Backpacking

settlement of Lake Tekapo, which consisted of two roads and a row of touristy shops doing furious business with the busloads of tourists being endlessly carted in.

I escaped the tourist hell by driving Ron down to the solace of lake and taking in the view whilst waiting for Yan's bus to pull up at the YHA. Of course it was great to see her again. There wasn't a great deal for us to see in Tekapo. I can't believe I'm about to write this - it seems I have gone soft (even softer than before) in my old age - Tekapo had one of the sweetest little churches I've ever seen, the Church of the Good Shepherd (nice name eh... Church of the Mediocre Farmer doesn't quite have the same ring, does it). Here you can get married in a dinky little stone and oak building looking over the peaceful blue lake at the distant mountains. Like the idea? So do a lot of other people, so better put your name down now, 'cause there's a two year waiting list... anyway, we chipped down there for a bit, and finding there was a wedding going on and we couldn't go in, we headed instead down to the rocky lake shore with its flanks of purple flowers.

An out-of-the-jar spag bol was our first and last supper. I was glad our paths had crossed again, if fleetingly. The thing with travelling is you never know when and where you might bump

into someone again, as I found out tomorrow.

Day 278: 5th November Mountainous Coincidences

Mount Cook, New Zealand

Sped off early this morning to NZ's highest peak, the nearby Mount Cook, which to me looks like a giant Toblerone box. There's a missed advertising opportunity there. On a related note, I've never managed to eat toblerone without coming away with serious injuries to the inside of my mouth. Those triangular pieces are like razorblades.

Anyway, it was a cloudless, perfect day save for a demon blustery wind that buffeted Ron all over the shop - the poor bugger had the aerodynamics of a burning Hindenburg - and as a result I took it very easy.

I stopped to view the Cookster from the shore of the nearby lake. The water was a piercing turquoise; I never knew water could be such a striking colour (apparently it's due to the high content of rock salt from the surrounding mountains).

Arriving up at Mt Cook, it was equally windy as I fought my way into the YHA to come face to face with staff member Danika. With a face like