Track

Back to the Future

2008-11-15T23:58:00.002+13:00

Well it's back to NZ again. Favourite route, London to LA, one night stopover, then next evening to Auckland. The objective is to write a sequel to Track and I've had the basic storyline and characters in my head for some time. So far I have only written three pages but the opening is always so important. Overall I have no idea where the story will go and that's what makes it so interesting to write since it will be as much a surprise to me as to any future reader. Whether or not I succeed is uncertain and I may well find that the well is dry after a week or two. The aim is to head to the Wanaka, Queenstown and Te Anau areas again and just see what happens. Hopefully I will again be able to keep a regular diary recording the highs and lows of the project.

Track Reborn

2008-09-25T01:28:00.002+12:00

It's been a very long time since I have been able to update the Track website due to my ISP changing their upload procedures. However I am pleased to say that that problem has now been overcome. The first thing that I did was to completely redesign Track with the objective of making the site easier for visitors to navigate. Hopefully this has been achieved. The second activity was to create a Track Community option so that people with similar interests can post photos, videos, start discussions and generally interact with each other, just as they do in backpackers. For example, anyone trekking in New Zealand should give consideration to the Cascade Saddle. It's a spectacular route but be prepared since it can be dangerous in certain conditions.

On Monday 29 September I was due to travel to Kazakhstan to look at a wheat production project. However that has now been cancelled and so it is tempting to dust off the backpack and head off to NZ again.

Review of Track

2008-03-23T02:44:00.003+13:00

Many thanks to John Manning (http://www.outdoorsmanning.com) for the following review of my book, Track. He certainly got a good sense of what I was trying to portray.

"With a first trip to New Zealand pending I couldn't resist this adventure story set on the fictional Mamoe Track. Following the invasion of Afghanistan, British United Nations aid contractor Alexander Montgomery Stewart finds himself with time to kill and so heads to New Zealand to recreate a hike to recreate a hike he did 20 years previously. There, he meets and soon falls for the seemingly carefree German girl Sonja, who’s young enough to be his daughter. Together they agree to hike the Mamoe Track and to include a little-known optional spur, the Scorpion’s Tail, where events reach a climax.

Other characters are encountered along the way, including local lad and rescue team member Craig Williams, with whom Sonja falls in love and finds her feelings reciprocated. Then there’s Kathy, the once-bullied schoolgirl who hikes the Ailsa Track with Alexander and returns to her family full of new-found confidence; Hoop, the US tourist who finds hiking trails about as comfortable as tight-rope walking above piranha pools; and, most curiously of all, there’s Te Puke. Nothing to do with too many green lipped mussels the night before, Te Puke is an ancient Maori war staff given to Alexander by a native friend.

Is this all beginning to sound like a soap opera? Actually, it’s a wonderful trail tale that just manages to avoid all the potential cliches it could have fallen into to be a carefully observed adventure story with believable characters, some great trail imagery and even a sense of Maori culture and history. The style veers towards the formal but is highly readable.

Not really full of information for an aspirant visitor to New Zealand (other than the horrendous prices in bars) but wonderfully entertaining – an ideal read for the flight out!"

John Manning

Letter from Pyongyang

2008-03-23T02:36:00.002+13:00

From October to November 2007 I spent 35 days in North Korea working for the European Union. I previously visited North Korea on two occasions in the mid-1990s and I feel very privileged. Basically we were reviewing the farm mechanisation situation in two of the major food producing provinces. This gave us the opportunity to travel widely from the lowlands to the highlands. In the mountains it was like travelling to Shangri La and certain villages reminded me of Hobbit houses in the Lord of the Rings.

I'm an airconditioned Gypsy

2007-03-21T02:34:00.000+12:00

In the words of the late great Douglas Adams I'm back after taking a year dead for tax reasons. In 2000 I had the pleasure of being present at an internet conference to hear Douglas Adams expound on his thoughts for the future. For some reason the airconditioning in the room wasn't working so well and after about an hour it was like a sauna. However I was enthralled by his vision. Others not so, mainly incubator and venture capitalist types. Where are they now? It was heady times before the crash.

The end of March is quite a pivotal time for me since I have applied for three jobs which I am really quite excited about. One is related to development studies at a nearby university, the second to the environment and the third to animal welfare. I feel that I could make a positive impact in all three but then reality rears it's rather unsightly head. I haven't got a hope in hell. You could say that it is essential to be positive etc. etc. but you have to be realistic. I just don't meet the (enter as appropriate) requirements of this brave new world. I think that I will get to at least one of the interviews as a token representative of my era. Polite questions will be asked, smiles will be exchanged and the door will close. So let's just get real. It's time to hit the road again. I'm an airconditioned gypsy let the tax man catch me I'm mobile.

Mamoe Track: fact or fiction?

2006-03-31T16:36:00.000+12:00

One question which has been asked from time to time is “Do the Ailsa and Mamoe tracks exist?” The answer is that if you look on a detailed map of South Island you will not find tracks with those names. At least I don’t think so. However the Ailsa and Mamoe are based on my own personal experiences of the Dart River/Cascade Saddle, Kepler and Routeburn Tracks. I have walked the Cascade Saddle only once on a glorious summers day after having been turned back a few days before by lightning and floods. The Cascade Saddle can be dangerous and two fatal accidents have ocurred in recent times. If you have time to wait for good weather it is a really fantastic experience. The Kepler I have walked twice and the Routeburn four times.
The book opens on the “Ailsa” at the Lake McKenzie hut on the Routeburn and follows Alexander, Kathy and Sonja’s path to the Routeburn Falls hut and down to the Glenorchy side exit. The town of Mamoe does not exist. I could have used Te Anau, Wanaka or Queenstown but somehow I wanted to create a fictional town west of Lake Te Anau, possibly on the far side of Lake Manapouri. The “Mamoe” track starts quite close to the Murchison Mountains and the description used is based on the Kepler track. After the the second hut by the swimming hole Alexander and Sonja decide to take the Scorpian’s Tail route, which is actually the Cascade Saddle. After reaching the saddle the descriptive passage relates again to the Routeburn between the Lake McKenzie and Routeburn Falls huts. Between these huts Alexander and Sonjas refuge, the rock, actually exists, and it used to be marked as an emergency bivouac. I have climbed down to it and it does indeed have a significant overhang which provides shelter from the elements. If you do climb down be very careful since there is a significant drop hidden by some gorse bushes, where I nearly came unstuck. The emergency shelter where Alexander seeks assistance is located on the Harris Saddle.
It is very difficult to follow the fictional tracks in the correct order since that would mean walking the Routeburn twice. Since the Routeburn is my favourite walk that is not a bad idea but not very practical. I would therefore recommend that you start with the Kepler track, then the Routeburn from the Te Anau side, then the Dart River/Cascade Saddle route. Whilst on the Routeburn pay special attention to the walk between Lake McKenzie and the Routeburn Falls hut since this is where the book ends at the rock. Happy tramping.

Hostage Postcript

2006-02-21T06:07:00.000+13:00

Hostages released on 23 November 2004 after 27 days in captivity unharmed. The threat from kidnapping to employees of NGOs and foreign companies throughout Afghanistan remains.

The End of a Journey

2006-02-20T06:24:00.000+13:00

Thursday 6th January 2005

This morning, at about three, I woke up and thought of the following synopsis for the book cover:

“Each year the major walking tracks of New Zealand act as a magnet to thousands of people from every corner of the world. Sometimes their paths interact in unexpected ways and strangers may become friends, lovers and even victims in a landscape which can show it’s many faces within a single day. Set against the backdrop of the majestic Southern Alps Track follows the story of three such people and the relic of an earlier era, Te Puke. Te Puke of One Thousand Battles. And the enemy that they all face is the power of nature itself. [Some will survive. Others will not.]”

Overall I don’t think that it is a bad start and perhaps after further refinement something along these lines will be acceptable. It has to be short and descriptive but it also has to immediately engender in people a desire to buy the book. Perhaps by stating that some will not survive gives the game away too much but at the same time it certainly raises interest.

Today I spent about six hours reading and refining my draft. I believe that I have nearly taken it as far as I can although I still have to strengthen the Te Puke sections. I plan to make a hard copy on Monday or Tuesday so that Alec and Pat can read it and make their own assessments. I can also start investigating the Reed and Harper Collins publisher options, even if they are very long shots. My focus should be on self-publishing, probably using Authors on Line in the UK. I will probably go with the more expensive editing/proof reading package because I think that my punctuation is poor and they may also be able to propose some important improvements to the storyline.

Once I have completed my writing input I will have to return to the sad reality that I don’t have any obvious source of income. Things look pretty bleak and therefore I must give the book my very best shot. I really don’t want to spend the rest of my days in some soul destroying job.

Friday 14th January 2005

And so on the 10th January I was finally satisfied that my book had reached a stage at which I could feel fairly happy for others to read it and make their own assessment, identify any grammatical errors, and generally give me feedback on how they rated the effort.

My brother read it in three days and his overall opinion was that “he had read worse books.” Now clearly that was not a ringing endorsement by any means but he did say that the storyline moved on very well after the first thirty pages. He identified that I had used the first person and the third person in a confusing and incorrect way. I will have to look into that and get the book professionally edited before publication. Overall I think that my brother is probably too close to me to give the best opinion of the book since he knows that there are certain autobiographical sections in it that would not be fresh to him.

The very strange thing is that in todays New Zealand Herald a front page headline was “Tramper sacrifices his life for partner.” Now how weird is that? The accident took place on the Cascade Saddle which forms a key location in my book, the Scorpian’s Tail Saddle. Perhaps I can use this event to support my case to the publishers about the relevance of the book. At least I can prove that I did not base it morbidly on this tragedy but actually finished the book days before that event.

At present I am sitting on an Inter City bus to Auckland. Martin has asked me to advertise his apartment overlooking the harbour and he wants me to show any prospective buyers around in return for a fee if successful. I am not at all keen on staying in Auckland but perhaps that fact can provide the basis for another short story.

Friday 21st January 2005

I have managed to offload the marketing of Martin’s apartment to someone more suitable since they live in Auckland and therefore this will reduce Martin’s costs substantially. The backpacker where I stayed in Parnell was very friendly although it was rather lacking in facilities. Whilst I was there I tried to locate an iron but the only one was being used by a Canadian girl who was working there for a few days. She offered to iron my shirt and shorts for me and in return I offered to buy her a beer. In the end I took her out for a pizza but it cost one hundred and sixteen dollars for the two of us! The wine alone cost fifty dollars. At least we had a very enjoyable time and I don’t regret the expenditure. However, I think that I will be doing my own ironing in the future!

Over the last two weeks I have failed to keep up with my diary. Perhaps having completed the book on the 10th January the motivation to record progress on that project disappeared. Whatever the reason there are now considerable gaps in my record which are unlikely to be filled. This is a pity since I was doing so well.

The good news is that today I sent off a synopsis and the first two chapters of my book to three New Zealand based publishers, Reed, Harper Collins NZ and Penguin NZ. I am not expecting a positive outcome because it would appear that very few writers are published, particularly first time authors. However, it is worth a try since one never knows. My main thrust will still be on self-publishing and this I can investigate in detail on my return to the UK. I continue to improve the book in minor but nevertheless important ways. I honestly believe that it is a good read and once it is produced in book form with an attractive cover I believe that it will gain additional credibility.

I have no idea what I will do with respect to employment on my return. There is a possibility I could return to my old greenkeeping job at Slinfold but that would be a backward step since I do not see it as being the future that I am seeking. In any case the greenkeeping job may not be available if the Head Greenkeeper has moved on. I can work on my website for a week or two to try to generate more income. In some ways I might be better just staying here and going up the East Cape to write or just try to get some work apple picking. But on reflection I should get home to get my book published after which I can reassess the employment situation.

Sunday 30th January 2005

On Friday I received my first rejection from Harper Collins. It was a polite letter and no doubt they have to send out many rejections in the same standard format. I guess I was disappointed but not at all surprised. Tramping is not a subject which is likely to excite too many people even though it only acts as a backdrop to the main story. Although the book has little depth I feel that I should publish it in it’s present form. The next stage may be to take the existing book and develop it to the next level where the characters and relationships are more fully explored. Rather like John Fowles later did with his book The Magus, or perhaps Shrek 8!

I bought Witi Ihimaera’s The Whale Rider last Thursday and read it within the day. It again demonstrates that to be successful a novel does not have to be long. Overall it was a good read but I don’t think that it can be classified as a great book. It was actually reassuring to me since if a film can be made out of that standard of writing then I see no reason why The Track should not be similarly adapted. It was quite surprising how the film changed so many of the events in the book and somewhat difficult to understand why this was really necessary. I still think that the heroine, Hahu, should have saved the whales and the community but should have disappeared over the horizon. I believe that the happy ending seriously weakened the impact of the book.

It is quite surprising that I have now been in Taradale for over three weeks. I believe that the increasing gaps in my diary illustrate that I have now lost much of the purpose of my journey to New Zealand. I think that it is the equivalent of getting into a rut and it is certainly time to move on. The main reason that I haven’t left before now was that I played in a golf tournament with my brother Alec and with his stepson Rick, just as we have over the past three years. It was a lot of fun and we did as well as we could have hoped, each winning an electric fan as a prize.

The question of, Where to Now, again raises it’s head since my future employment situation again looks as doubtful as ever. I guess I just have to get home and apply myself to the task once more. And so folks, The End of a Journey. Well at least for now.

Homeward Bound I Wish I Was

2006-02-20T06:22:00.000+13:00

Tuesday 28th December 2004

Todays journey from Franz Josef to Nelson took ten hours. Although I did the same journey on the way south this time it appeared to be much longer and was very wearing. Last night the weather in Franz Josef cleared giving wonderful views of the snow capped mountains nearby. The weather deteriorated throughout the day and this certainly changed the mood. The Punakaiki coastline looked grey and sombre when usually it is a stunning blue with wind born sea spray. Fortunately my place at the Trafalgar Square backpacker was still available on arrival and unusually Nelson was extremely quiet. I had expected the place to be packed but perhaps that will occur over and after the New Year. I shared my room with a thirty year old New Zealander who had never stayed in a backpacker before. He was a bit unnerving since at one moment he was on the New Zealand America’s cup team, then he used to be a professional cyclist having drugs injected into his bum, and so forth. He just seemed so different from the usual backpacker type and it was a bit unnerving. He went out and never returned until dawn. I didn’t sleep that well because I guess that I didn’t feel at ease.

Wednesday 29th December 2004

At eight twenty this morning I took the bus from Nelson to Stephen’s Bay to catch up with my long time friend Sandy. She has a beautiful bach overlooking the bay which has been in her family for years. By the time I arrived it had started raining and it basically hasn’t stopped all day. After a short trip into Motueka to get some much needed cash to carry me through the New Year holiday period we returned home.

