This blog records the trip we took to celebrate our 40th wedding anniversary.
We chose to do this trip because Marion had never been to the southern hemisphere before and had always wanted to visit the Antipodes, partcularly New Zealand. Such a trip would give us the best opportunity of meeting with the biggest number of friends who have been influential in our lives together.
We then decided we needed to put some sort of structure to the trip and it was while on a three day trip to Bordeaux that we decided to make the trip focus round touring new world wineries. This was very appropriate for us as we have come to very much enjoy the world of wine over our 40 years of marriage so that is now perhaps the most important combined activity that we have. It is also one of the activities that ensures that no matter where you are, providing you are close to wine you will always eat well, be in very pleasant countryside and meet with lots of interested, interesting and committed people.
You can also argue that wine itself is a metaphor for marriage in that the older the wine the better it becomes.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Alanna Estate
This tasting started pretty much the same as the majority of the tastings I have been doing. True there was a Christmas office party going on on the patio with the participants dressed up as toffs from a century or more ago. They eventually went in to their lunch in the winery restaurant and I got going on my tasting, the sole punter in the tasting room which is how I prefer it.
The first tasting was a Riesling which was sweet, like a dessert wine, but was being promoted as an aperitif wine. True it is made differently to a dessert wine but in the end is is a sweet Riesling and I am afraid I just did not get it. I then went trough the standard whites which were just a little bit different from everybody else’s, particularly when you smelt them. Then we came to the first Pinot Noir. It had been made more like a white wine and had never seen oak. It was being promoted as a light quaffable wine served cool. It was OK but hey there are enough wines covering that slot in the market why add to it, Oh yes, that would be because every one wants to drink Pinot Noir. It is fashionable.
What was going through my mind right now was that Alanna was a very commercial winery which was interested only in the drink now market. This didn’t make much sense though given their 2006 standard Pinot Noir wine. That had to have been made for the cellaring market, it was a few years from being at its best. I was beginning to try and understand what was going on and then the young lady, Victoria I think was her name, who was doing the tasting and who was very knowledgeable shot out and came back carrying a 2007 Pinot Noir (standard) hot of the bottling line and not for sale for some time. Again another serious wine. I was trying to get to the bottom of this when a guy with purple hands walked in to the tasting room. After a short while of me asking questions Victoria introduced purple hands to me, Alan Parker, the wine maker.
The next 20 or so minutes were another of the magic moments of the trip. He was able to explain exactly what he was up to and why. There is no way I can repeat what Alan told me, I would be here for ages and I would probably get the detail wrong. The reasons for both the aperitif Riesling and the Pinot Noir light were much the same so briefly for the Pinot Noir the winery has a big block of a particular Pinot Noir clone but they have too much of it. He needs it to make the serious Pinot Noirs but not too much so he has an over supply. Today’s market place is all about fashion and drink now. Pinot Noir is fashionable but not normally drink now. Alan has discovered that his over supply of that Pinot Noir can be used to make a highly competitive drink now quaffable wine. Every body is a winner with this approach. Alan gets to make the serious wines he wants to and the winery gets increased cash flow and the majority of buyers can get a Pinot Noir which drinks easily and they do not have to wait.
It really is great when you can talk to the wine makers and understand the problems and opportunities as they see them. Oh and by the way the reference earlier to purple hands. It is remarkable how many wine makers have purple hands. There is even a childrens book entitled “My Dads Got Purple Hands“.
The first tasting was a Riesling which was sweet, like a dessert wine, but was being promoted as an aperitif wine. True it is made differently to a dessert wine but in the end is is a sweet Riesling and I am afraid I just did not get it. I then went trough the standard whites which were just a little bit different from everybody else’s, particularly when you smelt them. Then we came to the first Pinot Noir. It had been made more like a white wine and had never seen oak. It was being promoted as a light quaffable wine served cool. It was OK but hey there are enough wines covering that slot in the market why add to it, Oh yes, that would be because every one wants to drink Pinot Noir. It is fashionable.
