A fittingly late conclusion: the East Coast

Apologies once again for the late update, considering that I arrived home over a week ago, but as I said last time: it's better late than never! I cant load any photos onto this update as they're not saved on this computer, but I have set up a Flickr account where I have uploaded the 'best' photos of my travels. http://www.flickr.com/photos/61942528@N04/

I flew from San Diego to Baltimore on the 18th March. For some reason I'd chosen to take a flight that arrived at 1.00AM, so had to book into a cheap hotel near the airport for a night. I had two days to 'explore' Baltimore, but having watched 'The Wire' I knew that I was likely to get shot at at some point, so I stuck to the Inner Harbour area, which looked pretty safe. The National Aquarium was located at the harbour, so I upped my yearly aquarium count to a nice round 2 and joined the thousands of other people who had the same idea. As part of the entry I got to watch a dolphin show which, whilst very impressive, looked a tad cruel. The weather on the East coast was significantly colder than in San Diego, so walking around in the cold was not particularly welcoming.

I got the local train down to Washington DC, where I had booked into a hostel for a week, so I certainly had enough time to visit all of the free museums. And I did visit them. All of them. Mostly out of principle rather than any actual desire to see their contents. However, after 3 months of travelling, my brain was in no fit state to read all of the blurb that went with each exhibit, so I just looked at the models and pictures instead. On the Friday night I met up with a fried from Reading Uni and experienced Ethiopian cuisine for the first time, which was a change from the normal! I was surprised to find that the England v Wales football match was being shown on US television, however this prompted the following, confusing conversation with the locals: "So are Wales actually a country?", "Yes they are", "But they are part of the United Kingdom?", "Yes, they are", "And they are governed by the British government?", "Well they have their own parliament, but in general they are", "So they're not really a country?", "Yes, they are". Needless to say, none of them stayed to watch the game.

From DC I got the bus up to Philadelphia, where the weather had got even colder, barely above freezing. I paid homage to my favourite series, Rocky (but not 5 and 6, they were rubbish), by walking miles out of my way to visit the Art Museum, which was closed, but I was there just to see the steps leading up to it, and the slightly deceiving statue of the man himself. After that I decided to visit the more traditional Philly attractions, such as the Liberty Bell and surrounding buildings. This included subjecting myself to an hour of factually dubious American propaganda in the Constitution Museum.

From Philly I took a 7 hour train ride to Pittsburgh, where another friend lives. There are no youth hostels in the city, so I had to book in to a reasonably priced posh hotel near the city centre. What Pittsburgh lacks in youth hostels it more than makes up for in bridges. The city's claim to fame is that only Venice has more bridges. In my time there I only sampled a few of the bridges, but they were more than satisfactory. The craziest thing about Pittsburgh, however, was its weather. In a 20 minute period the weather went from raining, to blue skies, to mist, to heavy rain, to snow, back to blue skies and then finally back to rain. These fluctuations were not appreciated when I was attempting to do a bit of sightseeing. Nicole's parents invited me round for an excellent home-cooked meal, my first since Christmas, and then went above and beyond the call of duty by waking up at 4am to take me to the airport.

My early morning flight was for my 24 hour pilgrimage to Green Bay, Wisconsin, just to see their American Football stadium. My support for the Packers is such that I flew quite a long way to a place covered in snow and where everyone loves cheese. The stadium tour was excellent, taking us right down to pitch side, and seeing as their games are sold out on a season-ticket only basis for the next 67 years, it's probably the only time I'll get to go! I nearly found myself stuck in Green Bay when a heavy sleet storm delayed the plane the following morning, meaning that I had 15 minutes to walk the entire length of Chicago airport to catch my connection to Boston.

The weather in Boston also left a lot to be desired. Rather than snow, this time it was torrential rain which blighted my trip, meaning that I could not really do much sightseeing. I jumped on the underground and went to Harvard University, with its old and history-filled buildings, got drenched and went back to the warmth of the hostel.

I left Boston in the rain again the next morning en route to Shelton, Connecticut, where another friend (this time English) was working, where we confused the locals in the bar by playing some very English songs on the jukebox. The next day it was on to my final stop of my journey, New York City, where my brother came out to meet me.

