September 30 Franz Josef - Christchurch

Set off on the the 5hr drive (this country is really spread out) and drive to Christchurch via Arthurs Pass, a twisty road through the mountains (even I feel ill driving on the roads, bleurgh).

We try to book ourselves into a few hostels, but all seem to be booked out. We finally find one that is free a little bit out of the city centre.

Drop our car off at the airport (bye bye Betsy (car's name)) and catch the bus into town. We look at a map and it doesn't look far to walk. 20mins with a 20kg (maybe even heavier) pack on your back is a very long time. Feel ill walking to the hostel. We are not happy and I complain the entire way - even contemplating hailing a taxi.

When we finally arrive we quickly dump our bags and head off to buy pizza!!

Go back to the hostel and meet a few of the guests, all of whom seem to be from the UK.

There is one British man called Alan. I'll tell you about him cos his story is one of my favourite. He is 74 years old and 47 years ago he and his wife were due to immigrate to Nelson. They had never been to NZ. Just heard good things about it and wanted to immigrate. At the last minute his wife got cold feet so they never went. It has been his dream to go ever since, so for the last 2 years he has been saving his pension money so he could finally go to Nelson. He is now travelling for 3 months on his own.

Net and I get asked out to the pub by 2 British ladies. We go to a bar called the Holy Grail. It is a crap night. You would never guess it was Saturday. We have a quick one and go back to the hostel. Talk and then bed.