Arriving and overnighting in Bangkok then flying on to Chiang Mai, Thailand hits as a sensory overload of noise, smell and sights. Every street filled with a jumble of buildings, road-side kitchens and carts very often in front of them, scooters dodging cars and tuk tuks, smells of food and massage oils then bad drains.
Chiang Mai is an old city with a moat and some remaining bits of wall. There's a nice vibe to it though still it seems busy, noisy and hot especially after New Zealand. At this time of year there's a burn off in the countryside around which creates a hazy smog over the city.
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| Night market |
I'm here to volunteer at a dog charity 12km out of Chiang Mai. It's pretty different from what I'm used to- more basic of course, but also there are dogs everywhere underfoot. There's plenty of neutering to be done and interesting cases to see. Many of the resident dogs have some kind of problem be it large or small and there's certainly not a full quota of functional limbs. Most seem happy enough though and staff and lay volunteers walk them and lavish love.
By evening time I'm pretty tired from the busy days and working in the heat so I have a meal, sometimes a massage (both very cheap) and an early night. I have a couple of days off during my 10 days in Chiang Mai and do some exploring, visit some of the temples in the city and wander the markets. By the time I'm leaving the daytime temperature is getting up to an uncomfortable 38 C.
My thoughts have been turning increasingly towards home as the time gets nearer but it almost doesn't feel real. I fly back to Bangkok and board the BA flight to London. The plane staff are the most numerous English people I've seen for a while. I take sleeping meds and pass most of the night in artificial slumber, then we're landing and Britain in aerial looks a bit damp and a rather muddy brown. Back on English soil. It feels strange, slightly alien to be back but as I cross from the plane to the terminal the blast of freezing air through my thin clothing starts to remind me; I'm home.
After Mount Cook my itinerary is all but at an end. The stray bus stops one final night in Peel forrest. There's an option to go rafting but it's expensive, sounds scary and is not good weather. So we pass a rather murky Lake Tekapo and tiny quaint Church of the Good Shepherd then spend an afternoon indoors whilst the rain increases in strength outside.
Next day to Christchurch airport and a short cut back to Auckland. I stay with Susan and Pete again glad to be in a nice house and having a room to myself. Next day it's off long haul Auckland to Bangkok.
First day in Queenstown and the cloud is hanging low across the mountains in the morning clearing to blue skies and perfect sunshine later. Today I'm in Middle Earth- seeing some of the locations where filming for Lord of the Rings and other films was done. Our guide has many entertaining stories for us about the actors and the locations and when we can't remember a scene he has pictures for us to compare it to. He himself was an extra, an Orc.
14th: Ben Lomond, one the mountains surrounding the lake is my target today- 1748m high it's a fair climb but my legs are a bit more used to it. I also cheat a little by taking the gondola almost half way. The views over Lake Wakatipu and towards Mt Aspiring National park are amazing and it's a great weather day too.
9th March: A later start and a quick whizz from Wanaka to Queenstown after a detour to Arrowtown and stopping to watch a few people pay a large amount of money to jump off AJ Hackett's bungee bridge. Eeek, it makes my stomach lurch just to watch.
In Queenstown I find a few people I know from previous journeys and head out for a drink. Actually from now on people keep re-appearing unexpectedly.
10th March: Milford Sound is about 70km West of Queenstown but 380km by road, there's talk of blasting a tunnel through the Livingstone mountain range to make a short cut but for now it's sit back and enjoy the ride. Along Lake Wakatipu to Kingston, through Mossburn and pretty Te Anau where farm land starts to give way to mountains and we enter wild Fiordland National Park. There's a few stops at lookouts - the Eglinton planes and various small lakes and waterfalls also at Monkey creek where we fill our bottles with wonderfully pure and cold melted glacier water. Out here Moose were once released but no-one knows if they're still here, likewise an ancient Maori tribe, and recently a crashed helicopter was found- lost for over 13 years.
The road winds through glacial valleys and our driver tells us about avalanches and landslips which cause frequent problems. Then we pass through the Homer tunnel hearing about the isolated communities who lived out here building the road in a post-war depression project. Through the tunnel down New Zealand's steepest descent and we're soon at Milford Sound. A boat cruise takes us up and down the Sound. Not a Sound at all but a Fjord. Missed by Captain Cook though he did name nearby Doubtful Sound (as he was in doubt that having sailed into it whether he would get out of it) and visit Dusky Sound. There are seals and waterfalls cascading in places though with the recent dry weather not as many as always we're told. The mountains rise up steeply from the sea, tree-covered and surveying.
We stay at a small place called Gunn's camp in the shadow of mountains and accursed by sandflies then next day travel down to Invercargill and Bluff to catch the ferry to Stewart island, New Zealand's third island.
The bumpy crossing is apparently smooth for the Foveaux strait. Once landed at Oban a tiny place, there's time for a walk to see the sunset, it's cold though, the most Southerly of my travels so far.
Another walk in the morning around the coast but it's overcast. A few days might have been better with a chance to go further into the island and take some longer walks. But it's back across the sea and back up to Queenstown.
Perhaps it's a character flaw- I'll blame my parents- but increasingly when I see mountains I want to climb them these days and there are mountains all around the lake beckoning to me so today I've decided to walk around the lake to Roy's peak. I'm not sure who Roy is but it's a decent mountain at 1578m and it's not until later that I realise starting from lake level at 300m makes it a jolly big climb. Actually, I've been used to knocking a good 1/3rd off the DOC's advised times but this time my cockiness is punished!