Mike and I spent the first day at Yankees Stadium watching a baseball match between New York and Minnesota, which was an exceptionally cold affair, with relatively little action, but we left knowing slightly more about the game than when we started. From there we went down to Times Square, where we managed to find a Scottish pub for dinner, which was slightly posher than we'd expected. They did, however, sell Blackthorn cider, so I was happy.

The following day we walked round the Metropolitan Museum of Art, not really knowing what we were looking at, but being cultural none-the-less. We were going to follow this up with a trip to the Museum of Modern Art, but the queue was so long that we didn't bother.

The next day we visited Ground Zero and saw the latest developments on their plans for a memorial shrine, which they hope to be open to mark the 10th anniversary of the attacks this year. We took the Staten Island ferry to Staten Island to get a free glimpse of the Statue of Liberty, rather than joining the droves of tourists going to Liberty Island itself. Once we got to Staten Island we jumped straight back on the ferry to Manhatten and went to walk round Central Park.

My final night in the States was spent sleeping in JFK Airport ahead of my 8am flight back home. Everything went to plan and I arrived back in England at 8pm, exhausted.

The End

Trek America

Joined up with the tour group early on the 7th in San Francisco. First up we headed back to the Golden Gate Bridge, then to the park again for some picture opportunities, before setting off for Yosemite National Park. The weather was overcast when we arrived, and pretty chilly so my backpack full of summer clothes wasn't exactly helpful.

Yosemite itself was stunning, snow on the ground, huge rock faces surrounding all sides of the valley. The hostel just outside the park was decent, with its own cafe/bar which did some decent food, which was a change from the rubbish i'd eaten the previous week...after being awoken to the sound of an Israeli in our room doing press-ups at 6am we headed back into the park to do some exploring, walking halfway to the top of Yosemite falls, before realising that it was a bit of a bigger trek than we'd anticipated, we descended, explored the rest of the valley and ultimately ended up sitting in a gift shop to keep warm!

Early start the next day with a long drive through the desert to Las Vegas. And as the saying goes: "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas." Needless to say, it couldn't have been much more different than Yosemite...here are some of the nicer pictures...

From Vegas we ventured down to the Grand Canyon, which again, couldn't have been more different than Vegas. The Canyon is like everything else in the country: massive. We took a 30 minute helicopter ride over the Canyon, which gave us amazing views of the scale of the thing, seeing as though it is about the same size as Switzerland! We went back into the park to watch the sun set over the Canyon, lighting the sky up orange and yellow, but also freezing cold.

Another early rise the next day in order to catch the sun rise over the Canyon at 6.45, which was even colder than the previous night. When the sun had risen we trekked down into the Canyon itself, getting nowhere near the bottom obviously, but far enough down to notice a sharp rise in temperature and get some great views.

Around Midday we got back on the bus and travelled to Lake Havasu, on the Arizona/California border. There was a marked change in temperature at the lake, gone were the gloves and coats from the Canyon and out came the t-shirt and shorts. Lake Havasu itself is a popular Spring Break location for American university students, and we arrived at the beginning of Spring Break, so the whole place was pretty seedy and debaucherous. We partook in a few quiet drinks and remained relatively civilised, on the whole.

We left the lake again the next morning, returning to Los Angeles, visiting Hollywood again, Rodeo Drive and Sunset Boulevard, before hitting Venice Beach again. The trip came to an end that night, with people flying home at various points through the night. Those of us who remained tried to recover from the week at the hotel near LAX.

To 'celebrate' my birthday the next day Michelle and Steve (two of the people from the tour) and I wandered round Hollywood again before going Downtown to the Staples Center to watch the LA Lakers basketball game against Orlando. I left knowing as little about basketball as when I entered, which is very little, but a good experience nonetheless.

Steve joined me on my train ride to San Diego, where we walked around the harbour before going out and meeting some locals in the bars in the Gaslamp District, we made friends and annoyed Americans by beating them at their own games.

This morning we went up to San Diego Zoo, in Balboa Park. Again, the place was massive, taking 4 hours to walk round it all.

2 more days in San Diego, before I fly to the east coast to finish off the trip.

