Grand Tour South XV

We extended our break and had three days relaxing at Hahei, it was good not having to drive anywhere and also not having to end our holiday so soon but we couldn’t put it off forever. The forecast was for rain but we set off with the roof down and had a good run over the ranges and across the Hauraki Plains, climbing up the Bombay hills we could see rain ahead so we took the Ramarama off ramp and put the roof up just as it started to pour. We stopped at the kennels and once again had to make room for the dog. It was a tight squeeze but with the roof up there was a fraction more space behind the seats. Back on the motorway it was a slow but steady trip back to the big smoke. Rear visibility was even less with a muzzle and big pink tongue in the rear view mirror. Leaving the motorway we threaded our way through the suburbs to home, unloaded the car and backed the car down the drive. The trip meter was reading 3,224 miles after 24 days away. It had been a tiring trip at times but we had seen a huge amount of the country, the car had mostly behaved well and proved comfortable with no sore backs or bums. It was a great place to view the country from. With the top down you had the full panorama of mountains and sky, and experienced the sounds and smells (some good, some bad) of the countryside. If you have any Alfa, especially a Spider you owe it and yourself the experience of the South Island roads. It was an unforgettable experience and made us keen to see more. Maybe not in the Spider next time and also we would probably take the time to explore a small section more thoroughly rather than race past to the next destination.Anyway there's a baby on the way so summer holidays will never be the same.

Grand Tour South XIV

After being on holiday for almost three weeks it was a shock to the system to be woken up at 6.20 in time to check in for the ferry back to Wellington. We were in plenty of time and were soon aboard the Santa Regina bagging the best seats and a fresh cup of coffee as we settled in for the trip across the Strait. It was miserable on deck, a cold wind and frequent showers drove everyone inside. Cook strait was calm and we docked on time just after 11am.
We drove off the boat into the rain. We were following a large truck in front of us that turned off down the wharf and left us trying to work out where we should be going. There was a long queue behind us so any mistake could be potentially embarrassing as I headed along what looked like the wrong way down a one way street with a fork hoist in front of us. Fortunately it was the right way as we shortly turned onto Aotea Quay and onto the motorway north. It was a nightmare on the motorway, rain, mist and cars sweeping past throwing up more spray. With no wing mirrors and a rain covered bit of plastic surrounded by two huge canvas blind spots it was hard to see any traffic approaching from behind. Ahead wasn’t much better, blurred tail lights disappeared into the gloom about 50 metres beyond. Brake lights flashed ahead so I touched the middle pedal and the car lurched sideways before straightening up as the wet discs dried out. A huge truck was monstering me from behind but I wasn’t game to go much above 80K in these conditions. We left the motorway as the rain eased and the mist pulled up into the hills making driving conditions easier. The heater, having paid good service keeping the windscreen mist free, became a problem again as the temperature rose. The clouds still looked threatening but at Sanson we stopped for lunch and lowered the roof. Things improved and it turned into a lovely but slightly cool afternoon as we fuelled up at Waiouru and took to the Desert Road. There was a heavy black cloud up ahead as we descended towards Rangipo but the shower passed ahead of us soaking the road but leaving us dry. We made good time to Taupo and late afternoon found us turning off Highway 27 just past Matamata heading towards Te Aroha, Paeroa and then taking the steep and twisting road over the Coramandel ranges. I was getting tired as we left Tairua for the last few kilometres when some big American 4WD with huge wheels and chrome teeth tried to monster me through the windy bits. I wasn’t in the mood for that and planted my foot, using the nimble handling and all 108 horsepower, we left him scrabbling and squeaking through the corners. A loud wooshing noise from the engine on the short straight bits saw him catch up some of the distance but he was dropping behind until a noise from the passenger seat made me back off. The 4WD raced up, sitting on my bumper, filling my mirror and snarling at us so at the first opportunity I let him on his way. With the twilight turning to dusk, we finally arrivied at Hahei around 8.45, turning into the drive and switching off the engine. Silence.

