Hardwired

New Zealand

New Zealand 2014: Christchurch and Aoraki Mount Cook

Oct 12, 2017 | , ,

 

Christ’s College was built in 1925 in the Gothic and Tudor perpendicular style. The structure was reenforce against earthquakes in 1987 and only suffered minor damage during the 2011 earthquake.

As I’ve mentioned in several blog posts, I am not a fan of long flights. After three hours, I’ve hit my limit for sitting in one place. But the flight from Brisbane to Auckland was quite pleasant—the seats roomy, the service excellent, and the food tasty. For once, I was a tad disappointed when we landed three and a half hours later.

And what I dislike even more than a long flight is riding in a puddle jumper plane. David tries to appease me by saying, “It’s a regional jet.” Regional jet or puddle jumper, being sandwiched in a seat on a small plane for more than an hour is murder. Thankfully, the “regional jet” from Auckland to Christchurch landed just twenty-five minutes over the one-hour limit. But who was counting?

With back-to-back flights and a layover in Auckland, we arrived in Christchurch at 8:00 p.m. and drove straight to our hotel—the George. Tired and hungry, we wanted to dump our luggage in the room and grab something to eat. The hotel has a fine dining restaurant, Pescatore, but we wanted light fare, so we ate at 50 Bistro—tomato bisque followed by grilled scallops. We finally climbed into bed at midnight and I snuggled up to George, the keepsake teddy bear left on our bed during the first-night turndown. A nice touch. I still have George and he is such a good traveling companion, always well-behaved and welcomed at lodgings worldwide. You can follow him on Facebook  http://www.facebook.com/TheGeorgeBear.

Christ’s College

We woke to a chilly, overcast day and walked into downtown Christchurch. There were still some signs of the 6.3 earthquake that hit the town in 2011, and I thought about the two thousand people killed in the quake. One shop owner shared her story and the deadly details hit home, as I’d had my share of earthquakes over the years—Mexico, South Africa, and a number in Southern California. We spent the morning exploring Christchurch and wished we had allowed more time for sightseeing. But a reliable source (David) told me we will return soon to explore some more.

In the afternoon, with David behind the wheel of our rental, we motored onto State Highway 8, the Inland Scenic Route to Aoraki Mount Cook Alpine Village, about a four-and-a-half hour drive. Before we set out, the receptionist at the George said, “This is New Zealand. The journey is as exciting as the destination. Take your time and enjoy.”  And indeed we did, driving past acre upon acre of farmland, pasture upon pasture of countless sheep, cattle, and deer farmed for domestic sales. I fell in love and wanted to take home a lamb.  

David will be the first to admit that he does not have the “farming gene,” so he surprised me when he said, “I could live here and I’d farm.” What? I asked him to repeat that statement, and he has, many times in the past three years. In fact, he liked New Zealand so much that we plan to return in 2018. And I can’t wait to head Down Under again.

For one, I missed out on visiting Lake Tekapo, an alpine spot at the foot of Mount John. I was captivated by the deep turquoise of the lake’s water, which is created by rock flour from the surrounding glaciers that is suspended in the water. The glaciers in the headwaters grind the rock into a fine dust as they make their journey down toward the lake. Lake Tekapo is set against a backdrop of snowcapped mountain peaks—a magnificent blend of white and turquoise. I also wanted to see the Church of the Good Shepherd in Tekapo, so both the lake and the church are on my must-see list for trip two.

Nestled in the Aoraki/Mount Cook National Park, the Hermitage Hotel was the perfect base camp for our hiking and ATV adventures, which is why we chose it. The building is not the typical log or timber lodge you’d see in the US or Canada. The commercial looking, blue-gray steel structure rises from the valley floor like a metal giant, and not everyone thought the modern architecture was appealing. “Military barracks,” I overheard one visitor say. Personally, I found the style intriguing, and we had a wonderful stay.

The first night, we ate in the Panorama Room. The porcini mushroom appetizer was good, but the entrées stole the show. I had smoked salmon with a potato mousse and baby peas. David ordered the venison with blueberry and juniper sauce and grilled vegetables—both meals cooked to perfection. For dessert, a sampler of homemade ice creams.

Damage to Christchurch Cathedral after the earthquake.