Better late than never: The start of the USA

Flew out of Auckland at 3pm on the 28th February, having been sitting there since 9am after dropping off the car. 12 hour plane journey, arriving at 6am on the same day. Needless to say I was quite tired when I arrived at my hotel in Santa Monica. Not the greatest time to have a conversation with a radical Canadian about the meanings of war, but I impressed him with my ancient history knowledge, despite most of it being false.

Took a stroll round Venice Beach, which was 5 minutes away from the hotel. Again, not a great place to go when a bit disorientated, as the place is full of absolute fruitcakes, trying to sell you stuff, dancing to themselves, playing home-made musical instruments and being generally weird. The weather was sunny but not particularly warm, however opinions differed, some people thought it was hot, some people thought it was cold and some people thought they were monkeys...

Decided to walk the short distance down the promenade to the slightly more upmarket Santa Monica, where there was a cool shopping district and a picturesque pier and people were a little friendlier.

After a good night's sleep I ventured into Downtown LA, an hour's bus ride away from the beach. I made an excellent first impression by trying to pay the conductor with New Zealand coins. I then got on the subway to go to Hollywood, a place that is exceptionally underwhelming, quite run-down and a bit of a ghetto. Certainly not as glamorous as in the films...walked along the Walk of Fame, not recognising most of the names on the stars, realised there wasn't much else to do and went back to the hotel to catch up on even more sleep.

Had to check out of the hotel the next morning and had booked a bus to San Francisco for 11pm, so had to carry my bags round LA's few sights all day. The bus station was in the roughest part of town, so I arrived 5 hours early to avoid getting stabbed. After a 7 hour bus ride I arrived in San Francisco.

San Fran was a lot nicer that LA, cleaner, fewer people, fewer cars and most importantly everything was within walking distance. But being the 2nd hilliest city in the world (after La Paz...FACT) all the walking did involve some outrageously steep climbs. Walked round the dock area, to Pier 39, where all the tourists flock to the gift shops and restaurants. The next day I took the ferry to Alcatraz and did the excellent audio tour of the cell block and walked round the island. The following day I hired a bike and cycled across the Golden Gate Bridge, cycled straight back across and then round Golden Gate Park, however the hills were not particularly cyclist friendly, especially not those as unfit as me.

The next morning I set off northwards towards Paihia, but not before visiting the real falls, which, it turns out, were about 3km away from the other one, on the other side of that forest...It really was quite a photogenic place and as I withdrew my camera and steadied myself for the perfect shot I realised that I’d left the battery back in the hostel. 20 minutes later I returned to finish the job.

On the way north I once again consulted the guide book and chose to follow it’s advice of a place to stop along the way, however this was the first time in my life that I’ve purposely gone out of my way to stop and look at (but not use) a public toilet building. The toilets in Kawakawa were designed by Hunderwasser, some kind of maverick Austrian architect who lived in the area (without electricity) until the 1970’s. I admired the slightly disappointing building from a cafe across the road, before reluctantly photographing it.

I made it to Paihia by lunchtime. A small town in the Bay of Islands, but popular with tourists due to its prime location a couple of kilometres from Waitangi, the place where the treaty was signed and modern day New Zealand was formed. I arrived just a massive cruise ship dropped anchor in the harbour and the town was overrun by tourists.

I baulked at the $25 admission fee to enter the Waitangi Treaty House and gardens, but instead had an excellent coffee in the cafe attached. The next morning I made my long-awaited comeback to water-based transport and hopped on the ferry to Russell, on the other side of the harbour. If I had been about 50 years older I may have had slightly more interest in the place, but it just appeared to be a bunch of old buildings. I visited New Zealand’s oldest church and then jumped back on the ferry back to Paihia, where the weather took a turn for the slightly-more-overcast and the afternoon was spoiled by heavy rain.

With the weather much better the following day I jumped back in the trusty Mazda and drove across to Ahipara a small village at the foot of 90 mile beach, which would serve as Base Camp for my assault on Cape Reinga the following morning. 

I set off for the Cape early, hoping to beat the rush of tour buses and cars and made the 120km drive up Highway 1. The lighthouse at the Cape marks the very northern tip of the country, and the point where the Pacific Ocean meets the Tasman Sea, creating whirlpools where the two different currents come together.