Grand Tour South XIII

After our 3 nights it was time to see how all our new purchases could fit in with all our other luggage. It was raining so with the roof up there was a fraction more space for everything, it remained to be seen if we could do the same with the roof down. It rained on and off all the way to Blenheim where we called in on friends Mike and Eveline. After admiring the collection of Alfas in Mike’s garage he fired up his 2600 Spider and he and son Tim lead us to the Omaka Avation Heritage Centre which houses a fascinating display of WW1 aircraft, memorabilia and information. Many of the planes are working replicas built to painstaking authenticity set in scenes depicting actual events, making the experience much more involving.
The rain on the hanger roof was a reminder that things had not improved much outside and so we left Omaka with the roof up and the familiar drip on the right foot. Lunch stop was at the Marlborough River Queen, a ferry done up like a paddle steamer but powered by two well-hidden outboards. The ferry wasn’t sailing but was offering large lunch platters of local meats and cheeses on board. We were the only ones to brave the rain so we watched the ducks paddle past and the trout scooting across the shallows from the comfort of the saloon. Our hosts joined us and told us of their hopes that the business would take off soon but things had not gone as smoothly as they had hoped since they had bought the business 9 months earlier. Wishing them all the best with their venture we headed off to Picton only to come across a car accident that had happened moments earlier. Fortunately no one was hurt but one car was blocking both north and south bound lanes with a bent suspension arm jamming the front wheel making it impossible to shift by the limited manpower present. A grader that we had overtaken shortly before arrived and hooked the car onto the back and dragged it to the shoulder allowing the traffic to pass. We eventually got to Picton and booked back in to our motel. We were looking forward to having a lazy afternoon exploring Picton and the surrounding area but the weather precluded that so we hit the streets for some window shopping - not that we could fit anything more in the car - and a last chance for a meal of blue cod (not Terakihi).

Grand Tour South XII

There was already plenty of heat in the day when we awoke and packed the tent. Destination for the morning was Puponga where we took the Coastal Panorama 4WD tour to Cape Farewell and views of Farewell Spit. It was sunny but the wind was a strong southerly at around 40 knots, whipping up a huge sandstorm on the sand spit below. It was an awe inspiring panorama, the deep blue white crested swells marching up the coast, the white sand spit stretching into the distance towards the hazy blue hills across Golden Bay, further round there was Puponga below us with the green farmland leading into the Kahurangi National Park and completing the 360 degree view, the white cliffs of Cape Farewell plunging to the Tasman Sea.
Back at the car park the wind had whipped up a storm and coated the car in a fine grey dust. We brushed the worst off the hood and folded it down for the trip to Nelson. We stopped at the Pupu Springs the crystal clear water was tempting for a paddle but that’s no longer allowed. Out of the bush and back at the car, the heat was intense, the shade of the trees on the Takaka Hill kept things cool but past Motueka, the sun beat down and the holiday traffic crawling along stopped us getting good airflow to keep the heat at bay. Panting, we eventually pulled up outside Shortbread Cottage and sought out the shelter of our room. Cooled and rested we walked into town for lovely dinner but the heat of the day had taken its toll so we retired early. Just dropping off to sleep we were woken by voices outside, and someone trying to break in. It transpired that our room had been double booked and the other party had been told that key would be in the door. The manager sorted things out and was most apologetic to us in the morning.
We had 3 days in Nelson so we explored the city and the nearby attractions. A trip to Mapua saw us trying to work out how much artwork we could manage to squeeze in for the trip home and the Hoglund glass blowing studio saw me trying to fit another small package in the cavity between the inner frame and the outer skin of the bodywork. The poor car was going to be packed even tighter for our trip home.

