Saturday 28 January 2017

Tongariro to Wellington

There is one positive thing that I can say without hesitation when it comes to camping on damp ground: it's pretty comfortable to sleep on. The sleeping mat I had borrowed for the trip turned out to be affected with a rather nasty rip at the valve end, rendering email bastard thing useless. As such I was sleeping in the tent, sans-mat. Fortunately for me, the heavy rainfall the night before had created a soft pitching area so I slept surprisingly well. More importantly, I was dry.

The train was due at 1pm that afternoon. I didn't really know what to expect. The last train I was on was into Pukekohe and it just felt like a suburban service, whereas this one was scaling the whole country. I imagined it to be a rather busy service as it only ran a few times a week. Would they allow my bike? Would I be have to deconstruct it before boarding? A familiar feeling came over me; I was completely clueless. But I was also hungry. And the latter was infinitely more important than the former so I packed the tent down and made the 6 mile journey downhill to the small village of National Park and the train station. The landscape was infinitely more appealing today, the sun shone brightly and dried the roads out nicely. The views over the mountains was glorious and I was once again reminded what an immense privilege to was to be doing what I was doing.

I was around an hour and a half early for the train as I free wheeled off the main highway and down the station road, stopping briefly at a gas station to pick up supplies. As I got closer to the station I recognised the black touring bike and its owner, my fellow cycle tourer and hiking buddy Julie. She had managed to buy her train tickets the day she left Tongariro. Even though the train was her idea it was I who had booked my tickets first. I would have felt awful if I had reserved the final cycle space on the train and she had been unable to travel. My neurotic fears were put to rest and I set to the first order of business: breakfast. I wandered into the station cafe and ordered my now-traditional breakfast of Eggs Benedict and patiently waited for the train.

I was fortunate enough to have already sorted my accommodation for Wellington. My cousin had hooked me up to stay with a friend who lived just outside of town (thanks Em!). We had chatted briefly over FB and I had arranged to come along once my train had got into Wellington. I was excited to be meeting up with a real genuine kiwi; my meetings with fellow tourists and adventurers had been exciting but I was keen to chat to some locals about their beautiful country. Plus Georgia, my host, had informed me that she had a very friendly dog. That may have helped fuel my excitement as well....!

I had planned two days in Wellington before taking a ferry to the South Island. This would give me just under 4 weeks on the South Island and I hoped this was enough time to get to the end of my trip. Plus I had to think about getting back to Auckland for my flight home. But I hated to worry about something so far in the future. It was only 16th January and I had much to do before packing up and leaving.

Julie and I made our way to the platform with the train due to scoop us up in the next 20 minutes or so. My London-inspired neuroses with train travel began to flare as I noticed a distinct lack of service board or staff at the station. I guess this is the way transport works in the middle of a deserted national park in NZ! Half an hour had now passed and the train was late. I had no idea of where the bloody thing was or when it was going to arrive. My fellow passengers seemed pretty relaxed about the situation so I did the same. Before long, although 40 mins late, the the train gently rolled to the platform. They were obviously running late and there seemed to be an uncharacteristic urgency to get all passengers, as well as the two bikes, aboard. Luckily there was room in the rear cart for the bikes and I found my seat as the train pulled off.

The train was a relatively modern design with the unique feature of having an open-sided carriage at the front end. This being almost an exclusive vessel for tourists, the open-sided carriage was full of people peering over each other to get a shot of the mountains in the distance. As I had seen all three in close proximity only two days before I felt a little smug. The train picked up speed and before I knew it we were making up the miles. It occurred to me at that moment that my cycle adventure in the North had finished; I would only be cycling on the South Island now. Although I had covered around 275 miles on the bike I had only been on the island for 2 weeks. I felt a slight pang of regret that I was only here for 6 weeks in total; there was simply too much to see and do in this country.

The nice-mannered American chap who occupied the window seat next to me said his goodbyes as he was getting off at the next station. Result. A window seat all to myself for the remaining 5 hours of the journey. Once again I felt incredibly fortunate and spent the remainder of the trip taking photos, eating and napping. The best possible way to spend a day off the bike. 

The train pulled into the station at Wellington at just before 7pm. I said adieu to Julie and we exchanged email addresses, promising to keep in touch once we were both back in Europe. I grabbed the bike and spent my time fitting my panniers and bags as the station emptied. Soon I was alone and made my way out into the warm Wellington evening. For a capital city the streets seemed rather deserted. Auckland, although overwhelming in its own way, felt quite quiet considering its metropolis standing but Wellington felt like arriving at a British seaside town in the winter. Regardless I jumped on the bike and instantly heard a rattling I didn't recognise; I had lost a screw from the rear rack. Luckily I was in a city with a plethora of bike shops and so promised to pay a visit before I took the ferry south.

My accommodation tonight would be about 6 miles out of town in a Wellington suburb called Island Bay. It was on the coast and looked idyllic. Perfect. The ride to Island Bay had one or two punishing hills (perhaps fate was inflicting this on me as I had cheated my way on a train...?) but soon I was standing outside the house. It was a beautiful seaside house only 30 seconds walk to the sea front. What a glorious place to spend a few days. I dismounted the bike and made my way to the front door, attempting to make myself look presentable as I did. I was warmly greeted and welcomed into the house but Georgia who I was now fortunate to meet in person. I was introduced to Amanda, who owned the house, boyfriend Dave and black lab-cross Izzy. In a true moment of kiwi stereotyping my hosts were listening to Flight of the Conchords as I came in through the door. Speaking to Dave it turned out he was a bird catcher for the Department of Conservation. Brilliant. Couldn't make it up.

I was to be homed on the sofa bed for the next few days. My hosts headed to bed early, they not being fortunate enough to be on a 6 week holiday as I was. I decided to sleep early that night. Tomorrow would be a beautiful day but the day after it would be stormy as all hell. I had a lot of sightseeing to fit in. I  was told Wellington was a fun city and was keen to explore. It would be my final stop off in the North Island and I was keen to make the most of it.











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