On Thursday morning I drove three hours south to Dargaville (the sweet potato capital of New Zealand) and on to Matakohe, where I’d booked a bed in a holiday park. Matakohe brands itself ‘The Destination of Choice’, but given that the only 3 attractions were the holiday park that I was staying at, a museum about big trees and a cafe (that was attached to the museum), the choice appeared to be rather limited. I fooled the woman at the tree museum into thinking I was still a student and got a whopping $2 off the admission price, making it a still outrageous $15. To be fair, the museum was huge, just like the Kauri trees it was exhibiting, but it was still, essentially, a museum full of different bits of wood. The lady at the desk assured me that my ticket would also be valid for the next day as well, but I did not take her up on that suggestion.

I prepared the Mazda to make her final long trip of the 4500km journey and drove down to Auckland, and, perhaps as a sign of her disappointment that I would soon to be handing her back to the lovely people at Ace Rentals, the battery ran out on the central locking key-fob.

I walked into the city centre from the hostel, but not after insulting my 10^th Canadian of the holiday by asking her what part of the USA she was from. I headed straight for the SkyTower, New Zealand’s tallest building, mainly because it was the only place I could find without a map. I bought my ticket to the top, paying the full admission price having been rumbled by the man at the till who noticed that my student card expired 6 months ago. The weather was clear and so a spectacular 360 degree views of the city was possible, including Mt Eden and One Tree Hill (that of U2 song fame, not the vaguely basketball-related US TV programme), which no longer actually has a tree on it.  In the evening I watched New Zealand being demolished by Australia in the cricket World Cup.

Today I visited Auckland Museum, an impressive looking building hosting a variety of unrelated artefacts, ranging from WW1 and WW2 memorabilia to models of volcanoes, from Maori carvings to pictures of fish.

On Monday I will embark on my 33 hour long 24 hour period, leaving NZ at 3pm, crossing the date line and arriving in LA 9 hours before I took off.

Apologies for the delay in the update. I have not had decent enough internet to update it properly, so thought I’d wait until I could, and now I can, thanks to the free internet that I’m getting in the hostel in Auckland!

I left Taupo and continued up to Rotorua, stopping off at Wai-O-Tomo geothermal park to see more evidence of the heat and energy that lies beneath the ground in the region. Like ‘Craters of the Moon’, there were small bursts of steam emanating from various parts of the ground, however here there was more than just craters, but pools of water, and lakes with the water dyed various colours, depending on the element that was in the soil around it, with the walk around the park culminating in a view of a small pond who’s water was coloured the brightest green. Once again, the whole park had the smell of sulphur, which made the whole experience a little less pleasant!

Rotorua was different from all the other big towns and cities I’ve visited, it is a lot smaller, and most importantly, there was somewhere to park the car! Again it was by the side of a lake and the odd whiff of sulphur spread across the town every now and again. Much of what the town had to offer was based in Government Gardens, including an odd museum set in an old Bath House, part of which was dedicated an exhibition which showed how the old baths were used for healing, and paying homage to the Royal Mineral Water Hospital in Bath, from where, apparently, they got the idea.

Initially I had planned to head south-east down to Napier and then up the coast to Gisborne, but after some suggestions from other people I decided not to bother, and instead drove up to Whakatane, at the eastern end of the Bay of Plenty. From here it was a short drive to Ohope, where the beach was long, sandy and deserted. The next morning I had booked myself on a whale and dolphin watching boat trip out into the Bay, around Whale Island. I wisely decided to buy some sea-sickness tablets ahead of the trip, which turned out to be a good idea, as the moment we left the calm of the harbour the sea became very choppy, so much so that the people who had booked to swim with the dolphins were unable to do so when we finally managed to find the creatures out in the Bay. The dolphins swam around and under the boat for about 10 minutes, before we lost them again, prompting another hour long search for them but to no avail. By this time, however, the pills I had taken had either worn off, or simply not been strong enough to deal with the conditions, prompting me to be quite ill, narrowly avoiding a small Norwegian boy...