I had asked Sandy if she would read the first twenty pages of my book. She was to give me an absolutely honest opinion since anything else would not be worthwhile. I was extremely apprehensive since if it was very poor then that would be very disappointing after all the time and effort that I have put into the task over the past few weeks. As she was reading I was thinking about all of the weak passages, the clumsy use of language, and whether or not she would give up after a few pages. Her initial reaction was that it was good but that a lot of professional editing would be required to sharpen it up. She said that she was going to read the whole book and when I went to bed at nine thirty I left her to it. I’ll just have to see what she says in the morning.

Thursday 30th December 2004

I had an extremely good nights sleep. No doubt this was due to the fact that I had my own room again, felt very relaxed, and was particularly tired from all the long distance travelling. At breakfast Sandy told me that she had reached page thirty five of my book and that she still thought that it was good. I had hoped that she might have read to the finish but at least the first indication from her reactions is that there is still some reason to hope. I lay in bed last night and realised that I still have a lot of work to do and instead of being ninety percent finished I am probably only seventy five percent finished. Hopefully the writing environment will be good in Napier for the final push. Sandy has now gone off to Nelson for the day and that has left me with the peace and quiet to do some more writing. I will probably have a go at the section where Sonja asks Alexander if he believes in love at first sight.

It’s now one thirty in the afternoon and I’ve had a good session editing the last thirty pages of the book. I have included the love at first sight passage although I will have to make sure that it does not clash with a piece that I included elsewhere. There are still inconsistencies but overall it moves along quickly and, from my biased perspective, it is quite gripping. As I finished the last page the word Mamoe presented itself as a possible name for both the track and the main town of the story. The Mamoe Track and the town of Mamoe. It reads quite easily. Mamoe is particularly relevant since it is the name of one of the historic tribes of the area, the Ngati Mamoe. It therefore fits well into the storyline and provides some historical foundation to the tale. I think that this solution could be a possibility. The other very positive change that I have made is instead of Alexander saying that Sonja and he “just passed in the night,” based on ships passing in the night, I have now written that Sonja and he “just passed on the track of life.” This sounds very relevant to the storyline and is a good fit for the hoped for book title of “The Track.”

Saturday 1st January 2005

Well the New Year has arrived. Last night Sandy invited some neighbours over for a drink and we had a very relaxed time. Some neighbours had a small firework display on the street outside at about eleven o’clock and later, Paul, one of Sandy’s neighbours let off his own box of fireworks. The highlight was one particular firework which he had inadvertently placed on it’s side and which then proceeded to shoot it’s banging, bright flaming display horizontally along the cul de sac. It was the best individual event, as far as excitement and audience participation (dodging exocet missiles), that I have seen for a long time!

Two nights ago I woke up at four o’clock in the morning to go to the toilet. I then had this idea of naming the alternative track which Alexander and Sonja take as the Scorpian’s Tail Route. Until now I have had a problem with the fact that most of the trampers must follow one route and Alexander and Sonja follow another. I could not have them all going the same way otherwise the story does not work because if the other trampers left the hut after Alexander and Sonja then they would not get through to the end of the track because of the severity of the snow storm. I now have Alexander and Sonja following the original Maori greenstone hunters and European gold prospector route which is no longer widely known, only to local tramping clubs who wish to keep a few top trails to themselves. The Scorpian’s Tail describes the curving route and the potential danger of that route.

Sunday 2nd January 2005

Today I woke up at six o’clock to a golden dawn. The hills to the east of Nelson were sharply silhouetted by a beautiful sky and within minutes the brilliant sun rose above the horizon. Last night Sandy finished my book and overall her conclusion was that it was “good”, possibly “very good”. I can’t quite remember her exact words but the main thing is she didn’t think that it was a complete disaster. This is extremely encouraging since I don’t think that I could have had anyone better to be the first to read my first complete draft. I think that she would have told me if she didn’t think that it was any good, perhaps diplomatically, but she would have indicated as much. Her initial reaction confirms that this whole project has been justified and that I haven’t been deluding myself. That is not to say that the book will sell, just that I can happily give it to friends without making a complete fool of myself.

The stay at Stephens Bay has been very relaxing and the comfortable bed has allowed me to recharge my batteries. On Friday we drove over to Golden Bay and the weather was wonderful. It is a very special area and I think that I could happily live there for an extended period, if I had the money. Yesterday we walked over to Kateriteri via the coastal path and had fish and chips for lunch. Very beautiful and not too crowded. The recent bad weather may have kept people away.

Later this morning Sandy will take me to Motueka and I will start heading towards Picton and the crossing back to the North Island. I have been out of touch with my email lately and so that will take a bit of catching up, particularly deleting the spam. Ideally I would like to go to Waverley in the next few days to see Merce and Brenda. A lot will depend on whether or not Martin wants me to start selling his apartment. I hope that that process will not upset my drive to write. I’ll just have to make sure that it doesn’t.

Tuesday 4th January 2004

On Sunday I managed to get a stand-by seat on the seven o’clock Lynx fast ferry to Wellington. Luckily I was able to book a single room at the Cambridge Hotel which is a backpacker that I have stayed at once before in my travels. It was a very long hike from the ferry terminal to the backpacker, certainly further than I thought. It was clean and comfortable and fortunately they have an all night reception since I arrived very late. By chance I woke quite early, about six forty five, and therefore decided to try to get a bus either to Napier, or to Waverley. All the places on the Napier bus were taken but fortunately I was able to get on an eight o’clock bus to Waverley via Bulls. I would have quite liked to have spent a day in Wellington but I was short of clean shirts and I felt pretty scruffy. The journey to Waverley was very pleasant and not too long.

I telephoned Merce and Brenda from Bulls and luckily they were at home and my unannounced arrival was not too much of a shock for them. They were very pleased to see me and and in fact Merce, who is ninety one, told me that when I left the last time she thought that she would never see me again. You don’t get off that lightly Merce! I have always loved their little cottage. It is very homely and welcoming, and if I could have located a similar one when I was house hunting in NZ I would have been very pleased. Last night we had an excellent dinner of silverside, home grown new potatoes, broad beans and carrots, followed by the Big Sun’s lemon merringue pie.

It's Christmas Time

2006-02-20T06:21:00.000+13:00

Saturday 25th December 2004

Christmas Day in Queenstown! This morning I got up just before eight whilst everyone else was tucked away in their beds awaiting the first shock of their hangovers. I took the gondola up to the lookout above Queenstown. The sky was clear blue and the view absolutely magnificent. I was the first one to go up when it opened at nine and so it was just a perfect situation. Well worth the eighteen dollars for the trip. After that I just wandered around Queenstown in the warm sunshine and checked my email and the news on the internet. I guess it is now approximately six weeks since I left home and it has been a really great trip. The three thousand dollars that I already had in my BNZ account has helped to reduce the feeling that I am spending money that I don’t really have. However, now I have just started to dip into my travellers cheques and that is not so good.

Yesterday I had a great spell on the book and worked from about ten until three in the quiet of the backpacker lounge. My negative feelings of yesterday about the opening of the book have been significantly lifted since I have been able to rework some passages and remove many of the words, sentences and phrases which didn’t seem right. It is really encouraging that I can still improve the script and have not yet hit a terminal brick wall. I think that the storyline just grows as I think of new ideas and themes to add to the overall structure. However, I have hit a major snag with respect to my title, Pelorus. Unfortunately today I did a search on the internet and found out that a Pelorus Track already exists, near Nelson. I already knew that Pelorus Sound existed, and perhaps a small settlement of Pelorus, but the existence of an actual Pelorus Track has really thrown me. Clearly I cannot use that title now, which I loved, but will have to identify an alternative title, possibly a placename in Fiordland.

I had a look on my detailed map of Fiordland and Pluvius is a possibility since there is a Mount Pluvius in the general area where I am locating the fictitious track. Other possibilities are Resolution, Fortitude, Perseverence, Steadfast, and Integrity. All of these could be used as the name of the settlement and of the track itself. However, this afternoon I did a book search on Amazon using the title “The Track” and it didn’t immediately throw up a book with that name. The only way to make sure is to go to a library which hopefully has access to a database of all books in print. Overall “The Track” is not at all bad since it is very relevant to the book and quite short and pithy. Another option for a title is of course “Te Puke” but this would require the character of Te Puke to be developed much more. I read on a map that Puke means “hill” in Maori and so that has some relevance.

With respect to self-publishing I have found a US website which might be worth investigating although the UK equivalent would appear to be much safer and the testimonials were good. As far as I remember the author only gets about fifteen percent of the sale price and so that is very low. You would have to sell thousands to make any reasonable money on a ten pound book price. The largest New Zealand publisher is Reed whilst Harper Collins have a system whereby you can submit three chapters and a synopsis.

A vague idea of pyramid selling came to mind whereby I could sell ten copies to one person for say seventy five pounds and then they could sell their spare nine copies for ninety pounds giving them a profit of fifteen pounds. Clearly this doesn’t work as laid out but using some incentive system or chain letter to end up with one thousand people selling your book via the internet is worth further investigation. Another thought is to try to sell the book through the New Zealand backpackers since there are a large number of them and they have a steady stream of backpackers and trampers from all over the world passing through them. Perhaps the backpacker owner would receive one pound out of the ten pound sale price. And then there is the e-book option which costs far less to produce and could be a very good way to test the demand. If demand is great then it would be possible to move to publishing in the hard copy format with numbered copies and signature. But above all I must produce a first class read before I can consider the marketing aspect.

Sunday 26th December 2004

This morning I was able to continue revising the first draft and I have now reached the point when Alexander and Sonja spend their first night in the rock bivouac. It was a good session and I continue to make improvements. I think that there will be definite advantages in relating the fictional tracks to real tracks since this will enable people to visit the locations where events occured. Similar to Lord of the Rings locations. The rock bivouac is a very good example whilst much of my track descriptions relate to actual parts of the Kepler, Routeburn and Cascade Saddle tracks.

By consulting this diary it would appear that I arrived in Wanaka on the 22nd November and so I have been in the Southern Lakes area for over one month. There is no doubt that this was a very good decision but now I feel confident that I can move north again without missing out on something fundamental. I feel confident that I can work well at Alec and Pat’s in Taradale since I can have the study to myself for the whole day long. I might even find Sandy’s bach suitable for a few days but I know that she will soon have visitors and I will have to move out anyway. I think that I will provide Sandy with a synopsis and give her the first three chapters to read. If she wishes to read more then of course she can. I think that honest feedback will be valuable even though I still have to develop and improve many passages.

Whatever the outcome I know that I will publish this book in some form or other once I am happy with the final product. If I can find out how to produce PDFs, and possibly encryption, then perhaps I could sell the e-books directly myself thereby allowing me to retain a greater percentage of what is after all my own creation. How this would fit in with the Amazon.com outlet I will have to investigate further. I certainly feel that this last six weeks has been extremely productive and positive. I set myself a challenge and I believe that I have risen to that challenge. Perhaps I have more than one book in me but that will greatly depend on the feedback that I receive from readers. At the end of the day, if John Fowles can take nearly two decades to revise a book then so can I. Well I guess the great reaper will harvest me well before then. And so it’s goodbye to the south. Hopefully it will not be too long before I return here again.

Monday 27th December 2004

At four o’clock this afternoon I arrived once more at the Glow Worm backpacker in Franz Josef on the West Coast. The weather all the way from Queenstown over the Haast Pass to my final destination could not have been better with clear blue skies. It was good to see the mountain peaks since I don’t think that I have had such a clear crossing in the past. It was certainly a long but interesting journey.

On the bus I got to talk to a middle aged English women, P, who seems to be at some sort of crossroads in her life, but perhaps that is too strong an interpretation. She plans to take a year off in New Zealand and Australia before subsequently heading off for South America. She didn’t seem to be the long-term backpacking type and I gained the impression that it was a bit of desperate remedy to try to solve some issues in her life. In my backpacker room were two girls, aged about twenty five, one Australian and one English, who both went to university in England (Durham and Nottingham). It would appear that both have very good and well paid jobs in Sydney, one in a recruitment agency for legal staff and the other as a personal assistant for an established legal company. However, the former wishes to have a complete change and study marketing, whilst the latter wants to leave and get into the publishing industry. She had already spent a year studying publishing but even that was not enough to get a foot in the door. These three examples encountered in one day have given me the idea that they are all seeking fulfillment and in some ways that is analogous to “The Track.” Basically backpackers are physically walking the tracks, or are travelling the routes through different countries, but basically their real purpose is to seek fulfillment, direction, or at least a purpose to their lives. The metaphorical track. I think that this theme will be worth exploring further and perhaps should play a greater role in my book.

The other thought that I had the other day is that all religions are fraudulent. Pretty strong stuff, but basically religion plays on man’s desire to believe in one God or group of Gods who control their destiny and who make the rules which must be followed. This is a cop out. All religions are devised by clever men and are not based on reality, since I am certain that there is no shred of factual proof for any of them. Even stronger stuff. The reality for the human race is that we totally depend on the planet earth and the sun for our survival and continuing existence. It is not necessary to worship the planet earth or the sun, as perhaps ancient civilisations may have done, but to understand that mankind cannot survive unless we protect and sustain the earth and it’s environment. If that means controlling our population, forbidding resource exploitation, reducing material demands, then so be it. Mankind can have a technologically advanced civilisation without polluting and destroying the world. Long term sustainability is the key. This may be another theme to pursue in the book.

Queenstown Blues

2006-02-20T06:20:00.000+13:00

Sunday 19th December 2004

The journey from Queenstown to Wanaka by the Atomic Shuttle was very scenic with snow down to relatively low levels. I had a Craig Williams migraine type headache for the whole afternoon and didn’t feel too bright. In the evening the weather started to clear. I had an interesting talk with an attractive girl from Brighton, L, who was just on her last few days of a six week trip to New Zealand. She was a graphic designer, shades of Julian, who had recently broken with her boyfriend and had hoped that the trip might clarify her direction for the future. She had clearly enjoyed New Zealand but had not identified a solution for herself. Young people seeking to resolve a few major issues in their lives seems to be a recurring theme, although clearly this objective is clearly not restricted by age.

I went to bed last night still feeling very down, particularly about the quality of my book, and was in the state of mind which basically says, get on the bus north. I realised that if I did there was a good chance that I would lose the motivation for writing. That would be a disaster because the whole reason to be in New Zealand revolves around finishing Pelorus, for better or for worse. I went to bed quite late for me, about ten o’clock. I still had a bit of a headache but I was hoping to settle down for a good nights sleep. Wrong. At about twelve o’clock a tightly knit group of mixed nationalities took their noise from the distant lounge to the rooms close to mine. Banging doors, loud talking, and disturbance just continued for hours whilst I was reluctant to play the old man and politely ask them to shut up. What really gets me is how selfish and self-centred people can be. I’ve now bought some ear plugs for tonight!

