Day 11

As the sun rose and peeked through the clouds above us we watched them sink on top of Mt. Cook and it’s neighbors.  We slowly got packed up in bits and pieces hoping for the sun to out power the clouds, to no avail.  As we hit the road we drove through the land of Ork battles, where open planes run up against steep peaks.

We stopped at Lake Tekapo for a morning hike up to an observatory.  From the top of the hill there were views of the teal lake below surrounded by saw toothed mountain peaks. At the base of the hill was a hot pool spa.  We decided we needed a warm soak to relax a bit as the end of our travels neared.  Floating in the hot pools we recalled the adventures of our trip, glow worms, waterfall hikes, climbing the day before.  We dragged ourselves out of the hot pools and into Van.  We made ourselves lunch and ate on the grass near Lake Tekapo absorbing the southern hemisphere sun and admiring the last of the mountain scenery. 

Now it was time to head off to the west coast and Christchurch.  Ahead of us was the longest driving day of the trip. We had to cover the agricultural zone of New Zealand.  For the first time since Wellington we found ourselves on a four-lane highway.  On either side of the highway were fields of rolling grains and other crops.  We crossed the longest, and least impressive bridge we’d gone over, in Rakaia.  From there were decided we had time to see a bit more of New Zealand. 

We chose to save Christchurch for tomorrow and venture to the Banks Peninsula, just south, and stay in Akaroa.  Again, we were along the coast then quickly back to the rolling hills of sheep.  Van skillfully guided us through the winding hills and down to the bay. Having found another Top 10 Holiday Park we found our van spot for the night.  Sadly it was a bit sloped downward, but it was one night.  All we needed was to pack and enjoy our last night. 

For dinner we decided to head down to town.  We soon found out that Akaroa was French.  In 1838, a French man bought it.  He encouraged people to come and immigrate to the town. Because of it’s French roots, the town felt like a little village in the Parisian countryside, gables and picket fences.  We walked down the steep hill on which we were parked and into town. To get to the town center we passed the mini golf and crossed the cricket pitch, looking for a place to have dinner.  Two blocks into town, outside of the historic church being restored, we realized neither of us had our wallets.  Feeling stupid we hiked back up he hill and chose this time to unplug Van and drive down to the town center. 

We parked and walked along the harbor edge to find a small restaurant.  Being a cool damp spring day the outside umbrellas were tied up and table empty but inside the large glass windows was an inviting café.  Being the last day, and having tried lots of New Zealand wine, we chose to order the local beer sampler.  Aundra ventured to try another of the local meats, venison, while Owen had chicken.  Both meals were delicious and, as it was our last night, indulged in two desserts. 

Full of good food and beer we bundled ourselves up and walked back to Van.  Back up the hill we went to our sloped site.  A few bags packed, bed made up, and feeling both sad to end our adventure and ready to go home we settled in for our last night in New Zealand.