SATURDAY, APRIL 5, 2008
The Briefing Meeting - 3:45
I have anticipated this tour for so long now as its’ own unique challenge - 5 to 7 hours of hiking in a World Heritage area - that I came and asked the time of the meeting twice while I was roaming the streets of Queenstown making last minute arrangements. So it was with some trepidation that I walked in for the briefing. I looked around and sized up the group. The English are supposed to be born hikers I’m told and the Kiwis live here so they must hike a lot. Home field sort of thing. Look at their shoes. A few have on serious hiking boots. I’ll avoid them for sure. No high heels. And pants - none look new and they all look practical. No weak society matrons with manicured nails here. Damn! I’m in trouble. There are two teenage boys. Hmmm…..A few older retired types. Hmmm……..What sort of group will this be?
Who will be fast, who will drag, and who will everyone wish could be voted off the track? I hope it isn’t ME!
We were all issued numbered backpacks, sleeping sheets, a rain coat and told what we should have with us to keep the packs light and ourselves warm and comfortable. Leave behind - makeup (eeek), multiple changes of clothes (live in one set of hiking clothes and one set of evening clothes.), money, credit cards, passports, anything that add extra weight, no matter how small. We were also given a small bag into which we could put a change of clothes and other small items we may want in Milford. This was also their opportunity to sell all the little things you may need like a wool T -shirt (cotton is not advised as it traps moisture), wool fleece for your feet (not to keep them warm but to cushion blisters and other sore spots), walking sticks, and a “torch” which is a small flashlight for midnight trips to the potty.
A few dollars poorer (I really needed that torch and fleece sounded preventative. And who can resist an all wool T-shirt, especially one with mountains on it? Heck all I have are cotton and I sure want to wick!) I headed up the hill to my room to sort out my clothes and do a load of laundry. What to wear in the evenings? Which shoes? Yikes, the bottle of sunscreen is FULL and weighs 8oz. Which shoes are lighter - the sandals or the moccasins? To decide I held them both out to the side at shoulder height and closed my eyes and waited for one arm to feel heavier. They felt the same. Sandals won because they had open toes and I thought my feet would appreciate that after a day of toe banging in boots. Bug spray for sand flies- another full can. Well, I can’t spray half of it out and I’m told that the flies are vicious, so in it goes, even full. And in spite of the weight I brought my money, passport and credit cards, not trusting to leave them at the hostel for 5 days. I thought it was enough of a risk to leave my computer in their locked room. I went to bed mentally making sure I packed everything I would need.
SUNDAY, APRIL 6, 2008
Wake Up To The Adventure - .8 miles of walking
I was up extra early, writing my blog (yes, I do think of you) and making last minute packing decisions. After a lovely breakfast overlooking the Lake, Mandy called a taxi for me and I loaded all my luggage. Off we roared to the storage area of the hostel, which was further out of town than I thought it would be. After offloading my own backpack and suitcase (which has now been expanded to fit all the stuff I’ve accumulated) we raced through town to pull up beside the bus to Te Anau five minutes before departure. Imagine my surprise when I walked up to a full bus, stepped aboard and was greeted by everyone in unison saying “Hello Beth” (pronounced bayth). Sigh. My fate is sealed. I’m sure to be voted off the track. I’m also at a grave disadvantage now; everyone knows my name and yet I know no one at all. (Mercifully, we all wore name tags the entire trip) In defense I reminded them all that I still had 5 minutes, they were all way to early and there was still time for a cuppa. They all laughed and I slipped into a seat, wishing anonymity, but knowing all the while that that was now totally impossible.
The bus took us to a hotel in Te Anau where we had lunch - hot soup and an array of sandwiches. I sat at a table of mostly men, one of whom I had sat next to on the bus. Keith is a retired air traffic controller who likes the outdoors, particularly hiking. His wife was unable to make such an arduous trek, so he came alone. The other men indicated that their wives would not enjoy this sort of activity so they, too, came alone.
After lunch we were milling about waiting for a group photo when a bus rolled up. Murmur went around that this was a group that was just finishing, and so we were keen to see their expressions. Were they haggard? Were they limping? Or were they smiling and happy go lucky. Mixed. Hmmm……… No severe limping, some smiles, all together didn’t look too bad. Soon we were back on the bus and on the way to the far end of the lake. The ferry boat that transported us had an upper deck and a lower seating area inside. The captain provided a running commentary of the area we traversed. The lake was smooth and surrounded by mountains with high cliffs and small caves that the Maori used for shelter in winter. Further along was a small island with a memorial cross for Mackinnon, the first to cross the Mackinnon Pass in 1888 and a famous mountaineer in these parts. They know his boat wrecked in this area but all they found of him was his skull, which they buried at this spot. Now isn’t that a lovely way to start such a trek? On and on we went for an hour’s boat ride in the waning afternoon light to our dropping off point - a small dock and path. I felt like a cast member of “Survivor” as I stood and watched the boat drive off - without me. Committed. No way out but to walk to the other end.
But once we started the 20 minute walk to Glade House it was like being transported to a surreal place. Even though I was still sizing up the competition, I marveled at the scenery we passed. This was a rainforest and moss coated all the trees, their branches, the forest floor - everywhere. So many different kinds of shrubbery and trees and birds singing. I expected and alligator to pop out at any moment. Fortunately there are none in New Zealand. And just like that the walk ended and we came out to a clearing with a stream and a lodge in the midst of a grassy clearing. It could have been Montana for all I knew.
We were greeted with tea, scones, and cookies, a daily afternoon ritual. We were assigned our rooms, where we dropped our packs and explored the lodge and its’ small museum dedicated to the track. To reve up our appetites there was a nature walk through the moss covered forest where many of the trees and shrubs were identified, including a black pepper bush, which actually tasted like pepper. The Maoris used it as a pain killer. Could we rub it on our sore feet if needed? On the way back I noticed the head and antlers of a large deer, recently picked clean, leaning against the back of the lodge.
The choices for dinner were venison (Hmmm…..) or Blue Cod, all simply prepared with steamed squash and carrots without any seasoning and mashed potatoes. Very lean and healthy. Dessert, however, was different. A delicious apple strudel with some sort of baby gooseberry was offset with vanilla ice cream.
The Trekkers
This group of 42 includes a large contingent of Aussies, about equally matched with Kiwis, one Korean (who has moved to Sydney), 1 Tasmanian, and 2 Americans, including myself. One group of Kiwis are high school and college chums who, along with spouses, have decided to do this together. Another group of Aussies all seem to work in the same ENT practice. All told there are about 3-4 doctors, a lawyer, a finance person, several retired couples, a young freelance photographer (US), a physical therapist, 2 teen boys, a management consultant, a few single women and a few single men (some just not with spouses). The group is very congenial, the Aussie/Kiwi rivalry notwithstanding. It actually was fodder for good humor.
After dinner everyone introduced themselves with a few comments, the guides gave a humorous presentation, there was more coffee and cookies, and a slide show about the next day’s walk. This all ended about 8:30PM, at which time some people stayed around for another beer and others, myself included, slipped off to bed. The generator stopped and all went dark at 10PM sharp.
MONDAY, APRIL 7, 2008
The First Real Day of Tramping - 10 miles (5-7 hours)
The lights came on at 6:45, waking everyone up without the need of an alarm. Fast shower, repack, and make your own lunch. At a long table were several stations of lunch meat, lettuce, tomato, cheese, and all sorts of sauces like chutney and chow-chow in addition to the usual mayo and mustard. At another station were several types of packaged cookies, chocolate bars, granola bars and fruit. No need to fill your water bottle as the stream water is drinkable and refreshing. Be sure to eat all your food and drink all your water we’re told. Don’t need to tell me twice. There’s muesli and other cereals with yogurt or milk, “porridge”, bacon (thin ham slices), baked tomatoes, poached eggs, crispy potato squares, and toast. Food is plentiful. As we hit the trail about 8:00 in a cloud of eau de bug spray, I can’t help but sing and skip to “We’re off to see the Wizard” because it seems we are following “The Yellow Brick Road”.