My depression about the book has been lifted by the Wanaka morning sunshine and the whole ambiance of the place. It must be my spiritual home but only time would reveal whether or not the reality of living here for an extended period would change that view. Probably. My gloom about Pelorus was partially lifted by a passage in The Magus which I believe was based on John Fowles own writing experiences. After all it would appear that it took him a long time to establish himself as a successful writer and I’m sure he must have had many instances of disappointment with his work. The relevant piece starts on page fifty seven:

“And there was the poetry. I had begun to write poems about the island, about Greece, that seemed to me philosophically profound and technically exciting. I dreamt more and more of literary success. I spent hours staring at the wall of my room, imagining reviews, letters written to me by celebrated poets, fame and praise and still more fame.......But then, one bleak March, the scales dropped from my eyes.I read the Greek poems and saw them for what they were: undergraduate pieces, without rhythm, without structure, their banalities of perception clumsily concealed under an impasto of lush rhetoric. In horror I turned to other poems I had written - at Oxford, in East Anglia. They were no better; even worse. The truth rushed down on me like a burying avalanche. I was not a poet.........Taking all the poems I had ever written, page by slow page, I tore each one into tiny fragments, till my fingers ached.”

Making today a rest day from the book has had a very positive effect on my outlook. I now look forward to getting to the library tomorrow and starting on the revisions and additions. At least I know that the facilities for using a computer at the library are excellent.

Tuesday 21st December 2004

Yesterday I went to the Wanaka library at ten o’clock needing a good day to rebuild my confidence and to get the book back on track. It is quite a noisy place with a number of little children running about and lowered tones are not compulsory, that’s for sure. Perhaps that’s one of the beauties of the place. However, nearly five hours later I emerged having had my most concentrated session to date and I feel that I have made a number of small but significant improvements to the first thirty or so pages. I think that it is essential to get and retain the readers interest early on otherwise they may give up after a few pages. Just as I would. Today I am hoping to develop the description of backpacking and the backpackers themselves. How they drift into and out of the backpacker hostels like flotsam and jetsam on the sea shore, washing in and out with the tide. Some stay for days, some for a week or two and some stay forever. Another important word change is to use wooden staff instead of stick or pole for Te Puke. It sounds stronger and more appropriate.

Sunday evening I went to see the film Wimbledon at the Paradiso cinema in Wanaka. It is special place since the seats are secondhand sofas and armchairs. There is a long intermission during the film so that people can have a cooked meal, a beer or whatever. The film was very easy viewing and I enjoyed it very much. Last night I went to see an obscure film entitled Coffee and Cigarettes. It was a series of about eleven short stories which all revolved around people at tables smoking cigarettes or drinking coffee, and on more than one occasion, tea. I think that the objective of the first part of the film was to see how many people left and of the remainder how many shot themselves to release themselves from their misery. I’m open to thought provoking films but this seemed to me to be just ad libbed rubbish. It got slightly better towards the end with a piece by Kate Winslett, and another by Alfred Molina and Steve Coogan.

It is different not having any daily objectives like most backpackers, whether it is to go ski-diving, bungy jumping or track walking. What are you doing today? I’m going to the library for two to five hours. Oh. Yes. Well. Nevertheless the backpackers have given me a good base from which to work and you always meet some very nice people to talk to, particularly the girls who travel independently.

Friday, 24th December 2004

The four days that I spent in Wanaka were very productive as far as writing was concerned. I managed to put in some very solid hours ranging from three to five, and that was very encouraging, and also very necessary. On Wednesday I basically finished the book for the first time as far as being able to read it continuously from the first page to the last. There are a few paragraphs to be added here and there, and the character of Te Puke needs to be developed more strongly. It may be that I will continue to expand the content over the next few weeks as new ideas and themes come to mind. I was able to get another hard copy made in Queenstown yesterday and I am hoping to start another read through today. Looking at the first page in The Cow yesterday didn’t give me much encouragement but perhaps I was just tired. A bit of both I think, tiredness and reality. Nevertheless, at the end of the day, I stuck to the task well and whatever the outcome I have managed to complete a fairly readable story. I now have to transform that into a very good read.

I am now in Queenstown for the next three days and then it is the long haul back to the north. I must have been in the Fiordland area for nearly a month now and there is no doubt that it was very beneficial since it has provided me with the correct surroundings for writing this particular book. Lazing on a Nelson beach in the sunshine would certainly not have felt right. I think that it will be a very quiet Christmas which I don’t mind at all. A number of the backpackers are in the same position and they make very pleasant and friendly company. Queenstown for Christmas ranks pretty highly among any location in the world.

Martin has asked if I would help him sell his apartment in Auckland and he will pay my expenses plus a bit more for doing so. This could certainly be an option for January and might be a way to recoup some of my costs, if successful. The other day a New Zealander who was sharing the same bunkroom suggested I might consider working for Lonely Planet writing guide books for them. I’m not sure that it would be ideal but it certainly never occured to me before. Lonely Planet Series for the Over Sixties! Wheelchair access is very good at this backpacker and hearing aids are widely available!

Heaven Is Close To Paradise

2006-02-20T06:18:00.000+13:00

Wednesday 15th December 2004

I am now back in my single room in Hippo Lodge for the next three days. It is only a small room but the bed is really comfortable and I don’t have to be concerned about other people, or they about me. I was extremely lucky at Kinloch Lodge because for two of the three nights I had a four bed bunkroom all to myself. Kinloch really is a gem and I hope that they can sort out the transport to and from the Lodge to make it easier for independent backpackers to stay there. The Backpacker Express transfers that I had, by jet boat and fast launch, would certainly do it. I would thoroughly recommend Kinloch Lodge to anyone. Heaven is indeed close to Paradise.

This morning I managed to do a little more writing in my room and I added some improvements to the first day and second day on the Pelorus Track. I now have Morton’s snoring causing a partial evacuation of his bunk room and that fits in quite well. It’s good to be back in Queenstown since I will be able to make full use of the library over the next two days. My mind is drifting more towards walking the Dart/Rees and over the Cascade Saddle to Aspiring Hut again since fate seems to have returned me to Queenstown with a sufficient number of days available to make the crossing and still get back to Queenstown in time for my Christmas booking at Hippo Lodge. And so I will have from the 18th until the 23rd December at my disposal, six days. I’ll just have to keep a very close eye on the weather. I’ll also take the opportunity whilst I am in Queenstown to make a hard copy of Pelorus, if possible.

A few days ago I finished reading my second book, Mr Nice, the autobiography of the marijuana smuggler Howard Marks. Extremely well written and an excellent read. How he remembered all those facts is staggering although I suppose that he had a number of years in jail to do so! The first book was Touching the Void by Joe Simpson. Another rivetting read about survival in the mountains against the odds. The great thing about staying in backpackers, away from the demon television, is that it encourages you to both communicate and read. Both very beneficial activities for all. It was too late for me to go down town to buy another book. I was thinking that it might be appropriate to re-read The Hobbit, which I must have last read over thirty years ago. The backpacker had a few old paperbacks in the office and I went looking for The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck. I had seen it there last week. It had now been taken and so the best of the remaining bunch seemed to be The Magus by John Fowles. The foreword was particularly interesting for me in my present situation. He writes that he originally started working on The Magus in the early 1950s and that it was finally published in 1966. The significantly revised version, which I am reading, was published in 1977. This knowledge is both encouraging and disconcerting. It is encouraging because it illustrates just how difficult it is to create good prose and that even the best writers often have a battle. They just don’t sit down and magic flows from the pen. Secondly, even after he had had great success with The Magus he basically rewrote significant sections some eleven years later. I find this encouraging since even if I don’t produce a perfect outcome with the first draft there is still room to improve on it over time. It even gave me an idea that readers of the book could send in their revised sentences, paragraphs, chapters and even the whole book, perhaps submitted to a blog. In ten years time the book, or even a range of different books, would be reprinted with the best contributions included. It would be an extension to the BBC End of Story idea.

The disconcerting part is that the future is pretty bleak after I complete this Pelorus project. I could do some more work on my agmachine.com website at home to try to generate more income but that is very tiresome and I don’t hold out much hope of success. The other options of greenkeeping at the golf club, or stacking shelves at Tescos (application twice rejected) and so forth are very depressing. Consultancy work doesn’t solve the self-fulfillment requirement any more although it does make a very positive contribution to income. But then again assignments are now rather rare. I am drawn between finishing my work on the book as soon as realistically possible and returning home to an uncertain future and a cold winter, or remaining on in New Zealand to see if I can find a solution to the career dilemma. I fear that if I return home with the book still in draft form then it will never be finished to my satisfaction. Renting out my house and writing whilst continually travelling is a remote option. I think that I love my home comforts too much, or at least the knowledge that I can return home at any time.

I now begin to have doubts about the Cascade Saddle walk since perhaps I should put all of my efforts into writing before the Christmas deadline that I have set myself. This would mean returning to Wanaka and going to the library which has excellent facilities and an atmosphere conducive to work. I guess that I am afraid that as soon as I go north again, to Nelson or Napier, I will lose the passion which up to now I have been able to sustain in the south.

Friday 17th December 2004

Yesterday morning I had a very good four hour stint at the Queenstown library. I was able to write one of the last remaining pieces in the jigsaw and start reading and editing my book from the very beginning. Overall I am very satisfied with the end result, at least as far as I have got, namely about page fifty. It is very difficult for me to guage how good the book is because I can clearly picture locations, events and characters which my writing might not convey sufficiently well to the reader. I’ll just have to ask one or two people to give me really honest feedback, if it’s not asking too much for them to read what could be a poor offering. At the moment I have Sandy and my brother, Alec, in mind. Nevertheless, whatever the final outcome, I am quite proud that I have managed to complete the overall project to my own satisfaction. The first objective of my trip to New Zealand has therefore been achieved and I have kept to the task well.

I took the opportunity to look inside the dust covers of some books by New Zealand authors in Whitcoulls. It would appear that the company Reed, although small, is one of the biggest publishers in the country and their titles include Whale Rider. Could do a lot worse. It would also appear that Harper Collins in New Zealand do have a facility for authors to submit a synopsis and the first three chapters of their books for review. Both of these options may be worth investigating further once I return north. If I receive no positive feedback then the self-publish option will still be there.

Last night I went to see the film Hero by Zhang Yimou. I remember what a great impression his first big film, Wild Sorghum, had on me visually. Unfortunately there was just too much balletic sword fighting for me and a confusing storyline. However, I’m glad that I went to see it. I believe that to make a film of my storyline would not cost huge amounts because the set is already in place, namely the Kepler, Routeburn and Cascade Saddle tracks, and Queenstown, Wanaka and Te Anau. The scenery should be one of the main stars of the film. The music would also be fundamentally important but whether or not it is an original score or appropriate tracks by various artists, I’m not so sure. The Puccini aria at the end is important and I can visualise the camera slowly scanning up from the rock to the mountains beyond. Who says I don’t have a positive attitude! Think big. Think Hollywood!

Saturday 18th December 2004

I finished reading the last thirty or so pages of Pelorus last night. There are a number of inconsistencies that I have yet to correct. For example, I still have Sonja falling in love with Alexander, as in the original version. The routing of the trek still needs clarifying as does why Sonja and Alexander are the only ones who walk their route and why Craig and Co. should need to make sure that it’s clear of trampers. Perhaps I can write that later trampers turn back from both directions because of the wardens eight thirty warnings or because they simply turn around based on their own assessment of the weather. The warden warning is tricky since he/she would check the intentions book and make a note of Alexanders and Sonja plans and realise they could be in trouble. I will therefore have to emphasise that there was no warden at their last hut. I can also write that there is confusion about intentions because people are arriving to walk the track whilst others are turning back. Also there is no mention of Te Puke later in the book. In fact it is stated that Alexander left Te Puke behind after the first walk. That aspect has to be corrected and developed further.

I will also have to develop a conversation between Sonja and Alexander where she asks him does he believe in love at first sight, namely her feelings for Craig. She says that she can discuss it with him since he is a much older man. This will occur after he returns to his sleeping bag after building the snow wall, and has recovered sufficiently. The discussion is clearly difficult for him since he loves Sonja himself. I could relocate the paragraph about the changes that occur when young people travel away from home for extended periods for the first time.

It’s now afternoon in Queenstown and its been a pretty miserable rainy day and I am sitting in my backpacker waiting for a three thirty bus to Wanaka. This morning I spent one hour in the library and used that time reading my hard copy from the very first page for about thirty pages. For some reason I felt quite tired but even so the book seemed particularly hard going and the writing laboured. This is the first time that I have felt that I would not be able to produce an acceptable read, even if I could never produce high quality fiction. This initial conclusion, although not final, is quite depressing. I suppose that most books have to set the scene and introduce the characters in the opening pages. I undertook this mornings exercise in order to get a feel for the Harper Collins three chapter assessment for an author’s work. Would the opening chapters capture my attention or just make me yawn. I’m not sure. Perhaps I am too close to it all to assess it objectively. It will need the honest opinions of others before I will finally know. However over the next week I must work hard on the book at Wanaka library to correct all the most obvious imperfections.

Staying In The Zone

2006-02-20T06:17:00.000+13:00

Thursday 9th December 2004

It’s six fifteen in the morning and I have just spent my third night at the Hippo Lodge in Queenstown. Fortunately I was able to book their only single room and so I have had three wonderful nights of sleep. Beautiful, beautiful sleep. No more of that tossing and turning on hard mattresses in track huts. The truth is that roughing it does not really suit me, and neither does it suit most foreign backpackers who walk the famous tracks. Two nights and three days walking is usually enough for most. But today I have to move out of my haven of peace and tranquility and into a four bed dormitory. Oh well, back to reality!

The relevant point about my current stay in Hippo Lodge is that the owner is one of the characters in my book. She is the tramper who I first met on the Routeburn and who wore horizontal yellow and black striped leotards or leggings, just like a wasp. She was making her very first trek and told me she planned to open a backpackers. She was a lovely women but slightly overweight at the time and so that aspect is exaggerated in the book. The character has always been named M.... but I couldn’t remember if that was her real name or not. And so to spare the innocent yesterday I changed her name to Kathy! Hippo Lodge has a million dollar view of Lake Wakitipu and is now certainly worth that amount on the open market. So things have certainly worked out well for M. The Lodge is well away from the noise of Queenstown and so it is a very good place to relax. However, the climb up the hill from town tests any hardy tramper and I certainly wouldn’t have wanted to undertake that walk with my rucksack and computer bag.