Grand Tour South XI

After a belly bursting Blackball breakfast we Spidered back down the main street and turned right towards Greymouth as the benzina gauge was flashing red and we didn’t know where the next fuel stop might be. Fed, fuelled and fleeced up against an early morning chill breeze we set off for Punakaiki and a chance to see the famous pancake rocks and blowholes. The sea wasn’t cooperating for the blowholes but the rocks are always worth a look. The cloud burned off and fleeces were dispatched under the tonneau. The normally wild west coast swell just lapped the shore as seals played about close to the shore. Leaving the West Coast for the last time we headed up the Buller Gorge. Once more the South Island put on some spectacular scenery. In places the gorge narrowed so much that only a single lane was carved into the sheer rock face. You can still see the drillings for the explosive charges that blasted the ledge out when the road was built. The road twisted and turned through Inangahua and onto Murchison where the heat forced a stop for ice creams. We left Highway 6 to head towards Motueka as the sun burned overhead. It was a nice B road but not open enough to take at a constant 100 K so it seemed to take ages to reach our next stop. It was getting towards late afternoon when we encountered rush hour in Motueka before hitting the open road and experiencing the Takaka Hill. I was a first timer and was unprepared for the dozens of hairpin corners joined by short steep sections of straight. We were down to second or third as we climbed higher and higher, the summit hidden from view always seeming just around the next couple of bends. The view from the top when we finally arrived was forever, Tasman Bay on one side, Golden Bay on the other and valley 750 metres below. We descended down to Takaka where we stopped for supplies before our final push towards Collingwood. Getting to the camp ground as the sun lowered in the sky we were feeling desiccated after close to seven and a half hours and over 400 kilometres on the road. We pitched the tent overlooking the harbour and drifted off to the sounds of lapping water and the occasional screech of a sea bird.

Grand Tour South X

7.30am we are woken to the bellow of a jet boat taking off. See what I mean? We breakfast and pack the car, heading off in sunshine to our first stop at Geraldine. It’s the end of the holidays for some people so the number of caravans, trailers and boats on the road is high. The cloud moves in and it rains. The Canterbury Plains are boring. The claustrophobia of the roof up and the constant traffic does not help. For the first time on the trip, the small trickle of hot air coming through the heater due to a sticky heater tap, started to make things distinctly stuffy. Open the windows you say, but this causes other problems. The convertible hood gets pressurised when driving which keeps it taut, however wind down the windows too far and the pressure drops turning the roof into a flapping rag and rattling the hood bow against the frame about 4 inches from your ear. The secret is to lower the windows just enough to keep the hood taut and to keep a constant speed.
I’m sure that a bit of research could have found a better route north but after a poor night’s sleep we wanted to get to our rest stop at Woodend in a hurry. It still seemed to take ages to cross the plains, skirt Christchurch and switch the car off in the in-law’s driveway. That night we ate at one of the local restaurants with threadbare red patterned carpet. I asked for the blue cod from the menu. “The blue cod today is terakihi” came the reply. “Well what is the chicken today?” I asked but it went straight over the top.

After a rest day it was time to get into the mountains again, heading north we took Highway 7 towards Hamner Springs, another lovely road climbing into the mountains, with hot sun and clear blue skies. So far the fire warning sign guy had been pretty well redundant throughout the country leaving the big green arrow stuck firmly on “Low”. Passing a sign with a “Medium” arrow was an encouraging sight.
Hamner was bursting at the seams with people and cars, queuing for parks, queuing for cafes, queuing for the toilets. It was too much and too hot, we turned round and headed for the Lewis Pass. The road was much less steep and the crest not as high as Arthur’s Pass and this time instead of rain we had hot sun. The heater was making it’s presence felt even with the roof down so it was a relief to stop at Maruia Springs on the far side of the pass and have lunch in the cool of the restaurant. From the springs onwards the heat was kept at bay by the beech forest stretching high overhead, the canopy almost touching above and casting a lovely dappled light on the road below. The occasional leaf falling through this light looked like flakes of gold as we sped downwards towards Reefton. At Ikamatua we left highway 7 to follow the opposite bank of the Grey River, with the beech forest now behind us we were sweltering but our day’s destination was not too far away, turning right again we found ourselves on the deserted main street of a ghost town and pulled up outside the Blackball Hilton, our stop for the night.
The barman left the two bikies outside with their beers and showed us up the gloomy, creaking staircase to our room for the night. We tossed our luggage on the bed and went for a walk around the town. Blackball isn’t actually a ghost town it has a population of 324, two pubs, a school and a salami factory. There is still a tall chimney on the outskirts near the old coalmine entrance and other evidence of it’s grimy history. Back at the hotel – officially called “Formerly The Blackball Hilton”, the reason explained by a couple of framed letters from Paris Dad’s lawyers, we slaked our thirst and watched the cloud cascading over the nearby hills at sunset before sitting down for some home style West Coast cooking. It was Saturday night, but apart from an English couple and a foursome from Canterbury, we were it. We retreated to our room early as we had a big day ahead.

