SAN FRANCISCO

SAN FRANCISCO 14/01 - 15/01

We arrived in San Francisco in the evening and found the hotel that Fran had selected from our guide book. It was a really charming little hotel called the Petit Auberge, very near the centre of the city and themed on a french hotel as the name suggests. As it happened we arrived just in time for their complimentary cheese and wine offered each evening between 6 and 7 o'clock. I think you can see a theme developing here in Fran's hotel choices.

Our cosy little room in the Petit Auberge.

Neither of us are keen on cities but we both loved San Francisco which has a unique aura to it. The hills are certainly a lot steeper than they look on film and the cable cars are a necessary alternative to walking up or down them. There was a steep hill near our hotel and we would quite often just jump on the cable car to travel one block up the hill then jump off again.

We never managed to get the iconic shot of one of us hanging on the outside, although we both did it several times.

Nearly got it!

Obviously the shopping was great, and we did the touristy bit on an open top bus, which actually is a really good way to see a city and learn about it. We did a trip to Alcatraz which was fascinating.

Crossing the bay to Alcatraz with the San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge in the background.

The Golden Gate Bridge

Approaching Alcatraz.

The red writing dates back to the sixties when native American Indians took over the island for a while after it had been decommissioned as a prison

One of the cells.

Shrapnel damage to the floor from a grenade thrown by the US Marines in the process of quelling a rare prisoner uprising.

On a lighter note this sign outside a restaurant on Pier 39 made me laugh.

The famous San Francisco sea lions basking in the sunshine at the equally famous Pier 39.

Crossing the Golden Gate Bridge on an open top bus.

Mist swirls round the bridge as a cruise ship approaches.

The best diner in San Francisco. Each table has its own jukebox.

Finally the time came to pack our bags for the last time, which felt strange because neither of us had given any thought to coming home. Whilst we were looking forward to seeing family and friends we had become used to the unreal world of the last 11 weeks and did not relish the thought of returning to reality. It had been really good fun and neither of us wanted it to end.

Packing for the last time. 2 symbolic items from our travels: the handbag needs no introduction, but the flipflops I had bought in Spain 2 years ago and I had worn them every day for the last 9 weeks. They were falling apart but I had become very attached to them and I was truly sad when Fran forbade me to pack them and threw them in the rubbish bin.

THE END.



CALIFORNIA. HIGHWAY 1

HIGHWAY 1 10/01 - 14/01

Having arrived in Los Angeles at lunchtime after a long flight we checked into an airport hotel to catch up on our sleep before setting off the next morning on our drive to San Francisco. Since we had spent 10 days in LA some years ago we decided to get onto Highway 1 without delay and start our journey northwards.

The scenery was spectacular from the start and it felt really good to be driving on American roads again. We spent that night in Santa Barbara in a charming motel, where you are invited for complementary cheese and wine for an hour in the evening in front of a crackling log fire.

Motel in Santa Barbara



The following morning we continued North and had lunch in the Madonna Inn. If you think the Americans can be a bit over the top sometimes then you haven't seen anything until you see this place. It is hard to describe but suffice to say the gents urinal is a waterfall and the restaurant is completely pink. Try googling it to get a better idea.

The Madonna Inn urinal. Water cascades down the sloping wall on the right and you pee into the waterfall below. Very strange.

In the afternoon we saw one of the most extraordinary sights I have ever seen. A sandy beach covered in hundreds of elephant seals. They arrive in early January to give birth and the beach was covered with females feeding their newborne calves, and fending off huge bulls who were eager to mate again. There was a cacophony of sound as the cows rejected the bulls' advances and the bulls fought each other. They will stay on the beach for a month and, after mating again, will go back out to sea. They will return very briefly to molt in April then remain at sea until the next January. Whilst at sea they will swim up to Alaska and dive to depths of 6000 feet. (I only know this because we spoke to a conservationist at the beach)

They look quite peaceful in this photo but actually there was quite a lot going on.

An alpha male surrounded by females and feeding calves.

Highway 1 runs along the coast all the way to San Francisco, and a section of it approximately 90 miles long and running South from Carmel is known as the Big Sur. This part of the coast is beautiful with mountains and giant redwood trees inland, and the road follows the rugged coast line crossing deep ravenes, round lovely bays and weaves tortuously over rocky outcrops. The area became very popular with writers and artists in the twenties onwards, and then with hippies in the sixties.

Highway 1 crosses Bixby bridge on the Big Sur.

