My Cup runeth over

After initial lack of hydroslide activity I can now say that I have been to the best water park that the world has to offer. And another one too. First up, and pictured, is the the Moana Pool in Dunedin. Features two slides: Fast and Slow. The slow one is pretty pedestrian and the fast one is a bit faster. And here endeth the review of that pool cos I need to get on and tell you about the QEII complex in Christchurch.

If the Stoke Newington Pool had been built like this then it would be the envy of every borough throughout the UK, instead of not even registering in the grand scheme of Olympic facilities that was knocking around at the time. I shall try to list its plus points in one breath just to try to get through them: full size competition pool, diving pool with 2x3m, 5m, 7m and 10m platforms, toddler pool, wave pool, fast flowing river section, 2x 3m wide whirlpool things (very vigorous swirling water, lot of fun), faux stone pillars, beachy sunset murals, bubble pools, fountains.

And I haven't even started on the hydroslides. Five of them, ranging from Collosus and Titan, large winding tubes that can be slid straight down, or ridden down on inflatable donuts. Then The Cruise, a faster ride, donuts not permitted and a couple of black segments of the slide make it a bit scary. For the true connoisseur there are The Body Bullet and The Terror Tube.

Both are a narrower gauge than the others, no sitting up and enjoying the ride, its lie down, keep your arms in and you'll be at the bottom pretty soon. The Body Bullet is a straight forward, tightening corkscrew. The G's increase, your gritted teeth get progressively more spray from your feet's wake before the relief of the final splashdown. The ride is timed and you can easily take 20% off your time by reducing friction by riding purely on shoulder blades and one ankle.

The Terror Tube could be renamed The Anarchy Artery. You are subjected to loud music and flashing lights the whole way down. Big on disorientation, low on terror. There's no suspense as you have no idea what is about to happen. The Terror of worrying that your about to smash your face on the next corner is countered by the thought that you probably won't.

If I could, I would take every brick of this place back to Stokey to show them what a great swimming pool looks like. Even on a quiet tuesday evening, the competition pool had serious looking racers in it. There were kids honing their very impressive diving skills from the 5m and 7m boards. The fake Roman bath paint job and sunset murals were a bit cheesy, but they made the place light-hearted. And most important of all: we just about had the slides to ourselves.

The Incredible Penguin Milking Machine

Annie once saw penguins before, hence her enthusiasm for persuading us that it was worthwhile. She had visited a town called Oamaru and hung around in a little shed that was built specially for the penguin fans. We found ourselves in Oamaru after too much hydrosliding delayed our departure from Dunedin and stopped us from getting all the way to Christchurch. Claims to have already seen a penguin were pushed aside and we set off for a return to Annie's magical shed.

As we've ascertained, Marine Biology is not exactly a science. It is however a branch of show business or sports-entertainment. The shed has now been replaced by a Grandstand with a Penguin educational centre attached. Everyone is to be seated by 8:15pm. The penguins are on at 8:30 and the whole show should be over by 9:30. The sun is pleasantly setting and the waters of the harbour are calm. It is a world away from blinking into a force ten gale and being unconvinced that even a penguin would want to be here.

A guy with a microphone arrives. I'm expecting a drum roll, and him to say 'Welcome! To the world of the Penguin!', but instead he's a Marine Biologist that tells us about the Blue Penguins being the smallest penguins in the world, and they can't register the yellow floodlights cos they see blues and greens, and a bunch of Marine Biologist stuff. He makes sure to remind me and 150 Koreans that no photography is permitted. We tried banning just flash photos, but people made mistakes and anyway, the auto-focus lights still mess with the penguins' eyes, and they really need their eyes for, like, fishing and stuff.

After about ten minutes, Jay, me and most people near us are bored of me and Jay going 'Look! There's a penguin! Oh no, it's some seaweed!' Annie doesn't even take Jay seriously when he says 'Look! There's a penguin!' But later we admit to being proud that Jay was the first to spot an actual penguin. They are very small, and timidly make their way up the slope before all rushing across the road at the top. Just as soon as one of them is brave enough to go for it. Once in their nests they give up the timid stuff and squawk like crazy at each other for long after we have left. Some local humans told us that the penguins are going to pay for the redevelopment of the entire harbour area. Well done, Magic Penguins.

We then return to our natural habitat, the campsite. Driving carefully so as not to run over any of the late arriving penguins in the car park (needs David Attenborough voice). And before any Marine Biologists write in, yes, the photo is of a bunch of cormerants, or shags, as we like to call them down here. In my defence, it is a good photo, there were loads of them, it's taken right next to the penguin place, and I bet lots of you did think they were penguins.

Dropping Science down Antarctica Way

There are many signs along the way promising Crafts, Galleries and other ephemera. Most are complete rubbish, such as Happy Hens in Otago, which is a shop full of pottery hens. But the Lost Gypsy Gallery of The Catlins is an exception. Recommended to us by a couple of cyclists we met on the West Coast, it was described as: I can't describe it, just go in. A description that was pretty much spot on, but for the sake of the blog, I'll carry on.