When the side-effects of the pills had worn off I drove 90 minutes along the Bay to Mount Maunganui, a small town a few kilometres away from Tauranga. I hadn’t initially planned on visiting the place, but decided to after it was recommended to me by someone in Nelson, and I’m glad I did, for it is the best place I’ve visited so far. Set on a mini peninsula it was surrounded by a harbour to the west, and the Pacific Ocean to the east. At the very end of the peninsula was ‘The Mount’, which I climbed, giving spectacular views down the golden beach and the Bay of Plenty to one side, and Tauranga and the Coromandel to the other. The place is a haven to surfers in New Zealand, with an artificial reef on the sea bed causing good waves along the main beach. The town had a laid-back atmosphere, with no-one in much of a hurry to do anything...my kind of place!

Two days later I reluctantly set off westwards, towards Thames on the south-west corner of the Coromandel peninsula. Someone had told me that the hostel there was good, which to be fair it was, but there seemed to be a lack of anything to actually do there unless you are into mining, rocks or birdwatching. Drawing blanks on my ability to conjure up any kind of enthusiasm to interest myself in any of those things, I decided that I would use it as a rest day, although the presence of 4 different people snoring in the dorm put paid to that idea, resulting in a sleepless night.

I had accidentally booked myself into the wrong hostel for the next night, meaning to book it for the following night, but I couldn’t be bothered to actually change it, so I was left with a 4 hour drive to the Northlands, through a busy Auckland, up to Whangerei, on the east coast. The hostel was excellent, if a little remote and with an outrageously long and steep driveway. Not wanting to faff around finding somewhere to park in the city centre, I instead decided to head for the Whangerei Falls, reputedly the most photographed waterfall in New Zealand. My sat-nav lured me into a carpark and told me to continue 3km through what was quite clearly a forest...I decided to walk. A man in a fluorescent jacket told me he was there to make sure no-one broke into the cars and that the waterfall was a 15 minute walk through the forest. When I reached it I could not quite work out what was so photogenic about it, for it appeared to be just a trickle of water down an overgrown rockface. I photographed it anyway. It was only when I returned to the hostel that I was told that I’d gone to the wrong one.

Start of the North Island

Took the scenic route on the drive from Motueka to Picton, going down Queen Charlotte Drive, which cut across from Havelock, along the top of the island, instead of going all the way back down to Blenheim. Nice views on the drive, over Pelorus Sound and Marlborough Sound. The road itself was about 35km long, with over 300 bends as it meandered up and down hills, which, rather than destroying my clutch, as feared, it just destroyed my left knee, with all the gear changing!

The hostel in Picton was located next to the cemetery, but they took advantage of this, calling themselves Tombstone Backpackers, with a coffin lid front door. Nice waterfront in the town, looking down Marlborough Sound. Got on the Interislander ferry the next morning, a boat that in its previous life was the Pride of Cherbourg operating out of Portsmouth...small world. The crossing took 3 hours, leaving behind hot and sunny Marlborough, arriving in cold and rainy Wellington. I paid the price for booking myself into a hostel based on the fact that it had off-street parking, because the hostel itself was an absolute hole. It hard for both the days I was in the city. Spent Monday morning in the awesome Te Papa museum, which was huge and encompassed pretty much everything to do with New Zealand. Spent the afternoon in an American bar watching the Packers win the Super Bowl, felt strange watching the game at 1pm with people on their lunch break, instead of 1am like in England...

Rain continued the next day on the drive up to Palmerston North, 90 mins north of Wellington, where I'd booked in 1 night due to there being the NZ Rugby Museum in the city, a museum that was in the process of being moved, so not much was on display. The sun returned on Wednesday as I headed to Wanganui, another 90 minutes north-west, which, by sheer coincidence, was staging the NZ Master's Games at the time. A quick read of the local newspaper told me that events such as Woodchopping, Salsa Dancing, Croquet, Dog Handling and Texas Hold'em Poker were happening that very day. I went to none of them, but instead spent most of the day contemplating whether being over the age of 50 would make any difference in 'sports' such as poker or dog handling...?

Nice drive on Thursday, along the left hand side of the Tongariro National Park, with views of Mt Ruapehu, an active volcano and highest peak in the region.

