time travel and the longest friday ...

It could have been the scene from Superman where he flies around the world to turn back time, or perhaps it was tuning in to the latest episode of Dr. Who every Saturday teatime with an almost religious fervour - but I had developed an interest in the possibility of time travel from a very early age.

As we prepared to leave New Zealand the time had finally come to realise my long-held ambitions, at around midnight that evening we would be flying across the international date line right back into Friday morning. To further confuse matters we would also be crossing the equator and swapping spring for winter, plus it was going to be warmer.

I'll give you a few moments to digest that lot.

Our schedule would first take us to Nadi in Fiji where we would change planes for our final destination of Hawaii. Changing planes isn't a great recipe for a relaxing overnight flight, but just after boarding we realised it could be very good news indeed for the beer league.

The surly attitude of the airport staff at Nadi airport hardly filled us with entusiasm for a return visit, but a quick visit to the restaurant confirmed the precence of 3 local beers which I would have the opportunity to sample before our flight left just before midnight. It yielded the very reasonable Fiji Bitter and Fiji Gold, plus the absolutely horrible Fiji Export Bitter which tasted like a cross between old socks and Ouzo. I couldn't help thinking that between the airport staff and brewing industry something is going very wrong with attempts to develop promote Fiji to a world audience as a tourist destination.

After being singled out for an additional security search as we boarded the plane which included the farce of being waved over by an obviously faulty metal detector wand (I know this as my belt buckle always sets the ones that work off), we took off on time and just 30 minutes into the flight were informed over the tannoy to adjust our watches. One hour forward, one day backwards.

We arrived in Honalulu airport at 7am. It was a full 10 hours before our departure that evening from New Zealand ... and not a Dalek in sight.



In just five more days my moustache will be fully matured, so I'll post a more extensive photo gallery at the end of the month.

Despite my altered appearance I made it through US immigration with no more difficulty than being required recite the ingredients of the bag of bombay mix I had declared on the customs form, having had my request to be allowed retreive it from my luggage and actually refer to the packaging refused.

Given the various recipes for bombay mix we quickly reached an impasse after I vaguely admitted that I didn't actually know the precise ingredients of the packet in question. Matters only became more confused by my repeated reference to the only ingredient I could be sure of - in the confusion of time travel I had completely forgotten that chickpeas are called garbanzo beans here in the US. Thankfully the immigration official seemed to tire of the game pretty quickly and I was allowed to proceed after giving solemn assurances it didn't contain any pork or beef. Or chickens.

My most immediate concern now is whether or not I will find a tell-tale white patch when I finally shave off the mo' next weekend ...

the full monty ...

As we rolled into Auckland we unleashed an exercise in vehicle selling of military precision.

With only four days to sell our van we decided to hit the market hard with a keen price and set out with the objective of placing a copy of our advert to the noticeboard of every backpacker lodge in the city.

We took our first call 30 minutes after pinning the first advert to a noticeboard and just 30 minutes after that the sale was all but agreed. It just remained for Super Casual to pass a nailbiting independent inspection the next morning, and the transaction was completed.

For those of you with an interest in figures, here's the running cost data for our trip of 5347km.

insurance -$180
camping gear -$344
maintenance -$ 10

fuel -$645

profit on sale +$100
total -$1079

It all works out at an incredible $0.20/km or just 11.9 pence per mile in UK terms - surely these must qualify as world class running costs for a camper van?

The early sale of our van left us with time on our hands to relax and enjoy our last few days in New Zealand updating our wardrobes and hanging out in the cafe's and bars (but mainly bars) of Auckland's fashionable Ponsonby district.

We've discovered lots of uniquely Kiwi expressions to describe a great result like this, from the slightly over-used awesome, to sweet as and even occasionally the rather unusual monty.

After delivering six weeks of trouble-free motoring for less than the cost of a single round NZ bus ticket and saving us an estimated $500 in accommodation, we think SC is quite simply - the full monty

As well as seeing SC drive off into the sunset we also say goodbye to New Zealand today, as once again the time has come for us to move on. It's been an amazing time, and even after 6 weeks we leave behind plenty of things for next time ...

Before we depart there's time for one last moustache update - here I am this morning on day 23

I've added the last couple of beers to the league and all the photos are now online for those of you who wish to look them over (don't worry, we're saving some for a slide show when we return).

The next update will be from somewhere completely different ...

earth, wind (water) and fire ...

Approaching the city limits of Rotorua we began to look at each other suspiciously.

As the smell of rotten eggs intensified it didn't take too long to realise that it had more to do with the hydrogen sulphide emitted by thermal activity than our breakfast that morning. It may have been the thermal activity and associated Spa's that first attracted tourists to this part of the North Island, but we found more to detain us here than anywhere else in New Zealand.

It's interesting that what terrifies one person another can take quite in their stride. As Mel decided to fulfil her ambition for jumping out of an aeroplane (something I would require sedation to even consider) I took to the Wairoa River for some full on white-water rafting, the very thought of which terrifies Mel to an equal extent.

