Day 19. Rakaia Gorge. Puffed up eye, versatile underpants.

Woke up this morning looking like I'd gone the distance with Mike Tyson. Despite the sub-zero temperatures and the fact that we were at altitude, New Zealand's number 1 annoying mosquito had found his way into the van and bitten me on the eyelid whie I was kipping.

Once over the trauma, we enjoyed a full day's hike up the Gorge and back. This is a lovely area, yet doesn't seem to be in any of our guide books. The upside to that, of course, is there's no bugger around and you pretty much have the countryside to yourself.

The Gorge has been created by the Rakaia river as it leaves the Southern Alps and fans out across the Canterbury plains. Recent rains meant it was in flood, which is bad news for the local anglers, but great news for a couple of Brit backpackers who want to see it at it's powerful best.

Although we're loving the van, Wend has been a little uncomfortable with the fact that she why she gets a 50mph wind up her gusset every time I put my foot down. The reason, it turns out, is that some inconsiderate oaf has managed to smash a hole the size of a fag packet under the dashboard.

So I donned some shining armour, took off my underpants, and stuffed said garment into the aperture. The pants are past their prime, so I'll be leaving them in place when we hand the van back. Maybe some down-at-heel mechanic will give them a new lease of life?

Loving this campsite so much, we've signed up for another night's stay.

Day 18. Rakaia Gorge via Sheffield. Pie heaven.

We'd planned to spend the day hiking in the mountains but woke to find thick cloud cover and even thicker drizzle. So we packed up and motored south, ending up at a little campsite on Rakaia Gorge. Three quid a night for the van and the two of us. Bargain.

PIE ALERT.

Disregard what I said yesterday about Springfield pies being the best in NZ. Found some superior examples today in a little town called Sheffield - veggie for Wend, Steak and mushroom for me. And served by a reassuringly normal person too.

Apart from the pies, another memorable episode on the journey was when we stopped for a roadside brew and an Alpine Parrot started eating the van.

According to the missus, who knows a thing or two about Parrots, these birds are called Keas, and are regarded as something of a pest, especially in ski resort car parks, where they have a penchent for the rubber window seals that posh skiing types have on their daft 4x4's.

Day 17. Arthurs Pass via Springfield and Kura Tawhiti

If the first night in the campervan was a novelty, then the second was a calamity.

At 3am we were woken by driving rain and a beast of a gale ripping through the campsite. This was scary stuff; it felt like we were in a cabin on some horrendous ocean crossing, the van was pitching so violently we honestly thought the thing was going to topple over.

As for the poor Germans who's pitched their tent along side us, well they couldn't have lasted more than 5 minutes. They made a wretched sight in the morning huddled inside the campsite's communal kitchen, sharing tall tales of how they'd survived the big one.

Once we'd cleared the debris from around the van we decided to drive up to Arthurs Pass, the highest settlement on the South Island at 920 metres. About an hour inland from Christchurch we came to Springfield. Kiwi Kevin, who we'd met at Vara's told us the best pies in NZ were to be found here, but he warned us to be wary of the lady who sold them.

He was right on both counts. She was a cross between a female Basil Fawlty and the log woman in Twin Peaks, and as unbelievably rude as she was odd. Made great pies though - Steak for Wend, mince and onion for me.

Another hour and we were in the mountains. We came across a curious place called Kura Tawhiti which comprises about 300 monolithic limestone boulders. Eroded and sculpted into mind-bending shapes they seemed completely at odds with their alpine surroundings. We weren't surprised to learn later that they'd been used as a location on both the Lord of the Rings and Narnia movies.

Parked up for the night at a Hiker's shelter near Arthurs Pass where it was absolutely f-f-f-f-f-f really cold. Slept in hats, jumpers, trousers and under 2 duvets though, so were as snug as a couple of bugs.

Big up the Hallybone.

The more astute of you will notice the blog has been brightened up with the addition of a few carefully selected photo's.

A big thanks to Stuey for sorting this - a gentleman and a geek.

By the way, if you're one of those misfits who find other people's holiday snaps interesting, you can view all our shots by following the link at the bottom of the home page.

Day 16. Akaroa, Banks peninsula, NZ. Happy hikers.

Can't help feeling we'll struggle to find a more dramatically situated campervan park in the next 50 days than the one we've just spent our first night in.

Plonked high on a hill overlooking the town, we had a 5 minute walk to the chip shop, enjoyed unbroken views right the way down the estuary and top it all, were treated to a spectacular sunset.

The novelty of sleeping in the van was pretty large too - like a couple of over excited schoolkids we were last night, especially once it got dark and the local wildlife started making strange noises. I'm sure the fun of the thing will wear off after 7 weeks living in a 10ft x 6ft room on wheels, but at the moment it's an adventure and a half.

Went on a couple of long walks today to try and work off some of our Christchurch calories. In marked contrast to the ordeal we suffered on our Cook islands trek, this was much more our cup of tea - easy gradients, clearly marked trails and plenty of places to stop for emergency cheese sarnie rations. No Branston pickle over here mind.

Of course, all the good work was undone later when we tucked into our fish and chips. It was the lack of vinegar this time that threw us. Vinegar's a British thing apparently, which just goes to show how weird the rest of the world really is.

Day 15. Christchurch - Akaroa, Banks peninsula, NZ. Have van will travel.

Went to pick up our campervan in the morning and suffered the first disappointment of the trip.

We'd done our research, and chosen a rental company offering quirky paint jobs on all their vehicles.

Some are more mad than others - you can, for example, end up touring with a spliff-toting Jimi Hendrix for company, there are vans painted in homage to The Simpsons, Gary Larson, South Park and Elvis. Physchedelia is represented by flourescent Alice in Wonderland or Lord of the Rings designs and of course there's the obligatory Marilyn Monroe and Warhol numbers.

We'd been on their website and agonised for days before deciding on a 14ft trout on wheels. Totally random and completely fabulous in every way, we were assured that this particular van would be washed, serviced and ready to drive when we tipped up at the depot.

Well, I think you can guess what happened next.

No trout. Not the slightest hint of a freshwater game fish in site. Instead, we were allocated a pink and purple shark named Kaitiake. Still a bit of a head turner I suppose, and certainly colourful enough, but not the fella we'd had our hearts set on.
Worse still, when we walked to the other side we were met with something that doesn't even live in the bloody water - a large, docile gecko that was more likely to turn stomachs than heads. The rental company hadn't even bothered christening him, so at the risk of upsetting my brother, we're going to call our van Gordon.

Trout despondency aside, we're very pleased with our little van (and believe me, compared to some of the monstrous 6 berthers on the road over here, it is a real tiddler). 2 minutes behind the wheel and I was grinning like an idiot, the thing is just fun. Big, big fun.

15 minutes further along the road and we'd left the suburbs of Christchurch for what already seemed like wilderness. First stop Lyttleton, a fairly mundane working port these days, but rammed with historical significance. Christchurch's first British settlers landed here, and both Scott and Shackleton set sail from the harbour on their Antartic (mis)adventures.

We then headed out onto the Banks peninsula, taking our time as we covered the 40 miles that would lead us to the implausably pretty town of Akoroa.

The funny thing about Akoroa is that the French actually got here first. Captain Cook had charted the peninsula from his boat as long ago as 1770, but the first settlers were a band of gallic whalers who'd set up a small colony in the late 1830's. And if they'd got their act together, NZ's South island might be French-speaking to this day. Zoot alors!

But they dithered, and if there was one thing the Brit's were good at 160 years ago, it was sticking Union Jacks in far flung bit of foreign soil. Ah yes, how we hanker for a return to those glorious days of the Great British Empire....