The views are stunning but after an hour and a half to reach the track it's 3 hours solid climbing up. The views are spectactular, panoramic. 2 hours down and I'm exhausted, feet blistering and with the temperature up to 28 C today and brilliant sunshine I'm hot and dehydrated from taking only 2 L of water. Nevermind, a rehydrating and relaxing evening whilst the legs quietly howl and the satisfaction of bagging a peak!
It's atmospheric in the morning - low clouds lie in a few bands across the mountainous backdrop of the lake, some snow visible in the distance on the higher peaks, soon the sun comes up and the clouds overhead start to disappear, it's a perfect day.
And I realise that the weather's not going to let me off this skydive I've booked onto at 2pm which I'm trying hard not to think about it. At the drop zone I see some people landing gently which is a bit reassuring but the tiny plane is almost as terrifying as the thought of jumping out of it.
My tandem skydive instructor, Eugene, introduces himself, adjusts my harness and beckons me onto the plane. "Your one-way plane ride: 15 minutes up" he says, "and a bit quicker down". I'm already briefed and in a jump-suit. I'm facing backwards astride a bench trying to abstract myself from reality, he's behind ready to attach to me. We lean back as the plane takes off. The door is large and ominous just in front of me, rolling up to open. There's a couple of other tandem couples on the plane, I'm jumping first from 12 000 feet. It sounded high enough without the extra 3000.
Deep breaths. Eugene keeps checking I'm ok and as the plane takes off names lakes, rivers and mountains. I don't take it in. The scenery is beautiful and I keep looking out of the window- like out of a commercial plane, I'm used to that. It's hard to appreciate under the circumstances- this is the most insane thing I've ever done. He attaches our harnesses together and there's a comfort in the presence of a body close behind mine- carrying a parachute. "We're at 5000 feet" he tells me giving me a fleece hat to put on. Streuth, we're going higher? I inadvertently think about death, forceably redirect and tell myself to breathe deeply again. "I know how you feel"- Eugene's voice in my ear. "No you don't!" Maybe once, but you keep doing this you insane person.
"Ok, let's get ready" he says. Oh God, I'm not ready- how could I ever be? Goggles on, everything tightened, oh good I can focus on discomfort. "Move forward".
I don't remember the door opening or how I complied but I'm sitting on the edge. Head back, hips forward, legs under as instructed, just a thin sliver of connection with solidity. Don't look down- my own instruction. "Hold your harness"- I'd rather hold the plane....Before I can take stock of this ultimate in terror we're falling, my stomach's left behind and I'm screaming. But then.... it no longer feels like falling. The human body can only really measure acceleration and decelaration afterall and with no reference point it really doesn't feel like we're moving yet we're travelling downwards at 200km per hour!
There's the rush of wind, my mouth is open first from screaming, now from smiling, the wind is making my face distort (I'm thinking about G-force) but the air feels thin and hard to breathe. It's an exhilarating feeling, there's too much sensation for fear to have enough space. 45 seconds of freefall and the parachute's opened- another scream and a curse from me as we seem to jolt upwards at a rapid rate. Then, we're floating. Drifting and soaring, the rush of the freefall and the confusion of sensations behind as we spend the next 5 minutes circling down. But as the ground gets closer we seem to be accelerating and I'm afraid again, I'm trusting (there wasn't much choice) but still amazed that we land in the right spot, gently, upright.
What a strange thing to do. My world seems to have changed and my knees are a bit wobbly but everyone else is carrying on just the same. I just jumped out of a plane! (although jumped is exaggerated really. Was scooted out really as the person behind me to whom I was attached jumped is more accurate). I talk to a French girl who jumped after me- she said she'd been terrified as soon as I jumped and she had to watch me and 1 other before it was her turn. She understood too that the world wasn't quite the same anymore.
I get up early next morning and cycle again to Lake Matheson 6km away. This time the lake is mirroring very nicely and I can see the twin peaks with their icing of snow but it's a bit overcast. I have an express hike around the lake and cycle back to get ready for the bus.
The day doesn't improve and as we drive down the West coast it's grey and raining. At Haast we turn inland and stop in a couple of places to see some waterfalls and blue pools. Plagued by sandflies however! The last hour of the drive is stunning as Mt Aspiring National Park opens up and Lake Hawea and Lake Wanaka appear backdropped by the Southern Alps and by the time we arrive in Wanaka sunshine showing its scenery off to best advantage.
Arriving and overnighting in Bangkok then flying on to Chiang Mai, Thailand hits as a sensory overload of noise, smell and sights. Every street filled with a jumble of buildings, road-side kitchens and carts very often in front of them, scooters dodging cars and tuk tuks, smells of food and massage oils then bad drains. 
Chiang Mai is an old city with a moat and some remaining bits of wall. There's a nice vibe to it though still it seems busy, noisy and hot especially after New Zealand. At this time of year there's a burn off in the countryside around which creates a hazy smog over the city.
My thoughts have been turning increasingly towards home as the time gets nearer but it almost doesn't feel real. I fly back to Bangkok and board the BA flight to London. The plane staff are the most numerous English people I've seen for a while. I take sleeping meds and pass most of the night in artificial slumber, then we're landing and Britain in aerial looks a bit damp and a rather muddy brown. Back on English soil. It feels strange, slightly alien to be back but as I cross from the plane to the terminal the blast of freezing air through my thin clothing starts to remind me; I'm home. 