Saturday 11th December 2004

Tomorrow is my fifty sixth birthday. When I walked the Routeburn track with M and T I can well recall that I had my birthday at Routeburn Falls hut. I only told M about my birthday during that days walk, or just after, and of course she had to announce it to a full hut that night and I had to endure an embarrassing “Happy Birthday to You” from about thirty to forty people. At least it made the anniversary particularly memorable. And now with my book I have the chance to get my own back on M! Revenge is sweet. Only joking.

Progress on Pelorus has been slow but solid. A significant problem is finding a place to quietly work at a time which suits me, which is usually early in the morning. The Queenstown library doesn’t open until ten o’clock and so there is a lot of dead time before that which is difficult to make productive use of. I don’t like to show my computer around at the backpackers too much since, although the vast majority are great people, it only needs one bad sort. Writing longhand is another option but that necessitates transcribing everything onto the computer at a later date. Not a very efficient process. The main components of the ending of Pelorus were written all those years ago although I have subsequently refined and improved parts significantly. The start of the book was a real mess before I arrived in New Zealand this time but I reverted to my original start point with Alexander sitting at the Lake McKenzie hut and it works again. The middle part, between the “Kepler Track” walk and the “Pelorus Track” walk was always problematical. The concept of Alexander himself falling in love with Sonja is quite feasible but the age difference does not ring true from Sonja’s perspective. And so a love affair between Craig and Sonja is much more realistic whilst Alexander comes to understand that his love for Sonja is more like the love between father and daughter. The daughter that he has hardly seen since the break up of his marriage. Instead of Sonja just going to Milford Sound I am now giving her more time to go to Queenstown to meet up with some relatives for a day, return to Pelorus to begin her affair with Craig, and only then on to Milford Sound followed by her meeting with Alexander in Te Anau. In the meantime Alexander will have to reconcile himself to the idea that a love match with Sonja is out of the question.

Backpacker life is really special. Or more accurately the backpackers themselves. There is a constant flow of young people in and out, most only staying at one place for a night or two. Unlike a hotel or motel conversations between various people can be started at will and information about where and where not to go, what and what not to do, is the main currency. People from all nationalities interact very well and friendships are often formed which can last for a few days tramp or even longer. There is no obligation to stay with someone if you do not wish to and so it gives everyone a great sense of freedom. As I have noticed before, travelling alone has many advantages because you can always meet up with someone with similar interests. This is particularly useful for single girls. It might appear somewhat dangerous for a single girl to travel alone but in fact it is not, if she has the smallest amount of commonsense.

Sunday 12th December 2004

“Happy Brirthday to me. Happy Birthday to me!” Well I guess that is some kind of landmark for my personal obtituary, fifty six instead of fifty five. Not that I am being morbid about it at all. I think that my feelings will be no more or no less even if I reach ninety three. Liz will be happy today because we are once again the same age. I woke up in my small four bed dorm refreshed after a good nights sleep. I just hope that I didn’t snore and disturb my room mates, an Australian man, American and Austrian girls, all I guess in their early twenties. All the “A’s”. It was interesting to briefly look around the room whilst I lay there deciding whether or not to get up. Complete strangers sleeping peacefully in the same room. I didn’t even know their names and probably never will. The two girls lay like crysallis waiting for their hibernation to finish. This is very special. It doesn’t often happen in other adult situations. I hope that it doesn’t change. It would only take one serious incident and it would. Another loss of human trust. Like unlocked doors. Like conversing with a child who innocently asks you a question.

Today I will travel to Kinloch Lodge, a backpacker geographically close to Glenorchy, but which actually requires a circuitous route via gravel road around the top end of the lake, perhaps fifteen to twenty kilometres. I have arranged that they will pick me up at Glenorchy wharf by boat, a much shorter five minute trip across the lake. Twenty dollars for the privilege. I feel that it is a good time to take a break from Queenstown just to keep my thoughts fresh. A few days in the comparitive peace and quiet of Kinloch Lodge and the Glenorchy area. Hopefully I may find some quiet space to write.

Yesterdays effort in the library was limited to two hours because on Saturday they are only open from ten thirty to twelve thirty. However it was a very productive period. I think that I managed to make the cementing of Craig and Sonja’s relationship quite realistic. A brief passage which didn’t require going into the gymnastics of love making. It is very satisfying creating the various pieces of the jigsaw and fitting them into place. The number of hours that I can spend writing each day is limited by my creative energy. After two or three hours I feel quite tired and you have to be the opposite to write and to actually enjoy doing so. Another very limiting factor is that, apart from the library, I have nowhere to separate myself from other people. I feel a bit self-conscious, even a pseud, if I start using my computer in the backpackers. At least with longhand people just think that you are writing a journal.

The whole “Pelorus” book writing project is clearly “off the wall”. Can I imagine going in to see my bank manager and asking for a loan of two to three thousand pounds to write a short story, novel or, wait for it, novella. I guess a novella is for somebody who is not good enough to write a short story but too lazy to write a novel. That seems to fit. However, it really doesn’t matter since a book should simply be as long as the story, no longer, no shorter. And so the bank manager starts. “What experience do you have of writing fiction?” None. “How many first novels are actually published?” Next to none. “How many novels which are actually published make any money?” Next to none. “What are your alternative employment prospects.” Next to none. “What savings do you have?” Less than none. “Well thank you very much Mr Cree. Please close the door quietly as you leave.”

I have now arrived at Kinloch Lodge. Thorough interogation of the Austrian girl revealed that I did not snore last night. There is still hope for me yet. Secondly the shuttle bus company informed me that when I arrived in Glenorchy another company, Backpacker Express, would take me by road to the Lodge, and not by boat. However, when I arrived in Glenorchy I was given a lifebelt and was whisked across to the Lodge in a jet boat at a total cost of ten dollars. Good on yer, Backpacker Express. The Lodge is very peaceful and the four bed bunkroom well appointed. The Lodge has a restaurant, a bar and backpacker lounge and cooking facilities. I am hoping that I will be very happy here during my short stay. At present I am the only one in my room but what fate does the next few hours hold? The Dunedin snoring club? Wellington ballet on tour? Greta, Mette and Sweta from Sweden? Who can say. Glenorchy Gay Club? Get me out of here.

The time is five eighteen precisely. This is a good example of the limits of my writing energy. I have nearly two hours until the barbecue starts and yet I know that I don’t feel like writing or even editing what I have already written. I have the room all to myself, have a power plug at hand, and a comfortable sofa to sit on. But any words will have to wait until tomorrow morning when I guess my room will be full of sleeping guests until ten, and the more public rooms, such as the dining area, full of people going about their business. As Jet would say theatrically, “Life is difficult!”

Tuesday 14th December 2004.

Kinloch Lodge is absolutely wonderful. If a nearby a place is called Paradise then this must be called Heaven. It has such a relaxing atmosphere and yet everything is to hand, even an incredibly well stocked television room full of videos and DVD’s. The owners are extremely friendly and that friendliness transfers itself effortlessly to their guests. Just five minutes walk from the Lodge a shingle bank protrudes into Lake Wakitipu. From that point you can take in a three hundred and sixty degree panorama of the most breathtaking scenery anywhere in the world. On a clear sunny day like today, that is. On Monday, my birthday, I had a very nicely prepared barbecue and then rather overindulged on the red wine. Only three glasses but I felt hungover the next day. The label was Oxford Landing but it felt like Hard Landing to me. Nevertheless it was a great place and a great way to spend my birthday. Hard to beat.

Yesterday morning the weather was quite good but not great. I decided that it would do me good to go for a walk and I had read that the Glacier Burn short walk was nearby. The distance along the gravel road to the start of the track was further than I anticipated but it was really enjoyable. A group of beef cattle had escaped from their field and without any intention on my part I managed to herd them along the road for at least two kilometres! A bull on the other side of the fence seemed somewhat put out by my activity. Fortunately half of the cattle jumped over a fence on the opposite side of the road whilst the remainder made a dash past me back to where they had come from. The Glacier Burn track was well marked with orange triangles nailed to trees every so often. It was initially a very stiff climb and my initial reaction was that I would just walk up a short distance and then return to the Lodge. However, the further I rose the more determined I became to reach the treeline and the end of the walk. It was a charming little trek and finally I broke out into the valley bowl surrounded by high cliffs. A notice at the beginning of the walk gave warning of potential avalanches in winter and spring further up the mountain and so that was good enough for me. On my way down I came across a small group of tuis who appeared to be in the middle of courtship. Not only did they sing but they sang in concert. I managed to spot one tui with his/her feathers all puffed up, a male I guess. As I descended further the wind got up and the tall beech trees were swaying visibly. I was a bit concerned that a piece of deadwood could come crashing down on yours truly at any time. By the time I finally reached the road again the weather had changed dramatically and I was pleased that I had brought my full waterproofs, even though it was only threatening rain. Further up the valley, towards the Routeburn Track, it was clearly tipping down. Luckily for me the wind was on my back the whole way home.

Since I have been here I have made some good progress on the book. The opportunities and facilities to write are not great but I am satisfied with my solution for the Alexander/Sonja relationship. I have also managed to fit Minnie into the story which allows the original Puccini aria finish to work. I think that when I return to Queenstown I should make a hard copy of what I have written to date. I have already identified a shop where I can print directly off my Mac disc. It is difficult to get an accurate feel for the balance of the whole story at present but overall I think that it is pretty good. I would like to build up the character of Te Puke more and perhaps one more section on Craig. I hope that making a hard copy will help this process. I am not sure whether or not to start redrafting from the very beginning again or try to improve parts section by section. Section by section has worked quite well to date. I am still hoping to complete the fundamentals of the book by Christmas whilst I am still in the south and “in the zone.” I guess that the final editing will take much longer than I would like, perhaps up to one month. Hopefully I can do most of this work at Alec and Pat’s in Napier, and perhaps some at Sandy’s bach in Stephen’s Bay. Clearly time spent carefully refining the book is essential, even if it will be quite frustrating and certainly not easy.

He Who Dares Rodney.

2006-02-20T06:16:00.000+13:00

Thursday 25th November 2004 (Wanaka)

I have just spent my third night at the Mountain View Backpacker in Wanaka. As far as facilities go it doesn’t rate that highly, not enough toilet and cooking facilities. However, the staff are good, the atmosphere friendly, and it’s only a short walk from the centre of town. On Tuesday morning I was sitting in a cafe having a latte when I felt my chair rocking gently as though one leg was shorter than the others. It was the same sort of queasy feeling one has after having one too many drinks the night before. It was then that I noticed that the cars outside were rocking backwards and forwards and for the first time I realised that we were in an earthquake. The cafe rattled and rolled for a bit but nobody rushed outside. It was a great experience to witness. It later turned out that it was 7.2 on the Richter scale but was quite a way south west of the South Island. The only other time that I have been in an earthquake was some twenty years ago in Jordan. I was staying in a good hotel and the water in my wash basin started slopping from side to side. Strange I thought.

Since Tuesday it has rained quite a lot but the great thing is that the snow has come down to the treeline and it gives me a visual impression of how conditions would be for Sonja and Alexander. The Routeburn had yet to open last week because of the winter snow and this extra drop will no doubt have kept it closed. However at the moment this is no problem because I have been happy holed up in Wanaka for a few days. At this time of year it is relatively quiet and still retains that village atmosphere. I have found a wonderful library which is very modern and yet intimate. There is an ideal workplace where I can set up my computer. One of the staff came up and said that, like myself, she was a longtime Apple user. Another non-believer in the Great One. I have made very solid progress on the book during the two four hour stints that I have spent in the library. It is certainly not easy but when I re-read what I have written I am sufficiently satisfied. It’s going in the right direction. It was only last night that I realised again that what I am trying to do is serious. It’s not just a matter of making a bit of progress on the book, having a great holiday, and then jetting back home. I really do have to give this book my best shot since there are not many other options open to me on the job front. At least I must stick with it until I have completed every part of the storyline. I have no idea how many pages it will be but that doesn’t matter. It will be as long or short as necessary, either a long short story, or a short long story!

Sunday 28th November 2004 (Te Anau)

Well Alexander Stewart had made his bookings for both the Kepler and Routeburn tracks. The Routeburn only opened yesterday and so the timing could not have been better. I start on the Kepler on Wednesday and finish on Friday 3rd December. Unfortunately the Routeburn didn’t have any places for the 5th and only one for the 6th, so I plumped to go on the 4th December. This means that I won’t have a whole days rest between the two walks and so it will/could be a bit of a struggle, especially if I pick up any blisters on the Kepler. However, the six day straight through trek will be fairly realistic of Alexander and Sonja’s Pelorus adventure. Hopefully this will give me a particularly good feel for the fatigue that they will have both felt.

I had a really productive time in Wanaka spending at least three to four hours per day at the library. Slow progress but I feel that I am improving and expanding on the storyline all the time. I may well stay a few days in Wanaka on the way back north since the backpacker was very friendly and the library was perfect. It was a strange coincidence that a Danish girl, M, with a very strong Irish accent, confided to me that she was feeling homesick. Shades of Sonja! I don’t know if I radiate that sort of confessional persona or it’s simply that I look like some sort of father figure. But I certainly don’t mind the trust put in me. Her thirtieth birthday was due in a day or two and I guess that it was quite a milestone and perhaps she was reflecting on her life to date. Another sweet girl, Melissa, a Canadian, said that before she started her ten month trek throughout South-East Asia she had hoped that it might have helped her understand life a bit better, but it had not. I unhelpfully said that even at my age I hadn’t sorted my life out and therefore couldn’t really assist her on that one. So homesickness and the purpose of life. Two interesting questions.

Te Anau is as pleasant as ever at this time of year. Relatively quiet, which is I’m sure how the locals like it. However, this must be about the only time of year, namely summer, when the shops can make any reasonable income. As Jet would say, “Life is difficult!” Happened to share my bunkroom with an English guy named Andy, and three girls, one Dutch and two German. They are very special people, backpackers, and this is something that I have always recognised. Very tolerant, resourceful, inquisitive and with very pleasant characters. Of course, you run into the occasional pain but not very often. Andy is a fireman, late thirties, who like myself keeps coming back to New Zealand. He can’t quite make the decision whether or not to move here permanently, and perhaps may not. He’s off to do the Milford Track tomorrow and by coincidence we will be on the Routeburn at the same time. Nice guy and have shared a couple of pints together.

