My first 24 hours in New Zealand (AKA Fantasy Islands)

My $2 gold coin ("no silver" allowed) here is good for 20 minutes of internet access (that's just $1 US, but I'm short on coins), so let's see if I can describe my first 24 hours in this amazing country in a way that might do it justice.

The day didn't get off to the most auspicious of starts, what with the heavy traffic right under my window on Cambridge Street in Wellington. I had arrived at 12:45 a.m., when traffic was nonexistent, so I didn't realize what I was in store for in the morning. All right, then, no worries - I wanted to get up fairly early anyway to get started on the day. My goal was to hit one of the ferries to the South Island, hopefully after exploring Wellington a bit.

I must say that the people I've interacted with in Australia and New Zealand have been amazingly helpful and friendly. I even managed to strike up a conversation with the customs official in Australia about trekking in New Zealand; he was lamenting the fact that his friends were in New Zealand trekking at that very moment and that he should be with them...

Anyway, back to the Cambridge Hotel (which is sort of a hybrid between a hotel and hostel). I asked one of the women who worked there what I might do with the cardboad bike box that I now needed to discard (since I'm not flying out of Wellington). She said that I should just drop it in the hall next to the laundry room. Easy enough...

When I asked the woman at the front desk where I might find a store that has camping supplies - I needed some fuel for my camping stove - she asked if I just needed one of those cannisters? Um, yes... She replied that they actually had one that had been lying around the office "for ages" and that I should take it. Sure thing! That saved me $7 and the hassle of trying to find a camping supply store.

As I rolled into town towards the ferry, the grocery store appeared on the right... and then, as if by magic, a bike shop on my left (where I got my wheel trued for $10USD). While there, the two guys working there explained to me the pros and cons of the two different ferry options to Picton (the South Island). Good stuff! (I opted for Blue Bridge, which is a bit cheaper).

I picked up a ferry ticket at the office and asked the woman working there what she might do if she had an hour to kill before boarding the ferry, as I did. She said she might check out the Te Papa National Museum, which was just a bit down the way. The price? Free! I was on my way.

If you're ever in Wellington, I'd highly recommend the museum. It's a mixture of art museum, natural history museum, botanical gardens, and more! I had fun trying to see as much as possible in the 35 minutes I had there.

Next up was the 3-hour ferry ride. Here I was torn between two objectives: 1) finish reading one of the (heavy-ish) books that I was carrying and 2) see the amazing scenery that was passing by. Fortunately, there was a span about halfway through when we were pretty far from any land, so I did manage to finish the book (Metal Cowboy, by Joe Kurmaski, a pretty fun read about his bike touring adventures).

At last, around 4:30 p.m., we hit land, and I was off on my bike to Havelock, 35km away. (Well, after I managed to locate my bike... ferries have a way of confusing me, especially once they jam pack it tight with huge trucks).

The scenery along Queen Charlotte Drive is perhaps unequaled. I'd say it's something like the road to Hana in Maui or the drive along the west side of the Cape south of Capetown, SA. But better. The green mountains just across the water, followed by beautiful farmlands, and then more coastline... and very few cars. I was in heaven. The doubts and second thoughts I'd had about taking this trip and taking time off work disappeared. I felt like I was very much in the right place.

Havelock is a pretty tiny town with a pretty large marina and a little campground that I'm calling home for the night. I have had my share of follies here already, however!

Apparently Havelock is famous for its green mussels. I've perhaps eaten a few mussels in my time, but when I ordered some at the local takeaway shop, I asked the young woman behind the counter how many to order. She said that 4 or 6 was a typical-sized order. I ordered a half dozen and waited what seemed like a while for them to appear. I grew hungrier and hotter from my sunburn (I put sunblock on my face and neck today, but, um, forgot my legs...), and as I was waiting as the order numbers were gradually called out... my mouth might have watered a little when I saw the huge packages of takeaway that other customers were picking up.

A little bit of sadness followed when my tiny package was offered up as order number 100. Apparently it is standard operating procedure to get some chips with such an order... sigh... after I ate my mussels on a bench at the marina, I went to the next shop down the street and ordered some chips. Really, it was because the first shop was closed, not because I was embarrassed or anything... really. I will say in their defense, though, that it was only $1.60 USD for those mussels. And they were darn tasty!

I almost felt like I didn't need a shower tonight, as I'd only biked ~20 miles. But it had been a warm day... and only a fool turns down an opportunity for a wam shower. So I walked to the center of the campground, looking for showers. The first thing I saw resembling a shower was a handicapped bathroom, which, sure enough, had a shower in it as well. One stop shopping! It wasn't until I had emptied all of my pockets (which contained, in no particular order: one bike lock, one cell phone, one camera, one wallet, coins, etc., etc.,) and completely undressed (distributing my goods all over the toilet and sink, as there was no bench or hooks to place things on) that I realized that the shower was a farce.

It was with some disbelief that I examined this so-called shower. It had a knob for turning it on; it had a rail that a shower head is supposed to attach to (and slide up and down). But there was no actual outlet for water. No shower head, no hose. As I stood there, puzzled and naked (with my shirt/towel in hand), I realized that I had neglected to lock the door. That poor old woman probably had the shock of her life. Consequently, now I'm afraid to interact with any of the older women here; I didn't get a look at her face, so it could have been any one of them! :^0

And so concludes Susan's follies for today.

Here are some miscellaneous details:
Cost of ferry: $55NZD + $10NZD for bike
Cost of hotel: $60NZD
Cost of tent site: $12