 

 

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Australia: Port Douglas – Part 3 

Sep 28, 2017 | , , ,

By day four in Port Douglas, I was getting antsy for a change of scenery. I’m not much of a shopper and I don’t load up on purchases at the beginning of a trip, especially if it means buying more luggage, and we still had three weeks of travel ahead of us. And I’m definitely not much of a lounger—beach, poolside, or even at a sidewalk café. But on day four I found myself doing all four. I told myself it was a good way to refuel, but I wasn’t convinced.

We started the day with a beach stroll, followed by browsing the shops, and later a long walk on the wharf and through town, stopping at Payless Rental & Tours to inquire about a rental car for Sunday, before we browsed more shops.

We lunched at Cafe Ziva, people-watched for quite some time, and then returned to our hotel to lounge poolside for the afternoon. David read while I jotted notes for a future Darcy and Bullet thriller to be set Down Under and updated my travel log.

For dinner, we ate at Bucci. Besides loving duck as an entrée, I am also a big fish-eater, as I was spoiled by fresh seafood caught by my father, an avid fisherman. I ordered Mooloolah River swordfish char-grilled on lemon leaves and served with a fresh tomato and herb salsa, and David had the pan-seared Cone Bay barramundi with a chili-pickled beetroot salad with whipped feta, onion confit, and walnuts. For dessert, a snifter of grappa, guaranteeing we would sleep soundly that night.

Early Sunday morning we collected the keys to our rental vehicle from the shopkeeper next door to Payless Rental and found our Mitsubishi SUV parked on the street, just as the rental owner had instructed. There was no way, he had informed us when we filled out the paperwork, he would be working that early on a Sunday, but he was willing to make other arrangements to accommodate our wishes. We offered to pick up the car on Saturday, right after we signed the contract, but he said there was no reason to pay for an extra day, and besides he had no rentals available. He concluded our transaction with a smile and a question: “Why do Texans always carry guns?” I replied, “Well, we don’t always carry guns. We aren’t carrying them now.” I smiled and left David and the owner to their discussion of surf fishing and moseyed over to the adjacent shop, curious as to what models of ten-speed bicycles they were selling.

Shortly thereafter, we arrived back at our hotel to gather a few things for our day trip to Daintree National Park, the largest rainforest in Australia. We spent hours in this tropical wonderland, hiking and snapping photos as we visited Mossman Gorge and the Daintree Village, a laid-back rural town situated on a bend of the mighty Daintree River, where we spotted two crocodiles skimming the waters. Although we were warned, we didn’t see any cassowaries. Cassowaries are large flightless birds. They resemble emus and are shy, but when provoked can inflict serious, sometimes fatal injuries. The warning reminded me of a similar one about ostriches many years ago when I lived in Africa. If cornered, the frightened bird can deliver dangerous kicks capable of killing a lion. Rule: Don’t provoke the wildlife, any wildlife.

Back in Port Douglas, we dropped off the rental car and headed to our hotel for a short nap to reenergize before we walked across town to the docks to find our boat for a sunset sail around the harbor. On board, we sipped wine, nibbled appetizers, and watch the sun sink on the blue horizon.

Our conversation turned to the Daintree Rainforest, and what we might do if we revisited it. Maybe a guided fine feather tour? Australia has so many beautiful birds. Or a river cruise, getting up close and personal with the crocodiles. We had done something similar more than once in Florida, but saw no crocs, only alligators, and in a much smaller boat. Yikes! We also enjoyed the Mossman Gorge and the aerial walkway on our way up to the Canopy Tower. As suggested, we kept our eyes open, hoping to spot a cassowary, but only saw an amethystine python camouflaged in the foliage of an Australian fan palm that towered over McLean’s Creek.

For dinner that night, we decided on Thai food and ate at Siam by the Sea. Most of the reviews were four or five stars with a few twos and threes. Our seafood meals were delicious, and I loved the pineapple fried rice.

 

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Australia 2014: Port Douglas

Sep 14, 2017 | , , ,

After all the business travel my husband David had done during his career, I thought he would be content to stay stateside when he retired. I realize work travel is not the same as traveling for pleasure, but I was surprised his wanderlust hadn’t waned one bit. Often I would meet David at the end of a business trip and we would spend a few weeks touring whatever country he happened to be  in, as well as neighboring countries. We both hoped he could swing a trip Down Under to visit the company’s division in Australia, but that never happened, so in 2013 we mapped out our plans to visit Australia, including Tasmania (know colloquially as “Tassie”), and New Zealand.

Four Mile Beach, Port Douglas, Australia.