Wednesday 1st December 2004

I am now sitting in the Luxmore Hut on my first day of walking the Kepler Track. The weather forecast was bad but in fact it was a beautiful day for walking, neither too hot or too cold. Yesterday the track between Luxmore Hut and Iris Burn Hut was officially closed because of snow and therefore I have been very lucky to have the opportunity to make the alpine crossing. To have had to turn around and head back to Te Anau would have been very disappointing. The walk up was beautiful and better than I remembered it the last time that I was here with T. Perhaps I was too busy trying to keep up with her pace or too concentrated on doing the right thing on our first day alone together? The track from the Control Gate start to Bark Bay follows the lake shore. There was a stillness about the place even though there was plenty of birdsong. Forget your New York shrinks, just send the patient on a walk here for two hours. The floor of the beech forest was carpeted with a light green sphagnum moss and this made everything very special. On leaving Bark Bay the stillness became even more pronounced since there was no longer the sound of waves lapping against the shore. The climb through the forest was steady and relentless. I stopped to rest a number of times and to take on water. Wonderful refreshing water. Had it ever tasted so good. As the track climbed higher and higher the forest floor covering changed to ferns and higher still the trees were covered with mystical pale green and white lichen. Once I had passed the limestone bluff I thought that I had just about cracked it but it took far longer than I had imagined to break out of the forest and into the alpine tussock grass above one thousand metres. I was basically at my limit and virtually running on empty when I passed that very clearly demarcated line. It is very reassuring that the climb demands quite a considerable effort and cannot be achieved by just anybody, even though it is only officially classified as a moderate walk. It is certainly hard enough for me with a loaded pack.

I had a few more ideas about the storyline on the climb. One is that Alexander is into tree hugging and at various times on the climb he places his hands against some mighty standing beech or on an enormous sawn trunk crossing the path and just stands there deep in contemplation for a few seconds. I certainly did this on a couple of occasions. Sonja thinks that this is all rather odd but Alexander explains that part of his ancestry originated in Ireland where trees used to be very sacred objects. And also his Maori friend, Rita, told him to talk to the tree spirits to ask their permission to enter their domain. I’m not sure if this is the first time I thought about including Alec and Pat’s Maori friend Rita into the story but hopefully it adds another more spiritual dimension.

Another idea that I had is to actually produce the book on my computer in PDF format and possibly sell the first part of the book online. I may even give the first chapters away online for free as a teaser in order to market it more widely and hopefully word of mouth on the internet will increase demand to buy the whole printed book. I could create a specific website for this, possibly, pelorus.com, advertise on my agmachine.com website, or in outdoor magazines. If people wished to read the complete book then they would have to buy a hard copy although a secure PDF payment system would eliminate printing costs. However, I like the idea of people holding a hard copy of the book in their hands better. Each copy would be personally signed by myself and would have a unique identification number, making it very personal to the purchaser. Payment over the internet could prove to be a problem although I could get some help on that one. An even better option would be to use the Amazon.com route since this would take out all the security and set-up problems. I would first have to sort out the unique book registration number (ISBN?) or whatever it is called. A website for the book could allow people to send their comments (whoops!), add photographs, exchange track experiences and so forth. It could actually create a community, perhaps a blog.

The idea that Alexander may have an estranged daughter Minnie, possibly named after Minnie Driver, from a failed and bitter marriage may have possibilities. Perhaps his former wife lives overseas and this makes contact difficult apart from occasional photos, letters and cards. The USA might be a good option since custody laws are quite strict and his daughter might not have been able to visit him in the United Kingdom. Perhaps Alexander finally comes to see Sonya, not as a potential lover and partner, but as the embodiment of the father/daughter relationship which he never had. This would allow the love relationship between Sonja and Craig to be developed, which would be far more plausible. Perhaps after the first walk Sonja goes first to Wanaka to catch up with some friends, returns to Pelorus where her affair with Craig really starts, and then travels on to Milford and subsequently meets up with Alexander in Te Anau. Craig tries to persuade Sonja not to go on the Pelorus track but to stay with him but she decides to keep her word to Alexander, of whom she has grown quite fond. Craig admires her willingness to keep to commitments. All this could be done in say three to four days. Perhaps during that period Alexander stays in a backpacker in Te Anau and this gives me a chance to describe some of the characters who stay at backpackers and backpacker life in general.

Sunday 5th December 2004

It’s about seven o’clock in the morning and I am sitting in the freezing cold at Lake McKenzie Hut on the Routeburn Track. I’ve already had a warming breakfast of Thai chicken curry and hot tea. There is snow low down in the surrounding mountains and fortunately the sky is pretty clear at the moment. Yesterday evening it snowed quite heavily at the hut level and the warden said that he didn’t rate our chances of going over very highly. However just before dusk the sky cleared just like magic and the magnificent snow covered mountains came into view. I had seen them before but I think it staggered a few of the people to see what had been previously hidden from them. Hopefully it should be a really great crossing over to the Routeburn Falls Hut. It was so cold in the bunkroom last night that I wore two pairs of socks, thermal underwear and long sleeved shirt on in my sleeping bag with the hood drawn tightly closed. Fortunately I was really warm. The only disappointing thing was that “Gods chosen ones” made a very noisy late entrance and talked loudly for some time. What’s wrong with these people, it seems to be so common. Without giving a clue about who I was talking about I asked a guy named Steve, who had worked at a Queenstown backpacker hostel for a year, who the worst behaved backpacker nation was. He confirmed my own experiences as have others since. God really screwed up on that one.

Going back in time a bit it was on the 2nd December that I started the Kepler Track and as previously noted I reached the Luxmore Hut “running on empty”. In fact just above the treeline both legs seized up so that I walked like the tin man in Somewhere over the Rainbow, or whatever that Judy Garland film was called. The muscles at the back of my thighs just knotted up. I guessed it was just some kind of cramp but thrombosis did cross my mind. After all I had not done any preparation for the walk apart from wearing my boots rather a lot.

On the morning of the 3rd December we awaited the hut warden’s decision on the Kepler alpine section. It had been closed by snow the day before and it would have been very disappointing to have had to walk back down again after expending so much effort. My objective of researching the walk for my book would have been over before it had barely begun. The warden simply announced that a storm was due in the afternoon with rain, sleet, snow and winds gusting to 120 km per hour on the tops. If we wanted to go across we had to go now. And so there was a general stampede out of the door. It is a long hard climb up from the hut to the turn off for the Mount Luxmore summit itself and for me it was a real struggle. It was already blowing hard and sleeting. At least I had had the experience of doing the track with T some years before but that was in bright sunshine with clear blue skies, and very little wind. The first target was the first emergency shelter. From below you could see the track winding its way inexorably up until it disappeared from view around a corner. I guessed that that point was the top of the first climb. Wrong! At least when I looked back I could see a number of other trampers way down below and that made me feel much better, but them no doubt worse. Conditions were now getting very unpleasant. On the way up I had been passed by a young Irish couple who seemed to be going very well. However, when I finally arrived at the first emergency shelter they were both very cold, wet and shivering. They were just totally ill-equipped for the track in those conditions. They wisely decided to turn around and they said that their aim was to carry on straight back to Te Anau. That would have been a dreadfully long walk and they certainly will not forget their Kepler Track experience for a very long time.

There were also four girls in the shelter, three from Singapore and one from Malaysia. I had briefly made their aquaintance since we had travelled to the start of the track together the previous day. Two were particularly poorly equipped for the alpine conditions and were shivering. I said they should change into warmer clothes and offered one girl a pair of thick woolly socks for her hands. One of them was giggling and shivering and I was concerned about hypothermia since it brings on rather strange behaviour. The party had a definite leader who seemed to be in charge but she seemed to think that everything was fine. She was being quite stupid. I therefore politely insisted that I would walk behind them until the second emergency shelter which was located some two hours distance. When we started again the conditions deteriorated quickly and they were moving so slowly. A young Austrian, Martin, who I had briefly spoken to the night before, caught us up. He was obviously very experienced and well equipped and so I told him about my concerns. He said that he would wait at the next shelter and he could provide them with some spare clothing if necessary. The lead girl kept taking photographs of the group oblivious to the potential danger. The weather continued to deteriorate with howling wind and snow along the ridgeline. The group made the next shelter but if the weather had deteriorated further into thick snow then they would certainly have been in trouble. As they waited at the shelter it became noticeably colder and the snowfall more prevalent. This was all marvellous material for the book.

Another idea for the story is that Alexander receives his walking stick Te Puke from Rita the Maori. She tells him it is a very special item, perhaps owned by male ancestors, but she wants to give it to him. Alexander is afraid to take such a special object and says that he is afraid that he might lose it. Rita says not to worry because Te Puke will find his way home. He is also worried that he might break it but Rita assures him that he can never break Te Puke. All the time Alexander has Te Puke it tries to get away or causes him problems. If Alexander leans him against a rock he will slip down onto the path so that Alexander has to bend down with a heavy pack on his back to pick Te Puke up. Also Alexander is careful not to put him down close to a stream in case Te Puke falls in and escapes that way down the stream into a river and into a lake or the sea. At the same time Te Puke saves Alexander a number of times on the path when he would otherwise have fallen. These ideas have come from direct experience of my own when Te Puke (the actual name of my own walikng stick) kept slipping down from where I put him. I should also try to develop the Rita and Maori aspects of the book more fully with the Storm God fighting Te Puke.

The walk from Lake McKenzie Hut to the Routeburn Falls Hut was as good as ever, if not better. The climb up from the McKenzie Hut was beautiful with the mountains in clear view and with snow down to the treeline. The view down to the hut was impressive but the hut looked so vulnerable under the steep mountainside. Beautiful grotto like walk through the trees on the lower slopes with moss all over their twisted shapes. Along the main traverse I was able to see right down to the sea and the peaks of the mountains on the other side of the Hollyford river were visible through the cloud. Below me huge clouds drifted down the valley like great ocean liners. It was very strange to be above them. The ‘rock’ of my book still looks as impressive as ever and I was pleased to confirm that there was no track down to it. In addition it did not look as if the shelter had been used for a very long time since the overhang floor was covered in grass. Hopefully it had not been visited since I climbed down to it a number of years ago. It was also good to be able to confirm that the Deadmans Track is located between the rock and the Harris Saddle since this fits in perfectly with the storyline. Also the emergency shelter at the Harris Saddle clearly has two padlocked cupboards which may contain some emergency equipment. I hope that it is more than on the Kepler shelters which only contained a single shovel! The snow was falling quite steadily at the top which certainly added to the atmosphere.

The walk down from the Harris Saddle to the Routeburn Falls Hut was very dramatic and entailed walking along quite narrow ledges. Lake Harris was larger and more impressive than I remembered it. The track also crossed an area of very deep snow which would have been up to my chest if a path had not been cut. At the beginning of this section an overturned notice read Safe but it was only after I reached the other side that the notice for walkers in the other direction stated that there was a danger of avalanches! Overall I held up very well and yesterday and todays walk were well within my capacity. The Meindl boots have been fantastic and I have no blisters to talk of, a major change from my previous tramping experiences. My kit has been good and I have certainly needed all of it, leggings, waterproof jacket, wooley hat, gloves. The gloves only just made the journey from the UK since I thought that I would be walking in sunshine. Strangely various muscles ached at different times rather than the problem concentrating on one area. There is no doubt in my mind that repeating both the Kepler and Routeburn Tracks has firmed up a lot of ideas and has been really worthwhile research time. For example, seeing the rucksacks of the Singapore girls caked in snow as they climbed in a small group above me was very visual and so many other observations have made an impact on my thoughts. I am now planning two nights in a single room in Queenstown which will hopefully be bliss. I then have to decide whether or not to return to Wanaka since the library and lake/mountain scenery provide me with a great environment to continue writing the book. I’m not yet clear how long I will stay in New Zealand but I know that I must try to finish the story once and for all before I leave.

The idea of having back to back books appeals to me with “Pelorus” starting at the opposite end from “Where to Now”, the diary of my writing efforts. I think a great deal will depend on how interesting “Where to Now” will be for readers, but only time will tell. Perhaps having a record of how and when ideas arose will be quite interesting since they can be directly related to the book. I have no doubt that my decision to travel to New Zealand was the right one even if it still seems quite irresponsible. He who dares Rodney.

Heading South

2006-02-20T06:14:00.000+13:00

Friday 19th November 2004

I’m writing this entry sitting at a specially designated area for computer work on the Cook Straits Ferry, Ahura. As much as I love the crossing it does take rather a long time and I have seen the sights many times before. I’ve already had something to eat on the ferry and I have to say that for maintaining consistent standards for the last thirty years the company deserves some sort of award. By consistent I mean consistently bad. It would seem that the closed shop has still got a firm grip on what should be a premier tourist experience.

Earlier today I left Napier at nine fifteen and took the Inter-City coach to Wellington, via Palmerston North. I had a bit of a hangover after drinking one too many Kilkennys at Billy Burkes in Taradale with my brother and his wife. Not forgetting the glass or two of red wine with dinner. As it turns out I have decided to change the name of the Irish pub in Pelorus to Billy Burkes. It has a nice ring to it. I’ve also realised that I will have to walk the tracks again on which the story is based. The Kepler and Routeburn should be fine but I’m not so sure about the Cascade Saddle. It took me to my limit the last time and on this occasion it’s earlier in the year and there may be snow about. Last year a man was killed after he slipped close to the the Saddle. However, if the weather forecast looks good I would love to do it again in the same direction. I’m sure that it would help me build on my existing descriptive passages.

On Wednesday and Thursday morning I had two good sessions on my book. On Wednesday I built on the story after the visit to the swimming hole on the Kepler. On Thursday I took Sonja and Alexander from the hut up the Cascade Saddle route until they very nearly joined up with my existing storyline. A paragraph or two should do it. Another idea with respect to the storyline is to use my Afghanistan experience as the reason why Alexander decided to go backpacking in New Zealand at the very last minute. This may allow the incorporation of his inept packing scene. He may be able to describe the reasons why he was in NZ to Sonja at a suitable point in the story when they are alone together. She can then recount her own trials and tribulations of her flight to New Zealand. Possibly at the Routeburn Falls hut or perhaps later in their rock refuge.

I have already lost some financial discipline since I have booked a hotel in Picton and not a backpackers. My excuse is that I have had a long day and will not arrive in Picton until eight thirty. Secondly I feel that my computer will be safer. Both reasons are pretty feeble. I have already booked my bus from Picton to Nelson tomorrow although I have failed to give Sandy any notice of my arrival. If she can’t put me up that’s no problem since I’ll stay in a backpackers and try to travel down to Franz Josef the next day. I’ll certainly catch up with her on my return north. Sam has already telephoned Barry to let him know that I will be passing through Nelson but it looks as if I will miss him because it will be the weekend and he will be back in Napier.