Part of the Big Sur coastline.

The rooms at Deetjens Big Sur Inn are in these wooden cabins which all have names. Ours was called Antique and was above Grandpa's Room.

Relaxing in Antique.

At this time of year Grey Whales are migrating south to give birth, and they pass quite close to the shore. From the cliff tops you can actually see the spouts of water when they blow then you can see their flukes as they dive again. Unfortunately they are too far away to photograph with our little cameras.

Whale watching.

More wildlife on dry land.

North of the Big Sur we had an interesting drive around Carmel and Pebble Beach. It is one of the most affluent areas in America and they actually charge you $10 to drive round it!

Sunset just South of San Francisco.

Entering the suburbs of San Francisco.

 (This one is for Georgie and Olivia who both love Dennys)



THE COOK ISLANDS

RAROTONGA 02/01 - 09/01

The Cook Islands consist of 15 islands, 12 of which are inhabited and cover an area of the South Pacific of 2 million square km. The largest is Rarotonga which is roughly circular with a diameter of about 10 km, and it lies 2000 miles northeast of Auckland. This island is home to the government buildings and the international airport and is where we stayed. The islands have a free association with New Zealand and use New Zealand currency which was handy.

The flight over with Air New Zealand was uneventful, and I still think their safety video, which uses All Blacks players as passengers, is one of the best - and so typically New Zealand.

Having crossed the international date line we arrived the day before we left which was weird and very difficult to enter in the diary.

After Fran's problems with the ministry of Ag and Fish entering New Zealand she decided to play it dead straight entering the Cook Islands. She suddenly remembered that she had some seeds in her suitcase, and whilst she was rummaging through the contents trying to find them in front of the customs officer he kept saying " I am sorry you can't have that, I am sorry you can't have that ." She lost some drift wood she had picked up in Australia, some sheep's wool she had also picked up in Australia, some lupin seeds she had forgotten she had and the packet of seeds she had been looking for.

This process took a while during which the customs officer kept greeting our local fellow passengers with warm handshakes and it became evident that everyone on the island knew everyone else.

Although our hotel was on the other side of the island the journey did not take long. There is only one road round the island and the only decision of a navigational nature that needs to be taken is whether to go clockwise or anti-clockwise.

It was raining steadily throughout the journey and I must admit to some deep depression at this point as we had seen enough rain I was really hoping for some sunshine during this part of our trip. However the rain moved away that night and the weather was pretty good for the rest of our stay.

We were very happy with the hotel and had a sea view just above the beach.

The view from our balcony.

A most bizarre thing happened on arrival in our room; we both went out onto the balcony to see the view and when we tried to re-enter the room the balcony door had somehow locked behind us. Try as we might we could not open it, and the fact that I was bursting to go to the loo did not help the situation. I had a look and reckoned I could climb down to the ground but this idea was firmly vetoed by Fran. Eventually we managed to get the attention of a very nice Italian man who was staying in a room beneath us, and explained our predicament to him. He looked a little bemused but duly climbed the stairs and entered our room through the still open door to release us from our own balcony. We tried several times to reproduce this under controlled conditions but were unable to get the door to lock.

Feeling a bit silly, but happy with life just before we discovered we were locked out on our own balcony.

The island people were lovely and very laid back. They encourage you not to wear a watch but to adjust to 'island time', for which you do not need a watch or clock and if your lunch takes 2 hours to arrive because the waitress forgot to pass on your order to anyone it really doesn't matter.

There is only one TV channel and this was their news reader.

Looking inland at the dense sub-tropical interior.

The rather pretty entrance to our building.

The local supermarket which seemed to have run out of most things, including beer, but they were expecting a delivery 'sometime.'

Making a promotional video for the hotel. The dancers were brought in but the band were the beach boys from the hotel who were expected to turn their hand to anything.

The view from the beach with the hotel's glass bottom boat at anchor. (the one with the roof) You can just make out the waves breaking on the reef across the lagoon.

 You can wade across to this island in the lagoon and the water is never more than chest deep. However Fran was bitten by a Trigger fish when doing this and all subsequent crossings had to made by kayak. 

One of the beach boys feeds fish beneath the glass bottom boat....

.....while Fran looks on.

The day after we arrived I received an email from someone wanting to buy our bikes! I sent them the contact details for the campervan depot, and duly received an email back saying they had picked up the bikes and would pass them on to someone else at the end of their travels. They congratulated me for starting a 'chain of kindness' and that it must make me feel good. It didn't make me feel good at all as I wanted the bloody money! 