What was going through my mind right now was that Alanna was a very commercial winery which was interested only in the drink now market. This didn’t make much sense though given their 2006 standard Pinot Noir wine. That had to have been made for the cellaring market, it was a few years from being at its best. I was beginning to try and understand what was going on and then the young lady, Victoria I think was her name, who was doing the tasting and who was very knowledgeable shot out and came back carrying a 2007 Pinot Noir (standard) hot of the bottling line and not for sale for some time. Again another serious wine. I was trying to get to the bottom of this when a guy with purple hands walked in to the tasting room. After a short while of me asking questions Victoria introduced purple hands to me, Alan Parker, the wine maker.
The next 20 or so minutes were another of the magic moments of the trip. He was able to explain exactly what he was up to and why. There is no way I can repeat what Alan told me, I would be here for ages and I would probably get the detail wrong. The reasons for both the aperitif Riesling and the Pinot Noir light were much the same so briefly for the Pinot Noir the winery has a big block of a particular Pinot Noir clone but they have too much of it. He needs it to make the serious Pinot Noirs but not too much so he has an over supply. Today’s market place is all about fashion and drink now. Pinot Noir is fashionable but not normally drink now. Alan has discovered that his over supply of that Pinot Noir can be used to make a highly competitive drink now quaffable wine. Every body is a winner with this approach. Alan gets to make the serious wines he wants to and the winery gets increased cash flow and the majority of buyers can get a Pinot Noir which drinks easily and they do not have to wait.
It really is great when you can talk to the wine makers and understand the problems and opportunities as they see them. Oh and by the way the reference earlier to purple hands. It is remarkable how many wine makers have purple hands. There is even a childrens book entitled “My Dads Got Purple Hands“.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
The Rimutaka Hill, Wellington - Martinborough
Thursday, 18th December is definitely get Ian day, or rather get Ian’s adrenalin day. First as described in another Post we have the 25 minute ride in a 12 seater, light as a feather Cesna 208, flown up and over very pointy hills by a pilot who has barely started to shave and who is still in short trousers and after that then there is the Rimutaka Hill.
Everything is organised to fool you, or at least those who have a strong dislike of anything high. Take the name. What can be more benign than “hill”. Note, not pass, not mountain, not even steep hill, just “hill“. Further, the roads leading to the ”hill” are wide and inviting, meant for touring and then suddenly and almost without warning they turn into monstrous, snaking, curving, wrongly cambered devils only out there to throw you off into the deep cavernous void on the left.
I was driving. Normally when we drive on this type of road it is better for all concerned, Marion, me and all other drivers, if Marion drives, but sometimes I get caught out as I did today and at least I have to continue until there is a safe spot to change drivers. Today, I was further caught out because I had been assured many time by South Islanders that once out of South Island everything is much easier, no adventure stuff, no adrenalin events just pipe and slippers stuff.
They lied!
We did not pass anything like this in South Island. True the road down from Queenstown to Cromwell has the gorge on the left but for me it was not like the “hill”. They have the Millford road but that is nothing compared to the”hill” either.
Because of this South Island spin plus the name “hill”, I just assumed this would be a short sharp hill and it would all be over soon. So, we continued up the hill with me cutting all the blind right hand corners making Marion, rightly, worried that we might just meet one of those immense truck and trailer jobs barrelling down. Now we have two people worried, me for something the rest of the world thinks is great fun and the other Marion, for very good and sensible reasons.
Just before I was about to pass out from white knuckle fatigue, I found a spot to change drivers. At least one of us now felt happier and did they but know it so should have all other drivers on the “hill” at that time. Mind you it still wasn’t good. The void was on the left so now sitting in the passenger seat I was even nearer to the void as they drive, sensibly, here in New Zealand, on the left. I spent the rest of the “hill’ both up and down, yes you guessed it, it was just as bad descending as ascending, leaning heavily to my right so Marion was forced to drive with me in her way.