There is so much eye candy here - bare trees clothed in moss with little ecosystems growing on the moss, the tree branches twisting and intertwining in eerie shapes. The path is lined with a ditch along which giant ferns grow. White moss on green, reddish moss blending in - it’s just one amazing view after another.
We are following a river as it babbles along the wide Clinton Valley. We cross streams that feed into it either by suspension or wooden bridges. There are brown trout (fishing for one’s self is allowed with three licenses), eels, and ducks. The birds, whose names I’ve never heard of don’t chirp - they sing and flit around the trees. Rocks look like gold in the crystal clear water that we pass over on suspension bridges. On a short side track is a birch tree so wide that 7 people can stand around the trunk. Off another side track is a bog with spongy moss as far as you can see of all colors and shapes. You would sink to your knees if you walked on it, which you can’t. One moss looks like Italian parsley, another like curly. Some are yellow, others are white, and yet others are red. Interspersed are bushes, some with bare branches others with small leaves. And the mountains in the distance are ever present, rising some 3,000-4,000 feet above all around. At Hirere Falls shelter we stopped for lunch and a hot cup of soup or other hot drink. The break was needed and the soup, while powdered, tasted delicious. After the break the path climbed and at one point there was a break in the trees to provide a glimpse of the Mackinnon Pass, which we will traverse the following day. Along the path is a moss covered shape with twigs for antlers and two stones that someone has placed for eyes. It makes the shape look like a dinosaur of some sort and adds a little humor to the walk. Towards the end of the walk is a ramshackle building with a sign “Bus Stop” on the front, a little ironic given that there has never been a bus here, but this is used as a shelter in the event of flooding.
We were met at the entrance to Pampolona Lodge by fresh glasses of water or Tang and the lodge hostess, who showed us to our cabins. The night before I had been sharing a bunk house with an attorney from Tasmania, but this time there were 4 of us sharing - a couple from Auckland, the attorney and myself. After a little finagling the attorney and I moved to a separate cabin, allowing the couple a cabin to themselves.
The tea hour melted into the cocktail hour which melted into dinner. Conversation was decidedly more animated this evening and groups tended to mingle. Many of us made it a point to sit at a different table each night so as to meet each other.
The entré choices this evening were pasta bolognaise or salmon with a red pepper sauce. And after dinner, tea, the next day’s briefing, and a day full of glitter I melted off to bed.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Friday, April 11, 2008
FRIDAY APRIL 11, 2008
We Interupt This Broadcast......
Today has not gone well at all. As I started to unpack my plastic trash bag that was given to me back in Milford to replace the backpack I'd been using, I realized that my passport, 2 credit cards and American cash was missing. You can only imagine how I started to calmly go through the bag, piece by piece to meticulously sort things out to find it, only to become frantic at the prospect of being an individual without a country. Where did it go!!!! I am reluctant to accuse, knowing my propensity to tuck things away in pockets "where they will be safe" but having sifted through all two times now I unfortunately have come to the conclusion that foul play has been afoot. As a result, unless I am able to find free internet access in the next week, I will have to suspend this blog until I get home. Internet cafe fares are not in the new strict budget I have to see me through to next Sunday when I return. In the meantime, I'll be contacting the American Consulate and credit card companies and skipping through hoops. But don't go away. Stay tuned for the next installment. It's really just all part of the adventure - albeit one part I'd rather SKIP!!
We Interupt This Broadcast......
Today has not gone well at all. As I started to unpack my plastic trash bag that was given to me back in Milford to replace the backpack I'd been using, I realized that my passport, 2 credit cards and American cash was missing. You can only imagine how I started to calmly go through the bag, piece by piece to meticulously sort things out to find it, only to become frantic at the prospect of being an individual without a country. Where did it go!!!! I am reluctant to accuse, knowing my propensity to tuck things away in pockets "where they will be safe" but having sifted through all two times now I unfortunately have come to the conclusion that foul play has been afoot. As a result, unless I am able to find free internet access in the next week, I will have to suspend this blog until I get home. Internet cafe fares are not in the new strict budget I have to see me through to next Sunday when I return. In the meantime, I'll be contacting the American Consulate and credit card companies and skipping through hoops. But don't go away. Stay tuned for the next installment. It's really just all part of the adventure - albeit one part I'd rather SKIP!!
Thursday, April 10, 2008
FRIDAY, APRIL 4, 2008
Dunedin in Daylight
When I think of Dunedin I think - hills, English architecture, pastel colored ranch houses with corrugated steel roofs in the suburbs, an Octagon for a city center that on a map looks like a bulls eye, streets that do not run parallel (which make it REALLY easy to get lot), and did I mention…..hills? Once I arrive in a city I don’t drive as a rule. It’s less stressful, safer and I have the luxury of really looking at my surroundings and listening to the rhythm of the city. But the Chalet is about a tenth of a mile up a very steep hill from the city center. And it keeps on going up for a good ½ mile from there. In fact Dunedin is supposed to have the steepest street in the world, according to the Guinness book of world records. I didn’t try it, but not for lack of want. I just ran out of time. I also heard a beautiful cacophony of song birds this afternoon. Not like the pigeons in American cities or the crows that flock together, but a very sweet sound that I at first thought was a recording until I saw the birds on the roofs of the shops.
The Tunnel Beach
Feeling adventurous and needing a good walk to gear up for the Milford Track, I packed my backpack with my computer and other stuff to get about 15pounds, hopped on the city bus and headed out of town to the southern suburbs. At the end of the line you walk 1.4km, turn left, walk 400m and arrive at a gate. On the other side is a mowed, fenced in path that - as the sign says, takes 20 minutes to walk down but 45 to get back up. The guide book said the whole trek , there and return, is 45 minutes. They obviously weren’t counting the 1.4km, the 400m, or the amount of walking around you do once you get there. The path down goes by pastures with sheep and ends up at an area of steep cliffs with interesting striations and coloring and a large, oddly shaped rock formation. The man that used to own the property liked the area so much he had a hand hewn tunnel carved out of the rock with cement stairs that descend to the base of the cliff where he and his family could enjoy a private beach. Talk about having a little excess cash to throw around! There are lot of ankle turners down there and a few large boulders, perfect for sunning or reading a book or just staring out at the ocean. It’s very peaceful and as I arrived late in the day it was deserted. The thought occurred to me that if I fell off the cliff no one would find me unless I washed up to shore - I had all my credit cards, cash, passport, computer and camera with me. It’s ok, don’t worry, I made it back and I was careful. Very careful.
An International Dinner
One of the best parts of hostels is that there is a kitchen and dining area and I have found that the young people very often cook real meals. Although at one place a Korean boy was going to proudly cook for a Canadian girl some Korean food. I asked what he was going to make and he showed me a package of Korean style ramen noodles. He said they were his favorite. I didn’t laugh, but it was hard. Tonight one of the German girls make a lamb stew, the French and German boys made steak, mashed potatoes and fruit salad and earlier some other nationalities were making some sort of shrimp with rice. I concocted a stir fry with red pepper, carrot, broccoli and cod fish with a Thai sauce that came in a little container. Cooking for one has its limitations, but eating out every meal is prohibitively expensive and often not that healthy. There is usually a refrigerator to store perishables , dull knives, two sinks/stoves and a complete array of other utensils. On the wall in just about every language possible is a sign to the effect that mom has gone on strike so clean up after yourself - which everyone does, amazingly enough. This particular backpackers has one long dining table and it facilitates conversation as everyone talks about - what else - travel itineraries. Who has been where, seen what, what was good, how long traveling, etc, etc. I have found that one month is the minimum that most of these kids travel, with most taking two months to a year. Most don’t know what they will do when they return, but all hope to find jobs.
