First Impressions

If common wisdom is true, and first impressions last, then Auckland has a pretty poor reputation. Or at least it should as far as our family members are concerned.

Everybody wants others to see their home town in the best light and as far as Auckland goes, that would be bright sunshine, warm air with Rangitoto framed by the glistening Hauraki Gulf whilst sailing boats and cruisers slip smoothly by. I can see it now. No literally because as I type these words it is doing exactly that. Doing what it does best and, it has to be said, what it does the majority of the time.

Except when we are expecting visitors. Think I'm exaggerating? Let me recap.....

October 2015
Technically the end of the winter and the start of spring, October is usually when the temperatures start to pick up (not that they get particularly low in Auckland anyway) and the sun shows it's face more often than not. Unless of course you are expecting visitors from the UK to arrive.

In this particular case, my Mam, Dad and sister were visiting New Zealand for the first time and were going to spend three weeks travelling around the North Island. A bit of late summer sun, from their point of view, before the darkness of a UK winter set in. Auckland, however, had other plans.

The day of their arrival had...err arrived... and rather than bright sun the weather decided to, well what can only be described as piss it down. Just as a sunny day in Auckland is something to behold, you ain't seen rain until you have witnessed a rain storm in Auckland. Rain drops the size of golf balls I tell you with a fairly brisk wind for good measure. And that was the weather that greeted my family as they stepped wearily off the plane, through NZ Immigration and Primary Industries. Not what they ordered, nor expected and certainly not what we wanted.

Fortunately, from the second day onwards, there was not drop of rain as the blue skies returned for their entire three week holiday, barring a few rain storms during the night and on days we were car bound.

I'm really pleased that New Zealand got its act together - I wouldn't' have been at all surprised if, seeing the grey skies and torrential rain, that they just turned around and got back on the next flight home.

December 2015
The local wisdom is that summer doesn't really start in New Zealand until after Boxing Day, and settled weather isn't really guaranteed until well into January. But local wisdom is exactly that. Local. To anybody brought up in the North East of England, what exactly constitutes a summer is somewhat different from that expected by most New Zealand inhabitants. In all honesty, most of us northerners were usually happy if we could don shorts on for at least one day and squeeze in a barbecue between the showers. One day like this a year would see me right, so to speak.

It's not unreasonable, therefore, for someone who has taken the trouble to travel the 12,000 miles from the UK to NZ to expect a bit of summer sunshine when arriving into Auckland in December. Alas, not for Sarah's sister. 

Instead what greeted her, when the arrival departure doors swished open, was leaden skies and gale force wind. Yes, right on cue, a tropical weather front had decided to park itself off the coast and it was playing havoc with the weather system. It wasn't destined to be around for long but that was of little consequence to our visitor who had what has to be one of the worst air travel experiences I've heard about. I won't go into details, but an unscheduled 16 hours layover in Shanghai Airport was definitely not part of the deal. If she'd been there any longer then I wouldn't have been surprised if she'd been offered a job to pass the time whilst she waited. "Don't worry", we texted, "there's a beautiful Auckland summer waiting for you".

To this day, I'm not sure if the tears that streamed down her face when she saw us waiting in the arrival lounge were of relief, happiness or the realisation that she'd spent the last two days suffering only to find that NZ had exactly the same weather she'd left behind in the UK.

Again, thankfully, the weather system left just after Christmas Day and the rest of the time a more seasonal festive weather pattern arrived.

If first impressions are those that count, then on these two occasions visitors to these islands would not have left with the best of opinions. I guess you're thinking that I'm maybe overstating this somewhat and that Auckland can't possibly know when we are expecting guests. No? Well read on....

June 2017
In just a few days were are expecting our nephew to arrive on these shores for his first visit to the Southern Hemisphere. Although the weather in winter can be a little unpredictable, and we have suggested that he brings an entire four season's worth of clothing, he will be leaving behind a pretty decent UK summer by all accounts.  It would be nice, therefore, if Auckland could behave itself for once and greet our visitors with a sunny smile. It has been, the last few weeks been really sunny and warm with temperatures hovering around 16 degrees most days. Very pleasant and just about as good as anyone could expect for what is approaching mid-winter.

But with almost military precision, this is all due to end the day he arrives, if the forecasts are to be believed anyway. 

The forecast for this coming Thursday is not looking great and there is a high chance that, once again, Auckland is going to do its best to get rid of our visitor before he has even had the chance to put his bags down. Another potentially cold damp squib of an arrival.... 

Ah, well it's only a forecast and not the weather so things might change before then. We really do appreciate and understand the effort it takes to get here so it it too much to ask for the weather to behave itself? Well in case it doesn't, we'll have umbrellas at the ready and warm embraces for the latest family member to venture this far south. Well we will providing he has remembered to bring the tea bags we've asked for!

