The Age of the Train?

There was a time when stepping onto an aeroplane was a big deal. Something special and a real treat at the start of a big holiday. In fact, it was so special that it wasn’t until well into my adult life that I actually became airborne. It’s not that there wasn’t air travel back in my formative years - there was - but it just wasn’t the done thing. Well not in Hartlepool anyway.

For example, when presented with the opportunity for a lads two-week extravaganza in Spain we eschewed air travel and opted instead for the bus.....sorry Executive Coach. So instead of arriving in Salou fully refreshed after a three hour flight, we arrived 36 hours later, sleep deprived and cranky. On the plus side though, we had absolutely no jet lag..... on account of us having never left the planet’s surface. Thank goodness it was a two week break because we’d barely put our bags down, changed into our beach wear and had a sip of beer before it was time to come back.

I’d like to boast that environmental concerns dictated that we don’t take to the skies but I know, even thirty years later, that it was due to economics . I’m sure we could’ve afforded flights, just about, but it would’ve deprived us of essential and precious beer money. Time is money but so is beer so to speak. And so an opportunity to fly somewhere passed me by. Good for the environment but bad for my liver. 

Much later, when we decided to venture to Europe as a couple, we took the train rather than taking off. Why go to the faff of driving to an airport, and back again at the other side, when you could be well on your way on the train? There is no better way to travel....when it works.

It was in fact a year later, when I was approaching my twenty-fourth birthday that I first tasted air travel. And what a journey - a transatlantic crossing to New York. It seemed like such a distance and what an adventure to jet off to a whole new country that was practically on the other side of the world. Well at least I thought it was at the time. Obviously I had no idea that twenty or so years later I’d be writing about it in a hotel room in Wellington. 

Arriving in New York was a bit like stepping onto a film set. Yellow cabs, the noise, bustle and buildings looked just like they did on TV and in the movies. It was an eye-opener and the slight fog of jet lag made it all seem a little more surreal. That feeling of  an alternate reality would kick up a gear when we met a friend from my home town outside our hotel on 5th Avenue. The excitement of meeting a friend on ‘the other side of the world’ was hard to contain.

“Hi Mike.....sorry I have to go to sleep”

And with that we opened the door, checked in and fell into a deep sleep. I still regret that I couldn’t muster some energy to hit the bars that night but the urge to sleep was overwhelming. My friend did get his revenge the following night when he used our room’s shower and managed to flood the bathroom.....but that’s a story for another day.

Despite this introduction to air travel, and brush with jet lag, this was a distinct one off. An air based island in a sea of land based travel. Air travel was still a luxury that we weren’t prepared to pay for, not when there was a perfectly good alternative.

That was until we came to New Zealand. Since arriving here, and not forgetting the gruelling 28 hour flight that got us to the Southern Hemisphere, our environmental credentials have taken a serious hit. We now fly almost everywhere. Not entirely through necessity but almost. Take this weekend for example. Popping down the road to Wellington for a weekend isn’t an option, not if you don’t want to spend all weekend behind the wheel. Actually that’s a bit of an exaggeration - the journey from Auckland to Wellington is only eight hours! 

In fact, we travel so much by plane that we’re getting a little bit blasé about the whole thing. We’re not quite on first name terms with the security staff at Auckland airport but we certainly know our way round, to the point where we don’t even need to look at the departure boards or look up the flight times. We know the Air New Zealand timetable like we would a local bus route. Our rather laid back approach has on more than one occasion got us into a spot of bother. Like the time we were flying to a regional airport and assumed that it departed from the same area as all of the other flights. It wasn’t until that we have gone through security and walked to our usual departure gate that we noticed our flight wasn’t on the board. 

“Hhhmmm. Odd! I wonder why our flight isn’t listed.”

“Maybe they’ve forgotten to put it on the board.”

“Well that’s a bit slack I must say”

It was only then that we decided to look at our boarding pass and realised that we should’ve been in a different part of the airport. Oops! A walk/run back through the airport was required for us to make our flight. 