SATURDAY, APRIL 5, 2008
The Road To Queenstown
The car needs to be returned today so it was an early departure and pell mell to Queenstown - need to be there by noon. Missed breakfast and certainly missed a good eye opener cuppa but oh well. The road passed through central Ontaga a partly hilly, partly flat landscape. A big wine region - the grape loaded vines were being covered against the birds, for acres and acres you saw this sheeting of gauze as if Cristo (the artist who drapes bridges, Central Park, etc.) had popped in for a day. Of course there were the ubiquitous sheep. Further inland the landscape changed to be somewhat rocky, like giant sharp edged boulders sticking out of a sort of mossy floor. The area reminded me of The Narnia series where Aslan sacrifices himself on a large rock altar. But I think they filmed that further south from here.
And then the road starts winding. And going up and down. I had pulled an apple out of the trunk to munch on, but with the high speeds and turns I had to put it down so I could drive. This is a real racecourse. I got passed by 2 cars on this road, one going well over 120kph, and he leapfrogged over the next car also and disappeared in a cloud of dust. Never saw him again. (Must have been late for work) I rounded a curve to see Shouting Meg’s Falls and had a laugh, but unfortunately couldn’t stop for a pic. Sorry Meg. Eventually the climbing stopped and the road descended into Queenstown.
Queenstown
This place hops! As you drive into town you see parasailers floating to and fro from off of a high hill over the town. Traffic is thicker and the lake finally comes into view. This is a fairly young crowd and a sure attraction for teens testing their immortality, or just seeking thrills. Every corner seems to have an “Information Center’, a front for booking thrilling adventure of all kinds - heli flights, sky diving, bungy jumping, jet boat rides on the lake and on and on and on. There seems to be no end to ways they have devised to separate you from your money. Walk along the street and the pace is quicker; the music is frenetic. It isn’t that it is that large a town - it only has one gas station - but it is packed with hotels, shops selling every sport catered to here, bars, cafes, clothing stores, jewelry, and everything in between. And…if you aren’t staying IN town, you’re walking/driving up a steep hill. Guess where I am? Not only up a steep hill, but down the other side. Good thing I only booked one night. As no one answered the door at the B&B, I dropped my bags and walked into town. I couldn’t waste time waiting around, I had to sort things out. I immediately made a reservation at the YHA backpackers - right in the thick of things and across the street from Xbase, another well known backpackers. Double-shared room ensuite (that means there’s a bathroom in the room - a luxury!) for $NZ85. The cheapest accommodation the tour companies recommended was about $NZ125 and up. After that I really needed something to eat .
Let’s see - there’s Thai, Indian, fish and chips, chocolate, and Fernburgers. Hmmm…they looked huge! Way too much for me, but then I was hungry. Aside from all the usual they had a lamburger and a Bambi burger. Yeah, that’s right. That’s what I ordered. It was mouthwatering. A thin but very large patty, charcoal grilled to perfection, with a Thai chutney sauce, leaf lettuce, and tomato all flowing out of a sesame seed bun. And I ate almost all of it. Bambi never tasted so good. I really wanted to post my blog, but time was scarce and I had a meeting at 3:45.
THURSDAY, APRIL 10, 2008
I’ve missed my computer, my blog, my connection to you all. But I have had the most amazing adventure and now I’m back, with bigger, flatter feet, stronger quads, and wider eyes. The Milford Track is truly one of the Great Hikes of the World. Splendor, strength, majesty combined with fairyland - It truly is the Yellow Brick Road to Oz and anything I could write would be but a snapshot of a 360 degree view of God’s incredible imagination and majesty. These are merely “Cliff Notes” if you will of my 5 day journey, which begins in Queenstown, the day before. (April 5, Saturday)
Dunedin in Daylight
When I think of Dunedin I think - hills, English architecture, pastel colored ranch houses with corrugated steel roofs in the suburbs, an Octagon for a city center that on a map looks like a bulls eye, streets that do not run parallel (which make it REALLY easy to get lot), and did I mention…..hills? Once I arrive in a city I don’t drive as a rule. It’s less stressful, safer and I have the luxury of really looking at my surroundings and listening to the rhythm of the city. But the Chalet is about a tenth of a mile up a very steep hill from the city center. And it keeps on going up for a good ½ mile from there. In fact Dunedin is supposed to have the steepest street in the world, according to the Guinness book of world records. I didn’t try it, but not for lack of want. I just ran out of time. I also heard a beautiful cacophony of song birds this afternoon. Not like the pigeons in American cities or the crows that flock together, but a very sweet sound that I at first thought was a recording until I saw the birds on the roofs of the shops.
The Tunnel Beach
Feeling adventurous and needing a good walk to gear up for the Milford Track, I packed my backpack with my computer and other stuff to get about 15pounds, hopped on the city bus and headed out of town to the southern suburbs. At the end of the line you walk 1.4km, turn left, walk 400m and arrive at a gate. On the other side is a mowed, fenced in path that - as the sign says, takes 20 minutes to walk down but 45 to get back up. The guide book said the whole trek , there and return, is 45 minutes. They obviously weren’t counting the 1.4km, the 400m, or the amount of walking around you do once you get there. The path down goes by pastures with sheep and ends up at an area of steep cliffs with interesting striations and coloring and a large, oddly shaped rock formation. The man that used to own the property liked the area so much he had a hand hewn tunnel carved out of the rock with cement stairs that descend to the base of the cliff where he and his family could enjoy a private beach. Talk about having a little excess cash to throw around! There are lot of ankle turners down there and a few large boulders, perfect for sunning or reading a book or just staring out at the ocean. It’s very peaceful and as I arrived late in the day it was deserted. The thought occurred to me that if I fell off the cliff no one would find me unless I washed up to shore - I had all my credit cards, cash, passport, computer and camera with me. It’s ok, don’t worry, I made it back and I was careful. Very careful.
An International Dinner
One of the best parts of hostels is that there is a kitchen and dining area and I have found that the young people very often cook real meals. Although at one place a Korean boy was going to proudly cook for a Canadian girl some Korean food. I asked what he was going to make and he showed me a package of Korean style ramen noodles. He said they were his favorite. I didn’t laugh, but it was hard. Tonight one of the German girls make a lamb stew, the French and German boys made steak, mashed potatoes and fruit salad and earlier some other nationalities were making some sort of shrimp with rice. I concocted a stir fry with red pepper, carrot, broccoli and cod fish with a Thai sauce that came in a little container. Cooking for one has its limitations, but eating out every meal is prohibitively expensive and often not that healthy. There is usually a refrigerator to store perishables , dull knives, two sinks/stoves and a complete array of other utensils. On the wall in just about every language possible is a sign to the effect that mom has gone on strike so clean up after yourself - which everyone does, amazingly enough. This particular backpackers has one long dining table and it facilitates conversation as everyone talks about - what else - travel itineraries. Who has been where, seen what, what was good, how long traveling, etc, etc. I have found that one month is the minimum that most of these kids travel, with most taking two months to a year. Most don’t know what they will do when they return, but all hope to find jobs.
