The weather forecast said that the temperature was going to vary between a maximum of 5 degrees C and 3 degrees C with a “feels like” rating of minus 5 degrees C, due to the high wind and rain forecast for most of the time we were there. As I wrote in an email to Rob, “Maaaate, it’s going to be f*cking COLD”.
The flight from a rainy and cold Sydney was mostly uneventful. On arrival to Dunedin however, we both faced the traveller’s worst nightmare. The humiliation of being busted by Customs for a crime more devious than the Bali 9 and more blatantly stupid than Schapelle Corby’s hash body board. Yes, I am sorry to admit that I tried to get into New Zealand with….. muddy boots! Rob was also busted for the same thing. We waited anxiously in socks for 10 minutes while our boots were cleaned of dangerous foreign dog poo and other unknown nasties; quietly fearing all the while that a cavity search by a fat fingered Maori would be next as punishment for our deliberate attempt to contaminate the NZ ecology.
Eventually with cavities in tact, we cleared customs and went through to the terminal where Pete Steele was expected to meet us brandishing a “PDS Marine” sign. We were both so distressed by the muddy boots incident that neither of us noticed Pete near the exit and walked straight past him. After 10 minutes of waiting as the passengers, waiting families and taxis slowly dissipated from the arrivals area, it dawned on me that if Peter Steel was not the honest and considerate person we found him to be, he could easily have taken our full payments and never turned up at the airport, effectively leaving us “screwed”. A final sweep of the terminal and we spotted each-other. Matthew and Gavin, also from Sydney were already with Pete.
In addition to meeting Matthew and Gavin, the father and son team from Sydney, we were soon introduced to Peter’s pride and joy, a 15 foot something aluminium hull, fibreglass top Jet Boat with a 5.7 litre fuel injected, V8 Chevy pumping 400 horsepower, through a modified Scott jet motor. Built by Pete himself, it had 2 bucket seats at the front and a 2 seater bench in the middle. Pete and his boat were soon to show us that there was only way through a 4 inch deep section of the river …..flat out!
Travelling from Dunedin to Te Anau via Gore is virtually traversing from one side of the country to the other. While only a 3 hour drive, we were soon to discover that what the country lacked in size, it well and truly made up for it in character and diversity.
The central Otago and Southland countryside is mostly flat with sheep, sheep and more sheep, occasionally separated by a well trimmed row of 30ft high hedges. Chatting on the way, Pete helped us to get used to the Kiwi speech and Kiwi names for common objects. Every description of distance, size and difficulty was preceded with “a wee bit”. The esky was a “Cooly bun” or “Chully bun” and vowels were to be randomly transposed, sometimes but not always with the next available alphabetically. “Six” became “sex” but “ten” became “tin”. “Rib” and “Given” were equally confused with the order of vowel transposition.
Pete had arranged to meet the others at 6pm, having left at 3:30pm, we were going to be a “wee bit” late but it didn’t seem to faze Pete.
Arriving at the hotel around 6:30pm we met Mark, Peter Porsche, Jeff, Sean, Hamish, Dave, Nick, Kelvin, Lawrence, Denise, Logan, John and Beryl. Before dinner we stocked up on beverages as the next 4 nights at the lodge would be sans shops, cars and communications. Rob and I decided to stick to a rigid diet of New Zealand Pinot Noir’s. One bottle per night per person…a strong and steady drinking pace but we were feeling up for it!
Wine prices were a “wee bit” high. A Cloudy Bay, one of my favourite NZ Pinots was $52.50NZ compared to around $35 Aussie at Dan Murphy’s. While the cost difference was high, it was still a “nit” by comparison to the fortune we had paid in marital equivalency, and subsequently did not deter us from choosing a quality range of “fruit of the vine” to enjoy.
Dinner at “The Ranch” was typical pub food; I went for the pub standard rib eye steak with salad and fries, Rob and Gavin ventured for lamb shanks and, despite tasting ok, both suffered indigestion for several days afterwards. Matthew opted for Venison, a choice that the rest of us declined in optimism that we may get to eat it fresh if the hunters on this trip were as good as those in the magazine article from last year.
At dinner we found out that this was Pete Steele’s sixth Jet boat sortie to the Hollyford and that he had worked in the area for around 10 years, managing a lodge on the river. Most of the others were on their third or fourth trip with the exception of the boats of Lawrence, Jeff and Dave who were first timers. While the Aussie tagalongs were apprehensive about everything from weather to the unknown elements of jet boating, the Kiwis were just cool about everything.
There was little opportunity for rivalry amongst the group as no clear distinctions of origin, creed or beliefs existed. The kiwi contingent had come together from North and South Islands, Christchurch, Dunedin, Queenstown and nobody in the Aussie contingent were actually “Australians”. Yours truly hailing from London town, Rob from Mauritius and Gavin and Matt were originally Polish. With little opportunity for any easy sledging, a long day of travelling and an average age of mid to late forties, this group was destined for an early night! The hotel manager graciously offered to drive us back to the motel which came as a great alternative to a long walk in cold rain carrying a fragile carton of fine wine.
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