Fjordland, Wanaka and the West Coast

 From the far south I head north west towards Fjordland and as soon as I turn from the coast the weather turns for the better and I am treated to a glorious sunny ride through the foot hills of the southern Alps. I arrive in to the town of Te Anau, which is the jump off point for Milford Sound, one of the most visited places in NZ, so accordingly it's a busy little town, full of camper vans, coaches and the obligatory Chinese, who are omnipresent as tourists.

The following day is taken as a rest day, as I have broken my golden rule of motorcycle travel which is, five days on, one day off. When you are on extended trips, I find this gives the right balance of not getting fatigue with the trip and keeps you hungry for the next stage. Of course having somewhere that's interesting and not in the middle of buttfucknowhere is preferable. Rest day consists of a long breakfast, laundry and a 5 miles walk around the banks of Lake Te Anau and I book a trip for the following day to Doubtful Sound. Bigger and much quieter than Milford, Doubtful is so named after Captain Cook when he passed this way, thought is "doubtful " due to the westerly winds, whether he could get his ship out once he had sailed in.

Words , I do not think are able to sum up such beauty, so I will simple let the photos do the talking.............I return to my tent satisfied with my days touristing and have a simple dinner as I 

watch the sun go down in a cloudless sky and feel the hot sun turn to a very chilly night.

I've got a relativity easy day following, but I'm up at 7am to start getting the bike packed and get the tent in the sun to dry off the heavy dew. I walk to the supermarket for supplies and grab a flat white 

as I amble back. The one great thing about NZ, you can get a good coffee in almost any town and not a Starbucks or Costa in sight, thankfully.

I eventually leave around 10am , as I don't need to be in my next stop of Wanaka until 6pm. I still on 

the banks of Lake Wakatipu for some refreshments, laze in the sun and take a very short but
refreshing dip in the inviting, but extremely cold blue waters. By now it's blisteringly hot, or at least
the sun is. The sun in NZ is intense, in part due to the thin ozone layer that is this part of the world.Which means when your in the sun it's burning, but can feel quite cold in the shade.

I dry off and remount the BM , happily cruising with a full belly through the sun shine and clear Kiwi
air, this country is a delight to ride a motorcycle in. I briefly stop in Arrowtown, which is an old gold mining town dating from the 1850's, as has been done in much of these kind of small historic places, it has been turned in to a tourist shopping centre. That is to say the buildings have been refurbished and modern shops places internally. Someone has to pay for it, but the term "historic" now seems
somewhat out place.

I head over the Cardrona Ridge and pass one of the stranger things I have seen on my travels; a Bra Forest. Now I've seen a tree forest, but not a bra forest. It's all in the name of breast cancer and in good humour.

I arrive at Sophie's house at 6pm laden with refreshing beers, it's been 
ten years since we last met, in eastern Turkey, where she was running a raft trip for Water By Nature. She is quite the spirited women and at only 31, has now 
been a raft guide on rivers all over the world, sat a law degree and is 
now a lawyer and has just finished 
builder her own home! I have to say 

I'm impressed with her drive and intelligence, not expressions you normally associate to raft guides. 

I spent a couple of days with Soph and her partner Darren, a nice lad from Kendal in Cumbria and their extremely loveable dog Moss. Who I have the pleasure of spending a lazy day walking round the banks of crystal blue Lake Hawea and wearing my arms out throwing sticks in to the water for Moss to swim after. I dip in a few times myself, but honestly it's just too bloody cold to enjoy. We finish the day in true Kiwi style with fish and chips, washed down with a couple of cold beers, while the sun slowly slip behind the mountains.

After catching up with Sophie's "Crew" who include Justin Venable who I first meet in Jinga , Uganada back in 2006, leave for the Haast Pass and the wet coast. The ride over is through alpine landscape, interspersed with sapphire blue lakes and when you hit the coast it becomes clear that the prevailing westerly wind is today only a gentle breeze, as the shrubby vegetation is combed up the hillside and tree grow in one direction, bent by the force of nature that is pressed upon them relentlessly.

Further up the coast towards the glaciers of Fox and Frans Josef, the turns to rain forest at coastal level, with the land running up to the highs of Mt Cook where glaciers still cling, but only just about, to their rocky slopes. I take a ride to near both glaciers, but the hoards of tourist being unloaded from their busses and the fact that the most remarkable fact of the glaciers is how far they have receded in 
the past five years, help make the decision to move on to tonight's camp. If you have never seen a glacier, I'm sure it would be worth the hour or so was, it used to be a 10 min walk, that how far they 
have moved back.

Okarito is as small as small town NZ gets, it is best described as a settlement rather than a town, consisting of around twenty houses, some very basic and other bordering on the extravagant, owned by people from Christchurch who want a bolt hole from the city. One house has an extremely large garage door, which seems to make no sense, until I see the sign "danger aircraft". Loving above your own hanger, that's cool! But what this town does have is a great beach  and views back up the mountains to Mt Cook, so you can sit and listen to the surf crash as you look up nearly 4000 metres and watch the snow turn orange as the sun sets.

The next morning I wait for the dew to be burnt of my tent by the early sun, then head up the coast to Hokitika for fuel and food. Hoki is an old gold mining town and has the feel of old prosperity, a music hall a town centre clock, I'm sure it was quite the swinging place in its day and it still retains an air of relaxed confidence. At Kumara Junction I take the 73 towards Arthur's Pass, a pleasant ride up and over the saddle of the southern Alps  and descend in to a stunning broad valley cut out by the ......... River. The sun is shinning and I feel the urge for some wild camping, the terrain and weather are too good to refuse. I cross a small bridge, 1km off the main highway and have the valley to myself, not even a sheep in sight. I pitch my tent next to the river and while there is still heat in the day, plunge in to the ice cold waters. It is a brief but exhilarating bath, by the time I clamber out, my feet are turning blue and I have begun to shake. That's cold!

The freedom to camp up when you see somewhere beautiful is one of the great pleasures of adventure motorcycling, having all you need with you and be surrounding do by great nature. When you are surrounded by nature you feel like you have more in your life, more energy, more richness and the need for material items and comforts are secondary. It fills you with energy and fulfilment. 

I watch the sun set and retire for the night , content with everything in life. I wake at around 2am as my sleeping mat has developed a puncture and requires some air. I take the opportunity to pop out of the tent and take a look at the star filled sky, as I do so two shorting starts fall through the sky,perfect timing. I wake to a cold but sunny morning and watch the mist roll off the far off mountain tops and wait for the sun to climb over the peaks to the east and start to warm the valley.

Life can turn on a sixpence and as I ride down the valley I feel my phone vibrate as I again reach coverage. I stop after an hour to view some lovely rock formations and take a moment to read some of my messages. One stops all my thoughts as I read the news that a close and dear friend has taken her life. I'm simply stunned at the news and the beauty of last 24 hours seems to drain from my very soul. I ride off and find a cafe to try and compose myself and my thoughts and make calls back to the uk to speak with mutual friends and find out what's happened, but nothing seems clear, just a feeling of sadness and loss.

I arrive in to Christchurch and spend a couple of hours wondering the streets of this quake torn city, observing the destruction and rebuilding, the loss and the hope. Clearly these people are not giving up on the city they call home. I meet up with an old friend Julie at her mothers house and we start on the G&Ts, it seems appropriate as she is here for her step fathers passing, there is a lot of life loss in the air.