SATURDAY, APRIL 5, 2008
The Road To Queenstown
The car needs to be returned today so it was an early departure and pell mell to Queenstown - need to be there by noon. Missed breakfast and certainly missed a good eye opener cuppa but oh well. The road passed through central Ontaga a partly hilly, partly flat landscape. A big wine region - the grape loaded vines were being covered against the birds, for acres and acres you saw this sheeting of gauze as if Cristo (the artist who drapes bridges, Central Park, etc.) had popped in for a day. Of course there were the ubiquitous sheep. Further inland the landscape changed to be somewhat rocky, like giant sharp edged boulders sticking out of a sort of mossy floor. The area reminded me of The Narnia series where Aslan sacrifices himself on a large rock altar. But I think they filmed that further south from here.
And then the road starts winding. And going up and down. I had pulled an apple out of the trunk to munch on, but with the high speeds and turns I had to put it down so I could drive. This is a real racecourse. I got passed by 2 cars on this road, one going well over 120kph, and he leapfrogged over the next car also and disappeared in a cloud of dust. Never saw him again. (Must have been late for work) I rounded a curve to see Shouting Meg’s Falls and had a laugh, but unfortunately couldn’t stop for a pic. Sorry Meg. Eventually the climbing stopped and the road descended into Queenstown.
Queenstown
This place hops! As you drive into town you see parasailers floating to and fro from off of a high hill over the town. Traffic is thicker and the lake finally comes into view. This is a fairly young crowd and a sure attraction for teens testing their immortality, or just seeking thrills. Every corner seems to have an “Information Center’, a front for booking thrilling adventure of all kinds - heli flights, sky diving, bungy jumping, jet boat rides on the lake and on and on and on. There seems to be no end to ways they have devised to separate you from your money. Walk along the street and the pace is quicker; the music is frenetic. It isn’t that it is that large a town - it only has one gas station - but it is packed with hotels, shops selling every sport catered to here, bars, cafes, clothing stores, jewelry, and everything in between. And…if you aren’t staying IN town, you’re walking/driving up a steep hill. Guess where I am? Not only up a steep hill, but down the other side. Good thing I only booked one night. As no one answered the door at the B&B, I dropped my bags and walked into town. I couldn’t waste time waiting around, I had to sort things out. I immediately made a reservation at the YHA backpackers - right in the thick of things and across the street from Xbase, another well known backpackers. Double-shared room ensuite (that means there’s a bathroom in the room - a luxury!) for $NZ85. The cheapest accommodation the tour companies recommended was about $NZ125 and up. After that I really needed something to eat .
Let’s see - there’s Thai, Indian, fish and chips, chocolate, and Fernburgers. Hmmm…they looked huge! Way too much for me, but then I was hungry. Aside from all the usual they had a lamburger and a Bambi burger. Yeah, that’s right. That’s what I ordered. It was mouthwatering. A thin but very large patty, charcoal grilled to perfection, with a Thai chutney sauce, leaf lettuce, and tomato all flowing out of a sesame seed bun. And I ate almost all of it. Bambi never tasted so good. I really wanted to post my blog, but time was scarce and I had a meeting at 3:45.
THURSDAY, APRIL 10, 2008
I’ve missed my computer, my blog, my connection to you all. But I have had the most amazing adventure and now I’m back, with bigger, flatter feet, stronger quads, and wider eyes. The Milford Track is truly one of the Great Hikes of the World. Splendor, strength, majesty combined with fairyland - It truly is the Yellow Brick Road to Oz and anything I could write would be but a snapshot of a 360 degree view of God’s incredible imagination and majesty. These are merely “Cliff Notes” if you will of my 5 day journey, which begins in Queenstown, the day before. (April 5, Saturday)
Friday, April 4, 2008
TUESDAY, APRIL 1, 2008
Fishes and Birds
First thing in the morning I headed out on a tour with about 50 other people on a fast boat out to the edge of the continental shelf to view sperm whales. These people have this tour down to a science. They know where the whales are, how long they stay under, approx. when they will surface and how long they’ll stay on the surface. The info they give on the way out, which is about 15 min. is very informative and stresses the ecological/scientific side vs. the sensational. They make no excuses for their opposition to Japan and Sweden, both of whom harvest whales. It was pretty humorous to see everyone grab their cameras and jump out of their seats at the word that a whale was nearby. We ultimately saw 2 sperm whales, both male. They told us all about the two, their names, markings, approx. ages etc. After the whales, we cruised by a few seals frolicking in the water and then headed over to where some dolphins, albatross, and other birds were having a party. The pod of dolphins we saw were just youngins. We couldn’t get near the larger pod because there were already 3 boats nearby, the max allowed by law. On the way back they showed a movie about the layers of life in the canyon area we were over, which was very slickly produced. All in all not a bad way to start the day - sun and water.
I Did What Mothers’ Always Tell Their Children NOT To Do
I picked up a hitchhiker. I never have in the past, and I might not ever do it again, but something just struck me about this kid and I pulled over - probably just my extreme Catholic guilt about passing by a stranger who may be in need. So I stopped and a very disheveled young man with a heavy backpack hopped in the car. The mother in me can’t help but ask why he is hitchhiking - Didn’t he know it was dangerous? And then the story unfolds. He was on the ferry from Wellington, talking to some fellows and buying some beers. He thinks he must have flashed too much cash because when the boat arrived in Picton he was offered a ride to Nelson, his first stop in his travels. At some point along the road the driver pulled over, pulled out a knife and told him to get out and leave his wallet. Stranded by the side of the road, he was hitchhiking his way to Christchurch where he had a friend who would lend him some money to continue his trip. He had been standing by the side of the road for 2 ½ hours when I happened by on my way to Christchurch, a three hour ride. His conversation was a welcome relief from very patchy oldies radio. I pulled some olive cibatta bread, blue cheese and bottled water from the trunk for him to eat and we were on our way.
Cody, 30, is from the North Island where he gives horse back riding treks from his family ranch. He started riding English about the same time he walked, but after his first Western saddle he never looked back. The family has over 100 horses , 1,500 head of cattle, and about 1000 sheep spread over thousands of acres. Riding is his passion and trekking gives him a connection with the outside world. Conversation ran the gamut from the difficulties and technicalities of putting down horses to the commitment involved in taking over management of the ranch to the cameras the police use to trap speeders. He and his girlfriend plan to travel for three years while his parents are still able to manage without him. As we approached Christchurch, he was able to direct me to a backpackers hostel right next to the cathedral on the square. It was great not to have to read a map and drive, and the hostel was not much more than parking overnight in a garage. He eventually got hold of his friend, and last I saw him he was headed back into the hostel’s bar, where some Aussies were spotting him some beers.
WEDNESDAY, APRIL 2, 2008
Dunedin or Mt. Cook……Dunedin or Mt. Cook……….
I couldn’t decide sea or mountains and Tuesday night I was pretty sure it would be Dunedin. However, once I was out of town and sure I was turned around I stopped to ask directions and during the conversation the gent mentioned that many people come halfway around the world to see Mt. Cook but that it usually is clouded over. It wasn’t today. So on the way to Dunedin I got tired of driving and just headed off the highway towards Mt. Cook. Aaaah, the benefits of unplanned travel. Several hours of driving and stopping for Buena vitas, I arrived at Mt. Cook Park. It was an awesome ride and although it isn’t the Rockies, it’s pretty cool. However, when I got to the backpackers I learned that they were all full with a school group. Darn. Tried the Lodge. Full. Double darn. Only one other option - the uber expensive hotel. They had a room. No they had a suite, for 6 people. Sold! Aaaah, the downside of unplanned travel - luxury. Well, I won’t stay long. Night, night - I need to get my money’s worth.
