We shivered on our first night in NZ; our blood had thinned in Madagascar and Australia. We headed south from south Auckland; climbing over the Bombay Hills (not a curry in sight), through Hamilton (no steel mills either) to Otorohanga to see the kiwis stomping around the nocturnal house. Further down the road we stopped in at the Waitomo Caves to see the glow worms (maggots that attract errant insects to their deaths with lights).

A beautiful bike ride to the western coast of the north island (Marokopa) provided us with our first exposure to real Kiwi back roads (fantastic), black sand beaches of the east coast, torrential rains (not so fantastic) and sand flies (even less fantastic, but they are actually black flies, but Captain Cook called them sand flies).

Working our way south and a couple more overnight beach stops, we reached New Plymouth, our home for almost 2 weeks with Steff and Barb (we met them in U.K. and Norway). New Plymouth sits below the 'Mt. Fuji-like" volcano and has several black sand beaches. Over the Christmas holidays, we REALLY missed the Northern Hemisphere winter but consoled ourselves playing in the white surf. Out came the more serious water toys (boogie boards and surf kayak). We also enjoyed beach walks and a fantastic 2-night trip to the UNESCO world heritage site of Tongariro National Park (volcanoes, lava tubes, emerald lakes all up close on the Tongariro crossing).

While the serious eating and drinking continued, the good weather abruptly halted on New Year's Eve, washing out New Zealand's big parties. We may have been the first to usher in the new millennium, but we also seemed to be in the wettest country on the planet.

Y2K also brought with it our long awaited support vehicle. Steff and Barb drove us well out of New Plymouth (we think they wanted to make sure we were leaving), a sheep farmer stopped along a gravel road to offer to carry our panniers to our destination (he did) and the following day a woman drove Sheila's bags 95 kilometres to our next stop. Finally a train ride down to Wellington, only to be picked up by car and brought home to Barry and Annette's home. Oh yes the cycling was really good too (Inglewood to Taumarumui)! Last year's European Sisi tour has been superseded by this year's sissy tour.

 KIWI NOTES

Campgrounds: Sheila thought that South Africa had the best campgrounds in the world (clean hot baths) but here they have amazing hot showers and the come equipped with kitchens and often TV lounges.

Curious cows: Once again we are in a country where all the cows stop and watch us cycle by. The sheep on the other hand run scared, especially from men wearing gumboots.

Kiwi people: Simply fantastic.

"Don't mention the war": Religion and politics are fair game at the dinner table, but don't mention New Zealand's defeat in the 1999 rugby world cup.

Think twice about asking for two scoops of ice cream or a double order of chips (french fries) because you won't be able to finish!

Wellington: a pleasant surprise. Quite cosmopolitan with a thriving café culture.

 South Island

We landed on the South Island at Picton then we headed west for a good mussel feed at Havelock, the green mussel capital of the world. It felt like British Colombia with mountains, great coastal scenery, towns called Nelson and Richmond and large clear-cut areas but the water was warm(ish) enough to swim in.

We paid for our beach time with a punishing ride up to St Arnaud, one of NZ's sand fly capitals alongside Lake Rotoiti (Nelson Lakes) a barren version of Maligne Lake in Jasper, Alberta. We woke up to the pitter-patter of sand flies on our tent (we thought it was raining).

We were seduced by a rosy weather forecast and a momentary tailwind, so we decided to descend down to the west coast through the Buller Gorge (nice riverfront wild camping with plenty of friendly sand flies). We stocked up on high-powered bug juice before riding up to end-of-the-road Karamea to meet up with Barney, the resident dancing cockatoo. We braved the sand fly colony at Kohaihai and the carnivorous snails (even more dangerous than sheep) for a day coastal walk amongst tree ferns and nikau palms.

We doubled backed through Westport, dodged flightless Weka birds, stopped in at Punakaiki (cool 12 legged starfish) where the sunny weather was creating a water shortage and onto Westport for a tour of the Monteith brewery: 16 people including sales and delivery staff produce 4 million litres of beer a year. That's productivity!

Heading south, we were careful not to scratch (or pick) our noses at the Ross cattle auction. The fine weather collapsed and our leaky tent (big thumbs down to "Sierra Designs", though in fairness to the manufacturer, we did later receive a full refund on the purchase price) was unable to withstand spectacular thunderstorms and we made a hasty retreat into a cabin.

Following 5 days of rain (Okarito-Franz Josef-Fox Glacier) we beetled it to Haast then over the Haast Pass (steep!) out of Westland into Otago. At Makarora, a "Kiwi Experience" tour bus cranked up the music till 3:00 a.m. (memories of Slovakia).

 The gravel road complete with stiff headwind from Wanaka to Mt Aspiring hut was rough enough to break a spoke and a rear axle. It provided preparation for the nasty road surface over the Crown Saddle (1050 metres) crossing down over to Queenstown.