Saturday 20th November 2004

Last night I began to feel that it was taking me far too long to get down to the Queeenstown area where I anticipated that I would really be able to make progress on the book. But after a good nights sleep at the Picton Beachcomber I woke seeing things in a different light. After all, before I left the UK, I resolved not to make this a rushed process. I have to, as they say, “chill out” a bit and relax into it. The analogy came to me that it is like climbing Mount Everest. I have completed the plane journey from London to Katmandu and I am now on the long trek into base camp. Along the way I hope to get acclimatised. One never knows what new thoughts, ideas and experiences will occur along the way and which could contribute to the storyline. If Queenstown is to be my base camp then Te Anau will be my advanced base camp for the assaults on the Kepler and the Routeburn Tracks. It all sounds overly dramatic, which it certainly is, but it helps me visualise how I am going to approach the job in hand. I’m a little concerned about where I can safely store my computer on a day to day basis. It’s not so much it’s value but the amount of material that I have on it, my website data, book, past reports etc. It’s the inconvenience of it all. I have left a back-up of my book and diary on disc in Napier and I think my website is on a Zip in the UK. I suppose that’s like driving in a piton in a rock face in case of a fall. I’m sure that there must be a left luggage lock-up facility in Queenstown, but you never know? You might ask why did I bother to bring the computer south in the first place? Why not just use pen and paper as before? I think that the main reason is that I really want to have the book put to bed before I leave the south. I don’t think that I could face typing up my writings in Napier or the UK only to find that there were big holes in the story. I think that it would prove very difficult to raise the necessary motivation to get writing again, as I previously found in the UK over the last few years. No, it’s got to be a single solo push to the summit or fail in the attempt.

Saturday 20th November 2004

I’m sitting in Le Cafe in Picton looking out onto a view which would make any estate agent tremble with pleasure. It’s a million dollar view if ever there was one. Queen Charlotte Sound stretching into the distance, clear blue sky with tree clad slopes rising steeply from the waters edge. Unbeatable location, a cafe with excellent decor and feel, but lousy service. It’s not so much the service since the girls are very pleasant. But I came in here for breakfast and it looks as if I am going to get lunch. As I look around I can count only ten other people. The chef, who I can see through the counter opening, is dressed dramatically in black and is wearing a red bandana. Swarthy in appearance, stocky in stature. He is clearly a perfectionist and loves his job. It’s just that he’s in the wrong job. Perhaps he would have been better working in the British Library painstakingly translating ancient hyroglyphics or a monk writing early religious manuscripts.

But here’s the rub. When my breakfast finally came it was a culinary sensation. I can honestly say that it was the best breakfast that I have ever had in New Zealand, and possibly anywhere. Top quality bacon crisp and dry, fried mushrooms, eggs, tomatoes, sliced potatoes and fried bread, all presented beautifully on a large white plate. It was one of those unrepeatable experiences. If I went there tomorrow I would probably not enjoy it as much. So what does this story say about me, or even Le Cafe. On the face of it it looks as if I have a problem relaxing and get stressed very easily. There is indeed truth in this. But it is the uncertainty of the waiting process which caused that stress, not the actual time it took to get served. Too many past experiences of an order being forgotton, past frustrations locked in the memory. If the cafe management had placed a little sign on each table saying Master Chef at Work, please be patient while your order is individually prepared, then everyone would no doubt have enjoyed the Le Cafe experience more. After finishing my breakfast I just had to let the chef know how highly I rated it. I think everyone loves their good work being recognised.

I caught the one o’clock bus from Picton to Nelson. The driver had earlier told me that I could put my rucksack in the bus’s storage compartment and whilst I was waiting a young women walked up in a slightly puzzled way. I asked if she was going to Nelson, which she confirmed, and I said that she could also put her pack on the bus. I think that she was a bit suspicious of my motives since I am a pretty dangerous looking dude. I think she was quite right to be suspicious of strangers. However, after a short while she came up to me and we started talking. Her name, it later turned out, was Shelly and she was from Canada and had been in the country a few weeks. We talked a lot on the bus and I found her very attractive and pleasant company. I guess she must have been in her late thirties or early forties, but it is difficult to say. She was hoping to work on an organic farm near Takaka for a few days in exchange for free lodging. Another time and another place it would have been nice to travel together. Who knows, we may meet up again further south. That evening, in the Trafalgar Square backpacker I was sitting having a quiet beer and it turned out that two of the three people sitting at the table came from within twelve miles of Steyning. One from Storrington and one from Brighton. Small world.

Monday 22nd November 2004

Yesterday I travelled down from Nelson to Franz Josef Glacier. The journey was as spectacular as ever, particularly the coastline between Westport and Greymouth. The coach is such a relaxing way to travel, it’s powerful engine just seems to hum along, even up the severest inclines. I hadn’t booked a place to stay in Franz Josef and so when we arrived in Hokitika for the afternoon break I went off in search of the tourist information centre. Fortunately it was still open and they were able to book me a place in one of the dormitories at Glow Worm Cottages. This turned out to be a lucky break since it was highly rated in the backpackers guide. When we finally arrived I checked in and went straight to the four bunk dorm. I opened the sliding door and said a friendly “Hi” to the two men inside, one who lay on the top bunk and the other on the bottom bunk who was watching the television. Absolutely no response. I think that I would have felt more welcome if I had walked into an Al Qaeda secret cell! I diplomatically tried to start some form of communication but it was clear that they were not interested. Well this should be a fun stopover, I thought. I was pretty tired after the long journey and so after a quick shower I walked into the village centre to look for something to eat. Clearly I had yet to reach the backpacker cooking stage. I had a really enjoyable meal which was quite expensive but I managed to rationalise this by saying that when I arrived in Wanaka I would start cooking for myself. After all I had already made the transition from hotel to backpacker dorm.

The backpacker dorm was really well equipped with shower, toilet, microwave, a two ring gas stove, pots and pans, knives and forks, toaster, and not forgetting the televison. Each bunk had it’s own clean duvet, pillows and bottom sheet. Backpackers had clearly changed for the better over the years. During the night the guy in the bunk over mine managed to drop down two unidentifiable objects. Well it was actually three as I found his underpants the next morning, in addition to his book and his money purse. I had already identified him as a particular nationality, since although I have met a few good ones on my backpacking travels on the whole they can be a noisy, arrogant and selfish bunch. However, the next morning he turned out to be extremely amiable in direct contrast to the night before. I believe that he was a computer programmer from California. What is it with some people? Fortunately such people in backpackers are the exception rather than the rule.

I was waiting for the Inter-City bus to Wanaka and Queenstown this morning and I was uncertain as to where the bus was going to leave from, this side of the road or the other. Things sometimes operate differently in New Zealand. I asked an Irish girl backpacker who was also sitting close by but she was also uncertain. When the bus finally arrived it turned up on the other side facing north, directly opposite from the direction anticipated. It pays to keep your wits about you. During a brief chat before the bus arrived, Claire, the Irish girl had told me she was a nurse. At the first tea break I took the opportunity to ask her what she would do if someone broke their ankle in the mountains. I explained that I was writing a story without going into detail. She basically told me that the foot should be raised and if possible it should be kept immobile. It might also be possible to construct a splint to help this process. This seems to indicate that Alexander may have to carry Sonja on his back by improvising a backpack like sling to carry her rather than have them walk side by side along the path. Thanks Claire. A pretty girl taking six months off to see Australia and New Zealand between jobs.

We Are Sailing

2006-02-20T06:13:00.000+13:00

Sunday 14th November 2004

I’ve just awoken after a night on the floor at my pal Martin’s temporary pad in downtown Auckland. It’s a very neat studio apartment situated right at the bottom of Queen Street. Very modern and extremely well equipped. The central location is very convenient apart from the unfortunate fact that it is situated directly opposite at least two very noisy night clubs. Luckily I slept well until about four in the morning when the booming music and and loud clientele milling around outside woke me from my slumber. But there we go. Certainly I can’t complain since it cost me nothing and helped me conserve my budget. Well that’s the theory.

In fact I’ve spent quite a lot of money since I arrived in Auckland on Friday morning. The Quantus experience from Los Angeles was favourable with enjoyable food and attentive, friendly staff. The flight even arrived on shedule. However the seats were as uncomfortable as ever and I never really got any sleep. If they want to get any Al Qaeda suspects to talk all they have to do is book them economy from London to Auckland. “Yes, I’ll tell you what you want to know but please please upgrade me to business class first.”

Martin was there to meet me at the airport with a game of golf with Charles Deane conveniently arranged at eleven. They’ll do anything to beat me and I guess a few days of sleep deprivation was another particularly cunning plan. After a forty minute catnap and there I was teeing up at the North Shore Golf Club on a beautiful Spring day. Joel, a seventeen year old playing off four, joined us and it was a pleasure to watch and learn. We all had a close and competitive game. Charles did not disappoint us when he threw a tantrum and his club at the sixteenth after missing a putt. This was not a problem except for the fact that he was my partner and we might just have salvaged something from the hole. Doh!. That evening we went with Chika to a really great Italian restaurant in Takapuna. A couple of bottles of fine Italian wine with excellent food and atmosphere rounded off a great first day in NZ. I have to admit that I did sneak in a couple of much needed hours of sleep before going out to eat.

The following day, Saturday, Martin and I moved out of Chika and Charle’s home and unloaded our gear at the rental apartment in Queen’s Street. We then went to have a look at Martin’s two bedroom Scene One property. Unfortunately it was not due to be finished for another two or so weeks and therefore Martin was kicking his heels in Auckland, frustrated at not being able to spend time furnishing the place and enjoying the appartment for a while before returning to the UK. Nevertheless it will be a great investment since the panoramic outlook over Auckland harbour is second to none. Naturally, Martin suggested that we had time to fit in another game of golf that afternoon and so we stopped by the tourist office and picked up a list of Auckland clubs. The course at Howick looked to have a fantastic location on a peninsula and was moderately priced. Yes we could play, and yes we could qualify for a twilight game. Twenty well spent dollars. The course was undulating and very tight with tree lined fairways. Martin pipped me at the eighteenth when my three foot putt lipped out. Nevertheless, a great game and a lot of fun. Another enjoyable dinner at the Indian restaurant down at Viaduct Basin. Saturday night Auckland was full of gaggles of girls heading this way and that looking for a fun time. Martin was naturally keen to explore more but not being in the teenage bird pulling age bracket I just fancied crashing out.

My golf game is holding up but this hasn’t helped progess my bestselling novel by one sentence! Martin tried to persuade me to stay on for a week, since clearly he would be very happy to have an on-call golf playing and drinking partner. However, if I carried on at this rate it would take me four weeks to get to Queenstown and by then I would be broke. And so I decided to head to Napier on the Tuesday, providing I could get a seat on the bus, and then on south a couple of days later. I still feel extremely positive about the whole writing venture. The fact that I am continuing to write this diary is a real achievement because I have never kept a diary in my life, at least not for more than a few days. Perhaps in years to come it will bring back a few memories.

I think that it is particularly fortunate that I am no longer married and don’t have a live-in partner. You can hardly say “I’m just off to New Zealand darling to finish a novel. No, I know that we don’t have any money, and yes I know that I’ve never written anything worthwhile before, but I’m going. It’s something I just have to do. Goodbye.” And it would certainly not just be a friendly “Au Revoir” from my partner, but “Get out of my life”. For good. And so I am fortunate to have this great sense of freedom. My selfish whim does not impinge on anyone elses private space. Martin has just said, “Well yeah, you’re writing a book about somebody who has been backpacking in New Zealand. Well as if that has never been done before!” It’s nice to have the support of friends when you most need it. “But I’ll get by with a little help from my friends, Oh I’ll get high with a little help from my friends.” But of course he’s right.

Tuesday 16th November 2004

I’ve just completed my four day backpacker induction course at Martin’s temporary apartment in Queen’s Street. I slept on some sofa cushions laid on the floor in the lounge. It proved to be very uncomfortable, particularly noisy into the early hours and very hot. Sleep was intermitent and unsatisfactory. I can therefore conclude that the intensive backpacker hostel training programme was a great success and I am well prepared for what lies ahead!

It’s now ten o’clock in the morning and I’m now happily sitting on a Newmans bus heading for Napier, via Taupo. Whilst sitting here I think that I have been able to resolve one of the problem areas in my book, namely how to seamlessly join up two parts of the story which I had already written some six years before. I will now insert the Cascade Saddle walk between the existing Kepler Track and Routeburn track hybrid passages. I will have the vast majority, or all, of the other walkers take the easier path which in reality follows the Rees River back to a pick-up point for Queenstown. Some may have planned to take the Cascade Track but change their minds when the weather changes for the worse. However, the night before Sonja and Alexander will be looking at the map and Alexander will tell Sonja how twenty years before he had walked the Cascade Saddle on his own. He will describe it as a brute of a trek but with spectacular scenery to match. Although their original intention was to follow the easier Rees River route they both became excited about doing the Cascade Saddle and staying an unplanned night at the Falls Hut on the Routeburn. Alexander is shown to be a bit apprehensive because after all he was now twenty years older and certainly not as fit as he had been. But the weather was so wonderful with clear skies and little wind. A rare occurance in Fiordland in Spring. And after all it would give him an extra day in Sonja’s company. There would be no warden in their current hut but Alexander says that he will write their changed programme in the intentions book the next morning. However, the combination of drinking the majority of the wine and his suspect memory mean that he will forget to do so. And he would only realise this fact over an hour into their walk the next day. Because he estimates that it would take eight to nine hours they leave the hut at six o’clock in the morning when all the others are still tucked up in their sleeping bags. Nobody will realise that they have taken the Cascade Saddle. I can use my Cascade Saddle experience to describe the stream crossings, indistinct route marked by stone cairns, the severely rising track which takes them above the glacier on the other side of valley. As they approach the highest point the weather rapidly changes. However, they still feel no danger because the track will remain level after the Saddle and there is virtually no more climbing to contend with. Within four hours they will be proudly enjoying a steaming mug of coffee and a good meal at the Routeburn Falls hut and will be revelling in their achievement. That is before they fall victim to Sonja’s accident. I think that this solution will work well.

Wednesday 17th November 2004

The journey down from Auckland yesterday reminded me how much I love this country. It is a long standing affair. Looking out of the coach window onto rounded hills of springtime grass as we passed through the Waikato following that mighty meandering river. Then down to Taupo through extensive pine forests with steam rising from hidden vents and boiling streams. The relaxed and often humerous commentary of the driver, mature in years, who points out various historical or geographical landmarks. And breaking out around one last corner to be met by panoramic views of Hawkes Bay, with it’s turqoise and dark blue sea below. And there, Napier, sitting citadel like upon it’s rock.

