Speed Through Pt 4: Otira Valley killed my car!

Before we get to the Otira Valley part of this saga, let me fill you in on the rest of the West Coast:

-Greymouth: Adam was right. There is nothing there. It is an ugly blight on the landscape, although not quite as hideous as Bluff. Got savaged by sandflies.

-Hokitika: Cute little place. Good window shopping, although not a lot of it. There was an extremely odd sand sculpture festival going on and a few of the sculptures were quite hilarious. Got savaged by sandflies.

-Westport: Didn't leave much of an impression. We kept on driving north after Westport, just to see what was at the end of the highway, but there wasn't much. Nice drive, lots of pretty coastal scenery. Got savaged by sandflies.

-North of Westport back to Arthur's Pass: The west coast truly is a stunningly beautiful place, even if it's towns hold little interest. We enjoyed the drive. We really enjoyed being in the car and not getting savaged by sandflies.

And now we come to Otira Valley. This is the western portion of the Arthur's Pass highway route that provides the most direct connection between Christchurch and the west coast. It is a notoriously long and hilly stretch that travels through a mountainous land nearly desert-like in it's bleakness. As we were travelling up the Otira Valley portion, I saw many cars pulled over on the side of the road. Hm, I thought, not much here to take pictures of.

Then, towards the very top of the climb out of Otira Valley and right before the Arthur's Pass village site, Sparkleypoo registered her severe disapproval of the road. She started to steam and she started to slow (which is alarming when you can't really get much above 40 kph due to the grade anyway) and we pulled over to have a look. There was still water in the cooler tank, but we added more, crossed our fingers and hoped for the best. Then, right at the top of the very last hump that would take us to the downslope and Arthur's Pass, she bucked. Once, twice, thrice she bucked while I muttered "just a few more meters, just a few more meters...". We got over the hill and rolled into Aurthur's Pass, and figured that it would be wise to stop for a drink and to let the car cool down. It was a brutal climb out of that valley and a hot day to begin with. We would give the car a rest.

Sparkleypoo evidently wanted a little more than a rest. She wanted to die. And she made a valiant attempt at doing so. When we went to start her up again, there was nary a 'click' from the engine. The battery was working, but the engine wouldn't even try to turn over. A few other cars were also parked around us, with drivers staring forlornly at flat tires or vehicles that simply wouldn't start.

Arthur's Pass being in New Zealand and New Zealanders having strange ideas about matters of practicality and service, there was - of course - no service station in Arthur's Pass. There was one, and signs indicated the direction to said service station, but it had shut down a good five years ago. Funny, considering that Otira Valley apparently kills cars all the time for fun, that no one had bothered opening another one. We needed to get a tow truck to haul us in to the closest service station at a town called Springfield, a good 100 kms away.

Needless to say, the tow bill hurt. Actually, the tow bill hurt more than the replacement starter motor (which was fried, which was why the car wouldn't start) and the labour to install it. Placated by the sacrificial offering of a new starter, Sparkleypoo was willing to run perfectly once more.

We, on the other hand, were completely fed up and decided that upon our return to Christchurch we would attempt to sell her immediately. The starter motor incident meant that we had to spend one night at the hostel in Springfield while the car was attended to, and once we were up and running again we were all to happy to return to Christchurch and back to the hospitality of our Kiwi Sweetie, Cousin J.