Like I mentioned, our motel, the Rainforest, in Fox was very nice – log cabin like a Scandanvian design/IKEA look inside. The hot shower upon arrival was particularly welcome. All these motels have nice little kitchens, so you don’t have to eat out if you don’t want to.
It was chilly there. When I packed, I completely spaced the glacier thing – so had no warm coat or long underwear, which I looked at in my drawer at least half a dozen times while I was packing. So – in Queenstown I picked up a windproof NorthFace jacket, a hat and gloves, and bought a lightweight fleece layer in Fox upon arrival. Figured if it was raining that hard, we weren’t going up, so waterproof wasn’t the most important. Did have rainpants packed that I hadn’t used yet – but those were planned for bike rides.
Didn’t need quite that many layers for dinner though, which was at the Cafe Plateau. The resto scene here was quite robust…a western saloon style place, the pub at the Glacier Hotel, Cafe Neve (where I hear we missed the famed, “very cheeky” and smart Kea birds), and the Plateau. I tried to find some wireless internet or place were I could attach my own laptop to the network, but was unsuccessful. There were places where you could upload things from your camera media, but I had already put everything on the laptop and no where took USB keys, which I could have borrowed from Malcolm. I could have rearranged things back onto the camera media for upload, but the place that you could do that shut down at 7:30 and didn’t open up again until that time in the AM. Lots of the coin operated spots again, with no access to any PC.
Dinner was nice. I tried the whitebait. Not crunchy at all. Mixed into these light pancake things. Salad too. It wasn’t bad, but not so good, I’d put it on my personal delicacy list. We drank some Pinot Noir that night, Main Divide 2004. Malcolm selected it and it was very nice, so one bottle turned out night to be enough. Had a blue label, with silver mountains in a cool graphic design that reminded me of an Xmas card. The wine comes from the Waipara region, in Canterbury, just north of Christchurch. Later in the week, the train would take us right through the valley where the grapes were grown. When the check came, Imogen ultimately took over, using her math teacher skills to be sure there were no mystery guests at the table. It was funny…all the glasses came out and were perched on noses…have a great shot of Malcolm and Dave taking their crack at the check before Imogen took over, but I won’t embarass them here publicly. I like them and still want them to like me after reading the blog! The only thing missing at dinner was Jenny & Karsten. The Plateau isn’t a huge place and it wasn’t certain we’d get the table, so they ate at the Neve, hoping that the smaller group would ensure that we’d get in. Nice of them, but we could have pulled it off as a larger group.
There were two guys at the bar at the end of our dinner that Helen and Dave had run into earlier in their travels. They were from Scotland. One’s name was Robert…can’t remember the other’s. Sorry. Great accents though…loved listening to those guys talk, and could even understand them every five or six words or so.
After dinner, Helen and Dave opted to retire, but Imogen, Malcolm, Catherine and I were hitting the pub looking for some local nightlife. We didn’t find any, despite Jenny’s assurances we’d find some white welli-boys there. We were even encouraged earlier in the evening, as when we were driving down the street to our motel there was one walking down the road. When we walked in to the pub, we were following a guy in the camou-capris, so was still hopeful. But there was virtually no one in the bar. Imogen and I ran around the corner to the motel rooms for something (can’t remember what), saw one of the pesky possums on the way back, and by the time we got back, there were even fewer people. Soon, we were the only ones there with two guys at video game machines in the corner. I think the barkeep wanted us out…first she put more fuel on the fire and we went from feeling a bit cold to sweating. We still had wine in our glasses though, so we weren’t deterred. There was a big flat panel screen that had been tuned to the sports channel though. The barkeeps next hint that it was time to go home was when she changed the channel. We looked up and we were faced with soft porn. Very bizarre…a simple “last call” would have gotten us out quicker.
Malcolm, Catherine and I went to bed still wondering … would we get on the glacier or wouldn’t we? The others had already opted for hiking somewhere – the Glacier terminus, the beach, or Lake Matheson depending on the whether.