 Stayed in Turangi for the night, and did a 90 minute walk around Lake Rotopounamu on the way to the town, followed by a 3 hour walk along the Tongariro River walkway from the town centre, a walk where, ironically, I could barely even hear the river, let alone see it for the majority of the walk, which made it rather pointless.

Drove 50km up the right hand side of Lake Taupo, the largest lake in NZ, to Taupo. The lake is, apparently, the size of Indonesia, a country which has the same population as NZ, which is just one of the 'interesting' facts I've learned along the way. Visited Huka Falls, a short drive from the town, where thousands of litres of water every second are funnelled down a narrow passage in the Huka River, and shot out over little ledge at the end.

From there I went the short distance to the Craters of the Moon, a large open space of active geothermal land, where geysers, mud pools and steam holes have been popping up for the last 50 years, and it was cool to see steam just erupting from the ground all over the place, despite the strong smell of rotten eggs.

Up to Rotorua tomorrow, followed by the Bay of Plenty on the north-eastern coast.

Greymouth to Motueka via Christchurch

Gladly left Greymouth on Friday morning (28th) heading cross country to Christchurch, on what I thought would be a nice relaxing drive. I was not, however, prepared for the ridiculous hill climb up to Arthur's Pass, where I'm pretty sure I waved goodbye to the clutch and gearbox, crawling up the hill in 2nd gear. Since then my driving has become pretty terrible, with the constant fear that the clutch will just give up! Got a shock when I arrived into Christchurch, where I encountered the first traffic I'd seen in 2 weeks, and where there's traffic, there's also traffic lights and pedestrians, which took a bit of getting used to. The hostel was located in the city centre, a short walk from the cathedral, however that meant that there was nowhere to park the car, so I had to leave it 30 minutes walk away on the other side of Hagley Park.

Not a big fan of the city itself, too many people, and I was there during the Buskers Festival, which meant that there were temporary stages put up around all the main areas, somewhat spoiling Cathedral Square. Planned to go to the NZ v Pakistan cricket match at AMI Stadium on the Saturday, however the torrential rain in the morning put me off, yet the match still went ahead.

Left on the Sunday heading up to Hanmer Springs, 90 minutes north of Christchurch, where there are hot springs, and a spa resort with a series of hot pools and aqua therapy bath things, which I arrived at just as two big tourist buses pulled up outside, so I decided not to go in...Drove another 90 minutes up to Kaikoura, where there is an abundance of marine wildlife, such as whales and dolphins. Was going to do a boat trip to see the whales, but the bad weather meant that it was cancelled. Nice hostel again, run by a young couple, which had a BBQ on the first night I was there.

Drove up to Blenheim on Tuesday, in the Marlborough wine district, but no wine was tasted, to comply with the whole 'road safety' thing. Visited the excellent Aviation Museum, which is owned by the chap who directed the Lord Of The Rings films, so his film studio had set up the exhibits in a film style environment, including a scene depicting the death of the Red Baron.

 Left the next morning to go to Nelson, about an hour up the road, another busy city, and another place where I had to park miles away from the hostel. Not really much of interest in the city itself, except for the site of the first ever NZ rugby match, and the deceptively steep hill, which marks the (unofficial) centre of the country, which gave good views out over Nelson and further afield to the Abel Tasman National Park

With the intention of not killing my car before reaching the North Island, I decided not to drive all the way across to Golden Bay, right on the north west coast, a drive which involved, in the words of the Lonely Planet guidebook, 'a stomach churning meander over Takaka Hill. Instead I drove 50km west of Nelson to Motueka, via Rabbit Island, which would have been lovely if the sun had been out...by the time I reached Motueka it was sunny and very hot. Not much in the town itself, so I drove another 10km to Kaiteriteri (or just Kaiteri to the locals) where there were golden sandy beaches and a warm sea.

Hostel is the best one yet, 5km north of the town, surrounded by orchards and full of people from Hampshire and the Isle of Wight (and Germans...), as well as a rainwater swimming pool and nice decking to eat dinner on. Shame I'm only here for one night!

Back eastwards tomorrow, to Picton, where the Interisland ferry will take me to Wellington on Sunday.