Well I pen this Post sipping a fresh Sauvignon Blanc in our very nice hotel, The Martinborough Hotel, clearly my fears were completely unfounded.
Everything is organised to fool you, or at least those who have a strong dislike of anything high. Take the name. What can be more benign than “hill”. Note, not pass, not mountain, not even steep hill, just “hill“. Further, the roads leading to the ”hill” are wide and inviting, meant for touring and then suddenly and almost without warning they turn into monstrous, snaking, curving, wrongly cambered devils only out there to throw you off into the deep cavernous void on the left.
I was driving. Normally when we drive on this type of road it is better for all concerned, Marion, me and all other drivers, if Marion drives, but sometimes I get caught out as I did today and at least I have to continue until there is a safe spot to change drivers. Today, I was further caught out because I had been assured many time by South Islanders that once out of South Island everything is much easier, no adventure stuff, no adrenalin events just pipe and slippers stuff.
They lied!
We did not pass anything like this in South Island. True the road down from Queenstown to Cromwell has the gorge on the left but for me it was not like the “hill”. They have the Millford road but that is nothing compared to the”hill” either.
Because of this South Island spin plus the name “hill”, I just assumed this would be a short sharp hill and it would all be over soon. So, we continued up the hill with me cutting all the blind right hand corners making Marion, rightly, worried that we might just meet one of those immense truck and trailer jobs barrelling down. Now we have two people worried, me for something the rest of the world thinks is great fun and the other Marion, for very good and sensible reasons.
Just before I was about to pass out from white knuckle fatigue, I found a spot to change drivers. At least one of us now felt happier and did they but know it so should have all other drivers on the “hill” at that time. Mind you it still wasn’t good. The void was on the left so now sitting in the passenger seat I was even nearer to the void as they drive, sensibly, here in New Zealand, on the left. I spent the rest of the “hill’ both up and down, yes you guessed it, it was just as bad descending as ascending, leaning heavily to my right so Marion was forced to drive with me in her way.
Well I pen this Post sipping a fresh Sauvignon Blanc in our very nice hotel, The Martinborough Hotel, clearly my fears were completely unfounded.
Picton - Wellington
The pilot, I think, was probably young enough to be my grandson. His uniform is a white shirt with his rank flashes on his shoulder and a pair of khaki shorts. Once on board it is he who ensures that you are strapped in correctly and who gives you the safety briefing which includes the ominous words, “it is going to be a bit bumpy today over the Sound”.
Now I have, conservatively, flown 6000 hours and more probably over 10,000 on all types of aircraft, but not so much on small planes like the Cesna 208 we were now in and my recollection of “bumpy” in small aircraft is a whole different world. I was already a tad concerned because I omitted to tell you, in the Picton Airport Post, that Picton Airport nestled in the hills, or more properly mountains, between Blenheim and Picton town. In essence the plane took off directly towards mountains. I do not normally get my height thing when flying. Seems crazy really, totally illogical, but then the height thing itself is illogical. However, in this instance it was beginning to kick in and I do not know why.
Anyhow we rolled down the runway, turned round, reved up and charged down the runway and were off the ground in seconds. I knew we were off the ground when the plane suddenly lurched to right. My “grandson” in the front left hand seat corrected and kept the ascent going. Now bumps in a small aircraft going through the mountains are entirely different to those experienced in a 747. First you can really feel them and second you can really see them as the close by mountains give your view a point of reference. I, of course, gave the pilot every assistance by taking a firm grip on the seat in front and lifting, or was that just holding on.
The flight was only scheduled for 20-25 minutes so our trip through the mountains did not last that long and clearly my lifting had worked because we were soon over the Cook Straight which was much more pleasant and I could look around properly, as opposed to taking furtive glances as I did in the mountains, and I could see the fast approaching North Island and soon Wellington. The bumpiness subsided and we gradually approached Wellington descending on what I thought was a pretty steep glide path but my “grandson” in the front did a good job and brought us in very gently in spite of a cross wind and we kissed down right at the start of the runway and immediately turned right to get the Sounds Airways parking spot which of course was in a corner behind all the bigger aircraft.