A traditional island canoe.

One of the beach boys carries a bride to the canoe......

.....and paddles her out to the little island for her wedding on the beach.

Watching life go by from our balcony.

There were quite a few dogs that trotted up and down the beach. Some were pets and some were wild but they were all healthy and very good natured, and apparently survived on fish they caught in the lagoon.

This dog spent all day fishing but we never saw him catch anything.

It was made clear to guests that they should not feed or befriend the dogs and the staff would always shoo them away from the hotel area. One morning Fran had been sunbathing for a while on the beach and when I joined her I thought she was being rather furtive. Her towel was arranged so that it hung down over the sides of the sun bed and when I lifted it a little there was one of the largest dogs from the beach contentedly lying under the bed. It had been there for some while keeping Fran company and she had named it Cookie. Just then the hotel manager walked past and in the most courteous manner expressed his displeasure and Cookie ran off never to be seen again.



Cookie

Having been dragged out of the audience at a 'traditional island' night I embarrass myself for the second time on our travels.

Fran went weak at the knees after taking this. (He looks a bit to pleased with himself for my liking)

The big event of the week is the Saturday market in the capital Avarua. Everyone seems to go and it is as much a social event as a place to shop. We were waiting for a bus when a car stopped and gave us a lift to the market. That typifies the island.

The handbag is out again as I get ticked off for dawdling.

 

It is probably not worth travelling all the way from the UK to holiday in the Cook Islands, but if you are looking for somewhere to stop over in the Pacific for a truly relaxing few days then I would thoroughly recommend them.

NEW ZEALAND PART 6.

NORTH ISLAND 23/12 - 04/01

We spent a day in Wellington, which was the first city we had visited since Christchurch, so it was an opportunity to do a little Christmas shopping as well as exploring. We both liked the city but wanted to move on before Christmas so we departed in the evening leaving the excellent museum for our next visit!?

Fran takes time out to smell the roses in the botanical gardens.

As we were leaving it was quite warm and the bars were spilling out onto the pavements with office workers celebrating the start of their Christmas holidays, which run to 2 or 3 weeks as it is mid-summer. Although we were on holiday ourselves we felt strangely envious and I think the first little pangs of 'Christmas homesickness' started then. 

On our way North from Wellington we passed the Tui brewery. I only mention this because their profits increased sharply during our month in NZ.

We decided to go northwest from Wellington and stay near Napier, on Hawke Bay and in the middle of one of the major wine producing regions, for Christmas. We found a good campsite and cycled into the harbour area of Napier where again the bars and restaurants were doing a roaring trade the evening before Christmas.

Our very own Christmas tree. (I just hope the NZ Department of Conservation don't see this.)

Presents beneath the tree - no wonder our luggage had been so heavy round China and Australia.

The green tinsel gives the cab a festive look.

Christmas day was very strange, not least because when we woke on Christmas day those at home were still enjoying Christmas Eve. Nobody on the campsite seemed to be entering into the spirit, and jovial greeting of "Happy Christmas" was met with the standard "G'day."

We cycled into the harbour area again in the afternoon but everywhere was either closed or only open to those who had booked Christmas lunch. We made the most of it and Fran cooked a really good Christmas lunch, but for the only time on the trip we both wished we were at home. 

Making the most of a rather quiet Christmas.

On Boxing day morning we continued our travels and, after phoning the girls to wish them a Happy Christmas evening at Mark and Jane's, we ended up in Rotorua. It is the most remarkable place with an almost overbearing smell of sulphur. (The guide books call it the scent of sulphur) There are mud pools and sulphur vents all over the place, with steam rising from most of the gardens where it is used to heat the house and to cook with.

This hill is not on fire but steam is seeping out all over it.

A steam oven in the camp site.

A mud pool in the camp site grounds. The steam bubbling through is super-heated deep underground with temperatures exceeding the normal 100*C. There was a stream alongside with signs warning you not to go paddling for this very reason.

This is a Maori church in which services are conducted in both English and Maori by a Maori minister. Note the 'graves' are above ground to protect them from the ever present underground heat and steam.

The day after Boxing Day there was a big race meeting in Rotorua so we stocked up the backpack with refreshments and cycled to it. It wasn't exactly Ascot but it was a really fun day out.

The race course viewed from the stands.

Studying the form.......

......her chosen horse is lead out to the track....

.....and wins by a length.....

.....queueing up to collect her winnings.....