*We resisted the jet boat tours, tandem skydiving, bungee jumping to take on the cyclist-killing road to Glenorchy (oh, those hills) eased only by the spectacular lakeside scenery. In Glenorchy (population 70), we met up with James and Pam (we met James on our last trip there) and tried to help the locals drink the 2 pubs dry. James filled our bellies with tender venison and arranged to get us on the Dart River jet boat ride for a case of beer.

 A gloomy South West (Fiordland) weather forecast forced us to head east...today we are in Cromwell, still heading south...

NZ TRAVEL NOTES

* Spot the local: Barefoot, shorts and t-shirt in 10 degrees, no raincoat or umbrella in the drizzle.

*Spot the tourist: waterproof boots, Gore-Tex jacket and last seen photographing sheep.

*Best Slogan: It's tourist season. Why can't I shoot one?

* Wearing fur is eco-friendly: with over 80 million possums (introduced) munching away at the native vegetation, they now out-number the 60 million sheep (also introduced). Poisoning, hunting and possum fur wear are all measures to reduce the possum population.

* A game that the whole family can play in the car: spot the dead possums squashed on the road.

A game that cyclists play: avoid riding over squashed possums.

No dogs allowed: Canines are prohibited from virtually all reserves and parks as 1080 (possum) poison is 5 times more lethal to dogs than possums and to save the kiwi. One stray dog reportedly killed 500 kiwi birds in one hunting spree.

On the other hand: farm dogs have the best jobs in the world. They get to ride on the back of trucks (no seatbelts) and chase sheep.

Bad timing: We were late for the gumboot throwing contest in one town and arrived 2 weeks too early for the Karamea cow races.

*Kiwi Paradox: New Zealanders always enjoy chatting, taking their time, but once they are behind a steering wheel, they put on tight underwear and drive like mad men. NZ has one of the poorest driving records in the OECD.

From Cromwell, home of the giant fruit, we set out for the wide open spaces of central Otago and passed plenty of ostrich farms as we alternated between roads and a cycle path (former railway line). Our offerings to the wind gods paid dividends; blowing us along at 40 kph on the flats. A possum had a chew on Sheila's bike and Glenn's helmet at a wild campsite (neither were in use at the time), and then we limped into Mosgiel where Fred-the-mechanic replaced a crank axle.

Further south at Balclutha, we took in the Otago shearing championships; down the top knot, up the neck….Sheila picked the winning shearer; he communicated with the flock before giving 20 "haircuts" in 15 minutes.

We had five nights in the Catlins (South East coast); cool rocks, deserted beaches, caves at low tide, the real Jurassic park (180 million year old petrified forest), southern most point and amazing Curio Bay (Dolphins 10 metres off the beach, whales visible from our picnic table, yellow-eyed penguins and a seal wandering the campsite).

 Invercargill, NZ's southern-most city has nice gardens & aviary, museum and even traffic lights. It's a bit like Edmonton in the 1970's. Dodge Chargers with car stereos blasting away, pedestrians obey traffic lights and kids put thumbtacks in (our) bicycle tires at the supermarket. Friday evening at the Pizza Hut 5 USD all-you-can-eat (including ice cream) was a real cultural experience and a good way to boost cholesterol levels.

 In the face of 50-100 kph headwinds, we gratefully accepted a 30 kilometre ride to Manapouri from Koo a pylon painter, who hopefully got more gray paint on the pylons than himself.

We spent 3 days on the Milford road basking in the sunshine (Milford Sound gets an average of 2 cm of rain/day). The only clouds we saw were sand flies. The cycling through stunning scenery, moss growing on the road, beech forests then rain forest was a huge highlight for us. We hitched the last bit (avoiding 1200 metres of hill-climbing) for our customary Milford Sound pint of beer and watched the coach loads of Japanese tourists.

The tanks (our fully loaded 35-40 kg bikes) came to a grinding halt on the freshly graveled Mavora Lakes road. NZ gravel is often beach stones, sometimes the size of a fist. We returned to the sealed road and favourable tail winds through to Queenstown, headwinds to Cromwell, up (headwinds) and over (tail winds) Lindis Pass and went for a swim in the surprisingly warm glacial turquoise waters of Lake Pukaki beneath Mt Cook. A mechanical failure forced us onto a bus from Tekapo to Christchurch where we stayed with Postman Bruce. Enjoyable Christchurch is a real city; tram tracks to keep cyclists alert, pedestrians jaywalk and drivers navigate the one-way road system.

At Hanmer Springs, 30 degree temperatures tempered our desires to soak in the hot pools. We rode the 120 km of gravel road up and over the 1370 metre Island Saddle on our "shake and bake" ride (corrugated road, roasting hot sun) and were coated in dust by 100 4WD vehicles participating in the annual Coast to Coast Challenge along the Rainbow road. Several of the 4WDs enthusiasts were a little over-enthusiastic, driving us into the ditches and verbally abusing us. Not every Kiwi is friendly and nice!

 In a further challenge of stereotypes, we met 2 guys from Saskatchewan, proving that not all people from Regina think that world travel is a trip to the Grey Cup in Toronto. We renewed our friendship with the sand flies at St. Arnaud then headed down through fruit orchards and hop fields to Motueka (palm trees and banana trees too!).