THURSDAY, APRIL 3, 2008
After sadly checking out of my suite with it’s patio and view of Mt. Cook, I drove to the campground and started walking the Hooker Trail, a 3 hour walk (for those who don’t stop to take a gazillion pictures, which of course I did) The walk takes you past glacier lakes and meadows and over 2 swinging, suspended, scary bridges. I found that all the boys loved to get in the middle and sway the bridge. Stupid boys - grow up and be scared like the rest of us!!! Many of the rocks along the way would be unremarkable except that they have white striations in varying designs running through them. It looks like it could be quartz, but then again it could be something else. The path runs along 2 glacier lakes, the farther one complete with ice chunks. Both look grey in color as if the surrounding rock was clay, but my understanding is that the color is just the dirty, melted ice. Such a contrast from the gorgeous aqua colored lakes further down the valley. They look like aqua colored mild, juxtaposed against the brown rocky mountains. Anyways, as this was a “training walk” in preparation for the Milford Track, I had to have something weighty in the backpack, but carrying the computer just didn’t seem right. But a bottle of wine, a glass and lunch seemed perfect. I mean, how many people hike for and hour and a half, reach a glacier lake with icebergs and pull out a bottle of wine and a wine glass? I didn’t see any. The view was divine. De wine was delish and de lunch hit de spot. I headed back in great spirits.
On the road again. Realized I had an extra day I didn’t know I had! I’ve lost all sense of days apparently. Headed to Dunedin on the south east coast - supposedly a 4 hour drive if you don’t stop for a gazillion pictures, potty breaks and gas. I’ve been warned about running low on gas on the inner roads. Not every town has gas stations apparently. Well, Dunedin is much larger than expected, arrived after dark, and went round and round trying to read the map and the street signs. Tonight’s accommodations are in The Chalet, a backpackers with a toilet that has a chain pull and a claw footed bathtub cum shower. I’m on the third floor in a private room, bath down the hall. $38 - and I got TWO towels! Life is good.
Fishes and Birds
First thing in the morning I headed out on a tour with about 50 other people on a fast boat out to the edge of the continental shelf to view sperm whales. These people have this tour down to a science. They know where the whales are, how long they stay under, approx. when they will surface and how long they’ll stay on the surface. The info they give on the way out, which is about 15 min. is very informative and stresses the ecological/scientific side vs. the sensational. They make no excuses for their opposition to Japan and Sweden, both of whom harvest whales. It was pretty humorous to see everyone grab their cameras and jump out of their seats at the word that a whale was nearby. We ultimately saw 2 sperm whales, both male. They told us all about the two, their names, markings, approx. ages etc. After the whales, we cruised by a few seals frolicking in the water and then headed over to where some dolphins, albatross, and other birds were having a party. The pod of dolphins we saw were just youngins. We couldn’t get near the larger pod because there were already 3 boats nearby, the max allowed by law. On the way back they showed a movie about the layers of life in the canyon area we were over, which was very slickly produced. All in all not a bad way to start the day - sun and water.
I Did What Mothers’ Always Tell Their Children NOT To Do
I picked up a hitchhiker. I never have in the past, and I might not ever do it again, but something just struck me about this kid and I pulled over - probably just my extreme Catholic guilt about passing by a stranger who may be in need. So I stopped and a very disheveled young man with a heavy backpack hopped in the car. The mother in me can’t help but ask why he is hitchhiking - Didn’t he know it was dangerous? And then the story unfolds. He was on the ferry from Wellington, talking to some fellows and buying some beers. He thinks he must have flashed too much cash because when the boat arrived in Picton he was offered a ride to Nelson, his first stop in his travels. At some point along the road the driver pulled over, pulled out a knife and told him to get out and leave his wallet. Stranded by the side of the road, he was hitchhiking his way to Christchurch where he had a friend who would lend him some money to continue his trip. He had been standing by the side of the road for 2 ½ hours when I happened by on my way to Christchurch, a three hour ride. His conversation was a welcome relief from very patchy oldies radio. I pulled some olive cibatta bread, blue cheese and bottled water from the trunk for him to eat and we were on our way.
Cody, 30, is from the North Island where he gives horse back riding treks from his family ranch. He started riding English about the same time he walked, but after his first Western saddle he never looked back. The family has over 100 horses , 1,500 head of cattle, and about 1000 sheep spread over thousands of acres. Riding is his passion and trekking gives him a connection with the outside world. Conversation ran the gamut from the difficulties and technicalities of putting down horses to the commitment involved in taking over management of the ranch to the cameras the police use to trap speeders. He and his girlfriend plan to travel for three years while his parents are still able to manage without him. As we approached Christchurch, he was able to direct me to a backpackers hostel right next to the cathedral on the square. It was great not to have to read a map and drive, and the hostel was not much more than parking overnight in a garage. He eventually got hold of his friend, and last I saw him he was headed back into the hostel’s bar, where some Aussies were spotting him some beers.
WEDNESDAY, APRIL 2, 2008
Dunedin or Mt. Cook……Dunedin or Mt. Cook……….
I couldn’t decide sea or mountains and Tuesday night I was pretty sure it would be Dunedin. However, once I was out of town and sure I was turned around I stopped to ask directions and during the conversation the gent mentioned that many people come halfway around the world to see Mt. Cook but that it usually is clouded over. It wasn’t today. So on the way to Dunedin I got tired of driving and just headed off the highway towards Mt. Cook. Aaaah, the benefits of unplanned travel. Several hours of driving and stopping for Buena vitas, I arrived at Mt. Cook Park. It was an awesome ride and although it isn’t the Rockies, it’s pretty cool. However, when I got to the backpackers I learned that they were all full with a school group. Darn. Tried the Lodge. Full. Double darn. Only one other option - the uber expensive hotel. They had a room. No they had a suite, for 6 people. Sold! Aaaah, the downside of unplanned travel - luxury. Well, I won’t stay long. Night, night - I need to get my money’s worth.
THURSDAY, APRIL 3, 2008
After sadly checking out of my suite with it’s patio and view of Mt. Cook, I drove to the campground and started walking the Hooker Trail, a 3 hour walk (for those who don’t stop to take a gazillion pictures, which of course I did) The walk takes you past glacier lakes and meadows and over 2 swinging, suspended, scary bridges. I found that all the boys loved to get in the middle and sway the bridge. Stupid boys - grow up and be scared like the rest of us!!! Many of the rocks along the way would be unremarkable except that they have white striations in varying designs running through them. It looks like it could be quartz, but then again it could be something else. The path runs along 2 glacier lakes, the farther one complete with ice chunks. Both look grey in color as if the surrounding rock was clay, but my understanding is that the color is just the dirty, melted ice. Such a contrast from the gorgeous aqua colored lakes further down the valley. They look like aqua colored mild, juxtaposed against the brown rocky mountains. Anyways, as this was a “training walk” in preparation for the Milford Track, I had to have something weighty in the backpack, but carrying the computer just didn’t seem right. But a bottle of wine, a glass and lunch seemed perfect. I mean, how many people hike for and hour and a half, reach a glacier lake with icebergs and pull out a bottle of wine and a wine glass? I didn’t see any. The view was divine. De wine was delish and de lunch hit de spot. I headed back in great spirits.
On the road again. Realized I had an extra day I didn’t know I had! I’ve lost all sense of days apparently. Headed to Dunedin on the south east coast - supposedly a 4 hour drive if you don’t stop for a gazillion pictures, potty breaks and gas. I’ve been warned about running low on gas on the inner roads. Not every town has gas stations apparently. Well, Dunedin is much larger than expected, arrived after dark, and went round and round trying to read the map and the street signs. Tonight’s accommodations are in The Chalet, a backpackers with a toilet that has a chain pull and a claw footed bathtub cum shower. I’m on the third floor in a private room, bath down the hall. $38 - and I got TWO towels! Life is good.