It was some thirty years before that I fell in love with C in that place. I had left university the year or two before and had been unable to find suitable employment or was I perhaps uncertain what I really wanted to do. And so I found myself joining the Peninsular and Oriental line as Eighth Engineer on a wild reefer named Taupo. Somehow I must have thought that a naval life might suit me since my father had spent twenty two happy years in the Royal Navy. I soon found out that it did not but I certainly did not regret the experience. After first berthing in Auckland to unload some general cargo we proceeded down to Lyttleton to do much the same. Then it was back to Napier to load frozen lamb, beef and venison, as well as chilled fruit, mainly apples, all bound for Bermuda and the UK. We had to lay off Napier for a few hours watching the distant sparkling lights along Marine Parade until at last we entered the port. I was on watch from eight to twelve deep down in the bowls of the engine room but as usual a party had started in the officers mess. The word would soon get around town that a ship was in port and girls were never a problem. Nurses, teachers, whatever. Everyone liked to party. Shortly before I was due to go off watch my fellow eighth engineer, M, brought one of the girls down into the engine room to have a look around. I was immediately smitten. It is the strangest of things, love at first sight. Does anyone have an explanation for it? I really don’t think so. The next day we were all invited back to C’s house in Cameron Road, minus M who was on duty. C and I talked and the romantic feelings were clearly mutual. M and I had got on very well and I felt that I could not sleep with C without telling him about the depths of my feelings for her. It seemed the gentlemanly thing to do. And so C and I went down into the engine room, reversing the roles of the previous night. I explained the situation and I think that he would have had every right to have punched me on the nose. But he didn’t. The next morning I woke up lying next to C. I subsequently left the country with true love in my heart and as rapidly as I could I left my roots in the UK and caught a plane back to New Zealand to start a new life. But by the time I returned C had moved on in the romantic and literal sense. We remained good friends and the other people in the Cameron Road villa somehow adopted me. I still have very fond memories of them all, Dave and Jo, Dave’s brother Mick, Manfred and Sally, Murray and Jenny, Mark and Carol, and not forgetting Johnny, a bubbly Maori girl. The influence of Pink Floyd and Dark Side of the Moon, Santana’s Abraxis, Cat Stevens disturbing the neighbours. Those records have stayed with me for a lifetime. Cameron Road was a special experience.

The three UN hostages in Afghanistan are still being held. The kidnappers are reducing their demands but they may still do something dramatic, especially after it has been officially confirmed that Margaret Hassan was executed in Iraq.

Long Days Journey Into Night

2006-02-20T06:06:00.000+13:00

Saturday 6th November 2004

No good news on the Kabul hostages yet except that it appears that they are still alive. The deadline for the civilised world to give into the kidnappers demands has moved from last Wednesday to yesterday and now until tonight.

It might appear that dipping into my bank account to spend a few weeks in New Zealand is no problem to an international consultant. In fact, the New Zealand venture could be described as the last throw of the proverbial dice. I’m gambling that I have one book in me which might actually sell at a reasonable profit. What did I hear on the radio the other day? Was it that eight thousand English language books are published each month or was it each year? I hope that it wasn’t every week! However my plan is not completely based on a fantasy since six years ago I actually wrote over sixty pages of the story. The few friends that I have revealed my unsound scheme to ask why can’t I finish writing the book in England. There is no sound argument against that proposal except to say that I’ve had it laying on my desk for years now, and nothing has happened. I just don’t feel it. Very occasionally I would pick it up to read but simply put it away again without adding a word. I didn’t feel inspired like I did on those long bus journeys in NZ. I’m hoping to recapture that feeling by travelling to New Zealand. I need to get it out of my system once and for all. Succeed or fail.

It’s really strange how things happen. Today I was nonchalently looking through my original handwritten scripts and what do I find. Fourteen A4 pages that I had forgotton all about for six long years. They cover the first meeting between two of the main characters, Alexander and Sonja. This is great. This is brilliant. Perhaps it’s an omen of some kind. I had already identified that I must start writing this particular passage as soon as possible once I reached New Zealand but there it already was. The sooner I start transcibing that section onto my iBook the better. Before I fly off I’ll have to check that I don’t have any more nuggets, or fools gold, hidden away somewhere else.

Monday 8th November 2004

Tomorrow morning at eleven I leave for Heathrow airport. A friend of mine is taking me to the airport and I hope to return the complement when he goes to Australia in the New Year. I had already prepared for Afghanistan and so packing was a real breeze. At least I hope it has been. I’ve managed to pair it all down to my rucksack and a laptop computer case. It certainly beats the last time I travelled back from New Zealand with an overweight suitcase, rucksack and golf clubs.

Long distance travel has never been one of my favourite pastimes, particularly in economy. One moment the crew are informing you about the dangers of deep vein thrombosis and the next that regulations state that you must not congregate near the toilets to stretch your legs. As Homer Simpson would say, “Doh!” This time I will have to have my fingerprint and a photograph taken at US immigration. I had vowed not to go via the US to NZ again since I am very much opposed to the inexorable creep of Big Brother. But the alternatives of Hong Kong, Kuala Lumpur or Singapore did not appeal this time. I hope that I have the determination to resist the introduction of identity cards in the UK. Here we have a government that can’t even be bothered to reintroduce passport checks on people leaving the country and yet wants to number its own citizens like prisoners in the gulag. You don’t have to be mad but it certainly does help.

The good news is that not only did I write up the fourteen new pages that I had found in my old notebook but I also located another four pages elsewhere. Overall this condensed down to about twelve computer pages worth of script. And I have to immodestly say that it’s not bad. It was an interesting experience since on many occasions I could remember the phrase which was to come next. Much of what I had written was based on actual experience and the smaller of the two entries reminded me of another young women who I had completely forgotten about. I certainly didn’t have that embarrassed feeling about what I had written since it seemed to flow pretty well. Whether anyone else will agree with me it’s difficult to tell. The storyline revolves around two separate tracks and at the moment I’ve got into a bit of a muddle since I’ve taken location scenarios from one and placed them in the other and vice versa. I think that I can sort it out by introducing my Cascade Saddle experience into the story and have the two main characters continue along the Routeburn and not back by the Rees Track as they had originally planned. In reality the Routeburn is completely separate from the other two and so that is where the fictional aspect comes into the story. I’m sure people who know the walks will be able to work it out, but not without a certain difficulty.

Still no final outcome to the Kabul hostage situation yet. The kidnapper deadlines keeps passing and they state that they have reduced their demands to a total of three. They’re not even demanding that US troops withdraw from the country now. It would therefore appear that a ransom is very high on the list although this hasn’t been revealed. In some ways that could be a good thing but if the UN and authorities give in then it will just lead to open season on kidnapping for financial reward. Of course, denials will be made that any ransom was ever given but everybody will know. Whatever the outcome it will not take away the sheer terror and misery that the innocent hostages are being subjected to at the moment. If I had gone ahead with the FAO mission I would have arrived in Afghanistan yesterday with the security situation still totally unresolved. At least I would have had my CD-ROM with me for protection!

Tuesday 9th November 2004

I’m now sitting in Terminal 1, Heathrow, adjacent to Gate 50 from where my flight to Los Angeles will depart in just over one hour. There was the normal heavy congestion on the M25, it seemed for no apparent reason. Fortunately I had allowed plenty of time for the journey. The check-in went very smoothly. I had asked Trailfinders to request an aisle seat but they said that British Airways had closed the seating allocation and that I should ask at check-in. The BA girl was very pleasant but said that I would have to ask again at the boarding gate. Fingers crossed. The freedom to get up as and when I like is pretty important since you just don’t have to bother anybody when they are sleeping. As I boarded the plane I was given an aisle seat. Halalujah! The news from Afghanistan has deteriorated with the kidnappers now threatening to kill the Kosovan girl, a muslim herself, if their demands are not at least partially met.

I have just read the part of the draft where Alexander first meets Mandy, Hoop and Sonja. It reads pretty well but I now realise that I must replace the descriptive passages by dialogue. For example, instead of stating that Alexander told Sonja about his boarding school experience I now should actually write his words. This may take quite a lot of effort but I hope that it will solve a few problems. I think that this particular passage will be a very good section to start working on. Another thing that has become apparent to me during this reading process is how many incidents actually happened, not always in the order or location stated, but at some time I certainly did experience them. The incident at the swimming hole where a girl I had completely forgotton about went for a swim, for example.

Wednesday 10th November 2004

It’s seven thirty in the morning and I have just finished a full American breakfast at the Hilton LAX. I’ve stayed here a few times in the past because it’s neat and tidy, and has proven to be very efficient. I have yet to make the transition from holiday maker mode to pauper mode since I really do have to minimise my daily expenditure. I can justify the current hotel cost to myself because flying straight to Auckland in economy is just not a healthy or, for that matter, a sane option. Alternative hotels where I have stayed in L.A. in the past are not much cheaper and certainly not as good.

I haven’t flown British Airways economy for some time but it is clear that they are determined to achieve the very top rating for deep vein thrombosis. Second place is clearly for losers. At five feet eight inches and thirteen stone I do not consider myself of above average stature. Simply average. I’m not exactly sure how wide the seats were but if I hold my breath I can just slide neatly between the armrests with absolutely no space to spare. The screen for the in-flight entertainment is located in the back of the seat in front of me. When my fellow traveller reclines his seat the screen very conveniently rests on my nose, a thoughtful facility for the visually impaired. I hypothesize that if the person in the very front of my cabin rapidly reclined his seat it would force twenty five seats behind him to fall down like a pack of cards crushing all of the passengers in-situ. It would be the most significant British Airways air accident in many years. Sheer carnage. Such is the way of the modern world. Forget 1984. This is 2004. In the Economy Plus section (Cattle Plus) I also noticed that the company have placed some large black and white photographs on the bulkhead illustrating a group happy travellers in what would appear to be the 1960’s era. They are sitting in comfortably wide seats with ample leg room. What are they trying to do, take the proverbial Michael.

My Qantas flight from Los Angeles to Auckland is not until eight thirty this evening. On previous occassions I have taken a city tour, visited Universal Studios or something similar. However, in order to reduce costs I am happy to stay close to my room and hopefully do some background work on my book. I might also take in one or two in-house movies. I’ve never been in my comfort zone in Los Angeles but I could say the same about any city, London, or even Auckland. I’m just the product of a countryside upbringing and I don’t feel totally at ease among all the high rise, concrete and tarmac.

The USA Today paper, which was slid under my door in the early hours, has some good coverage on the battle for Falujah. It lists the deaths of four soldiers, including Army Specialist Quoc Binh Tran, 26, from Mission Viejo, California. In 1975 I was in-transit in Bangkok on the point of starting my very first six month mission in a developing country, namely Malaysia. The lobby of the hotel were I was staying was full of American GIs and their Vietnamese girlfriends who had just pulled out of Vietnam in an undignified manner. It was therefore very poignant to see the Vietnamese name of the soldier who died in Iraq and to personally note that tragedy had once again visited his individual family group. However much one may question the United States motives I am very clear that communism in its practical implementation was and still is evil and that fundamentalism is also evil. The much used phrase “For evil to succeed it only requires the good to do nothing” has much truth in it. The monotonous bleatings of Claire Short and her friends makes me very angry. A good two year dose of voluntary service overseas might do her some good but I’m not sure that Africa would take her. The USA Today paper just happened to cover the recent flare-up in Ivory Coast where nine French ‘peacekeepers’ were killed by the country’s miniscule airforce. The French retaliated by completely destroying the planes and thereby propelled the country into further chaos. The French are now busy evacuating thirteen hundred French and foreign nationals from the capital Abidjan. “Sorry Claire. Please speak up since I did not hear you. What was that you said about colonisation?”

California Dreaming

2006-01-24T08:53:00.000+13:00

Thursday 4th November 2004

So where to now for an unemployed consultant agricultural engineer and part-time greenkeeper? A grey squirral is busy in my garden hoarding food for the coming winter. At least it knows what it is doing. There’s the possibility of a job greenkeeping in March 2005 and so perhaps I should do the same as the squirral and hibernate through the winter. Prospects, one may conclude, do not look good. Last summer I applied, without great enthusiasm, for many permanent jobs. Van driving and shelf stacking at Tesco come to mind. Failed the leaflet pyschometric test and didn’t even make the interview phase for either. What is the world coming to? Companies complain to the government that there is a shortage of workers and yet they don’t give thousands of ordinary people a chance. Since I failed the first pyschometric test I asked a Cambridge University veterinarian friend of mine to fill in the second. Just for fun. She failed to make the grade also. And B&Q were no better. I’m not sure if it has changed it’s policy but at one point you could only apply to B&Q online. I’ve worked with computers for over twenty years and have run my own website for seven years. Even I could not handle the appilication process and so what chance for the great illiterati who leave school unable to spell their name properly. But that’s OK Luv, just spell it as you like.

The predictable ranting of someone rapidly approaching grumpy old man status? Too old to accomodate change? But it’s not change for the sake of change we need. We’ve had far too much of that. We’ve spent billions going around in circles. We need progress. We need to rebuild a civilised society. Today I just happened to turn on the television shortly before noon where I caught the final ten minutes of a documentary programme. I couldn’t tell you whether it was for schools, the Open University or for what. However, it was about the founding of the UK welfare state directly after the Second World War and covered the period 1946 to 1951. Britain was devastated and bankrupt. Nevertheless enlightened people had already formulated a plan to introduce a public welfare system which covered health, education and housing with the objective of banishing disease, ignorance and poverty. It would be too harsh to call them propaganda but the clips from the public information films of the time illustrated clearly and concisely how the then Labour government planned to deal with the problems of the day. They were works of art and I’m sure film makers of today could learn a great deal from them. They certainly made a positive impact on me. I wanted to be part of that brave new world. Barbara Castle (of “I said to Harold” [Wilson the Prime Minister], “I told Harold” fame) was shown, and although she was never one of my favourites, you could see her sincerity and the satisfaction she had gained from being directly involved in that process. For the last twenty years politicians of all persuasions have promised the earth whilst presiding over an inexorable decline in the quality of life within this country. It’s starting to remind me of Pyongyang. We can do better. We really have to do better.

But I digress. I have to admit that Plan B had been in my mind for some time. It was a book that I had started in New Zealand a few years ago. Was it 1998? I’m not honestly sure. The partially completed manuscript, if that is not too grand a description, had sat there taunting me for nearly six years. Every few months I would pick it up and read a few pages until I would come across another piece of complete drivel. I’ve always found writing hard. Very hard. Lucky if I could complete three pages of a report in a morning. Yet report writing has been my life, the necessary end product of all my work in the field. But after all the toil I did seem to produce something which people found very readable. At least most of the time.