I later reflected that none of the other passengers had been in the least concerned by the “bumpiness“. The young 12 year old lad in front, clearly a seasoned traveller on this route, was just deeply miffed that he had not been allowed to sit in his normal seat on the right at the front because it was too bumpy. Every one else looked out all the way or just continued their conversations. Ironic really because, when I thought about it, I had probably flown more hours than everybody else, including the pilot, put together.
Now I have, conservatively, flown 6000 hours and more probably over 10,000 on all types of aircraft, but not so much on small planes like the Cesna 208 we were now in and my recollection of “bumpy” in small aircraft is a whole different world. I was already a tad concerned because I omitted to tell you, in the Picton Airport Post, that Picton Airport nestled in the hills, or more properly mountains, between Blenheim and Picton town. In essence the plane took off directly towards mountains. I do not normally get my height thing when flying. Seems crazy really, totally illogical, but then the height thing itself is illogical. However, in this instance it was beginning to kick in and I do not know why.
Anyhow we rolled down the runway, turned round, reved up and charged down the runway and were off the ground in seconds. I knew we were off the ground when the plane suddenly lurched to right. My “grandson” in the front left hand seat corrected and kept the ascent going. Now bumps in a small aircraft going through the mountains are entirely different to those experienced in a 747. First you can really feel them and second you can really see them as the close by mountains give your view a point of reference. I, of course, gave the pilot every assistance by taking a firm grip on the seat in front and lifting, or was that just holding on.
The flight was only scheduled for 20-25 minutes so our trip through the mountains did not last that long and clearly my lifting had worked because we were soon over the Cook Straight which was much more pleasant and I could look around properly, as opposed to taking furtive glances as I did in the mountains, and I could see the fast approaching North Island and soon Wellington. The bumpiness subsided and we gradually approached Wellington descending on what I thought was a pretty steep glide path but my “grandson” in the front did a good job and brought us in very gently in spite of a cross wind and we kissed down right at the start of the runway and immediately turned right to get the Sounds Airways parking spot which of course was in a corner behind all the bigger aircraft.
I later reflected that none of the other passengers had been in the least concerned by the “bumpiness“. The young 12 year old lad in front, clearly a seasoned traveller on this route, was just deeply miffed that he had not been allowed to sit in his normal seat on the right at the front because it was too bumpy. Every one else looked out all the way or just continued their conversations. Ironic really because, when I thought about it, I had probably flown more hours than everybody else, including the pilot, put together.
Adventure Airport - Picton Airport
I knew we were in for an experience when collecting our Hertz car in Blenheim the good lady who handled the paperwork informed us there was no Picton Airport and that really it was Blenheim airport. I was pretty certain that there were two airports not one and that she was wrong. However, it is pretty difficult to argue with a local but since Blenheim airport is only a hop, step and a jump from the Hertz office and on the way to the Cloudy Bay Winery we could check it.
I was right. One up for the tourists. I was to discover that very few people know of Picton airport and those that do call it something like Kaiwakara and certainly not Picton. Having resolved as far as we were concerned I now had to make sure that Hertz knew where I was going to drop the car. I won’t trouble the reader with this histoire of our attempts to inform Hertz. Suffice it to say that multiple trips were required to get this bit of information over to the local Hertz office and oh yes, to inform them that while we had a new car with only 48km on the clock it decided that it would not start from time to time, once inconveniently in the middle of junction, which caused a passing New Zealand driver to stop and advise me it was not a good place to park!
Back to Picton Airport. We checked its location and decided that we would have to leave a little early to ensure we found it. We found it with ease, though it is not immediately obvious where the terminal buildings are though, actually, we found them with out problems.