Grand Tour South IX

After a couple of days rest, the spider reluctantly snuffled into life to continue its journey north. We stopped for photos at Moeraki and lunch at Oamaru. I like Oamaru, I like the distinctive white stone buildings dominate the wide streets which seem free of the tacky shopping centre developments that blight so many main streets. I even like the word Oamaru. It’s much more laid back than the city, at the zebra crossings the sign on the curb doesn’t stay “Stop! Look Before You Step!” it simply says “Pause”. Whether it is to look for traffic or just an invitation to take a moment to admire the lovely buildings, it does not say.

Highway 83 must be one of the best drives in this world. Turning inland just past Oamaru (couldn’t resist using it again) it follows the Waitaki river, climbing from the coastal plains, the river keeps out of sight so you can admire the green fields and distant mountain ranges until you get to Lake Aviemore where the blue glacial water surrounded by trees drags your attention away. It is tourist brochure scenery, blue skies, matching blue water dotted with white sails and speedboat wakes, stuck behind a Honda Odyssey whose driver seemed to consider anything over 75 k’s on a straight road was tantamount to suicide, it gave me time to soak it all in. Further up the valley past Lake Benmore (and past the Honda), the landscape changes, the trees and bush fall away and the broom and lupins take over, the mountains start to dominate, we are entering McKenzie Country. Highway 83 ends at Omarama, the air is hot, dry and clear. Gliders circle above, trying to catch the thermals and updraughts from the mountains. Left is the Lindis Pass but we turn right across the high country plateau, flat for miles but surrounded by frosted peaks. Lake Pukaki with its opaque china blue water looks strange like someone got his colour chart wrong when they ordered the water. We cruise into Tekapo as the sun heads towards the horizon for our first night under canvas (or rip stop nylon). We pitch the tent overlooking Lake Tekapo, a beautiful spot with mountains in the distance surrounding the blue glacial lake fringed with purple and blue lupins. The only thing disturbing the perfect serenity is the damn jet boats. Southern Man may think that the constant drone of an unmuffled V8 at 5,000 RPM is music to the ears or maybe after a lifetime of unmuffled jet boats he can’t hear the thing running but to everyone else it’s bloody annoying. As the sun leaves the campground the temperature starts to drop fast so we head to bed. At 9pm in the deep deep twilight the last jet boat shuts off it’s engine, silence reigns.

Grand Tour South VIII

Dulcie had had enough of the cold and damp so we set off with the roof up and headed to our Southernmost point of our journey, the end of Highway 1 at Bluff. There we took the obligatory photos and then turned the car round to head home - the long way. I turned off the main road to do the Catlins highway that has now been sealed all the way. It’s a narrow twisting road, starting on the marshy flat wetlands and then heading towards the coastal hills. The road cuts through the park, missing out on a lot of the coastal scenery with only a few glimpses of the sea, the real heart of the Catlins lies down the gravel roads around the coast and into the bush. Still it was nice to put the spider through the twisty bits and to hear the tuis and other birds calling to each other through the forest canopy. We rejoined Highway 1 at Balclutha before making a gravel detour from Waihola down to Taieri Mouth and along the coast road past Brighton beach to Dunedin.

We stayed with my friends Alistair and Sharon, had New Year’s Eve at the Octagon and rode the Taieri Gorge railway to Middlemarch on New Year’s Day. The local cats enjoyed the lovely black canvas hammock that had appeared in the driveway, dozens of muddy paw prints over the bonnet and cat hair all over the roof was proof of it’s popularity.

