Starting our journey home

Ever the accommodating hosts, Brian and Jan have breakfast ready for us early so that we can start our journey north. This has been our first experience of truly "hosted" accommodation - where we share common living areas of the house and meals with our hosts - and it has been like spending a night with family. We enjoy home-baked bread for breakfast which seems to embody our hosts' entire approach to caring for their guests:

"You're part of us for the night"

Our hosts are kind and knowledgeable about so many things: the local area where they have lived for decades, the South Island where they have worked for many years including as volunteers in wilderness areas, and beyond that to global politics, science and popular culture. From their tiny seaside hamlet in a remote corner of New Zealand, they've managed to survive with only one TV, a basic internet connection and forego expensive trips overseas... because The World comes to them.

Soon we are on our way and the rich green carpet rolls out more bucolic scenes for the 1.5 hour journey to Dunedin. 

On the road to Dunedin

Our lovely hosts in Invercargill had recommended a visit to Olveston House when we passed through Dunedin again so that is where we go, and manage to just squeak in to the 10:45am tour of the house. Photographs are not permitted inside and it is only possible to visit when on a guided tour. Once indoors it's clear why as the interior is immaculate and most of the furniture, art and artefacts are original. The house is a time capsule bequeathed to the City of Dunedin in the 1960s by Dorothy Theomin, the last surviving member of the Theomin family. Her father had been a wealthy Jewish businessman who made his fortune on the sale of pianos and sheet music. The house was specially designed and built in 1906, with many of the materials (wood, glass) transported over from the UK. It offers a fascinating insight into the upstairs/downstairs world of a well-to-do household down to the silverware in the butler's pantry and bells in each of the upstairs rooms for summoning the servants. Even the original 1920s Fiat is parked in the garage after it was painstakingly tracked down, repurchased and restored over 2 years in Christchurch.

The grand facade of Olveston House

Olveston House

This is the sort of greenhouse I dream about - benches covered with beautiful plants and flowers...

...including many varieties of fuchsia 

The historic house is very close to the city centre so we return to our 'favourite' Dunedin haunt for lunch - the Art Gallery cafe. It is then a long drive to Timaru so after a while I take the wheel for the next 2 hours. The sat nav takes us off the main highway when we're still some way out of Timaru and we travel along a quiet rural road for kilometre after kilometre. As the road gets narrower and the countryside even wilder, we start to wonder if we have the right place at all when we finally spot the sign for Castle Claremont. 

This morning's sunshine has given way to a gloomy, overcast afternoon and the air is heavy. So it feels quite eerie to make our way along the seemingly endless driveway that snakes its way uphill through thick bush. When we do finally emerge into a clearing at the top of the hill, we spot a very handsome granite mansion. 

It is hard not to be impressed when the house finally appears 

Having visited an exquisite historic house this morning, we are now spending the night in another. Castle Claremont is over 130 years old and built from granite quarried on site. Commissioned by a settler family, it took stonemasons and carpenters from England three years to construct. The house was leased to the Crown for a time and was once home to Lord Ranfurly, a former Governor of New Zealand. The present owner, and our host for the evening, Rob is a smartly dressed gentleman who meets our car and takes us around the house on an impromptu tour. Rob has poured his life and finances into restoring this house. The interior is grand and sympathetic to the heritage significance of this place. So many rooms(!) with beautiful antique furniture and art - a study, billiards room, large reception rooms and a dining room used for conferences. Ross is in his element! The grounds are extensive too with well-manicured lawns near the house, and there is even a chapel that is rented out for weddings sometimes. 

The entrance hall and main staircase

Upstairs is similarly magnificent and our suite for the evening is ridiculously large for just the two of us. Rob invites us to settle in and then come downstairs to the kitchen for a cup of tea. We meet Sally and Marion (a couple of retirees from Christchurch), and a German student, who are all volunteers assisting Rob with the garden and other odd jobs in exchange for a few days' accommodation. Sally is something of a snooker player and even carries her own cue and so Ross hastily arranges a game. 

Upstairs landing

Upstairs landing

Our enormous room, with a suitably enormous bathroom attached

The pretty chapel next to the house

Chapel interior

Sally fetches her cue from the car and the game is on... 

Ross in action

With great concentration and skill, Ross conducts himself admirably. After the last ball is sunk, Ross and I get back in the car and rely on Rob's hand-drawn mudmap to navigate the  15 minute drive to Timaru. At Bay Hill we find a casual bar and restaurant that serves up  delicious fish and roasted vegetables.

When we return to the house, everyone is seated around the fireplace enjoying some warmth and a cup of tea, and so we join in the conversation. The ladies are lovely and talk openly about their lives in Christchurch, including harrowing stories of the day 9 years ago when the big earthquake came and changed everything. Rob is a masterful raconteur and regales us with tales of his peripatetic life in Australia and New Zealand. He is a self-described 'Toad of Toad Hall' who hankers for new things and experiences. Castle Claremont was one of his whims but has lately become more of a yoke around his neck. Behind the flashy tales of Buicks bought and sold for profit, country towns and undertakers, there is a great weariness. He tries not to laugh as it triggers coughing fits and he seems to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. He tells us that but for the volunteers, he pretty much looks after this place on his own which is astonishing. In the long winter months he lives in the kitchen and a few rooms that are kept heated, with only his dogs for company.