I had had a good night's sleep on the sofa of the cosy but wonderfully hip apartment in Island Bay. Izzy the Labrador, whom I had learnt was quite a needy pup, had been scratching at the window and woken me several times in the night. Not that I minded cos....you know... she's a dog and dogs are awesome. Once the human inhabitants of the house had left to go to work for the day I roused myself and prepared to make the journey from Island Bay into Wellington itself, just a short bus ride away.
I had a long list of "to dos" for when I got to Wellington. I needed to get some mud guards, replace a rack screw or two, stock up on food before I hit the more remote South Island and so on. But that would have to wait; today was forecast to be a glorious day in the Windy City and I wasn't going to waste it trudging round the shopping district.
My first port of call was to swing by the I site centre in downtown Welly. The I site centres of NZ were often my first port of call when I stopped into a new town. I had frequented so many of these fine establishments that I considered getting myself a frequent visitors card... I booked myself onto a ferry for the coming Thursday (in 2 days time); although I hated prematurely planning my departure from this city, my obsession with forward-planning got the better of me.
I wandered away from the I site and decided to ride the famous cable car to the top of one of Wellington's major hills. This was obviously a very popular tourist attraction and I was soon pushed in line alongside the swaths of enthusiastic camera-wielding Chinese, confused and perspirating American and politely-queuing British tourists ready to make the grand ascent. The cable car used to be the only way to make it up to the richer and more desirable neighbourhoods that sat on the hill, overlooking the city. Nowadays it was just used by tourists like me and I made sure to get the obligatory shots of the car making its way up the steep incline. At the top I got chatting to an older Canadian couple who were also touring the country by bicycle. They also had been battling the NZ traffic but had come from the South Island. They warned me to take care on certain roads and that they may not be safe. This unnerved me slightly as I had always pictured the South Island as being far quieter and sparsely populated than the North. I hoped the couple's worries were an over-exaggeration as I started walking back down the hill into the city centre.
I was really enjoying my walk through Wellington. It had the feel of a more intimate San Francisco with its steep hills, cosmopolitan atmosphere and sudden gales that nearly toppled me as I walked. OK Wellington, you're pretty cool so far, I'll grant you that. My next stop would be a hike to the top of Mount Victoria and a view over the city and the surrounding landscape. I was amazed at the mountains surrounding the city and considered that there can't be that many capital cities with untamed wilderness on their doorstep? At the top of the hill I considered this fact for a short time before another, more pressing, realisation came over me. I was thirsty.
I was told by Dave the Awesome Bird Catcher to check out a local brewery to the West of the city centre. This brewery was known as the Garage Project and, being a self-proclaimed connoisseur of all things beer-y, I decided to pay it a visit for an afternoon taster. The brewery itself was based in an old gas station/garage on the side of a quiet street (hence the name. Clever). Inside one could partake of some free samples of the current brews. With the brewing taking place only meters from where we were standing it was an incredibly cool place to be. My particular favourite was a soft-on-the-pallette, creamy beer by the name of "The Cat's Pajamas". What an awesome place. I have never felt more square in my life, but at least I didn't have my lycra shorts or cycling bandana on that day... I was told to make my way to a small bar which sold the brews and hastily made my way there for a liquid lunch. Nutritiously-speaking this was not the most healthy of lunches on my recovery days but by this point I simply did not give a damn.
I received a text from Georgia inviting me out for a few bevvies downtown. I had obviously not disgusted my landlords too badly with my outfit and demeanour and so swiftly took myself across town. I met with the guys at a neat British-style tavern down a quiet backstreet. Georgia apologised for the fact she had brought me to a British pub. I was more than happy to be there; the faded decor and overpriced beer reminding me of being home in Streatham. A single tear filled my eye. Amanda and Dave were heading off to a Nick Cave concert and so I was left to chat with Georgia. It was good to be chatting to a real kiwi about the culture of this country and I realised that, although I enjoyed talking to fellow tourists about travel, I really enjoyed chatting away to a native! Soon it was home to rest my knackered legs. These days off the bike were really started to catch up with me!
Up again and into town. This time on the bike. I had organised with a local bike firm to get mudguards fitted. This would be offered at a reasonable rate and it was worth it to save me the hassle and time of having to fit the bloody things myself. Just to clarify at this point that the lack of mudguards was not a conscious decision; I simply forgot about them before leaving the UK. With the South Island promising to bring more rain than the North, it would be suicidal to cycle without them. I dropped the bike off at the shop and picked up a pair of waterproof oversocks on the way out - hopefully another wise investment there.
With the weather due to take an unpleasant turn that day (storms predicted by nightfall) I decided to participate in one or two indoor endeavours today. First I had to grab an second breakfast of eggs, coffee and Coke at a small cafe on the edge of the waterfront. What they fail to tell you about cycle touring is any period of inactivity will trigger your body to crave calories. For the next two days I was to be lead by my stomach.
Amanda, who had generously given me a sofa bed in her home, worked at Tepapa, the national museum of Wellington. This had been recommended highly by all that have visited and so I knew that I had to stop in and see what the fuss was about. Amanda had told me there was an exhibition about the Gallipoli campaign currently installed. Nothing like a doomed WW1 military campaign to cheer you up on a rainy morning, eh? I won't talk in too much detail about the museum (just check out TripAdvisor if you want that) but suffice to say the museum is beautiful and the Gallipoli exhibition is perhaps one of the finest exhibitions I have ever witnessed. If you are in the Wellington region then I implore you to pay a visit.
The rest of the day was a fairly low key affair of dodging the rain and picking up supplies. I raided the outdoor stores and picked up a gas stove and a few lightweight pans. After being spoilt in the North Island I knew that the South would surely bring me more remote campsites without kitchen facilities... I ran through the rain back to the bike shop and picked up the bike, separation anxieties now extinguished, and prepared to leave. As I was paying I got chatting to the bloke behind the counter who gave me a worried look when I mentioned taking the ferry in the morning. He reckoned that with the predicted 130kph winds overnight the crossing might be cancelled. Gulp. I'd already spent more time in the North than I'd planned and I didn't like the idea of spending any more time waiting for the weather to get better. I left the shop and did what any good Englishman would do; I found a cafe, ordered a pot of Earl Gray and thought about what to do. I called the ferry people and was informed that the ferry would only be cancelled if the waves hit 4m...tomorrow was only due to hit 3m. Reassuring. Better stock up on sick bags then...
I returned to Island Bay to pile on the calories at the fish & chips place down the road. I took a stroll along the beach and thought again about my two and half weeks in the North Island and how much I had done already. I also considered how much more windy and remote and hilly and unforgiving the South Island would be. I attempted to blot this out; I had the 3m waves to contend with first. I headed back to the house, said goodnight and packed up my panniers.
I don't feel like this post has fully and accurately portrayed my stay in Wellington. I had found Welly to be far more intimate and accessible than Auckland. It was fun and easy to get around and the people were infused with a sense of humour that only 50mph winds can batter into you. It truly is a great city and I was sad to be leaving after being unable to fully explore. But there was no time to look behind me and make regrets now. It was almost time to head south.
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