Grand Tour South VII

The forecast wasn’t wrong, we left Arrowtown in sunshine but as we approached Queenstown we could see a rain squall coming across Lake Wakatipu. The rain and wind arrived about 30 seconds after we did so we took refuge in a café and changed out plans. We were booked into a campsite at Te Anau but the thought of setting up camp in the rain and a forecast of more bad weather was too much. We phoned our bed and breakfast stop in Invercargill and asked if we could arrive a day early. They said yes so we left the traffic madness of Queenstown as hundreds of 4WDs and camper vans filled with bored families descended on the town looking for something to do. We didn’t get much of a view of the lake or the mountains as the rain got steadily heavier before easing just after Lumsden where we stopped for the local delicacy of cheese rolls. There were heavy threatening clouds over Invercargill as we rolled into town but at least the rain held off. I pulled into the driveway of our B&B to the sight of an Alfa 33. It turned out that the owner of Burtonwood B&B was club member who also had a 155 and a Fiat Bambina. He was mourning the loss of his second155 that met a messy end after an encounter with a bridge. The B&B was a lovely Edwardian brick house that had been redecorated and fitted with modern en suite bathrooms. I managed to visit Supercheap Autos and get a new set of wipers for the Spider. They were horrible bulky black ugly units with “aerodynamic” wings to supposedly help force the blades onto the screen at high speed. They would have looked at home on Starsky and Hutch’s car but at least they fitted and although the new blades now squeaked and skidded across the screen, there were 2 of them and they worked.

Grand Tour South VI

December 28th
The overnight rain had stopped and the mist was rising off the hills so we took a chance and lowered the hood. It was spectacular to see all the rivers in flood and the waterfalls on full display, we climbed up the Haast Pass and the higher we climbed the better the weather got. Morning tea at Makaora saw sunshine and a few garments shed. By the time we got to lake Hawea it had turned into a gorgeous day, things were looking up. It was like we had moved to an entirely different country, from the rain and lush damp forest of Westland to sun and almost arid Otago high country. People were out and about water skiing, fishing, sunbathing and cycling. We dropped by Wanaka to refuel but decided not to take the Cardrona road to Arrowtown, going instead by Lake Dunstan and the Kawarau Gorge. Our motel for night was Shades of Arrowtown set in a lovely grove of mature trees and only 2 minutes walk from the town centre. Leaving the car to dry out, we wandered through the township in short sleeved shirts almost dazed by our change of fortunes. I tried to contact a couple of Alfa Club people to see if I could get a spare wiper but to no avail. We had a lovely dinner outside at the Stables restaurant until the sun went down and we had to move inside for desserts. The weather forecast for the following day wasn’t good but we made plans to visit Queenstown just in case it was wrong.

