TWO RETURN TO AOTEAROA

We have arrived in The Land of the Long White Cloud as summer is showing the first signs of autumn. The days are still beautifully warm with evenings starting to feel a little cool. It's a lovely time to be here and ideal for scrumping apples, oranges and peaches from Uncle Alun's bountiful garden.

We spent our first week here in Christchurch with Alun, just enjoying the relaxed pace of life and being welcomed into the homes of some of his many friends where we have enjoyed many great evenings and have been spoilt rotten with delicious home cooking. Joy's apple pie will be talked about for years to come and as will the sheer size of the lobster and the taste of the garlic prawns at Trudy and Henry's, washed down with a crisp Riesling from Mandy and Hayden's winery. Alun helps out with groundwork at the winery but he assured us that his feet hadn't been involved in the pressing process.

One of my lasting memories from our last visit here was the day trip that Alun and Ceri took us on to the charming little town of Akaroa, the country's first French settlement on the Banks Peninsula, east of Christchurch. This little gem boasts the best fish and chips in the world. The route goes over a mountain range of steep gradients and twisting bends and on that day five years ago, there was a cycle road race taking place. We had taken a picnic to eat en-route and the image I have of that day is of Auntie Ceri stood behind the open boot of the car in a layby, cutting slices of bread from a loaf clutched to her chest as the King of the Mountains, followed by dozens of other competitors came over the top of the hill! We returned this time round to make sure that the fish and chips were still up to scratch, and they were. I can't say the same about the weather though as it tipped down all the time we were there, but isn't there something lovely and cosy about eating chips in a car behind steamed-up windows!

The QEII Centre was home to the 1976 Commonwealth Games and is a stone's throw from Alun's home. As swimming and diving are my favourite championship spectator sports, imagine my excitement at the opportunity of swimming in a 50m pool for the first time! My Olympic attempt started with an 'in the water' start, a la backstroke (too much of a wimp to dive in off the starting block) followed by a thrash up the pool and a lunge for the timing pad at the end, even though we had been requested not to touch them is possible. If that wasn't enough, the next day the main pool was closed for (real) competition and we got to swim in the dark blue waters of the diving pool! As I plodded up and down under the boards, the 1 and 3m springboards and the 3, 5 and 10m platforms (see, I know them all), I wished I had the guts to have a go then I remembered the champion diver who only needed to plop into the water to win the Olympics a few years ago, but walloped his head on the way down which saw off his medal hopes along with half his scalp, and thought that it was safer for me to stay in the water. I also had a go at aqua jogging after wondering what all those vertical people, bobbing up and down in the water with flailing arms were up to, so polystyrene belt clasped around my waist I joined them for a half hour session and next morning was greeted by newly discovered muscles.

My quest to find Dan Carter was over in the first couple of days as the Cruisaders were playing the Brumbies in the first game of the new rugby season in Christchurch - what luck! Even better luck, as we stood at the gate, trying to decide how much to spend on a ticket, we were approached by a very nice man who offered us two corporate tickets for no charge. I looked at Marc and Marc looked at me, wondering if we'd end up in jail for our part in a racket, then took them anyway and had absolutely great seats where Marc enjoyed a skillful game where the Cruisaders thrashed the Brumbies and I enjoyed watching the talent and moves of the particularly fit No 10. Our big Welsh Dragon flag got a good airing that night.

We had a slide-show evening where Alun showed us some photos he had taken some 50 years ago. Meticulously indexed and stored, these are fascinating slides of when Alun, or RAF Leading Air Commodore Breese to give him his correct title, had spent 3 months in the Antarctic as part of the team setting up Scott's Base Camp, providing fuel and supplies for the expeditions to the pole, working alongside the the likes of Edmund Hillary and Vivien Fuchs. Last year, Alun was honoured and awarded a medal for his part in the project 50 years ago. My favourite photo has to be the one of the piano on the ice, still in it's crate with the front taken off, with men wrapped from the cold gathered around for a singsong on Christmas Day.

Eifion, Alun's son, whose peaceful Christmas we had invaded at Melbourne was due to visit his dad in a couple of weeks so we took off on The Great Western Loop, co-inciding our return to Christchurch to spend more time with him. Our last visit here didn't afford us the time to see much of the West coast so we planned a journey that would take us across the Canterbury Plains and over the Southern Alps on the Tranz Alpine train to Greymouth, then heading South to Hokitika and Franz Josef before turning North for Punakaiki and literally to the end of the road at Karamea, returning to Christchurch via Westport and the Lewis Pass over the northern end of the Alps.

And so, early on a Monday morning, Alun waved us off on the platform on the Tranz Alpine train. In winter this is a trip through snow-capped mountains and in Spring is carpeted with Alpine flowers, but it was still beautiful on this misty autumn morning, the sun breaking through on the odd distant peak. Marc travelled much of the journey in the open observation car getting a cold nose whilst I sat in the nice warm carriage as the train went over a series of viaducts and through a number of tunnels known as the Staircase before we emerged from the side of a mountain onto the West coast at Greymouth and our overnight stop. This was our first glimpse of the seas on this side of the island and they are huge - massive waves pounding the beaches for miles and miles. The swimming advice for the length of the coastline is "Don't even think about it".

Next morning and we were off to Hokitika where the streets are literally paved with jade. Maoris called this are Te Wahi Pounama - the Place of Jade as it is very rich pickings here - big pieces can be found on the beach even, if you knew what you were looking for. The streets are dotted with jade workshops and retail outlets and some of the concrete street pavers have been replaced with those of jade. Hokitika has a beach that looks like the scene of a shipwreck - big rolling waves and huge pieces of driftwood strewn everywhere. We kept on finding ourselves drawn back to the beach time and time again and ended up spending most of our time walking along the sand or up the river estuary. It was here that we came across a rare white heron. Whataroa is just down the road and is NZ's only nesting site for these lovely birds. Imagine our excitement when we saw one, perched on a branch above the river just before our very eyes. As with all such close encounters, by the time the camera had been fished out of the bag, turned on and pointed, it had flown off...

Next on the list was Franz Josef village and the biggest mental and physical challenge of my life.