 

Travelling Light

When most people think about air travel, they conjure up images of sleek streamlined aircraft cruising at altitudes that would have once been unimaginable, whilst relaxing, munching on Hors d'oeuvre and sippong champagnes from a crystal glass goblets. Not that this is anything like the real intercontinental travel but one can dream can't one?

For those of us who are less inclined to think in ideals, we still expect a certain level of comfort and convenience. The operative word in that last sentence being expect. But even in the cheapest of budget class, a packet of crisps and a glass of water wouldn't go amiss.

In a country that relies heavily on air travel to get around, not due to the size mind you but due to the lack of reliable infrastructure, it could be argued, expected even, that they would've got air travel sorted. Hhhmmm not on current evidence.

At the moment, as I type these very letters into my phone (yes my it is in flight mode thank you) we are  taxiing across what is seemingly miles of runway to actually take off. Although I suspect, having been trundling around for nearly fifteen minutes that we're actually driving the 300km from Auckland to Napier, and  those aren't actually runway lights I can see out of the window but the headlights of fellow travellers on State Highway 1. Admittedly I wouldn't have noticed and would've normally dozed off by now, except the flight is only supposed to take 45 minutes.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. 

Alarm bells started ringing much earlier, not actually alarm bells you understand, but metaphorical ones, when we were asked to go to Gate 62 to catch our flight. The airport only has 50 gates. What they should've said, as it turns out, was "can you please make you way across the car park to the shed at the end of the road. Oh and by the way, don't expect a seat because there are only three and one has Albert's potted plant on it."

Maybe I'm lying about the potted plant. It wasn't Albert's it was Terry's.

So after making our way across the crowds of people who were waiting expectantly for their flight to far flung places, we weaved around the Vauxhall Novas to arrive at the departure gate.

Now call me old fashioned, but one of the features of departure gates, if not the feature, is that stuff should actually depart from here. Woth some poor weather no doubt the culprit, several flights are backed up and cant actually depart. We at least there is the lounge to errrr lounge around in. Well ok there's not much lounging going on, what with the potted plant and everything, but at least there is nice floor to sit on. It would have to be a really low rent place not to provide a nice floor on which to sit and while away the time. After all, what better things are there to do on a damp Thursday night?

Eventually all things must come to an end so, begrudgingly, we stood up and formed a queue to get onto the plane. But being at Gate 62, there is no plane. Instead, we are treated to the indignity of getting onto a bus which then proceeds to drive us back across the car park and to another far flung corner of the airport to our waiting plane. As we approach the Dash 8-300 aircraft, which I'm now reliably informed by our inflight pamphlet is our assigned vessel, I begin to wonder. Either this craft is a technological marvel or it is actually smaller than the bus that we're currently travelling on. Only without the double doors in the middle and destination sign on the front!

It's the latter. I'm not saying that this plane is small but is it normal to be able to stretch out your arms and touch both sides of the aircraft? No didn't think so. And as if to reinforce the point, we are asked if anyone with a bag larger then a 10p mix-up can make themselves known to the cabin crew so it can be put in the hold. Or on the roof rack if there's not enough space.

Which, after a slight detour, brings us back to the present and the taxiing down the runway/state highway. 

Time then for the safety briefing. Or at least it would be if I could hear it. Unfortunately for the cabin crew, the propellers have started and any important instructions are lost in the noise and vibration from the engines. Being no stranger to air travel, some of the gestures look familiar but their verbal accompaniment is lost. For all I know they could be instructing us to, in an emergency, point to the windows and wave to anyone we can see outside who might be able to help.

Hurray, we're airborne. Or at least I think we are. The ground details don't seem much further away than they were ten minutes ago.....

"Hi folks, this is Terry your Captain for this flight. Today we'll be cruising at an altitude of around twenty metres where the air temperature is slightly cooler but not so you'll  notice really. Can I ask that you please refrain from putting your head out of the window as it is quite dangerous and a little off-putting"

With a vehicle this small, there isn't any in-flight entertainment as such, unless you count the amusing sight of the cabin crew trying to sell food and drink and tidy up on the five minutes that they have between takeoff and landing. But who needs dull Hollywood blockbusters when you can watch the land whizzing by. And other traffic.

Still, at least it won't take long to disembark and unload. I've seen family saloons with more passengers and luggage, and we don't have the annoying children to get on the way of the process. Well not many anyway. With s flight this short, there isn't much opportunity to be delayed, but I do fear that the stiff breeze might've blown us off course. Ah well, perhaps a weekend in Tauranga is better anyway!