Still on an adrenalin high, they started their final journey back to Christchurch in their campervan, ready to catch their flight the next day. Entering the city outskirts, LP pulled into one of many Top Ten van parks dotted around the country.
They drove up to a window covered by an awning, feeling like they were about to place a take away order. LP asked for one van site with amenities close, and they were given keys and a map showing where to park.
He reversed into their site, directly facing a building housing shower, toilets and cooking facilities. It was the perfect spot to set up.
Ingrid started reorganising the back of their van for sleeping. LP grabbed a cold beer from his bar fridge. Sitting outside at the white plastic table and chairs provided, he started feeding the locals. Ten ducks quacked for food as LP broke up bread for them.
"Don't feed the ducks, or they'll be quacking all night for more” Ingrid said from inside. “How about a hand setting up? You know I'd like a drink too, but this has to be done first.”
LP finished his stubby and helped set up the beds. Next on the agenda was shopping in Christchurch.
They crossed the busy four-lane highway outside the van park and sat down at a bus stop. Traffic zoomed past while Ingrid studied her tourist map, circling where they wanted to go for duty free shopping.
Ten minutes passed before the bus arrived. LP jumped up and raised his hand signalling the bus to stop. They choose a seat at the front for a clear view as they headed for Cathedral Square. What they saw in full daylight revealed the extent of damage from the recent earthquake.
Aftershocks still rattled the city, and many buildings were closed and boarded up. Other buildings and houses were surrounded by yellow tape, marked for demolition. Vacant house blocks marked the places where homes had been swallowed up by nature's fury. For those that withstood the earth tremor, they all shared the mark of collapsed brick chimney stacks, while the homes remained intact.
Canterbury folk were getting on with their lives, and every other aspect of city life seemed normal. It was peak hour and traffic jams gave the city a sense of urban normality as people headed home from work.
The bus driver opened his door onto Christchurch's main street, lined with several duty free shops. Ingrid stepped out of the bus and straight in to the first shop. LP was keeping up, looking for new Ugg boots. It was the one thing he wanted to buy before he flew back to Brisbane, Canterbury sheep skin boots, size twelve.
Shop after shop, Ingrid noted what she wanted to buy, then they took a break for a drink at a café overlooking Cathedral Square.
They looked up at the steeple tower, resting on grey blocks of stone, unshaken and unmoved by the earthquake. A house of worship standing firm over its city.
As they finished their drinks, they wondered why Cathedral Square had been untouched by the earthquake, so fortunate.
At an information kiosk they found out how to catch the tourist tram that did a circuit of the Cathedral Square district every twenty minutes. Ding, ding the tram bells rang as it arrived. Passengers disembarked and LP and Ingrid hopped on board with all the other tourists.
Ding, ding, the tram driver pulled a lever overhead, and the tram rolled ahead on old steel tracks that had carried passengers down the centre of the road for over one hundred years.
Three stops later they stepped off, visiting another café for pizza. The pace of the city had slowed now. Twilight was dimming and their journey was almost at an end.
LP was itching to give the casino another crack at paying out.
He said to Ingrid, "Let’s go to the casino. I'm feeling lucky.”
“Give it a miss. You don't know how much you won on Monkey King, and there's not much cash left in your wallet. We need money to buy gifts for us and the kids. I don't want you to lose it in there."
"Trust me; all I need is twenty minutes. We'll be in and out in no time" LP said with confidence. He'd have to be quick before security cameras picked up that he was in the building again.
"Ok, but I'll kill you if you lose." She looked at him with her lips pulled tight.
They entered the casino at 9:55pm, and LP walked straight to his winning table. He studied the history of the past numbers dropped. Before placing his first bet, he moved his gambling chips across in front of where he was standing. He followed his previous winning pattern except started with a ten dollar bet on twenty-three, and a split bet across zero and double zero. On the third spin, with sixty dollars placed on the table, LP called on his angels of luck to intervene, as the red ball bounced over the numbers.
“Twenty-three winner” was the call. Wasting no time, LP collected his chips and cashed them in at the cashier's desk.
Ingrid asked, "How much did you win?"
"I'm up one thousand nine hundred and forty dollars."
Luck followed him as they walked past poker machines going off with free spins and mini jackpot wins for women with their eyes glued to their machines. LP wanted to stop but security was heading their way. The last machine they were about to walk past was an oversized one dollar, one armed bandit of the old style. Above the machine flashed ‘Jackpot $23,000’.
With his lucky numbers scrolling above, LP couldn't resist dropping a dollar down its throat. He turned to the woman at the next machine as he pulled the handle, and said "I can't wait. If it wins, you collect."
Ding, Ding, Ding. Three gold bars stopped on the centre line. Jackpot!
Everyone crowded around, blocking security as LP and Ingrid left the building.
They stepped straight into a waiting taxi and headed back to finish their duty free shopping.
After buying presents and LP’s Ugg boots, Ingrid asked, “How much cash is left?"
”About seven hundred dollars" he replied.
"Why don't we give some of those winnings to the Salvo's rattling their can in front of the cathedral? They are collecting for the earthquake appeal" Ingrid suggested.
LP agreed, and walking over, pulled out a wad of notes. He counted out five hundred dollars and squeezed the cash into a slot accustomed to loose change. He had about two hundred dollars left for a cab ride to Christchurch Airport and some duty free alcohol.
Arriving back at the van park for their last night in the land of the long white cloud, they walked along a floodlit path through the van park’s entrance. Tired, carrying bags of presents, they headed back to their campervan for a good night’s sleep.
Up at six, LP sat outside talking to his new-found friends. Short on a conversation, they offered just a few quacks waiting for bread to be thrown.