What we had here was the next step up from a grass strip and hut. The waiting room was a small homely room with the check in desk a hole in the wall with the weighing machine in the doorway just to the left. In good weather the garden with seats and tables and wonderful roses doubles as an alternative waiting room. The runway is a relatively short and narrow piece of tarmac and I am not sure I spotted any runway lights. Actually, I think the airport terminal is really someone’s house.
Clearly the airport is used frequently because there were a number of cars in the car park and Sounds Airways must do 5 or 6 flights a day between Picton and Wellington and vice versa. Booking in is everything the experienced air traveller craves for. No hassle with bags, no security checks , no x-ray machines, and no long walk to the gate. What gate? It is a 5 barred metal gate that the aircraft pulls up to and and embarking is done when the pilot says “OK folks lets go” after he has finished assisting the loading of the cases.
I was right. One up for the tourists. I was to discover that very few people know of Picton airport and those that do call it something like Kaiwakara and certainly not Picton. Having resolved as far as we were concerned I now had to make sure that Hertz knew where I was going to drop the car. I won’t trouble the reader with this histoire of our attempts to inform Hertz. Suffice it to say that multiple trips were required to get this bit of information over to the local Hertz office and oh yes, to inform them that while we had a new car with only 48km on the clock it decided that it would not start from time to time, once inconveniently in the middle of junction, which caused a passing New Zealand driver to stop and advise me it was not a good place to park!
Back to Picton Airport. We checked its location and decided that we would have to leave a little early to ensure we found it. We found it with ease, though it is not immediately obvious where the terminal buildings are though, actually, we found them with out problems.
What we had here was the next step up from a grass strip and hut. The waiting room was a small homely room with the check in desk a hole in the wall with the weighing machine in the doorway just to the left. In good weather the garden with seats and tables and wonderful roses doubles as an alternative waiting room. The runway is a relatively short and narrow piece of tarmac and I am not sure I spotted any runway lights. Actually, I think the airport terminal is really someone’s house.
Clearly the airport is used frequently because there were a number of cars in the car park and Sounds Airways must do 5 or 6 flights a day between Picton and Wellington and vice versa. Booking in is everything the experienced air traveller craves for. No hassle with bags, no security checks , no x-ray machines, and no long walk to the gate. What gate? It is a 5 barred metal gate that the aircraft pulls up to and and embarking is done when the pilot says “OK folks lets go” after he has finished assisting the loading of the cases.
Whats in a Name - Hotel D'Urville, Blenheim
When putting together the trip I liked the sound of the name. I was looking for quirky, different town hotels and I loved what I though was a New Zealand play on the French name Hotel de Ville, which of course is not a hotel at all but a town hall. The web site seemed to back up my thoughts with its description of the hotel which was a restored former trust building where important papers and valuables could be stored.
The hotel sits right in the centre of Blenheim, a big white imposing building in a shopping street of normal New Zealand timber framed two story buildings. It has a delightful entrance leading to a bar on the right and a dining room on the left all of which gave the feel of an individually styled hotel.
We arrived early and our room was not ready so we dumped our bags with reception and shot off to get our hire car and then to do a couple of quick tastings.
We arrived back 2 or 3 hours later and found that our bags had been moved to our room which we were now shown to and which turned out to be thoughtfully and tastefully decorated, but in a somewhat quirky style. You see I was right about that name, it was a sure give away.
We unpacked and I did a little blogging. We decided upon a bar meal which turned out to be a good choice as the restaurant was pretty much taken over by an office Christmas party. Anyhow we were feeling really stuffed so a full blown meal would have been over the top for us and we got the bar to ourselves. Whatever it was we had, I think mine was oysters, we washed it down with a good bottle of the local Sauvignon Blanc.
Breakfast, like all New Zealand breakfasts can be as substantial as you like and so we decided on a no lunch strategy for the day. We were a bit disappointed to have missed out on a full meal the previous night as the hotel enjoys a good reputation for food so we really wanted to make sure we did not miss out in Martinborough.