Grand Tour South V

December 27th
I got up early in the morning and opened the car door with trepidation, expecting the worst. There was about a bucket full in the passenger side and none in the driver’s side as it had drained through the foot pedal slots. The worst news was that the passenger window had shut on the outside the rubber seal and the passenger seat was soaked, I dried it off the best I could and hoped that Dulcie wouldn’t notice. The rain had eased and the cloud was lifting, we packed the car and set off to see what we could of the glaciers. Dulcie noticed the wet seat straight away but by sitting in a raincoat it didn’t soak through too much. Franz Joseph put on a good display as the clouds briefly rolled back to show a peek of blue sky. We pressed on to Fox glacier but the cloud was rolling in again so after the briefest of looks we drove on. Shortly after the heavens opened again. Driving through the downpour with a single one speed wiper struggling against the constant stream of water, rain hammering on the canvas roof, the narrow 15 inch x 155 tyres cutting through the deepening puddles and a steady drip drip drip on my right foot made for interesting driving conditions. For once I envied the 4WDs that hammered past on the occasional straight, wipers going flat out, air conditioning on and stereo up loud but then again, what were missing out on? They would never have the primitive “man against the elements” feeling of negotiating the wild west coast in a forty year old car, negotiating the slick roads by sensing the grip on the front wheels and balancing it by gentle application of throttle. Nah, they were only observing life from their cocoon, we were living it! As the skies grew darker, and the rain heavier, our world shrank to a tunnel, observed through the arc cleared briefly by the lone wiper, the one wiper that was exactly the same age as it’s brother who had died a day earlier and was now being asked to work harder than it had ever done before. How long was it going to last? No wiper, no progress, would our bodies be found weeks later sucked dry by sandflies? It felt like we were in an old aeroplane, flying through a thunderstorm, at the total mercy of the elements. My Walter Mitty type visions were brought to a halt by a row of brake lights ahead as we rounded a blind corner, trying not to lock a wheel, I gingerly pulled up behind a long queue backed up by some incident ahead. My immediate thought was that the next car round the corner would plough into the back of me. I grabbed a raincoat and ran back up the road and started flagging down the approaching cars. Once the queue was visible from the previous straight, I splashed up to the cause of the stoppage. A tree had fallen across the road blocking the north bound lane. It was not big, the ten or so people hanging around could have shifted it but there was a cowboy in a 4WD who wanted to show off his toy by using his winch to lift it the end up and then trying to drive forward with it. All he succeeded in doing was to run over it and was making things worse. I was getting cold and wet and it looked like the mucking around was going to take a while, the southbound lane was clear so I left them to it.
The Haast bridge is 737 metres long and is one lane with priority given to the south bound traffic. There was a car ahead of me so I followed it onto the bridge. To make it easier for the northern cars, they put a couple of passing lanes capable of taking about 8 cars at a time so they can leapfrog their way over the bridge without having to wait for a full 737 clear metres. Unfortunately some twit thought he would follow the group ahead and 9 cars found themselves trying to squeeze into an 8 car overtaking bay bringing the whole bridge to a halt. By a bit of squeezing up by all the northbound cars, he managed to make enough space for our lane to get past him and avoided the humiliation of having to back up to the beginning.
Haast was our stop for the night. We booked to our motel and took 5 minutes to get out and view the sights of Haast village before the rain started again. This time I made sure that the windows were properly sealed so that in the morning the seats were dry and it was a matter of just having to bail out the foot well before we set off. The constant cold and wet had taken it’s toll on the quarter light window catch and the superglue that holds it on had given up. I picked it up off the floor and put it in the glove box without saying anything to Dulcie, she might think the car was falling apart.

Grand Tour South IV

Boxing day it was time to head off again, through Rangiora and towards Arthur’s Pass. The sun was shining but there was rain in the hills. The flat Canterbury Plains disappeared behind us as we started to climb up the river valley towards the alpine tussock. Porter’s Pass was a long steep climb stuck behind a car and trailer that was crawling up the incline, a break in the oncoming traffic, chop down to 2nd and past it, back into 3rd, foot flat to the floor, nearing the top when the engine coughs, splutters and starts to die, we limp over the crest with hearts sinking, down the other side and the engine clears. Huge sigh of relief, but it took a while to be sure it was just a temporary thing, mentally putting it down to float levels too low on the steep incline. Shortly after the drizzle started and the top went up. The cloud was down and it was raining as we crossed over the bridge leading into Arthur’s Pass village, suddenly the bow holding the wiper blade to the arm broke free and speared the now free end of the wiper into the descending blade ending in a tangled mess of steel and rubber as I switched the wipers off to prevent further damage. I pulled over and several words were said that I will not repeat here, firstly for the damaged blades and secondly for what looked like a huge scratched arc across the brand new windscreen. I drove through Arthur’s Pass looking for the open garage, brimming with odd car spares until I realised that there was nothing, it was Boxing Day, everything was shut. I parked off the road, switched off the engine and got out into a misty rain that comprised of half drizzle and half sandflies. More words were said as I dug in the boot for my tool kit while the sandflies feasted on my bare legs and arms. I removed the wipers and by some engineering made one good wiper from the two. I discovered what appeared to be a scratch in the windscreen was just a mark from the plastic knuckle that had broken. That was a relief, at least we wouldn’t be stuck at the top of the mountain plus my windscreen was still in mint condition, things were looking up. I got back into the car and after killing about 50 feasting sandflies, got under way again.

