Franz Josef to Queenstown

With aching legs we begin the drive down to the adrenalin capital of the world, Queenstown. Passing through pretty towns like Wanaka we stop briefly at another mirror placid lake, where I find a gnarly twig and succumb to the inevitabl apalling Gandalf the Grey impressions.



Every sphincter clenching activity associated with New Zealand was either invented or improved upon in Queenstown. Bungee jumping, jet boating, sky diving, luge-ing, zorbing etc.

But since it's evening when we arrive we take on the more sedate pursuit of watching the All Blacks take on Ireland in the rugby. The Celts, as usual, put on a good show but are inevitably beaten, so we partake of some nacho and sour cream topped pizza as consolation.

New Zealand food is on the whole pretty good but it does have its quirks. Chief amongst these is the habit of putting fruity sauces on savoury items. Like grilled chicken with apricot sauce for instance. Not bad, just different.