think I'll go back to my 35-year-old SLR and film. After dinner, Dave passed out the group photo that we had taken in Sydney with the bridge and opera house as a backdrop. Also had a name-face guide so we can remember who everyone was. Tuesday morning it's off to see the geysers and mudpots. They also had a darkened kiwi enclosure, this time housing the stupid ones that thought it was night. Still, its hard to make anything out even when they're moving about. The steam was not so bad-smelling, and the geysers were not on schedule, so we took a few photos while trying to keep sulphur mist off the lens. Next stop was the Maori cultural center, and that was pretty interesting. They have apprentice carvers working away in a big room surrounded by a walkway that we tourists can stroll along to watch them chisel. Pretty intricate designs coming out of those logs. Saw the traditional houses, a demonstration of stripping some plant leaf to make twine and ropes (very neat). The weapons display was interesting and sobering. When the tongue routine failed, they ended up in hand-to-hand combat with short-handled axe-type weapons, with predictably awful results. They never had a weapon that was thrown or launched. Until Whitey arrived, anyway. Free time in the afternoon, so we roamed town looking for a place to eat, and ended up in a Robert Harris cafe. We thought it was local, but there's another here in Auckland, so I guess it's a chain. But great panini sandwiches and . . . homemade scones with raspberry jam and whipped cream. Oh yeah. Decadence personified. Walked to the local museum which is in a fantastic Victorian building that was a failed attempt at a world-class health spa. The terrible corrosion of the local waters was too much to keep up with. The surrounding grounds had lawn-bowling greens, so we watched for a while. One of the players came over to explain what was going on. We almost understood 3 words in 10 of his Scottish brogue. The balls aren't round, but slightly flattened and off-center weighted so they can throw them in huge arcs to try to go around the opponent's balls and get closest to the target ball. It's like watching paint dry, but some of the shots were amazing to watch unfold. Dinner that night at Hennesey's Irish Bar, with enormous plates of bangers and mash and Irish stew, with of course another local brew, topped off by a short Guiness. I appear to be drinking my way through NZ, but there's worse ways to go. Early crash that night, which was short-circuited for me. Poor Loni's cold has clogged her sinuses and she put on a virtuoso snoring performance. Had to retreat to the bathroom and set up bed on the floor, with predictable poor results. Zombie-time the next day. A three hour drive to Auckland, which is the only homely place we've been to on this trip. It's ... just ... a ... city. However, this is where our group splits up, with one half going on to Fiji, and the rest of us spending a bonus night and day in Auckland due to unavailability of plane space. Instead of putting us up in some dump, Collette put us in the best hotel of the whole trip, a place called the Duxton. The suite had not only a microwave, but a counterop stove, and a washer-dryer, all set into some very modern cabinetry. Very cool. For dinner we lucked into finding an Italian place that I'd like to transport back home. After several courses and a bottle of great Shiraz, I felt no pain and slept through the night. Running out of time now on this machine, so will bid adieu and run for it. Gotta get up the hill and make the bus. Adios!