22 December, 2004 - 6:18 p.m.

Welcome back, little white box. For some, you already know these stories. For others, these are brand new. Read/don't read respectively, as you please. They're copied and pasted from group emails I sent along the way....
Dec. 1st

Our trip so far has entailed a few adventures. The first began at Brisbane International Airport, when Brian and I became separated at the depature lounge...luckily we found eachother just in time to buy that bottle of kuluhla duty free and get onto the plane.

The first morning was spent waiting for our hire car to arrive. 2 hours and about $7 worth of calls to Auckland to the company manager (we're in in the south island), a scruffy red haired boy of 19 came to our rescue - young Byron, who'd obviously just gotten out of bed finally got our messages left on his switched off phone and jumped in the shower and then into his car, finally picked us up and took us to his lair - a run down shack in the middle of nowhere, with stray cats and dogs surrounding us. We hesitantly signed the car contract (after Brian inspected the car - and pointed out some dings that Byron couldn't have cared less about - "you can run a trolley into it, it's just backpacker quality...")

Finally we were off!

We made it to Sylvia Flats that night. We have a great couple of photos of us in our swimmers in front of a snow covered mountain (with beanies on), about to jump into the hot springs. On our walk there,we saw what looked like a navy blue rock sitting in the middle of the biggest pool. We both suspected a dead body until it moved, and I squealed. Our dead body/ beanie was attached to a man called Owen. Owen had a theory about the earth's plates and their movements,which he enjoyed telling us about in detail. We've since named him "Owen the Earth Mover and Shaker".

The water was beautiful while we were in, but getting our was possibly the most hellishly invigorating experience of our lives. I was so cold I didn't even care that I was stripping naked in front of Owen the Earth Mover and Shaker.

Now, it doesn't get dark here until well after 9pm. So that sets the backdrop for our first true adventure.
The next morning, we were all set to head off, with me jumping into the drivers' seat for the first time. I turned the key....to deafening silence. I then looked at the light switch....
So, it was time to try the good old push-start method. That is, Brian pushed and I attempted to start. When that didn't work, we switched, and we both pushed, then Brian jumped in and attempted to start. This is all whilst the snow and rain is coming down and we're dodging potholes full of mud. After 5 attempts, I made a sign. "Flat battery. Please help push!" and it was off to the main road. Some people slowed, others ignored us. Until two kiwis came to our rescue. We forgot to ask their names, so we've since named them "Jack and Jill."

Mike was the roadworker they enlisted after they helped push start, to no avail. He was 100m up the road, doing his job, when he got the call to help. Down he came with his jumper leads (we'd since made a new sign that simply read "JUMPER LEADS? :-)" Terry (our car) roared into life, and we thanked "Mike the Knight" profusely.
It was off to our next destination - the hut we were to spend the night in.
We got to the camp ground, and found we needed to buy a permit in Reefton - a 50km trip further down the road. We decided it was worth it, and made the trip. 1.5 hours later, we had our permit and were back at the camp ground. This time we got as far as packing our gear into our packs...when we realised Brian's warm coat was nowhere to be found. So it was back to our lunch spot - 50km in the opposite direction we'd just driven to Reefton from. Luckily it was still there, and we were back in the car heading to the campground for the third time.

It was a two and a half hour walk through mud and water to get to the campsite (Lake Danielle off the Lewis Pass Highway). We were invisaging a nice cottage between the two of us...only to arrive (at 7:30pm) to find the verandah lined with pair after pair of shoes, and teenagers lounging all over the place. We shared our cosy little cabin with about 20 others - a dozen of whom were adolescents on a "Mental Health Rehabilitation Programme".

One girl on the bunk below me had lost her medication at bedtime. Soon everyone was searching their packs frantically...and I was getting a little edgy as to what the medication was actually for. Someone must have found it in the end, because there was silence after 9pm, and I felt guilty for having my torch out to draw by.

Today we walked out again, relieved to find Terry where we'd left him (we'd heard many stories of cars and possessions walking from the carpark).
It's been a relatively quiet day. Just driving through Arthur's Pass, where we'll be camping tonight. Brian's stove is finally working - no more peanut butter sandwiches - so it looks like dinner could be on soon.

I managed to walk into a ladder and nearly knock myself out about an hour ago. The people in the truck whom the ladder belonged to either didn't notice to vibration from the bang, or chose to ignore the girl stumbling around behind their ute, clutching her head and looking a bit green. I've got a massive lump there now, but am doing ok in the cognitive department. At least I think so...maybe I'll wake up soon and realise I have to type this bloody thing all over again?

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