Monday, March 31, 2008
SUNDAY, MARCH 30, 2008
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TIM!!
Bright and early I had to be at the ferry to cross to Picton. As usual I took a wrong turn and drove way out of the way trying to turn around. I was the last person on, after being scolded that I was supposed to be there an hour earlier. Ooops! I thought it was like Madeleine Island - drive up and drive on. Noooo - this ship is like the Queen Mary of ferries. It has 10 decks, a food court, a bar, a lounge room that looks like the interior of a 747, a sundeck, a cinema, play area for kids, game machines, a premium room (with food and liquor and good seats), a lounge and 2 outdoor observation decks. The life boats are about 30ft. The trip was 3 hours and fantastic scenery as we cruised between small spits of islands.
Marlborough Country
I made a beeline for the backpackers in Renwick, having decided on a plan on the ferry ride over. The owner looked at me askance - as if I was some sort of refugee from justice because I was alone and asked for a room without a reservation. After inquiring as to my length of stay in NZ and what I did for a living I guess I passed because he offered me a room. I think I got the presidential suite - it has a bath attached and cost $64. Wonder of wonders it also has a mirror, something I have found to be in short supply here. (Remember, I’m a GIRL)
Anyways, I dumped my bags asked for a bike, and off I went to explore the wineries in the area. I didn’t get too far when I thought that perhaps I had forgotten my camera. Back I went to retrieve it, though I couldn’t find it after searching through my bags and in the car and in my purse and in all the d___ pockets I have. Just as I was getting a tad frazzled, worried that somehow I had dropped it on the ferry, the owner came by and asked if I was missing my camera. Sure enough I had somehow dropped it as I pulled out of the driveway on my bike and some kind soul picked it up and turned it in. My guardian angel is about 6’5”, named Jeremy and hails from England where he majored in marine biology. He and his girlfriend are traveling for 9 months, but when they got here they ran out of funds and got jobs working in one of the local vineyards. They are staying in a tent at the backpackers and saving money to continue their travels. They are going next to Australia, then on to Hawaii and Vancouver. He doesn’t know what he is going to do once he returns home, but he doesn’t want to do research in marine biology. He would really like to make acoustic guitars. He was strumming one when I introduced myself to him and thanked him with a local bottle of Sauvignon Blanc from one of the boutique vineyards.
Bikes and Booze
Well it only took one stop at a vineyard and I was riding on the right side of the road - sure way to get knocked off. The views are spectacular - miles of vineyards with the mountains in the background. There are 80 vineyards in Marlborough, with the largest concentration in the Renwick area. I really should have started earlier cause I didn’t even hit a tenth of them. But it was really fun talking about the wines at each stop and tasting the grapes of each varietal. I rode about 13K, the last part with a head wind and a full head. Spectacular! One of the stops was Cloudy Bay where they offer tastings of about 8 wines for free. (Kathleen and Lee, hope you’re reading this - got pictures) I have to say that my favorite of the day was a Voignier from Herzog’s which smells like a bouquet of roses and tastes like a tropical garden. Very tasty! Great way to start off the Southern Island.
The “Old Folks”
I stopped by a grocer and picked up the makings of dinner to go with a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc from another boutique vintner, Bladen. When I walked into the common kitchen I was very surprised to see a group of older people sitting around while a few of the men made dinner for the group. While chatting with one of the men fixing dinner I discovered this was a tour group designed for those over 60 and that they were going to cross the mountains twice on the trip. Their days were about 60K each. The driver was close to 80! One of the women was a cancer survivor, had a knee replacement, bad hip, God knows what else, and was 77. The man telling me this was a cancer survivor himself who was doing his version of the “Bucket List”. They were all just chatting away, having a grand time surrounded by all the youngins’. Very inspirational I thought.
MONDAY, MARCH 31, 2008
Kaikoura
On the road to Kaikoura I passed the largest vineyard in NZ, Montana, which goes by another name in the States. It was only about 10:30AM, but what the heck, I had heard that they have tours so I rolled on in. Indeed, I had a private tour and tasting from Amanda, who is 6 months pregnant. (She did not taste.) It was interesting to compare the process of a large production vineyard vs the small boutique yards nearby and those I toured in France. As the tour began I noticed the bus driver from the “Oldies” Group in the tasting area.
The flat valley soon gave way to the hills with switchbacks and sharp curves but the hills appeared parched and somewhat barren. This was a striking contrast to the vineyard area and most definitely from the tropical northland which was so lush by comparison. Although I keep hearing of sheep, I have seen more cattle so far. Have the tourists eaten all the lambies? I’m hoping they are further south in the plains area.
Just about the time all the barrenness starts to make you thirsty, you turn a corner and view the coastline with inlet beaches where the sea foams up and boulders where waves crash and seagulls perch. So gorgeous it’s tough to keep your eyes on the road. I keep trying to hold my camera out of the car, but I keep getting terrific pictures of the hood and the road. The wind threatens to carry the camera away and it’s tough to aim. Finally there is a pull off and I stop to take a picture only to find out that the reason so many have pulled over is because there is a seal colony on the rocks below. They are so cute just flapping around down there sunning themselves. What a life.
Shortly thereafter I pulled into Kaikoura and ended up stopping at the wale watching expedition center. Whales? Sign me up. All that lovely beach and crashing waves and afternoon sun made me hungry - especially for seafood as I kept seeing signs for crayfish as I entered town. Crayfish? Isn’t that the stuff from the bayou? No it’s NZ rock lobster and it’s expensive - about $60/k. But not today. They have quotas and it wasn’t to be found anywhere until tomorrow when a new month starts. Oh well. I settled for 3 just-cooked prawns - $1 each wrapped in news wrap which I took to the beach with an open bottle of Bladen S.B., some cibatta, blue cheese, an apple fresh picked from the hostel and a squeeze of lemon, also just picked from the hostel. The seagulls were intent upon sharing lunch but stones kept them at bay. It was wonderful. The beaches are not sand but small stones and river rock. Hard on the feet but no sand to dust off. Remnants of large weeds from the sea, which look a bit like giant rubber bands litter the beach. A short nap after all that fresh air was welcome.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TIM!!
Bright and early I had to be at the ferry to cross to Picton. As usual I took a wrong turn and drove way out of the way trying to turn around. I was the last person on, after being scolded that I was supposed to be there an hour earlier. Ooops! I thought it was like Madeleine Island - drive up and drive on. Noooo - this ship is like the Queen Mary of ferries. It has 10 decks, a food court, a bar, a lounge room that looks like the interior of a 747, a sundeck, a cinema, play area for kids, game machines, a premium room (with food and liquor and good seats), a lounge and 2 outdoor observation decks. The life boats are about 30ft. The trip was 3 hours and fantastic scenery as we cruised between small spits of islands.
