Road Trip

                                                                    Road Trip                        August 2017 

 I was 19, naive and nervously anticipating my first ever road trip – by 150 cc Lambretta motor- scooter – Auckland to Bluff and back, with side excursions to Mount Cook, Queenstown and hopefully, Milford Sound. I was the proud owner of a sleek blue and grey Italian crafted steed, secondhand, of course, but as good as new to me. I joined the Auckland motorscooter club and promptly affixed their blue and yellow transfer emblem to my white crash helmet; how fortuitous that it matched my long striped scarf knitted for Takapuna Grammar School days. I zipped around Auckland feeling full of independence.
       I met a girl at the scooter club, North Shore based, like me, and we planned our grand tour. Pannier bags slang either side of seats stowed food and clothes, the rear luggage rack and space above front mudguard housed canvas bundles of tent, the sleeping bag and groundsheet. A small bag slung between the knees was filled with maps and money.
      One November morning we were off and away. Pleasant scenery accompanied us all the way to Wellington and across Cook Straight on the ferries; idyllic days indeed. Then we were caught in a sudden storm through Marlbrough, as we toured towards Kaikora. Rained lashed and soaked to the skin, with fingers are frozen through woolen gloves, we shivered silently into our tiny tent for the night.
        A stunning scene of snow-covered Kaikora Ranges greeted our awakening next day; spirits recovered as we headed for the Christchurch city-sights and spent several happy days exploring the parks, gardens and historic heart of that tranquil city.
       The road to Mount Cook along the shores of Lake Pukaki, was rutted and boulder-strewn and proved an unsurmountable obstacle for tyres of valiant motorscooters. Hardened bikers would have roared with laughter at our plight, we hitched a ride (the only time in my life) with understanding motorists and happily gazed on the majestic mountain.
       At glorious Queenstown we planned a day jaunt to the head of Lake Wakatipu, through Glenorchy to a tempting dead-end farm track – the road to Paradise. That day lives on in my memory as the most magical day spent in the entirety of travels throughout NZ. Communing with nature intimately; surrounded totally by scented Russell Lupins in their glorious full range of colours, flowering broome, and briar, heady whiffs of various floral scents, buzzing bees, singing skylarks and stately white geese, waddling leisurely into the ultramarine depths of the lake. Towering glacial mountain ranges, etched with snow-filled fissures and forests of delicate-leaved souther Beech trees. Paradise was a dazzling dream of snowy peaks, emerald grassy planes and softly murmuring pairs of Paradise ducks, named for their first place of discovery in NZ.
       The road had been rugged stone and sand with six fords to negotiate each way. At sunset we  wended our way back to Queenstown Motor Camp, the steamer Earnslaw dwarfed by the towering purple peaks at dusk. Sunset tints of gold overlay the shimming snows and lapping wavelets, a host of browsing wild rabbits hopped around our feet as we gently scooted among the sandy trails. A hush of peaceful evening sounds lulled us to sleep that night of that most memorable day.
       Many highlights followed on that three-week road-trip of my youth, but the road to Paradise lives on in untarnished splendour.