To be fair, it doesn’t help that catching a domestic flight in New Zealand is almost identical to getting on a bus. Providing you don’t want to check a bag, you can rock up just minutes before and board. You don’t even need a ticket or any identification - an app on your phone is all that is required.

This weekend we’ve flown to Wellington, next weekend were heading off to the Bay of Islands. Sure we could drive but a 45 minute flight just doesn’t compare to what could be a five hour gruelling drive. And that’s just getting out of Auckland! If there was a viable public transport option we’d take it. Even if it was a little bit longer. But there isn’t....

...except tomorrow we’ve decided to put our money where our mouths are. You see there is a non-flight, non-road option to get us back to Auckland. At 11 hours long it’s not exactly practical but we have a day spare so why the heck not? So, rather than stroll around the shops and have a leisurely lunch on the waterfront, tomorrow we’re heading to the train station and catching the 0755 Northern Explorer to Auckland. It should be easy to spot as it’s the only train to Auckland that day. In fact, as it only runs three times a week we have to make sure we’re on board.

It seems like a mad idea to travel by train when it’s ten times longer and more expensive than flying but it will be spectacular. Not convinced? Well how about this from the Man at Seat 61 website for example;

“The wonderful Northern Explorer train is easily the best way to get from downtown Auckland to city centre Wellington, stress-free and in comfort at ground level, stopping off at the Tongariro National Park for a couple of days if you like.  It's an epic 681 kilometre (423 mile) journey across the interior of the North Island, through every kind of scenery there is, from coastline to volcanoes to mountains, lush green farmland to thick New Zealand bush.  It takes you the length of the historic North Island Main Trunk Railway, started in 1885 and completed in 1908, over feats of engineering such the Raurimu Spiral, Turangarere Horseshoe and Makatote Viaduct.  It's one of the world's great railway journeys and one of my favourites,...”

Well even if it lives up to half of that it’ll be a great way to head back. Certainly beats looking at clouds.

Creature Uncomforts

It can be at times a bit odd living in another country, even as one as welcoming as New Zealand. Even after all this time, we still get asked “How long are you on holiday for?” as people assume we’re vacationing Brits escaping the winter in the northern hemisphere. Admittedly, we get this more often in smaller New Zealand towns rather than the metropolis of Auckland, which is understandable as they are wondering how on earth a tourist could get themselves so far off the beaten track.

The second most asked question, once they’ve got over the shock that we’re not tourists but are actually tax paying residents, is “Why New Zealand and not Australia? Didn’t you fancy living in Oz?” If it wasn’t for the fact that Kiwis are so open and friendly, one could get quite upset by this line of questioning and take it as a plea to please leave at the earliest opportunity! Instead, when the question is asked, I suspect that they already know the answer and are simply offering a chance to confirm that the correct decision has been made.

But it’s a genuine question. Why New Zealand and not Australia? Why chose to come and live in a place that’s even further away, and has a climate that is not that dissimilar from the one we left? Having pondered the question on a number of occasions, the truth is that it never crossed our minds to live in Australia. New Zealand was the only destination. It could be that, having turned down offers of employment in New Zealand fifteen years ago, we had unfinished business here. Another probable explanation is that Australia was a too obvious choice to make or that it’s just too damn big. Maybe the thought of living in a nation that keeps beating us at our own sporting events was too much to bear. 

All of those are, retrospectively at least, good enough reasons to skip over that continent and set up shop in its nearest neighbour. But search a little further and the real reason is obvious. Death. Or rather the fear of sudden and painful death! 

It has to be said that the sheer number of things that want to kill or cause you serious harm in Australia is mind boggling. Snakes, spiders and sharks are the obvious ones. But what about saltwater crocodiles, box jellyfish and ants. Yes ants! The Bull Ant, if intimidated will rise up with their mandibles wide open ready to strike and may charge at you. They are also carnivorous so don’t sleep near one of their nests. Meat eating charging ants. Strewth!

