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Tolldown to Bath via the American Museum: 25/4/23

 Tolldown's full English breakfast at the Crown was less generous than most other places, with only one small slice of toast and a single egg, but it was adequate, and I set out for the drive towards Bath in bright sunshine and a good mood -- which abated as I wrestled with the traffic. I had decided to come in obliquely via the large recreation areas to the south-east of Bath, but even getting there involved lots of narrow roads, up and down hills, one-way traffic lights for roadworks, and crossing the centre line to get around parked cars. On the way I drove through Bathhampton, which is where Arthur Phillip came from, and is buried, though I didn't know it at the time. This is also where they have a genuine private toll bridge, with two collectors holding out a bag and getting GBP1 from every car that comes through. At about 9:30 I reached my first destination, the American Museum, set up on the outskirts of Bath by yet another couple of rich gay Americans. This claims to be...
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Day 15: Alexandra to Timaru

Another long drive, up to the north, over a pass and back down again. Very empty roads and deserted surroundings--dry, almost treeless hills and huge bright blue lakes with limestone in the water. It's a long way between towns, but they seem to be thriving; Alexandra itself is quite large and Cromwell, further north, is also booming, although it's hard to see what there is to do here other than tourism and a bit of work in the hydroelectric industry. Lots of boats about, although given the size of the lakes you could easily think you were the only one there. And at least one houseboat, moored in a little inlet alongside one of the lakes near Cromwell. Lunched in Kurow on chips and deep-fried mussels, then pressed on towards the coast. Started recognising names and signposts from my trip down. One poor farmer has had two of his (her?) dogs lost or stolen. He's printed posters of them and attached then to noticeboards over an area of several hundred square kilometres. s...
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Day 22: St Albans to Home

With most of the day in hand I decided to visit some walking areas around Christchurch. Started at the Bottle Lake Forest Park, which is terrifying. It's a vast area where trees are grown for logging, but only the areas currently being logged are fenced off. So you can walk or run or trail bike or ride a horse around everywhere else along roughly made paths, with the usual sparsity of signnposts. The walking tracks are very sandy, so after a while I stuck to the roads and bike tracks; and they're all lined with hectare after hectare of aggressive blackberry bushes. This is presumably to feed people who get lost and wander around helplessly in the area for days. So I had blackberries for breakfast, and narrowly avoided getting snagged. There are roads through the area, but most of them don't show up on Google Maps, and it's very easy to get lost. There are pine forests, half-cleared areas with vast piles of timber, and sandy stretches which don't grow anything but bl...
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