At nearby Abel Tasman National Park we opted for different sore muscles and went sea kayaking. The beautiful coastline varied with the huge tidal changes (a good way to lengthen your arms is to carry a kayak out to the water at low tide). Much like cycling, early starts helped in avoiding winds (so called "sea breezes" can bring real choppy seas) and gave us time with the seal colonies before the myriad of powerboats tours and kayak groups arrived. A wee blue penguin must have been happy to tell his mates that he swam circles around a kayak (us) and paddled about real close (within 2 metres) of the same kayak.

Sheila went overdraft on her "donkey money" (carried forward from South America but depleted in Madagascar) and took a bus while Glenn grunted up the 800-metre climb of Takaka Hill to Golden Bay (North West corner of the South Island). This once again proved that women are smarter than men. We had 5 days exploring the beautiful beaches (good swimming) and sea cliffs of Golden Bay. We even had a rest day that did not include cleaning the bike chains.

Back in Motueka (yes, back over the Takaka Hill), the barber offered a number 1 or 2 shearing, so Glenn settled on a number 4. It was over in less than a minute (down the top knot, up the neck….). We rode back through Nelson and Havelock to Picton and met up with Glenn's dad (Frank). We couldn't find a suitable bike for him, so we rented a car and returned to the Golden Bay and Nelson areas. We tried sleeping in beds but our backs ached so we jumped back into our tent (a fresh one that Frank brought with him to replace the leaky one) and while driving the car, we missed the sound of birds, talking to the animals and the fun downhills. We soaked in more swimming and sunshine, drank lots of beer and visited NZ's largest winery (Montana) where everything seem to be measured in 1000's.

We are back in Wellington, are scheduled to do some volunteer work at a nature reserve (digging ditches?) before riding back to Auckland and catching an Easter flight to Los Angeles.

FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS

BY MOTORISTS

Q: How far do you travel in a day?

A: It depends. 50 kilometres on a good day. 140 kms on a bad day.

Q. Did you bring your own bikes with you or did you buy them here?

A: We brought them with us. The airlines usually don't charge for bicycles except in USA and Canada.

BY CYCLISTS

Q: Do you talk tot he animals?

A: How did you know?

TRAVEL NOTES

Snake Alert: A live snake discovered in snake-free NZ made national TV news and the newspaper front pages. Then a second snake was found in another city a week later (an epidemic?) hitting the front-pages once again. Who says nothing happens in New Zealand?

Best Idea: A touring cyclist with a collapsible golf club and interchangeable heads. At 4-5 USD for many courses we thought it would make a terrific holiday.

Rural Art: Roadside mailboxes come in all shapes, sizes and colours in NZ. The best we've seen was a microwave oven with the following inscribed; "Bills on "HI" 10 minutes. No Junk Mail or Pre-Cooked Meals. Thank-you.

BEST SIGNS

Te Anau campground playground: No bullies

Kingston Pub: Beer: helping ugly people have sex since 1862.

Motueka Campground: Free beer tomorrow

Golden Bay: Links (left in German) to remind European RV drivers which side of the road they drive on here.

Final Word: Sheila has a large Ostrich feather fluttering on the back of her bike. There is no debating whether it is a headwind, tailwind or a crosswind.

Back on the North Island

Kapiti is a rugged island just off the SW coast of the North Island of New Zealand. Rats and possums have been eradicated and native birds re-introduced. We (including Barb) did 10 days of volunteer work there from trail clearing and dam building but we excelled in painting. Glenn's "Sistine Cupboard" (in white of course) is only rivaled by Michelangelo's work or that of the great Hungarian painter, Zoltan (especially his study of a garage floor). Sheila's magnificent work included her unique "gas bottle shed, painted in solid brown". The tranquility of the island was shattered each night by bird parties; penguins called and played "kick the can" on the deck and kiwi birds played "cops and robbers", often blowing their whistles right outside our window. We were told of one volunteer who got up at 2:00 a.m. one night and screamed out the door "Will you please shut-up! We're trying to sleep in here." Bloody penguins!

We grabbed a bus to central North Island (Taupo). After 3 weeks off our bikes, on our first day back, we rode 115 km to Roatarua and some very sore butts. Rotarua is the geothermal capital; there are so many hotels that we felt like we were on a large scale Monopoly board. Instead of landing on Park Place, we headed for the lakeside campground; that evening we soaked in the campground's outdoor hot tubs (3 in all) with a contingent from Canton, China. We could have pitched our tent on a geothermal heated tent pitch if it had been colder. Anyways Rotarua was interesting (the blue lake, green lake, geysers, redwood forest, etc) but the place stinks (sulphur)!

We got in our last week at the beach on the Coromandel Peninsula with its stunning scenery, hills and plenty of beach side campgrounds. Over at the Hot water Beach campground, they have the usual hot showers and hot tubs. On arrival, visitors are issued with shovels. We dug out a hole at low tide on the beach and sat in the hot water that seeps through the sand reaching up to 64 degrees C (ouch!).