Thick fog filled the air as aftershocks from the recent earthquake rumbled beneath his feet. No alarms were needed that morning as nature shook travellers from their campervans. Ingrid started cleaning and packing the van to return it by mid-day, leaving enough time to make their flight.
LP made breakfast at the communal kitchen while Ingrid finished packing. They returned the keys through the takeaway style window and motored leisurely away, leaving behind fond memories of the van parks they had stayed in.
They turned north, heading towards the epicentre of the region's recent earthquake. They had about an hour to spare to visit Ingrid friend’s parents, who had survived the quake.
Driving out of town, debris still lay around, waiting to be removed by council workmen. At Kaiapoi’s main inter- section, the local two story hardware shop was half demolished with rubble strewn into the roadway.
Turning right, they followed instructions from the other woman, Navman. After a while she announced "Perform a u-turn. In fifty metres, stop at destination."
Merv and Rita came out outside with a warm welcome. Kisses were shared between the women and LP stretched out his left hand to shake, aware that Merv had lost his right arm in an industrial accident.
Rita bought out scones and poured tea, hospitality not uncommon in this part of the world. Later, Merv showed LP around their property, viewing the damage caused by the earthquake. Concrete slabs were cracked open like biscuits, oozing out a black gunk from deep below the surface. The lounge room, situated at the front corner of their house, had subsided and could be noticed from the road.
LP sympathised with the trouble and danger they found themselves in. Merv had done a great job restoring their home to something that almost resembled what they had before disaster struck. Now they just had to wait for the National Insurance Fund to organise contractors to fix their property.
LP borrowed a hammer and pliers to make repairs to the campervan. A sliding drawer had slid right out as they went around a sharp bend at Milford Sound, breaking into pieces. He needed to repair the damage before returning the van. It only took a few minutes and was as good as new.
While they were out at the van, LP opened his bar fridge and grabbed two cold beers. He handed Merv one, saying, "Cheers. We've made up a relief package of all the food we have to leave behind when we go home. There's a half a carton of beer, fruit and groceries. We want you to have this.” Merv was grateful for the gift, and LP carried the box of goodies into the house and placed it on the kitchen bench.
Merv wanted to pay back LP's generosity. He said to his new mate. "Sit down and I'll bring you a top up." LP dropped himself down into Merv's favourite recliner and asked "What’s that in the soft drink bottle?"
Merv twisted the screw cap off and poured what looked like ginger ale into two glasses. “What do you think of this? It's our local town brew. All I do is walk down into town, hand over a two litre plastic bottle, have it filled up, and walk back home again. It’s good value at six dollars fifty a bottle.”
Merv continued “Tankers full of beer arrive every week. They have a big hose like the ones for transferring milk to holding tanks.” LP felt a sense of déjà vu, remembering how tankers had pulled up outside pubs thirty-six years ago, doing exactly the same thing.
"So how do you buy beer in Queensland?" Merv asked.
"Cans, bottles or on tap.” LP replied. “It’s delivered in stainless steel kegs by truck. Pity breweries don't implement your system of delivery. It could keep beer prices down”.
Before leaving, LP showed Merv the photo of him standing on Old Man Peak. Merv, choked up and a little emotional, walked over to a photo hanging on the wall of him, also standing on a mountain ledge overlooking green pastures below, with snow capped Alps in the distance. It was before his accident.
Merv reminisced about his old climbing days "You guys had it easy; in my day with two good arms it would take all day and the next morning to reach some summits. You say it took you twenty minutes. I guess that’s progress. Even so, I think if you climbed a mountain the hard way you'd get far more satisfaction."
“You are probably right. If I had the time to train and bring my fitness level up I could have done it, even with my crook knee. Times have changed Merv. The pace of life has quickened and you need to seize every opportunity before it disappears.”
“Granted, I’d like to do more, but since the accident I’m limited in what I can achieve” Merv said.
"Well mate, together we're going to climb a mountain my way, when I’m back in New Zealand next. How about that?”
“That’ll be great, can’t wait,” Merv replied.
LP finished his beer and Ingrid put down her cuppa.
They thanked their hosts for the hospitality and said to call if there was anything they could do to help, before taking some happy snaps in front of Merv's prize winning roses on the way out.
Their drive back to Christchurch was uneventful, just the usual heavy city traffic. They turned into Backerpacker Van's depot and joined the queue of vehicles waiting to be checked over for damage. He hoped his repair job held up to inspection.
LP was reluctant to hand back their VW campervan keys. Their seven days of driving was reminiscent of driving the old Kombi to Bells Beach in 1973. He'd remember their trip with fond memories of past and present.
Their van was checked for damage. They joined another queue, this one for the shuttle bus to the airport for the last leg of their journey.
Once they had checked in at the airport, they spent the last of their New Zealand money on duty free alcohol to take home, leaving just five dollars in LPs wallet.
Ingrid still had one question to ask of LP, "How much did you win on Monkey King?"
“I won’t know until I check my phone betting account when we land in Brisbane.” Three hours later, they landed back at Brisbane's International Airport. Collecting their luggage, they walked through customs without being scanned or searched, and exited through the automatic glass doors into Brisbane's humid air. Leaving the airport by cab, they headed for LP's folk's place where he had parked their car.
Peak hour traffic was crawling along, made worse by road works at an overpass. You couldn't get a worse combination for chaos.
He turned to Ingrid, saying "I forgot how bad Brisbane traffic had become.” Travelling two thousand two hundred kilometres on the South Island, they had seen more sheep than cars.
"Yes love, you’re back to reality now and work tomorrow."
They paid the sixty dollars cab fare by credit card and thanked the Kiwi cab driver. He said he had left New Zealand fifteen years earlier because the blood sucking sand flies had driven him crazy