I had never driven down the Otira Gorge before, but from the warning signs over the previous 70 kilometres about it being unsuitable for trailers, I knew it was going to be interesting. Big warning sighs as we approached said “Engage Low Gear” “Slippery When Wet” and “Beware of Falling Rocks”. Peering through the small patch the wipers had briefly cleared on the windscreen, I slipped into 3rd gear and the road disappeared ahead like some fairground roller-coaster. A “Use Low Gear” flashed past, but how low? I pumped the brakes to kill off some speed as we drove under a chute directing a stream over our heads into the abyss beyond. “Rockfall Protection Area Ahead” was the next sign as we headed towards what looked like a landslide with a tunnel through it. Once through that the descent eased and I could let the brakes have a rest. The rain eased too and although cloudy it cleared to allow the road to dry. We stopped at Hokitika for fuel and a fruitless search for wiper arms as the clouds moved in again. Soon it was pouring down, good solid West Coast style. We pulled into out motel at Franz Joseph and squelched our luggage inside. A lake had formed in the garden outside and as the rain got heavier it grew and grew. I braved the rain and trudged into the township for supplies and watched the dark grey water bashing against the bridge supports, it has risen further as I crossed back. Small rivers crossed the footpath and pooled in the hollows. It rained all night. As it hammered on the morel roof I was disturbed by strange dreams of opening the Spider doors in the morning to be met by a wall of water from window level down.

Grand Tour South III

Christmas Eve dawned fine and clear, it was one of those magical Marlbrough days when everything seems to be freshly washed and you can see for ever. We dropped the roof, splashed on the sunscreen, packed the car and started on our way. It was champagne Spidering with hot sun and slightly cool morning air. We passed through Blenhiem then down to the coast, stopping to watch the seals before heading into Kaikoura for lunch. Lunch at Robbies restaurant was an interesting taste sensation. Shepherds pie with grey mince and raw onion and steak sandwich that would have got a Michelin star from the tyre manufacturers. We hoped this was not going to be the highlight of our South Island dining experiences. High cloud has moved in while we were at lunch and it got thicker as we moved south, rain splashed the windscreen at Cheviot and the top went up shortly after. The rain had stopped by the time we got to the in-laws at Woodend where we had our Christmas day.

Grand Tour South II

23rd December
Overnight rain showed that the new windscreen although lovely and clear, was not very well sealed and the weather looked like it was going to supply some more wet stuff before too long. With the top up we made our way to Wellington. We passed big queues heading North from the city, the evening news said there had been up to four hour delays, we were glad we were heading south. The ferry was not until 8pm so we had a chance to look round Te Papa. Dulcie who was not looking forward to the crossing, got even more nervous when we saw footage of the Wahine disaster on one of the displays.
Check in for the ferry was at 7pm and we joined the queue waiting to get aboard. The ferry was very efficient, in no time we were clanking over the steel ramps up onto the second deck and parked in the hold of the BlueBridge ferry Santa Regina. Double checking my handbrake and hoping the cars in front and back had done the same, we made our way upstairs. Looking over someone’s shoulder I saw newspaper headlines telling of 9 metre swells in Cook Strait the previous day. I showed it to Dulcie then wished I hadn’t. I was sure the weather had calmed and it would be all right but Dulcie wasn’t convinced. With everyone aboard, the ferry set off 20 minutes early. It was calm in Wellington harbour, and although outside the heads it was blowing 25 knots fortunately the seas had abated and we had a reasonably smooth crossing, docking at around 11.00pm and getting to our Picton motel shortly after.

The Grand Tour South

It was not long after returning from our honeymoon that thoughts led to what were we going to do for our Christmas holidays. The idea of taking the Spider down to the South Island was suggested and as the available slots on the cross channel ferries were rapidly filling up we took the plunge and booked with BlueBridge to cross over on the 23rd of December and back on the 10th of January.
Having set our dates and booked the dog into the kennels it was then time to pore over the maps and plot out a route that covered all the friends, relative and places we wanted to visit. Rather than the traditional loop we settled on a figure 8 which took in Arthurs, Haast and Lewis Passes I tried to squeeze in the Lindis and Dansey’s passes too but that seemed a bit too extreme for the time available. Thinking that accommodation would be in high demand I got on the internet and booked everything in advance.