In comparison, New Zealand is, on the whole, a fairly benign place. That’s not to say that you couldn’t come a cropper here, but you’d have to do something to warrant Mother Nature taking a swipe at you.

Take, for example, the climate. Up here in Auckland, ice and snow are unheard of and whilst it occasionally rains, you’re hardly going to have problems. Yes the sun is a little strong due to the lack of ozone, but it’s easy to address. I’m talking about sunblock. But with almost every establishment having free access to sunblock only an idiot or unwary tourist would forget. Forget to slap on the slop and you’ll be red-faced from more than embarrassment for the rest of the week. 

It’s the same with the landscape. New Zealand, it has been said once or twice, is a stunningly beautiful country.....except for perhaps Huntley, and most of it is easily accessible with the proper preparation. Stick to the marked paths, take the correct clothing and watch out for the weather and you’ll be fine. Try and cross the Tongariro in what amounts to beach wear and you asking for it. Just because it’s been in Lord of the Rings it’s still a mountain and with that comes the changeable mountain weather. 

Similarly, wander off the beaten track in the hills around Auckland and it’s not impossible to get into serious trouble. With little-to-no cell phone coverage it just takes a twisted ankle or a fall down a gully to get into a right pickle. Stay on the tracks though and you’ll be fine.

The same goes for the fauna. Apart from the very occasional shark attack - and one can only assume these were by sharks that were on their holidays from Australia - there’s nothing here that is going to cause you serious harm. There is one spider, the white-tail, that will give you a nasty bite but in four years of living here I’ve only seen two. Besides, even these were imported from Australia so can’t really be classed as Kiwi.

That’s not to say I haven’t had my run-ins with the local inhabitants or Aotearoa....

A few weeks ago, in my preparations to head off to work, I was hunting around for my shoes. A simple task made more difficult through lack of sleep. It had been a hot night so sleep had been at a premium and this game of seek the shoes had quickly become tiresome. Typically, they were exactly where I’d left them the day before - at the side of the bed.

I mumbled something and promised myself that I’d be more mindful in the future - a promise that even as the last word left my thoughts I knew I’d never keep. Tired but resolved I put my feet into my shoes, tied the laces and walked back to the kitchen to get my bag.

“For goodness sake,” I exclaimed, “there’s something in my shoe.”

There was obviously a twig or something in my shoe. Being tired, and by now a little late for the office, I really didn’t want to untie my shoes and fish out the offending piece of vegetation. I’d try to ignore it.....it was no use, it was really uncomfortable.

Sitting down again, I untied my shoe, took it off and gave it a good shake. Nothing. I must have imagined it. Ah well, at least I’d checked. I put on my shoe for the second time, re-tied the laces and set off towards the front door.

“Blast!” I said to no one in particular, “it’s still there!”

I slumped onto the floor and once again untied my laces and took off the shoe. I was going to have to have a good poke around to get the object out. I put my hand into my shoe and....something moved!

“F*ck!” I exclaimed as a large and probably confused Weta fell onto the floor.

The insect made a dart for the nearest dark hiding place - which must’ve been an improvement on my well worn shoe - whilst I went in search for clean underwear. It was fair to say that the day was not working out as I had planned. Finding a large insect in a shoe THAT BEEN INCHES FROM WHERE I WAS SLEEPING was not part of the plan for the day.

On the plus side, I was now totally wide awake as the shock had been like having a double shot espresso and a litre of Red Bull intravenously injected.

I definitely don’t want a repeat of that so shoes are now stored away from the bed and get a huge shake before I dare put my feet into them. Who knows what might be lurking down there. Probably not a snake but it doesn’t hurt to check.

So in answer to the question about living in Australia? If I’m so discombobulated by finding a large but harmless insect in my shoe, should I even consider living in a place where real danger really lurks? Tough choice. I’ll let you decide and get back to me. I’ll be in the bar keeping an eye out for any rouge insects whilst daubing myself liberally with sunblock.