This text was read by OCR from a scanned newsletter and has not been proofread yet, so expect odd characters and mistakes.
secret Diary of the Otago Christmas Cycle Trip - (by kitty Hawk)
15 December: Only bad news!
Woke up with very bad head and hair. What will Andrew (A), Stephen (S), and Kirsten (K) think of me? Still feeling ‘tired’, I blurted out to them on the ferry that my brother Chris couldn't accommodate them in Queenstown for the New Year. They seemed to be expecting some good news as well. Still, I bought them all presents including a mini-snooker table and magic set which should set things right. Next time, however, we must hire an automatic car if I am to get my beauty sleep; K seems to like spinning the wheels and slamming the gears whilst S frets about his car. A says he is prone to travel sickness, so bags front seat. Not convinced, but don’t want to smell sick in car for 10 days.
Arriving in Hanmer Springs I spotted a very swish hotel with spa complex but alas S does not want us to stay there. He has booked us into a fly infested camp ground! I will probably catch malaria and diseases from poor people. Day only saved by Santa look-alike, Bob, who provided champagne and cooking us all fancy meal. Bless the reindeers.
16 December: The rain of Dunedin
Arrive in Dunedin with the (expected) rain in order to meet Simon Ward * and rest of cycle gang before starting the Otago railroad. Very disappointed with Dunedin. Not so much a mini- Edinburgh but more a grimy Wolverhampton-on-sea. Bahhhh! And another fetid camp site! I now know why SW has only * after his name; he should be so lucky! Upgrade to cabin with A, S, and K. Will make this at least a “** trip. 11 December: Pulling time in Ranfurly
Very nice day — we leave Dunedin. Train man keeps repeating ‘opportunity’ for a smoke outside. He must know I have given up and is trying to tempt me. At Pukerangi, I take care in adjusting my saddle; don’t think others understand comfort as they sprint off without me. Feel like a slave as A says we must make Ranfurly with SW *. Point out lots of pics to A in order to slow him down. Tee-hee! Town claims to be art deco but can find no evidence. Why not just call it ‘historic’ like every other dilapidated NZ town? Pain taken away by trip to local pub where they make us pull pints. Must add skill to CV on return.
18 December: The battle of Naseby ,
Leave SW * and co to pursue misery march to Alexandra and then over wasteland back to dreaded D. Good luck. Arrive pretty town of Naseby. S is very organised but has forgot canopener which gives me opportunity to chat up dishy guy. Am increasingly concerned for S’s well-being. His bed was sagging before he even got in and poor chap couldn't have had a wink of sleep, especially as I jabber on into the small hours and write this diary. Oh well, suffering is not just a woman's work. Maybe he will just have to go on a so-called ‘fit trip’ next time.
19 December: Lauder and Lavder Persuade A, S and K to travel properly and stay in nice B & B in Lauder. Joy, such an appropriate name, comes out to greet me with fresh muffins. Heaven! If this is living, the others group must be existing. Remind self not to take bus with K — ever. All her stories end with bus breaking down in middle of nowhere or with some dodgy bloke. Must also not take A to a church again. In St Bathans he sees ‘lovely, peaceful’ in vistors’ book and keeps muttering said words at every viewpoint.
30 December: Good af gqald Reaching Alex, S booked backpacker in TAB but sensed he was unhappy with room. With my gentle encouragement he cancelled and booked into nice Lord of Rings cottage at Moa Creek. Disaster! So-called cottage is stone shack with one window, no water and no toilet. And it is filthy with used condom packet and tipping down with rain! Arghhh! After delivering candles and bottle of Pinot and A starts blazing inferno with two bags of pine cones. Must be pyro. K is so unconcerned she must be taking something. Must ask her what. Feel like I'm on Otago survivor... I'm going to pass out on a grubby mattress with the drumming of rain on tin...
31 December: ALL roads Lead to Queenstown
Woke up smelling like an ash tray. Bloody A and his fire. But eventually make self presentable in farm wool shed which is like Tardis and has v good shower and wash facilities. Doomsayers say that we will never find accommodation in Queenstown area, but are wrong as usual. A does not tell me, however, it is below pub in Arrowtown with all-night band. Still, a bed’s a bed. Bless him. In afternoon, rest and do hair and make-up, then watch A and S eat huge carvery meal whilst I eat a saintly salad. New Year in Q feels like 1985 with DJ’s music and bad outfit. A and S try desperately to ‘get mullahed' but blame lack of alcoholic effect on eating big meal. I did tell them. Poor chaps, this trip must have been such an ordeal for them. Still, we’re all still speaking, or gesturing, to each other. And that’s no small order...
1-2 Janvary: The aftermath
I wake up with no hangover — but it is 1pm and then get S to make me breakfast! Slow drive home via the Scottish carwash (West Coast) with A complaining about twisty road and feeling ill. Who is this Gordon Bennett that he keeps mentioning? K insists on bad karaoke session at Fox glacier with Kiwi Experience tour. Thank God there was no one there to record it. Finally arrive back in Wellington as we left it; in the rain. But with my first Kiwi Christmas under my (rapidly expanding) belt. I resolve not to eat any more bad foods, slum it on trips, travel on buses with K, let A light my fire, and S suggest any more ‘short cuts’. Then it will truly be, ‘Lovely, peaceful.’
Kitty Hawk