What had kept me from making the trip was the 17-hour flight, and most of it over all that ocean. To add to my dread, David booked a night flight. Imagination can be wonderful for an author, but your mind can also conjure up a lot of bad scenarios, all of which added to my anxiety. But my desire to see these countries finally outweighed my nervousness. 

September 15, we boarded an evening flight from DFW International to Brisbane, Australia, and settled into our seats on the upper deck of the Qantas 747 Longreach. I occupied my time during the long flight the way I often do with my free time—writing the next book in my thriller series or the next blog post, enjoying every word I jot down—doing it the old-fashioned way by putting pen to paper. “I’m not interested in hauling along my laptop—too much trouble with all the security checks, never mind keeping close tabs on it. I seldom breeze through security these days, not after 911 and a knee replacement. I seem to be on everyone’s radar for a pat down, but I don’t mind—I’d rather arrive safe than not at all.

After a late dinner of sea bass, broccoli, and pickled radish salad—not bad for airplane food—I dug out my notepad and set to work on writing blog posts. Hubby slept, a luxury I rarely indulge in during any flight—I’m too keyed up. And even though I had a window seat, I couldn’t see anything, as it was nighttime. To the sound of several passengers snoring, my gaze wandered to a burly man in a bright orange jacket sitting in an exit seat. He stood and observed the passengers. Federal marshal, I wondered?

At some point in the endless flight, I must’ve dozed off. David tapped me gently on the arm and asked if I was interested in breakfast. No, I wanted to land, to feel earth beneath my feet.

We finally landed in Brisbane at 5:00 a.m. on September 17, having lost a day when we crossed the International Date Line. In Brisbane, we had a five-hour layover, giving us ample time to clear customs and catch the train shuttle to the domestic section of the airport, where we boarded a 737 Air New Zealand flight to Cairns—a two-and-a-half-hour airplane ride, the best kind in my book since it’s short. I picked at my lunch, enthralled with the miles of neon-turquoise waters that shimmered below, the aqua surface dotted with coral reefs and broken by a sea inlet.

Back of Peninsula Hotel facing Four Mile Beach. Our room was on the top level, blue section on the lefthand side.

In Cairns, we had prearranged for a chauffeur-driven car to take us to Port Douglas, an hour-and-a-half trip north of Brisbane. Len, our driver, kept us entertained with suggestions for sightseeing and general folklore. As we motored along the east coast of Australia, I was stunned to see acre upon acre of sugarcane fields and commented about this to Len. “It’s one of our largest and most important industries. We grow up to thirty-five million tons of sugarcane every year,” he said. I had no idea Australia cultivated sugarcane, and on such a grand scale. The first time I had seen a sugarcane field was when we lived in Trinidad.

Intrigued by Len’s comment, when I returned to the US I researched Australia’s sugarcane industry, which is Queensland’s largest agricultural crop and a billion-dollar business. The cane fields are located mainly along Australia’s eastern coastline from Mossman in the far north of Queensland to Grafton in northern New South Wales. There are approximately 4,400 sugarcane farms. The vast majority are owned by sole proprietors or family partnerships. Depending upon seasonal production, Australia is one of the world’s largest exporters of raw sugar, after Brazil. About 80 percent of the raw sugar is exported mainly to East Asia, China, Indonesia, Japan, Korea, Malaysia, Taiwan, the US, and New Zealand. The remaining 20 percent is for domestic use.

Len dropped us off at the Port Douglas Peninsula Boutique Hotel, and we checked in. Our corner room was on the top floor, private and quiet, with two balconies: one overlooked Four Mile Beach and the other a narrow walkway that led to the beach. We unpacked, changed clothes, and strolled along the shoreline for about an hour before we freshened up for dinner at the Watergate Restaurant & Lounge Bar. The restaurant’s entrance is down a flame-lit path off Macrossan Street—romantic. We arrived early for our dinner reservations, so we sat in the lounge to sip a pre-dinner drink and to unwind.

Four Mile Beach at sunset.

Watergate Restaurant & Lounge Bar.

Per our request, our server showed us to an outdoor table. We felt as if we were eating in a lush rainforest, and as an outdoorsy person, I loved the setting. David ordered pan-seared local reef fish with crispy duck fat chips, sautéed greens, and a malt vinegar beurre blanc. One glance at the menu and I knew exactly what I wanted. Both of my favorites were being served together—duck leg with garlic mushroom risotto, and seasoned, parmesan greens. Dessert was also an easy choice. We shared a flourless chocolate cake with white chocolate ganache and roasted almond gelato.

 

 

 

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