It all started, as happens, when a woman literally walked into my life. A young woman named T. I first saw her striding through the bush towards the Lake Howden hut on the Routeburn Track. Clearly she made an immediate impression on me. Love at first sight they usually call it. The event which happens so rarely in our lives, and for some never at all. Or was it just infatuation at first sight? We became friends, walked another track together, and than parted forever. All over in the matter of a few short days. There was absolutely no indication that she felt the same way about me. After all I was probably the same age as her father! That might be fine for Woody Allen and Rupert Mudoch but I was a few million short in the finance department.

But the encounter inspired me. It inspired me to write the outline of a love story against the backdrop of the spectacular scenery of the Southern Alps. The words just flowed as I travelled on the Inter-City and Newmans buses along the routes of the South Island. It must have been somewhat disconcerting for the people who sat next to me to see this idiot scribbling away in an old notebook whilst New Zealand flowed past the window. And sometimes, I admit, certain passages I wrote moved me near to tears. But until this moment I have been unable to finish or even progress the book. Had fate, in the form of Afghanistan, presented me with the opportunity to do so? After all there was no better time than November to travel to New Zealand. The airfares were relatively inexpensive prior to the Christmas and New Year rush. It would be quieter in Spring and the snow would still be clearly evident on the mountains. The book was set in late spring and so there would be no better time to gather the background material I required to strengthen the storyline. I was easily persuaded.

And so I did it. I picked up the telephone and called Trailfinders. I had travelled with them a number of times before and had been very impressed with their efficient and friendly service. In a matter of twenty minutes I had my flight to Auckland booked and my bank account relieved of nearly seven hundred pounds. London to Los Angeles, one night stopover, Los Angeles to Auckland. Departure Tuesday 9th November 2004. Absolutely bonkers. Totally irresponsible. But it felt really great.

Afghanistan here I come. Or not.

2006-01-24T08:51:00.000+13:00

Wednesday 3rd November 2004

On the 15th October 2004 I received an outline travel schedule which required me to be in Rome on the 31st October. No mention of the dreaded CD-ROM security test. Perhaps they had forgotton and if I was lucky I could quietly let it drop. I was due to continue my part-time greenkeeping job at the golf club until Wednesday the 27th October and so my time for actual project preparation was very limited. Fortunately the mission start date was subsequently delayed until the 3rd November once FAO realised that they were actually on holiday on the 1st November.

I had read somewhere that a visa for Afghanistan was not required and so I asked FAO to clarify the situation. However it turned out that I did need one and that I would have to apply for it myself in London. Time was now rapidly running out since the Afghan Embassy website stated that a visa would take two to five days to process. By now it was now Tuesday 26th October and so I planned to submit my passport and application form on the following Thursday, hoping that I could collect the visa on the following Monday at the latest. Thursday the 28th October came bright and clear and taking the train to London I finally arrived at the Afghan Embassy at about 11.00am. There were no helpful notices anywhere and so I just joined a queue of Afghanis. Long slow queues are just an accepted part of the visa application process but fortunately after about five minutes a kindly Afghani told me that he thought that I was in the wrong place. I was actually in the returning Afghani refugee queue! Where I needed to be was upstairs, he said. And indeed he was right. After handing in my application to the helpful visa officer I asked how long it would take. If it was going to take five days all my travel plans would go out of the proverbial window. “Come back in an hour” she replied. “There’s a nice vegetarian restaurant around the corner.” At times like that your spirits lift and somehow Afghanistan didn’t seem such a bad place after all.

I returned home at about four in the afternoon and turned on my iBook computer to check if there were any messages from FAO. Since my internet homepage is the BBC website it rapidly became clear to me that events in Afghanistan had moved on. With distinctly black humour I had previously said to my friends that if they saw me on television dressed in an orange suit they would know that things were not going as well as I had hoped. The news report stated that three UN employees, Angelito Nayan, Annetta Flanigan and Shqipe Habibi, had been kidnapped in broad daylight in the middle of Kabul. UN employees working for the overall welfare of Afghanistan had never been directly targeted before and so this was a new and disturbing development. A nationwide presidential election had just been successfully contested with a high turnout and with minimal disturbance. It had seemed like Afghanistan was moving on. But clearly some people were not prepared to let it do so.

I immediately sent an email to FAO requesting clarification on the security situation expecting that, as before, the mission would be postponed for some days or weeks until it could be determined if this was just a one-off event or the start of an Iraq type scenario where regular kidnappings and executions were the norm. They said that they would check it out but could I complete my CD-ROM security test and fax the final test result to them. And so it was back to the dreaded test. Three hours and twelve minutes. Three hours and twelve minutes! The only thing missing was a questionnaire for your kidnapper to fill in which they could forward to the UN market research department. That’s how long it took. And what did I gain from this ordeal. Absolutely nothing. If it had crashed before I had reached the end of the tests I would have politely told FAO where they could put their project. I’m sure that I would not have been the first. The disc must have cost tens of thousands of dollars to produce and I’m sure that everyone at UN Headquarters in New York is absolutely delighted with the end result. However, a simple twenty point checklist or a concise booklet would have been more far more effective. Nevertheless I continued to make preparations for my departure to Afghanistan. I still could not see how an organisation which purportedly placed staff safety as a very high priority would send people into such an uncertain situation.

On Sunday 31st October 2004 the first video of the three hostages was shown on an arabic television station and relayed around the world. The situation was bad. Very bad. The kidnappers threatened to execute the UN hostages by Wednesday 3rd November unless the authorities agreed to three main demands including, the withdrawal of foreign forces from Afghanistan, cessation of UN operations in Afghanistan, and the release of Taleban and al-Qaeda prisoners. You don’t have to be a political genius to see that none of these demands could be agreed to.

Seeing the hostages on television really made an impact on me. There but for the grace of God go I, I thought. But it was the UN spokesman in Kabul who really made me angry. “We continue UN operations as before”, he said. No temporary suspension of activities. Nothing. I certainly did not expect the UN to give in to the kidnappers demands and withdraw from Afghanistan. It had to stay the course. But it seemed to me that the UN were playing Russian roulette with the lives of three of the very best. It reminded me of a track on the Pink Floyd album, Dark Side of the Moon:

Forward they cried,
From the rear,
As the front rank died.

So much for the Staff Safety, Health and Welfare CD-ROM that I had just successfully completed. It was now crystal clear to me how much support I could expect to receive from the UN in Afghanistan should I need it in a similar situation. A big fat zero. I informed them that I was still prepared to go but only after another eight week postponement by which time the situation would be much clearer for everyone. Even if the hostages were released unharmed time would still be required for things to settle down. Clearly I wouldn’t be much use confined to a UN compound in Kabul for the duration of my three week stay.

I was due to fly out to Rome on the 3rd November and FAO were closed on Monday the 1st November. But I had to inform them of my position as soon as possible. So on the Monday I wrote an email to FAO which outlined the situation and which stated that I anticipated that the UN would suspend their new project activities in Afghanistan until the situation became clearer. I stated that I would not be prepared to work in Afghanistan within the following eight weeks. I felt that I could not wait until I arrived in Rome on the 3rd November to inform them about my safety reservations since money would already have been spent on my airfares and accomodation. If they wished me to go to Rome later to discuss alternative ways forward for the project then I was quite prepared to do so.

On Tuesday the 2nd November 2004 I expected a flurry of emails. Pehaps even one sympathising with my view of the changed security environment in Afghanistan and how best the project situation could be resolved. But no. Dead silence. My bags remained packed and ready to go. Then late in the day I received a short terse email from the FAO stating that my contract had been terminated. I can only guess that FAO considered it particularly inconvenient that I had deigned to pull out of the Afghan mission at short notice. Perhaps they considered it was their sole responsibility to tell me whether or not I should travel to Afghanistan. I don’t honestly know. Clearly it was not the done thing for me to make adult decisions for myself. In contrast I felt that it would have also been particularly inconvenient for me if my head was to be separated from my body by the space of a few feet.

Do I feel that I have let the Afghan people down? The answer is both yes and no. It is disappointing that the project did not proceed on schedule, but at a time when all UN staff in Kabul were restricted to their secure compounds what good could I do. I was still prepared to go to Afghanistan when the situation resolved itself but it would have been foolish for anyone to place themselves in a situation where there was such uncertainty. And so the question for me is, Where to Now?

Track: A Writers Diary (How Track came to be written)

2005-11-07T04:52:00.000+13:00

Wednesday 3rd November 2004

Where to now? My suitcase was packed. The books and reference material I required for the mission lay along my hallway in a neat row. My diary stated that that very day I was due to fly from London to Rome for briefing at the UN Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO). On Saturday it was Rome to Dubai, and then on to Kabul. But I would not be going.

The advice posted on the UK Foreign Office website for the past few months could not have been clearer.

......"We strongly advise against all but essential travel to Kabul and against all travel to other parts of Afghanistan. The security situation in Afghanistan remains serious and the threat to Westerners from terrorist or criminal violence, including kidnappings, remains high. There have been a number of attacks against the UN, NGOs, ISAF, coalition forces and individuals".......

But it was a risk that I had been prepared to take. After all I had spent thirty years working in some pretty difficult places: North Korea, Vietnam, Sudan, Liberia, Sierra Leone, Iran, Iraq, Syria and so on. And anyway the money would have been particularly useful since consultancy opportunities for an agricultural engineer were few and far between. Just as they should be in a rapidly developing world.

And so when I was first contacted by the FAO on the 20 August 2004 about the short-term mission to Afghanistan I said yes. Yes I would be interested in a mission which coincided with my particular area of expertise. Compared to Iraq the situation in Afghanistan had been comparatively tranquil for months. Elections were due in October 2004 and notwithstanding the warlord problem the country appeared to be emerging from a longstanding nightmare.

It was a rush job as usual. I don’t know why but that invariably seems to be the way it is with UN assignments nowadays. Tentative start date 5th September 2004 they said. Fifteen short days to have another compulsory medical, update vaccinations, update UN personal history form, dust off and update the Will, obtain an Afghan visa somehow, book flights, locate Afghan information sources on the internet and so on.

“Had I taken the UN Basic Security in the Field (Staff Safety, Health and Welfare) test? Since I had been working for FAO in Malaysia in 2003 I should have taken one”, the email stated.

No. Not a clue what they were talking about. Now only ten days to specified departure date and counting and so FAO say they will send me a CD-ROM by DHL and I must pass the test before I can be cleared to go to Afghanistan or anywhere else for that matter. Bermuda? Sorry, rules are rules. One or two days later the CD-ROM arrived. Well not quite. I wasn’t in and so the package was returned to the DHL depot somewhere close to Novigrad. Yes they could post this urgent package through my letter box if I left a note outside my door providing written authority. Tomorrow or was it the next day. And so I did so.

When the neatly packaged CD-ROM finally arrived I read the introduction on the back with interest.

“The continuing rise of conflict situations together with conditions of general insecurity and criminal activities, continues to place staff of international organisations at greater and greater risk. This alarming trend means that increased awareness and focus is required for security planning and training. This course will help you understand the basic security concepts and techniques - to help ensure your safety, health and welfare.”

Very true. But what’s new? Have you stayed in the Rooster Hotel in Monrovia in 79, an apartment in Albania with gunshots going off through the sultry night in 98, or in a grass hut in a refugee camp in the Sudan in 81? Been there, done that. But hey. Why so uptight. Relax. Just place the CD-ROM in your Bill Gates haven of peace and tranquillity and complete the test.

But we have a problem Houston. Since 1984 I had been using various forms of Apple computer, starting with the original Macintosh until now I had two iBooks. Old tangerine and blue models of course. Money’s too tight to mention. I well remember lugging my old Macintosh up the plane steps in Yemen in 89 whilst my wealthier World Bank colleagues laughed at me as they lugged their equally ridiculous, but marginally smaller, PC computers up the same steps. But how did I become a heretic and not a follower of the one true faith. Simple really. MSDOS. Younger people will not have experienced the ancient days when in order to enter the Microsoft brother and sisterhood you had to study the Great Book for months on end. And that was just to turn the computer on! And then behold a new faith arose in the west. Macintosh. I had read that Apple had a promotion whereby you handed over a fifty pounds refundable deposit and they let you take the computer home for the weekend. No instruction, nothing. Just a simple floppy disc guide. I took it home, plugged it in, and away I went. Write a letter, cut and paste, no problem. Simple. There was no turning back after that. After all I was in the business of writing reports. The following Monday I went into the computer shop, wrote out a cheque for two thousand two hundred pounds and walked out a very happy customer. But the Great One was displeased.

“The Macintosh is just a toy and cannot be used for for serious work” he said. MSDOS is the one true faith. And lo, the multitude did believe the Great One and the magazines ridiculed the people of Mac. One or two years later the Great One brought out the Windows operating system that was virtually identical to the Macintosh product. Funny that.

But I digress. Microsoft format CD-ROM and Apple iBook just do not get on. And so I took the disc to a friend who was a true follower and plugged it in. After all I had to complete the test otherwise there would be no UN work in the future. Let’s be positive. The screen came alive with accompanying strangulated Chinglish voice providing a laboriously slow commentary. After about thirty minutes I was becoming seriously deflated. From the various modules that must be passed it looked as though it could take three weeks to complete. And the really great thing about the CD-ROM was that I could not save the work that I had already done and the tests that I had already completed. Three weeks at the machine without food and water. And what if the computer crashed just as I was reaching the end and had not completed the final test. Suicide would clearly have been the only option. And so I put it on hold and planned to complete the security test at the very last minute when I was certain that I was actually going to Afghanistan. After all in this line of work the only certainty is when you are walking up the steps of the plane and the door closes.

On the 30th August 2004 I received an email which stated that:

“Due to the present security situation, the security clearance for your proposed mission has not been granted.”

This did not surprise me since a day or so earlier a suicide bomber had killed himself and a few innocent people in the Chicken Street market area of Kabul. The relief was enormous. Not the Afghanistan security situation with its bombs and bullets. No. The relief was that I would not have to face that infernal CD-ROM for a while. The email went on to ask if I would be available for a revised mission towards the end of October 2004. Indeed I would, I replied.

6 November 2005: To be continued

Synopsis:

2005-03-29T04:07:00.000+12:00

Every year the major walking tracks of New Zealand act as a magnet to thousands of visitors from all corners of the world. A large proportion of those visitors will be backpackers in their early twenties who are testing their adult wings for the very first time. Others may be older and some may be trying to solve the riddle of their lives. And foremost among the backpackers are those who travel alone. Sometimes their paths interact with each other in unexpected ways and strangers may become friends, lovers and even victims in an environment which can show its many faces within a single day. Set against the backdrop of the majestic Southern Alps Track follows the story of three such people and the relic of an earlier era, Te Puke. Te Puke of One Thousand Battles. And the enemy that they all face is the power of nature itself.