Banks open

There may not be much left of what made Christchurch a tourist mecca but the people who live there have choices galore should they ever feel like escaping for a day. The Banks Peninsula, named after the botanist who travelled out with Cook, is perhaps the closest away day opportunity. 

My pal Jon drives us over to Banksy, as I'll call it, and as we come over the Port Hills the peninsula strikes me as looking like a great soft yellow lion's paw stretching down to the water with each knuckle an inlet or cove.
We have lunch at Hilltop, a great pub overlooking one of the inlets, and choose a pizza topped with Barry's Bay blue cheese, from the cheesemaker at the bottom of the hill. 

There's a little walk Jon has found in a book that takes in a 2,000 year old totara tree (the soft wood was favoured for Maori war canoes), then a scramble through dense bush and over fairly hefty rocks to the shoulder and views out over both sides.



It's a bit of a tree stump graveyard up here, from clearing by early settlers for building materials, farm work, agriculture, whatever. It's very sad to see, but I gather the Maoris did a fair bit of tree felling in their time, to create gardens to grow kumera (sweet potato) or to make it easier to hunt the moa birds into extinction. The water appears an icy glacial blue and there's a great view of a Maori 'pa' or fortified island (in the middle of the inlet above).

We get as far as Akaroa, known as the French town, after some French people settled here in the early days. I'm not sure how many French people still live here but they're hanging on to their claim to fame, with l'essence available at the garage instead of petrol and French store, cafe and street names. The bright blue sheds on the main pier actually look more Scandinavian to me (see below).

After a stroll along the quay we turn back inland to meet up with Jon's wife Janine and the kids at her cousin Marcus's quirky campground in the Okuti valley. It's called Manaia and its rambling grounds reveal tiny wooden cabins with eclectic collections of furniture, a few teepees, an outdoor kitchen and a stream with native eels.
The family are all playing football when we arrive, boys against girls. Janine is staying the night so she can hang out with her cousins and has been allocated the Love Shack, a hideaway in the trees that is ever so scenic, but promises to be ever so chilly.

We enjoy a sumptuous buffet laid out in Marcus and his wife's cosy cabin and then move out to the campfire to toast marshmallows.
There's a glitter ball hanging from a tree above the fire that catches the light from the flames and throws out reflected sparkles. Jon, Tarn, Grace and I sing all the way home.