Day 6 Saturday April 9

First photo stop after leaving Te Anau is Lake Manapouri. For some reason I love this name. Some time ago the area was threatened with a dam which would have flooded the township etc. But locals protested and petitioned and it didn’t happen thus the area was saved.

It speaks for itself.  

Lake Manapouri.   

En route to Invercargill I learned that the real Kiwi fruit from NZ has the word ‘zespri’ printed on that annoying little sticker most fruit has these days. Kiwi fruits take 4 years from first planting to show up, and a total of 7 years to bear a marketable crop. The major market is Japan. So watch out for the genuine article. You can tenderise meat with them and ripen apples. Kit and I have stocked up on fruit, bananas of course and kiwis.

After an informal tea break in a park in Winton we moved on to Invercargill. Saw real live Tuataras at the museum there. Ever heard of them? Me neither. They are descendants of the dinosaurs, obviously escaping whatever disaster got rid of the others. Henry, age 115 years is still going strong. Didn’t start breeding until he was well into his eighties after he had a tumour removed. Before then he was stroppy and no one could go near him.

Tuatara.   

 After a beautiful bowl of noodles we moved on to Gore, the country music capital of NZ, complete with cut out guitar and handprints of famous country music singers. I knew two of them, Glen Campbell and Slim Dusty. It is also the trout fishing capital of NZ, hence the big trout.

Guitar cut-out at Gore.  

Big Brown Trout at  Gore.  

We passed Carisbrook, (‘the house of pain’ in Australian rugby circles ‘cos the Wallabies never win there) on our way into Dunedin our home for the night. It is sometimes known as the 'Edinburgh of the South.'

This is a city I’d love to come back to. We had no time to explore it thoroughly.

We did have time to sample the HAGGIS, Dunedin style, according to one of our group much more palatable than the real thing. It’s made of best NZ lamb and oats, comes out like a rough textured pate. It is served in what they said was a facsimile of a sheep’s stomach but to me it looked like a green heart, complete with arteries coming out the top. (You’ll have to see the video!)

Before then we were given the history of the haggis. Sounds boring doesn’t it? It wasn’t. From somewhere they plucked the liveliest Scotsman you will ever see, who had us in stitches, teasing us with what may or may not be under his kilt. The room was ablaze with flash cameras trying to catch a glimpse. (He wore underpants) Three of our party were co-opted to assist the main actor. They looked so fetching in their ginger wigs and tam ‘o' shanters. A piper piped us into dinner. According to our driver this ritual is repeated in all the hotels in summer every night! They must have an army of pipers and actors on hand. Turns out ‘our’ Scotsman is the genuine article from Edinburgh, been in NZ 17 years and is a landscape gardener.

Piping us into dinner. 

Dinner did not quite live up to the pre prandial excitement; looked pretty but vol au vent cases were hard, chicken stroganoff was not stroganoff. At least I got 30 minutes free internet in the bar.

Glenn Campbell's handprints.