The sign outside the gallery (pictured) will earn you a decent squirt of water in the left ear. I didn't work this out first time as it was tipping down with rain and a mere earful made no difference. The gallery itself is squeezed into an old bus. Everywhere you look, is another thing to press, squeeze, wind up, or let go of. All with the same vein of humour. From the Flying Walnut: a nut with a propeller, regulated by an old scalextric controller, which you can fly up a foot or so and will return to its bouncy landing pad. The 'Tribute to the Uncoordinated', a couple of mechanical hands that will inevitably fail to grab the ball between them, no matter how hard you try.

Out the back of the bus are the larger works. Under 13's are banned from these more delicate pieces, but I abandoned the family for a quick look. They included a huge organ, complete with foot pedals, with each key letting off a different sound. Doorbells, telephones, old cassette players, or more physical noises like arms that hit cymbals, or spinning shells with water gurgling in them.

Despite the low tech resources, and the emphasis on the arbitrary and the absurd, Jay refers to the place as the Science Bus. The accompanying video doesn't start to show the depth of the place, but may give you a feel of the kind of claustrophobic quirkiness of the Bus.

The Case of the Magic Penguin

Another of this part of the world's natural delights is the penguin. We took a stroll over to the spot where the little chaps are alleged to come in from the sea after hard day's fishing. The spot itself is terrific, an ancient petrified forest. I was expecting lots of big rock trees everywhere, so was a bit disappointed that its actually just a flat bit of rock at the bottom of a cliff. You can make out that the lines in the rock are surprisingly straight (ex-tree trunks), and if you go down and close, some of the rock does have a grain, which is weird. So its not actually like a forest, but it is spectacular. The biggest waves I've ever seen come crashing into this big flat section at the bottom of the cliff. So in amongst the rain, I'm now getting a taste of salt water also.

Its about now that I realise that watching the penguins arrive, isn't actually a science. Marine Biology isn't really a science, is it? This could take some time. I look around at my few fellow penguin watchers and realise that they knew they were in for the long haul. Big anoraks with hoods. Jay starts to realise that this is a bit boring, and I think I should have insisted he do zip his jacket up when we got out of the car instead of saying 'well, you'll get cold then' and leaving it at that. Much moaning ensues and we leave, Penguin count zero.

Annie really wanted to see some penguins, so we guilt Jay out on some other matter and get him to promise to wrap up properly and give it another go the next night. Wearing just about all the clothes we have, we go back to the same spot. Within a few minutes, an amazing thing happens. From this watery hades, in which I would be repeatedly smashed onto bits of fossilised timber if I ever tried to swim in it, comes the evil chicken dude from Wallace and Grommit's The Wrong Trousers. Sure he's wet, and he looks absolutely freezing, but he's made it. He's now just hanging around, getting himself back together for a bit before he actually goes home. Same as us. Jay's promise extended to one penguin so is now permitted to whine about being cold, penguins being boring, and wanting to go home. Magic penguin count one. Haven't seen a drop of rain since.

Why oh Why did we come to this part of the planet?

Glaciers I can handle, the ice looks amazing and takes 100 years to go from the top until it defrosts at the bottom and becomes cold water. Not in Invercargill. The cold water just arrives, and arrives fast. The cold rain hits the windscreen so hard, and in such large amounts that I really can't see out the windscreen. Yet will quickly stop, and my wipers begin to give a dry squeak. It then comes again with the same ferocity. I would say that it comes in waves, but if I was driving around in the sea, it would probably be drier.

We moved on from Invercargill, into the Catlins which form the most southerly south bits of the South Island. That's pretty South. And continued to be battered by wind and rain whose previous location had been Antarctica. One of the local attractions is the Sea Lion population. They can cope with the cold and enjoy the isolation, so flourish down here. We were lucky to find a couple of them just down the beach from where we stayed one morning. Now, I don't know if you've ever seen me run, but you haven't seen me run like I did when one these big fat guys decided to flollop in my direction. I was legging it back down the beach, unstrapping Theos from the baby sling to leave as a diversion. Annie laughed at me and pointed out that they were still a very long way away and had stop flolloping after about two flops. Very scary though.

Glacier II: This time it's icy

Just to let you know there's some pics of the glacier trip up on youtube. So put on your sunglasses and click here.

Golden Bay Days

Golden Bay is a part of New Zealand that even New Zealanders seem to have forgotten about. South Island top left. It's not on a main highway and the only way in is over a big hill with winding roads so it's well off everyone's beaten track. It has its own micro climate thanks to the protection of Farewell Spit, a long thin piece of land that sticks out and calms the waters of the Golden Bay beaches.

We stayed in Pohara, a small settlement with a couple of good cafes (essential – sleep deprivation has driven me to a fearsome caffeine habit!) and a sprawling campsite right on the beach. We camped with Chris and Rachel, friends of mine from Wellington (and London a few years ago). It was great to see them and have a change of dynamic to the holiday. Lovely to chat with Rachel. It doesn't matter how long it's been since we saw each other, it always seems like yesterday.

We lazed about and had a few adventures too – see Fran's bit on the Abel Tasman National Park daytrip. One of my fave spots was Pupu Springs (OK Jay, stop laughing!), a lovely natural spring with beautiful clear blue water (see pic).

Jay loved the beach and got a new bucket and spade to play with. It's brilliant to see him jumping in and out of the waves and run this way and that. Fran takes him in for a swim (too cold for me I'm afraid) and he loves it. Theo is allowed to grub about a bit in the sand. He gets very excited, legs and arms flapping wildly as he decides what to eat first – hmm sand, sticks, seaweed or rotting prawn?