With all most of the plans underway it was time to make sure that the Spider was up to the trip. It was a good excuse to take the car into Performance Automotive and get the oil leaks fixed. These had started as a few annoying drops on the concrete when the engine was first installed 10 years ago to an embarrassing flood that coated the underside of the car and every driveway I parked on. Tony replaced the offending seals and gave the car back to me running better than I’d ever been able to tune it. Next up were the brakes. The 1966 Spiders came out with early ATE callipers that were produced for such a short time that they never made it onto the after market suppliers lists so it was a bit of a mission to locate correct pads. Luckily I ended up with what the suppliers said was the last set of rear pads in New Zealand. A session at Fred’s freed up the sticky pistons, replaced the pads, brake fluid and fitted a passenger ventilation duct that had been missing since I got the car. I also fitted new radiator hoses, waterproofed the roof and prepared an emergency tool kit just in case.

For a long time I’d been contemplating getting a new windscreen for the Spider, the 40 year old one was scratched, delaminating and going opaque with age. I braced the cheque book and ordered one. The drive back from the glazier was amazing, I couldn't believe what I'd been missing out on. With no scratches, dirt or marks on it, it was like the whole world was a cleaner fresher place.

Everything was coming together and the departure date was looming. It was just a matter of deciding what to take, we selected the bags we were going to take, had a rough go at packing the car and thought it would fit in.

The weather forecast for departure day was for overnight snow flurries on the Desert Road and occasional rain but it dawned bright and sunny we packed the car, up to the gunwales with tent, airbed, duvet, pillows, folding chairs, frypan, Christmas presents, food, fleeces, raincoats and clothing for 3 weeks. With the boot chock full and behind the seats full to it all just squeezed in. “Well that all fits.” I said, “But what about the dog?” said Dulcie. The dog had to be delivered to the kennels in Drury so with Dulcie wedged in the passenger seat with a small mountain of gear and the dog wedged in the back, I zeroed the trip meter, pulled on my Santa hat and started the engine.

As we buzzed down the motorway the Spider seemed to bring a smile to everyone we passed, kids waved, thumbs up from drivers, someone even snapped us with their mobile phone. We dropped the dog at the kennels, redistributed the gear to the back seat and carried on our merry way South down Highway 1. The cold breeze forced a stop in Tirau for the addition of warmer clothes even though it was sunny, shortly after the pom pom on my Santa hat that had been flying merrily around in the breeze suddenly exploded into fluff, which resulted in deploying the more sensible cap for the rest of the trip.

After stopping for a break in Hatepe to thaw out with friends we prepared to tackle the Desert Road. Climbing up onto the plateau with a frosty Ruapehu peeking out from the clouds, I was mentioning to Dulcie that this was about where my friend Willy broke down a few years back when brrrrrrrrrr, the engine died. Thoughts of all sorts of mechanical disasters flashed through my mind as we coasted to a stop. Where was the nearest tow truck? Could we get a refund on the ferry tickets? Fortunately a quick look under the bonnet showed that a wire had fallen off the distributor and before the adrenaline had a chance to fully disburse we were under way again.

It certainly wasn’t summer weather out on the volcanic plateau, we didn’t see any snow flurries but we wouldn’t have been surprised if we had. It was freezing cold, the heater on full sent toasty warm draughts onto the extremities but not enough to make it comfortable. We stopped for an early dinner in Taihape before heading to Palmerston North for our overnight stop with my sister in law Sue.

The First Post

This is my first plunge into the world of blogging. My intention is for it to be a spot where friends, family and whoever else wants to can drop by and see what I've been up to. Here's a picture of the spotty dog dressed up for Christmas. Cooper is a dalmatian pionter cross and is 14 months old. He's currently got a sore paw that he cut while out for a run 2 weeks ago. It was a bad cut, a dozen stitches, general anaesthetic and a $400.00 bill from the vet. Stitches are out now but it will be a while before the pad heals properly. Hopefully he heals better than he heels.
Well that's it for now. I'll publish this and see if it works....