Marlborough Country
I made a beeline for the backpackers in Renwick, having decided on a plan on the ferry ride over. The owner looked at me askance - as if I was some sort of refugee from justice because I was alone and asked for a room without a reservation. After inquiring as to my length of stay in NZ and what I did for a living I guess I passed because he offered me a room. I think I got the presidential suite - it has a bath attached and cost $64. Wonder of wonders it also has a mirror, something I have found to be in short supply here. (Remember, I’m a GIRL)
Anyways, I dumped my bags asked for a bike, and off I went to explore the wineries in the area. I didn’t get too far when I thought that perhaps I had forgotten my camera. Back I went to retrieve it, though I couldn’t find it after searching through my bags and in the car and in my purse and in all the d___ pockets I have. Just as I was getting a tad frazzled, worried that somehow I had dropped it on the ferry, the owner came by and asked if I was missing my camera. Sure enough I had somehow dropped it as I pulled out of the driveway on my bike and some kind soul picked it up and turned it in. My guardian angel is about 6’5”, named Jeremy and hails from England where he majored in marine biology. He and his girlfriend are traveling for 9 months, but when they got here they ran out of funds and got jobs working in one of the local vineyards. They are staying in a tent at the backpackers and saving money to continue their travels. They are going next to Australia, then on to Hawaii and Vancouver. He doesn’t know what he is going to do once he returns home, but he doesn’t want to do research in marine biology. He would really like to make acoustic guitars. He was strumming one when I introduced myself to him and thanked him with a local bottle of Sauvignon Blanc from one of the boutique vineyards.
Bikes and Booze
Well it only took one stop at a vineyard and I was riding on the right side of the road - sure way to get knocked off. The views are spectacular - miles of vineyards with the mountains in the background. There are 80 vineyards in Marlborough, with the largest concentration in the Renwick area. I really should have started earlier cause I didn’t even hit a tenth of them. But it was really fun talking about the wines at each stop and tasting the grapes of each varietal. I rode about 13K, the last part with a head wind and a full head. Spectacular! One of the stops was Cloudy Bay where they offer tastings of about 8 wines for free. (Kathleen and Lee, hope you’re reading this - got pictures) I have to say that my favorite of the day was a Voignier from Herzog’s which smells like a bouquet of roses and tastes like a tropical garden. Very tasty! Great way to start off the Southern Island.
The “Old Folks”
I stopped by a grocer and picked up the makings of dinner to go with a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc from another boutique vintner, Bladen. When I walked into the common kitchen I was very surprised to see a group of older people sitting around while a few of the men made dinner for the group. While chatting with one of the men fixing dinner I discovered this was a tour group designed for those over 60 and that they were going to cross the mountains twice on the trip. Their days were about 60K each. The driver was close to 80! One of the women was a cancer survivor, had a knee replacement, bad hip, God knows what else, and was 77. The man telling me this was a cancer survivor himself who was doing his version of the “Bucket List”. They were all just chatting away, having a grand time surrounded by all the youngins’. Very inspirational I thought.
MONDAY, MARCH 31, 2008
Kaikoura
On the road to Kaikoura I passed the largest vineyard in NZ, Montana, which goes by another name in the States. It was only about 10:30AM, but what the heck, I had heard that they have tours so I rolled on in. Indeed, I had a private tour and tasting from Amanda, who is 6 months pregnant. (She did not taste.) It was interesting to compare the process of a large production vineyard vs the small boutique yards nearby and those I toured in France. As the tour began I noticed the bus driver from the “Oldies” Group in the tasting area.
The flat valley soon gave way to the hills with switchbacks and sharp curves but the hills appeared parched and somewhat barren. This was a striking contrast to the vineyard area and most definitely from the tropical northland which was so lush by comparison. Although I keep hearing of sheep, I have seen more cattle so far. Have the tourists eaten all the lambies? I’m hoping they are further south in the plains area.
Just about the time all the barrenness starts to make you thirsty, you turn a corner and view the coastline with inlet beaches where the sea foams up and boulders where waves crash and seagulls perch. So gorgeous it’s tough to keep your eyes on the road. I keep trying to hold my camera out of the car, but I keep getting terrific pictures of the hood and the road. The wind threatens to carry the camera away and it’s tough to aim. Finally there is a pull off and I stop to take a picture only to find out that the reason so many have pulled over is because there is a seal colony on the rocks below. They are so cute just flapping around down there sunning themselves. What a life.
Shortly thereafter I pulled into Kaikoura and ended up stopping at the wale watching expedition center. Whales? Sign me up. All that lovely beach and crashing waves and afternoon sun made me hungry - especially for seafood as I kept seeing signs for crayfish as I entered town. Crayfish? Isn’t that the stuff from the bayou? No it’s NZ rock lobster and it’s expensive - about $60/k. But not today. They have quotas and it wasn’t to be found anywhere until tomorrow when a new month starts. Oh well. I settled for 3 just-cooked prawns - $1 each wrapped in news wrap which I took to the beach with an open bottle of Bladen S.B., some cibatta, blue cheese, an apple fresh picked from the hostel and a squeeze of lemon, also just picked from the hostel. The seagulls were intent upon sharing lunch but stones kept them at bay. It was wonderful. The beaches are not sand but small stones and river rock. Hard on the feet but no sand to dust off. Remnants of large weeds from the sea, which look a bit like giant rubber bands litter the beach. A short nap after all that fresh air was welcome.
Friday, March 28, 2008
TUESDAY MARCH 25, 2008
The Hotel Hostel
The best way to travel solo as a woman is to stay in a hostel or backpacker hotel. You're the oldest person there and NOBODY will bother you because - well, you are old enough to be their mother and they just don’t know how to deal with you in that environment. Take for example the hotel manager - young (maybe late 20’s). He originally put me in a dorm with a few other youngins’, but a little later he decided to change me into a dorm room with no other people in it. He said that the one room had a few people in it who he thinks likes to party a bit so he thought I’d be more comfortable in the other room. YEAH I WAS!! They were up Waaay past my bedtime, drinking and partying up a storm. And I think he has a little bit of an Oedipus complex.
Patrick, Mary, David and Jenny
I found out why these folks were drinking and partying to the wee hours……….They had just bought $NZ300 of liquor and beer and were intent upon “liquidating” it. As I passed by their room we commenced conversing about their native land, Scotland, and next thing I knew they were passing around a bottle of Glenfiddich as you would pass around a joint - swill and pass. This to them is common scotch, nothing special. They all went to elementary school together but David and Mary went off to University while Patrick and Jenny work in the same factory, he slaying sheep, she cleaning up after. Mary is decidedly the party maker, self-confident and sturdy. David was half-asleep, or rather half passed out. Every other word was an f-word from Jenny, who seemed young and rebellious. Fair-haired Patrick would melt a girl's heart with his smile and follow the group wherever. This was somewhat of a reunion trip for them all, as David and Patrick had just come from India where they had been traveling for about a month. The girls planned on staying for a year, working to earn enough to finance each segment of travel. Yet, in the Bay, other than drinking they hadn’t experienced anything of the area other than walking around. They were going to be leaving to go to the Cape on the far far north coast the next day. I hope they wake up in time to catch the Magic Bus, a tour bus for backpackers.
Inga
As I was fixing my breakfast the next morning in the common kitchen I made small talk with Inga, who comes from a small town in Holland. This pretty young lady with long brown hair is traveling alone and enjoying it. As we talked about the relative merits of traveling solo I learned that Inga is traveling to get away from home and clear her head and make a new start of her life. She had been living with a man in a committed relationship for 3 years when she discovered that her partner was seeing someone else. She's financing this trip with money she had planned on using for her wedding. She teaches 4-6 year olds in a small town where this man is also a teacher. Referring to traveling solo she mentioned several times that you “have to make your own party”. She’s taking her party around NZ, then on to Australia and then on home with a rest stop in China and Japan for a few days.
WEDNESDAY, MARCH 26, 2008
DATELINE ROTARURA
All Things Left
This day was all about driving…on the left. Try buckling the seatbelt - I instinctively reach to the left to grab the belt, but it‘s not there. Look in the mirror…it’s on the left. Gear shift…..on the left. Turnabouts……..go clockwise. There are very few stop signs. At the end of the street on the pavement there is a triangle which makes you think it’s an arrow pointing at you and there’s a moment of panic thinking that you’ve gone down a one way street, but it’s really just a yield sign. If you walk down the street and someone comes at you….stay to the left. Coming into the harbor? It isn’t red right returning…..it’s red left returning. Hot and cold faucets are often switched and although I’ve been watching, I haven’t seen any toilets that flush counterclockwise….They just seem to go straight down there’s so much force in their flush.