While we were booking out I was looking at some large scale maps of the Marlborough Sound and there sitting there as the northern most island was the Island of D’Urville, so much for my guess work!
www.durville.com
The hotel sits right in the centre of Blenheim, a big white imposing building in a shopping street of normal New Zealand timber framed two story buildings. It has a delightful entrance leading to a bar on the right and a dining room on the left all of which gave the feel of an individually styled hotel.
We arrived early and our room was not ready so we dumped our bags with reception and shot off to get our hire car and then to do a couple of quick tastings.
We arrived back 2 or 3 hours later and found that our bags had been moved to our room which we were now shown to and which turned out to be thoughtfully and tastefully decorated, but in a somewhat quirky style. You see I was right about that name, it was a sure give away.
We unpacked and I did a little blogging. We decided upon a bar meal which turned out to be a good choice as the restaurant was pretty much taken over by an office Christmas party. Anyhow we were feeling really stuffed so a full blown meal would have been over the top for us and we got the bar to ourselves. Whatever it was we had, I think mine was oysters, we washed it down with a good bottle of the local Sauvignon Blanc.
Breakfast, like all New Zealand breakfasts can be as substantial as you like and so we decided on a no lunch strategy for the day. We were a bit disappointed to have missed out on a full meal the previous night as the hotel enjoys a good reputation for food so we really wanted to make sure we did not miss out in Martinborough.
While we were booking out I was looking at some large scale maps of the Marlborough Sound and there sitting there as the northern most island was the Island of D’Urville, so much for my guess work!
www.durville.com
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Christchurch
We arrived in Christchurch after an uneventful 2 hour drive from Timaru. We went straight to our hotel, the Clearwater Resort on the edge of Christchurch, booked in, unloaded and then charged back to the airport which we had passed to drop off our rental car before we had to pay the extra day. Having dropped the car we then took the shuttle bus down to Christchurch city centre.
By this time, it was about 4 o’clock, we only had a couple hours maximum for going round end displays or exhibitions etc., so after a quick visit to the tourist information centre we elected to a tram around the city centre. The trams existence is pretty much for tourists now and there is only one route a circular route which passes many of the city centre attractions that one might visit, but better than that it gives the visitor a very goof feel for the layout of the city. There is a commentary from the driver, another budding New Zealand comic, as you go round. Your ticket allows you stop off when you want and where you want and is valid for the whole day. If we were spending the whole day in the city we would simply have used the tram to take us from one place to the other. There is more than enough to occupy the tourist on this tram route.
When we had completed one cicuit we decided to alight and go back to couple of interesting streets we had seen and the to explore the cathedral square. By this time our stomachs were beginning to think iur throats had been cut so we decided to take an early city centre pub dinner and the go back to our hotel and put our feet up on the balcony of our room at the Clearwater Resort.
Christchurch, although it is the largest city in South Island is still only some 350m in population. It spralls a little and does not have an easily understood road system, but it is a delightful city with a residual colonial, and dare I say it, British feel about it.
By this time, it was about 4 o’clock, we only had a couple hours maximum for going round end displays or exhibitions etc., so after a quick visit to the tourist information centre we elected to a tram around the city centre. The trams existence is pretty much for tourists now and there is only one route a circular route which passes many of the city centre attractions that one might visit, but better than that it gives the visitor a very goof feel for the layout of the city. There is a commentary from the driver, another budding New Zealand comic, as you go round. Your ticket allows you stop off when you want and where you want and is valid for the whole day. If we were spending the whole day in the city we would simply have used the tram to take us from one place to the other. There is more than enough to occupy the tourist on this tram route.
When we had completed one cicuit we decided to alight and go back to couple of interesting streets we had seen and the to explore the cathedral square. By this time our stomachs were beginning to think iur throats had been cut so we decided to take an early city centre pub dinner and the go back to our hotel and put our feet up on the balcony of our room at the Clearwater Resort.
Christchurch, although it is the largest city in South Island is still only some 350m in population. It spralls a little and does not have an easily understood road system, but it is a delightful city with a residual colonial, and dare I say it, British feel about it.
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