Lyttleton

With bus passes in hand we caught the number 7 and set out for a day trip to the volcanic
town of Lytleton. Glenna thougt it odd that people would pay $ 25.00 to take a Gondola to the top of the mountain when we were going to do it for $ 2.00 each on the bus. She soon found out the road to Lytleton is tunneled through the mountain and the only way up would be walking. A lovely warm and sticky day to make the trek twice as enjoyable. We stopped at the farmer's market where a kind farmer gave us two deep purple plums. They sold by the 5 pound bag but I didn't want to carry them around with us. It took Colin about a minute to have a fine purple stain on his shirt. We climbed up a steep steep series of hills to the time ball, a clock that passing ships use to tell the local time. Views were spectacular of the rim of the old volcano and of the cruise ship the Queen Victoria. Not often you can look down on a ship of this size. The ring of hills are actually whats left of the volcano. This is also the harbour that Scott embarked on his ill-fated attempt to reach south pole. Stopped for fish and chips when we got back to the main town. Enough for two in one order at four dollars but we had ordered one each before we knew. At this point Glenna realized she had lost her purse. Money, driver's license, bank card, new camera, blah,blah,blah. I hiked up the hills again, although was in no mood to stop and chat with Maria or the other von Trapps as I pressed for the summit. Glenna went off to the police station to report the loss. The hills are practically straight up so once a day is more than enough. I left two amazed sherpas, training at the nearby Hillory Institute,in my wake. As I passed the last of the big horn sheep and mountain goats I knew I was close.

When I arrived at the time ball there was a wedding party of Hell's Angel types, from Nelson, wrapping up a wedding reception and pictures. As I climbed the last few steps one of the women held up Glenna's purse and asked if anyone owned it. To much laughter I said it was mine. I quickly told the storey and was rewarded for my chivalry with a glass of champagne. I found Glenna sitting outside of the local police station, a station which is a dead ringer for the sixties british TV series Heartbeat.

Christchurch, New Zealand