....whilst my horse just doesn't seem to have got the hang of it !

We continued North and paid a visit to Hot Water Beach on the Coromandel Peninsula. Here there are 2 hot springs that rise just below the level of the beach, and if you dig a hole in the right place at low tide it will fill with hot water. We had been told you can then relax in the hot water with a glass of wine. Perhaps you can in low season, but in high season about a million other people have had the same idea and are all vying for a spot to dig their hole in the right place, so we left them to it.

All prepared to dig a hole but we couldn't get close to the right area.

We left them to it.

We then drove up to the North of the island, which meant driving through Auckland. This gave Fran the opportunity of honing her large vehicle driving skills in heavy and fast moving traffic.

Traffic going our way is confined to one rather narrow lane to cross the Auckland Harbour Bridge.

100% concentration.

 

A very pleasant lunch at the roadside North of Auckland.

Our destination was the Bay of Islands, which is very popular at this time of year and turns out to be where young New Zealanders from Auckland like to come and drink themselves senseless at New Year. 

This part of New Zealand featured in some of the events surrounding the sinking of the "Rainbow Warrior" in Auckland Harbour in 1985 by French foreign intelligence agents. It is a fascinating story, which is well documented on the internet for those who are interested in the details of a relatively modern, verified black operation. 

These beetle like things were all over the fence posts behind our van. They are actually the empty shells of Cicada nymphs. They crawl out of the ground, up a post then the back splits open and a cicada bursts out leaving the empty shell attached to the post.

We had advertised our bikes on the internet but Fran placed this advert on our windscreen to try and drum up local interest in the camp site. We did have one caller who turned out to be the camp security officer who was probably checking out if we were pikeys selling stolen goods.

This is the best way to see the bay.

There are many islands of varying sizes and little coves where you can drop anchor and have a picnic. It reminded us of boating around the East coast of Corfu last summer.

Our next stop was Waipu, which is on the East coast about half way between the Bay of Islands and Auckland. It is renowned for its very large Scottish contingent, who's descendants landed here in 5 ships in 1850. The highlight of their year is their Highland Games gathering which happened to take place on the day we arrived. 

In fact it wasn't coincidence as we had seen the games advertised in a newspaper and thought it might be fun. We tried to book a camp site in advance but because of the games, and it being high season on the coast, everywhere was booked up. We phoned a motel, called the 'Clansman',  and asked if we could park up overnight in their car park, and the really nice couple who run it immediately offered us the use of a paddock behind the motel free of charge.

Ensconced in the Clansman paddock

The games were great fun with piping, drumming and dancing competitions along with the traditional field events which involved a lot of tossing of very heavy things.

 

Drumming competition NZ Scottish style.

  

The heavy weight competitors await their next tossing event.

Tossing a very heavy metal weight over a cross bar then moving swiftly out of the way as the very heavy weight lands with a thud where you had been standing.

The last dump of our trip. Fran had mellowed in her attitude towards dumping by now and was quite happy to do the grey waste.

As close as we got to Auckland city centre on our way to return the van to the depot near the airport.

We returned our van in tip top condition and it was very strange to see people entering our home of the last 4 weeks without our permission, and then crawling all over it to check we hadn't broken anything or were planning to walk off with a frying pan.

Sadly we had had no response to our advert for the bikes, and my backup plan to sell them to a bike shop in Auckland was doomed to failure as it was Sunday and they were all closed. So we had to leave them at the campervan depot for them to dispose of, which was very sad.

We had booked a hotel near Mount Wellington and I was really looking forward to the luxury of staying in a 4* hotel after 4 weeks on the road. I soon suspected I had made a big mistake when it turned out to be miles away from the airport, although the internet description had it down as an airport hotel. When the receptionist bruskly told us the restaurant and bar were closed for renovation but that there was a McDonalds nearby, my fears were reinforced. When I discovered there was no lift and we had to carry our bags up threadbare stairs to the third floor my fears were confirmed. When I discovered the loo had not been cleaned I went ballistic.

It was our first duff hotel booking after 2 months of travelling so I suppose that is not bad, and by the time we left for the airport the next morning Fran had calmed me down and the receptionist was charming, having been rather alarmed by my reaction the previous day.

We both enjoyed NZ greatly, and if we were ever to return it would be to the South Island where the pace of life is slow and it is like I imagine England was 60 or 70 years ago. We would take more time to allow for long walks and to see everything the island has to offer, preferably in good weather, without feeling we had to rush on to the next place.