When the local hydro-electric company dammed the river a number of years ago the rafting operators managed to secure an agreement that sees water released for a few short hours only twenty-six times a year. I could see why they battled so hard to keep rafting here, as we spent 2 hours tackling the Grade 4-5 rapids every hundred metres or so along our route.

It was only after we had recovered from partially capsizing in the toughest rapid of the day that our raft guide informed us about the 8 people had previously died in the same spot. I guess that should have provided a sober moment, but we we're having so much fun it just seemed to add to the general euphoria.

While the white water definitely rules for adrenaline, by far the most amusing activity in Rotorua (if not the planet) is Zorbing.

Imagine rolling down a hill along a zig-zag course in an enormous beach ball along with half a gallon of lukewarm water - the video below of the straight course should provide you with a good idea.

It may be completely pointless and ridiculous, but I'd challenge anyone not to laugh all the way down. Simply hilarious fun.

Of course as I left the finish area having had my photo taken, the photographer only had one thing to say to me ...

"Hey, nice 'tashe mate".

This is getting more embarassing by the day.

Here's a photo of me on Day 18 of Movember posing with a bottle of MAC Spring Tide, new in at No. 2 in the beer league.

I'm delighted to say that thanks to your support the sponsorship amount is now well into 3 figures and rising almost as fast as my embarassment. If you haven't sponsored me yet and would like to, you can find all the details a couple of posts below.

I'd also like to take this opportunity to state absolutely categorically that my moustache is NOT GINGER. You know who you are.

the grape escape ...

With only a couple of weeks to make our way up to Auckland, we moved sharply up the east coast to the Art Deco city of Napier.

In contrast to the overcast weather we had in Wellington, here we were treated to two days of glorious sunshine. Perfect for wine growing, and even better for taking a chaufeurred tour of some of the areas vineyards to sample over thirty varieties of locally produced wine.

Hawkes Bay seems to produce a far better white wine than my preferred tipple of red - certainly they were not a patch on the Pinot Noirs of the South Island. But quite honestly after the equivalent of a couple of bottles apiece, who cares anymore? It was a great day out, which we topped off with some excellent Thai food in one of Napiers many fine restaurants.

Of course all good things come to an end, and after a couple of days wining and dining in comparative style it was time to make our grape escape and pack up our backpacks for a couple of days of going bush in the wilderness of Waikaremoana Lake in Te Urawera National Park.

Just to get to the start of our trek we had to negotiate 25km of dirt track in the van, before chartering a boat to drop us at the other side of the lake. It all contributed to a genuine feeling of being in the middle of nowhere, which is exactly where we still were after walking for eight hours laden with 15kg packs when we stopped to spend the evening in one of the huts provided by the Department of Conservation (DOC).

Our trek alternated between the side of the lake, and inland routes through pristine forests dripping with vines. The area is one of the few left on the North Island where the original native bush has been left completely untouched, and it still provides suitable habitat for the highly endangered Kiwi, whose numbers are being restored thanks to extensive pest control programmes for introduced predators such as stoats.

As our pre-arranged boat collected us the next day for the 40 minute ride back accross the lake to collect our van, we could easily imagine how it had been a great place for New Zealands latest suspected domestic terrorists to hang out. Thankfully the only thing criminal we encountered was the price of our water taxi ...

Thanks for all your fantastic support sponsoring my new moustache - the sponsorship total is almost into three figures. I've even had people I don't know complimenting me on it. If you still haven't donated you can find details below in the previous posts (just scroll down).

Things at the top end of the beer league have been looking a little crowded of late, so I've taken the opportunity to review and "recalibrate" to give a more accurate representation of merit. Basically you should find anything in the top 15 or so highly drinkable.

pimp my face up ...

It probably goes without saying, but I feel a bit of a plonker walking around like this.

I suppose at least I should be grateful I'm in a country where outlandish facial hair is regarded as the height of good taste. Almost as much as in Belgium.

All the cities we've visited in New Zealand seem to have their own unique character and the capital Wellington is no exception. Life here really does revolve around the numerous bars and cafe's, so much so that the city actually gets busier at 6pm and parking spaces far more difficult to come by.

It's been really nice just to relax for a couple of days and we didn't do much other than paying a visit to the impressive "Te Papa " National Museum which covers all aspects of the nations natural and cultural history. One of the more interesting exhibits is a room in which you can experience a simulated earthquake.

Of course my new facial hair has not gone unnoticed by the local females.

Mind you, I don't think Mel has too much to fear from the shop assistant who attempted to flirt with me as I was buying a new pair of shorts. After asking where I was from, she said "Oh nice! .. we have UK shoe sizes here". Eventually she broke my stunned silence that followed by saying "Hmm, that's not very interesting is it?". I didn't like to say.

Full credit to her though, she carried on trying with insightful followup questions like "So what does UK stand for then?" and of course the ubiquitous "So, is Leeds near London then?". After I'd put her straight she attempted to explain her ignorance by giggling and saying "Well, I was never any good at history".

Confused, I ventured "Do you mean geography?", to which she replied "Geography? God no, I was terrible at that ...".

I still don't think she had the slightest idea what I was talking about.