Queenstown, old friends and dry feet. [27th Dec 06]

I packed my bike up, including the elephant man stick, and headed out for a 6 hour dash across country to Queenstown which is reputed to be party capital of the island. Its lakeside location and proximity to the mountains makes it an all year round hot spot for snowboarding in winter to waterskiing and hiking in summer. It has that snow resort feeling to it, very Meribel or Tignes. I found the shoddy backpackers which I had booked blind over the internet and set about tracking down my old friends from Bristol who had arrived the day before on holiday.



This is Lord of the Rings country. Helicopter and Landrover tours can take you through the stunning and unique scenery which surrounds, and to any fan of the films it is constantly evocative of the realm of Middle Earth. The first ride out had to be to Skippers Canyon, a narrow winding road which hugs the high walls of the canyon and descends into the gorge of the Shotover River to the location where Liv Tyler drenched some nasty horseriders in black with a magical deluge.


As the tree lined track descended parallel with the water, I could glimpse the river and the canyon wall just 25 metres beyond to the left. Suddenly the heartstopping chop of helicopter blades pounded off the canyon walls. It was very close. I looked up, nothing. Then formidably it appeared, level with me, directly to my left, the other side of the few small tress, maybe 10m away. I looked into the cockpit, could see the passengers with their big headphones, the monster hovering just a few metres above the water and progressing slowly down the canyon. There must have been mere inches between the rotor and the canyon.


It was awesome, and was followed by two others only seconds apart. It was amazing to see this unusual machine in the wilderness. Maybe they thought the same about my Africa Twin, clambering along the rocky pathway, alone, intrepid… or maybe it ruined their pictures of Tolkein’s Ford of Bruinen, their dream pictures ruined by a gaudy, A-team coloured 1990s motorbike .

I explored the canyon for another hour and then headed out to Arrowtown where they filmed the other half of the Ford of Bruinen scenes. A rocky 4x4 road leads to Macetown, a disused mining town up the river. Unfortunately the water was just a little too high. Even the 4x4s were turning back.


Slightly disappointed, I decided to go and do the Nevis Rd from Garston which I had been saving for a full day’s exploration. That morning I had been told about the café owner in Athol who owns a beautiful old Goldwing 1200 Aspencade. So I left town and headed out 50kms to Garston, via the LazyBones Café in Athol for a coffee and a chat about Hondas. I was taken through the servery to see the flagship tourer, kept in the green carpeted office turned garage. Cardboard boxes of papers were strewn about, as if hastily rearranged to house the VIP bike. The Aspencade was indeed immaculate, having come from California and been cherished by the proprieter since importation in '91. This brought back memories of my Goldwing tour of America. That plush leather seat, the cruise control, the stereo. Another idea was planted… when I have finished the adventure tour, I might come back next year and trade in for an Aspencade. His one is for sale… hmmmm.

Anyway, I tackled the dusty, rocky inclines of the Nevis Rd and saw some of the most stunning scenery to date.




Four hours, 25 water crossings and 212km later I completed the round trip back to Queenstown. My new Sidi Discovery adventure boots are absolutely brilliant. Despite wading in water and splashing through the water crossings, my feet were totally dry.

Tristan, the very slack hostel desk jockey had miraculously managed not to allocate anyone else to my 5 bed dorm. So after trying to avoid reading the quite tasteless graffiti on the underside of the bed above, I turned out the light and had a passable nights sleep, disturbed by nothing except the too-thin foam mattress and the odd drunken (British) tourist shouting in the street.