Neil’s feet had turned purple with suspected frostbite and Gemma had icicles clinging to her nose. They appeared to be having a great holiday, exactly what they signed up for when they decided to visit me in New Zealand. Unfortunately I hadn’t got the memo that camping in the great outdoors of New Zealand in March, with less than adequate equipment isn’t all that sensible.
But sensible is no fun now is it?

You may remember Gemma and Neil from previous blogs. We met Gemma in South East Asia, travelled with her for a couple of months and have since recruited her for various other Asian adventures during which she’s had a gecko hibernating in her bra, become a local celebrity in the Philippines and witnessed me being engulfed in the mouth of a whale shark (true story). Neil aka Master Bates met up with us all in Indonesia five years ago when we were at the start of our travelling adventure. He started a landslide on an active volcano in Bali, lost his shoes and accompanied us on our white water rafting trip with no white water.

In March Gemma and Neil came to play in NZ. The plan was for them to arrive in Queenstown where I live and then embark on a roadtrip around the South Island. The only thing missing was Lyvette.

“Camping?! What do you mean we’re camping?!!!” exclaimed Gemma. “Like, in a tent?” Here is a good time to mention that the last time Gemma went camping was with myself and Lyvette on a paradise island that didn’t exist in the Philippines. Said island took a motorbike, boat, van, taxi, plane, another taxi, bus, tricycle and another boat to reach and when we eventually got there it pi**ed it down all night. So naturally, she had her camping reservations.
“Yeah, that’s what you do here” I informed her “It’s part of the Kiwi culture, you’ve got to embrace the great outdoors.”
“Oh. OK. Do you have camping stuff?” I have no idea why she sounded concerned.
“Yeah sure. I found a bit lying around and I borrowed some stuff. We’ll be fine.” Totes prepared. “Oh. And the car is pretty small so don’t even think about bringing your whole suitcase. A small backpack will be enough. You can leave the rest at my house.” Neil had brought a case big enough to fit the entire population of NZ. Gemma on the other hand had bought a bag filled with tiny crop tops and bikinis. Unfortunately she hadn’t grasped that summer was now over.

The West Coast

We passed through ever changing landscapes, saw amazing lakes and got eaten alive by sandflies. I knew this would be the case from my previous experience here but still forgot to buy DEET before setting off. When we did finally get some I don’t think it worked. I was itchy AF and I swear 6 weeks later I’ve only just stopped scratching myself.
The camping started off well when I tried to camp on a site with no grass. Gemma and Neil resolutely refused to pitch up on the car park. Then we found what appeared to be someone’s garden. Now, this is where we realised that I wasn’t actually a prepared camper like I’d originally indicated. Basically, NZ climate is quite changeable, in summer it gets very hot, but in the evenings and as and when it decides NZ can be a cold country. March is no longer summer, it’s Autumn and chilly. And in the evenings, it’s safe to say it’s fecking freezing. We learnt this when the sleeping bags I provided proved about as useful as a cat flap on a submarine. They were sleeping bags fit for a children’s party, in a warm house with real walls and a roof. Gemma hates being cold. She wasn’t happy. And apparently a shitty yoga mat cannot be described as a mattress. And tent pegs shouldn’t be bent into the shape of a banana. And a mallet is a useful tool to have. Who knew? Needless to say Day 2 of our trip takes us back to the frostbite and icicles.

The West Coast involved a lot of driving, stunning views and numerous bags of crisps being consumed. Gemma decided she was always starving and claimed that me and Neil didn’t let her eat. Which is a false accusation she was just being dramatic. Due to spending so much time in it the car our vehicle  gradually became more and more smelly until one day a wasp crawled into Gemma’s shoe and just died on the spot. That’s when you know the odour of feet is too much. Gemma almost lost her arm out of the window and Neil ran over a chicken.
“Aaahhhhhhh I just hit it!!!” he screamed.
“He just hit it!!! OMG you just hit that bird, chicken thing!!!” I shouted back.
“I’m a murderer!!!! What do I do???!”
While we were in the front seat agonising over Neil’s new role as a murderer Gemma was in the back seat drifting in and out of consciousness due to lack of food and the odour coming off her own feet. Once Gemma had awoken from the brink of death and myself and Neil had calmed down after the unfortunate bird-chicken incident we did what any sane road trippers would do in this situation. We ate some crisps.

Abel Tasman & Golden Bay

Now for those of you that have read any of our previous blogs you will know that I am used to travelling with Lyvette who is afraid of anything that moves, breathes, crawls and more importantly flies. I never imagined anybody could be more dramatic at the sight of a flying thing. Until I went on a roadtrip with Gemma and Neil. I have never before met two grown adults that managed to jump at their own breathe. Neil would jump at something and then Gemma would follow suit, leading to both of them twitching and running around all over the place. At first I wondered if they’d both developed turrets overnight.

Anyway, our first stop after the West Coast was Kaiteriteri beach where we spent a few hours soaking up the sun and eating crisps (obvs). Gemma was especially excited that the beach had showers. She’d already arranged to exfoliate, shave and wash her hair and everything. In her head she hadn’t showered in days (in reality it was 24hrs) and she was living in her own version of ‘I’m A Celebrity’. She wasn’t quite so excited when she realised the shower were cold. This led to another emotional outburst as Gemma added hairy, un-exfoliated and even more freezing to her list of problems which had previously included cold, itchy sandfly bites, sore back from the ‘mattress’ and starving. It was around this time that Neil felt left out of Gemma’s dramatic outburst and decided to scream and jump across the beach because he was petrified of the hair that had suddenly tickled his back. I looked on at the scene unfolding before me and wondered whether I should laugh or cry. All we needed now was for Lyvette and her fly fitting to join the party.

That night, in Takaka, we slept in a luxury hut with a hot shower and beds. I mean, it was luxury compared to the tent. It had walls, thick duvets and actual mattresses. Neil was in the top bunk and myself and Gemma shared the bottom double bed. We were just drifting off to sleep when the bed started shaking.
“WAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH” the scream was so loud even my sandfly bites jumped. But Neil continued to wriggle around wailing
“Are you dying?” I asked him as Gemma fell out of the bed in fright, crushing an all important and unsuspecting bag of crisps on her landing.
“OMG there’s a spider!!!” he yelled. “It’s HUGE. And it’s wearing armour.” Gemma jumped again but this time in fright at the mention of a spider. “And it’s eating a moth!”
“Get it out! Get it out!!!” Gemma had joined in now. Neil was at the end of his bed cowering away from the armoured spider. What the hell was happening here?! Why was life so dramatic?
I climbed up to Neil’s bed to fight the gigantic beast, armed with a cup and a piece of paper, ready to take it down, sweat dripping off my brow…just in case, you know, for once Neil wasn’t being dramatic and the spider was going to eat me. I approached the web….

And there was no spider.
There was a tiny web.
With an even tinier dead moth stuck to it.

I looked at Neil in disbelief.
And that was the night we almost got killed by a huge spider wearing armour.

The following day we left early after allowing Gemma to indulge in a long hot shower and declining her breakfast. I ushered the crew into the car with Gemma freshly shaved and hungry, Neil jumping at every gnat in sight and myself scratching my bites and we continued on our merry way.

I hoped the next part of our trip would be less dramatic. I can assure you it wasn’t. I wet myself, Gemma nearly passed out kayaking, we serenaded bottle nose dolphins with our version of the Spice Girls and Neil got attacked by the local wildlife. But we’ll save that for the next blog…