Miracle Cure for Bug Bites - Cloudy Bay Sauvignon Blanc
They may not have snakes and spiders, but the sandflies and mosquitoes more than make up for it!!! Something found my legs on the way down here and by the time I went to bed, I couldn’t stop scratching. I’ve always put vinegar on bug bites and it works pretty well, but I didn’t pack any and was desperate for relief so I took some of the wine and just rubbed it on my legs and feet. Much better. I hate to waste good wine, but it would have been an equal shame to waste good sleeping time.
THURSDAY, MARCH 27, 2008
Men In Skirts and Other Cultural Oddities
So I got up a little late today and sauntered down to the restaurant for coffee and a look at the local paper. After a rousing discussion with the locals on the Glue Ear malady that seems to affect native children, I inquired at the reception desk as to which cultural diversions seemed to be the best value. The consensus was Te Puia, a Maori village with a weaving and carving school, geyser, thermal mud pool, and cultural exhibition. Best of all there was a gift shop. Excellent, beam me up. Great the receptionist said….the bus is turning the corner now. And so off I went, without camera or raincoat (It rained all day). I’m just delighted the bus driver knew where I was going and what backpacker I was staying at to bring me back.
The carvings are incredibly detailed, in a pinch and with a few hemp leaves I could weave a skirt (not!), the geysers were steamy, and the mud pools really did look like Middle Earth. The cultural exhibition was well done, but the best part is watching the men do the Haka, the war dance. I mean, seeing men beat their chests, twirl sticks and stick out their tongues is so manly. It’s so typically male to flaunt the plumage. I’m sure it made every woman there feel more secure.
Other Cultural Diversions
After that I thought it time for culture of a different sort. XORBING. Leave it to the Kiwis to invent an extreme sport that involves rolling down a hill inside a giant rubber ball. It’s not at all what it looks like - IT’S TERRIFYING!! Yet, when I first looked at the hill I thought it looked short and boring - sort of like going on the kiddie rollercoaster. First, some background. It was raining all day, constant drizzle and rather chilly. You have to put on a bathing suit and leave all your clothes and shoes and towel and everything down at the bottom of the hill in a changing room. Given the weather, that didn’t make it any more attractive. They take you up to the top of this hill in a van where you are told to dive into the middle of this ball -within- a-ball into which they have put a bit of warm water to make it easier to slide around in. The hole you have to dive through is about 2 feet in diameter and once inside you can’t see out and your voice echoes back at you. Once they zip up the hole you have to stand up and walk, which - pardon the pun - gets the ball rolling. There you are sliding around inside not knowing if you are upside down or going head over heels as the ball rolls down this grass track like a pinball on a raceway. You are tossed about quite a bit in the process, sure all the while you are going to land on your neck and break it, until you come to rest at the bottom and they unzip the hole and have you slide out. I will never ever again contemplate getting in the dryer for a spin!
More Men in Skirts
The men in skirts were so sexy, I had to go back for more, only this time is was a Hangi. We were picked up in a bus and taken to the Matai family's compound. Upon arrival they led us all into a big tent that was laid out for dinner, but that was just to tease us. We wouldn’t eat for another 2 hours. We learned a little song, a few Maori words, and then they led us down to the river where the warriors would be arriving by canoe. Very cool. It was dusk, the pathway was lit and interspersed with Tiki carvings (only they aren’t called tiki but I forget what they’re called) and there were walkways on both sides of the riverbanks. About 6 warriors rode in the canoe singing, holding torches and paddling in rhythm. When they got up to us they backpaddled so everyone could take pictures, all the while chanting, slapping the oars and doing their thing. Finally they got out of the canoe and led the way to the performance area where they danced, sang, explained their culture and taught us a few hand gestures so we could do our own Haka. (Oh boy!) It was very, very well done . And finally, we got to eat. Lamb, chicken, cumadin (?)(a type of sweet potato), cabbage slaw, cauliflower salad, regular potatoes, stuffing, trifle, chocolate roll and a few other things. Before they sent us home they took us back down that dark pathway to see the glowworms that line the path and live on the edge of the riverbank. They have a blueish electric tint that really makes me wonder: How many light bulbs do you think they used to do that? And how do they get some of them to go on and off (The men fade in and out; the ladies are always on. Just like real life.)
Well, it’s late. Hopefully my laundry is dry. I have to get up early to get my glasses repaired. I’ll need all the help I can get on the road to Wellington.
The Hotel Hostel
The best way to travel solo as a woman is to stay in a hostel or backpacker hotel. You're the oldest person there and NOBODY will bother you because - well, you are old enough to be their mother and they just don’t know how to deal with you in that environment. Take for example the hotel manager - young (maybe late 20’s). He originally put me in a dorm with a few other youngins’, but a little later he decided to change me into a dorm room with no other people in it. He said that the one room had a few people in it who he thinks likes to party a bit so he thought I’d be more comfortable in the other room. YEAH I WAS!! They were up Waaay past my bedtime, drinking and partying up a storm. And I think he has a little bit of an Oedipus complex.
Patrick, Mary, David and Jenny
I found out why these folks were drinking and partying to the wee hours……….They had just bought $NZ300 of liquor and beer and were intent upon “liquidating” it. As I passed by their room we commenced conversing about their native land, Scotland, and next thing I knew they were passing around a bottle of Glenfiddich as you would pass around a joint - swill and pass. This to them is common scotch, nothing special. They all went to elementary school together but David and Mary went off to University while Patrick and Jenny work in the same factory, he slaying sheep, she cleaning up after. Mary is decidedly the party maker, self-confident and sturdy. David was half-asleep, or rather half passed out. Every other word was an f-word from Jenny, who seemed young and rebellious. Fair-haired Patrick would melt a girl's heart with his smile and follow the group wherever. This was somewhat of a reunion trip for them all, as David and Patrick had just come from India where they had been traveling for about a month. The girls planned on staying for a year, working to earn enough to finance each segment of travel. Yet, in the Bay, other than drinking they hadn’t experienced anything of the area other than walking around. They were going to be leaving to go to the Cape on the far far north coast the next day. I hope they wake up in time to catch the Magic Bus, a tour bus for backpackers.
Inga
As I was fixing my breakfast the next morning in the common kitchen I made small talk with Inga, who comes from a small town in Holland. This pretty young lady with long brown hair is traveling alone and enjoying it. As we talked about the relative merits of traveling solo I learned that Inga is traveling to get away from home and clear her head and make a new start of her life. She had been living with a man in a committed relationship for 3 years when she discovered that her partner was seeing someone else. She's financing this trip with money she had planned on using for her wedding. She teaches 4-6 year olds in a small town where this man is also a teacher. Referring to traveling solo she mentioned several times that you “have to make your own party”. She’s taking her party around NZ, then on to Australia and then on home with a rest stop in China and Japan for a few days.
WEDNESDAY, MARCH 26, 2008
DATELINE ROTARURA
All Things Left
This day was all about driving…on the left. Try buckling the seatbelt - I instinctively reach to the left to grab the belt, but it‘s not there. Look in the mirror…it’s on the left. Gear shift…..on the left. Turnabouts……..go clockwise. There are very few stop signs. At the end of the street on the pavement there is a triangle which makes you think it’s an arrow pointing at you and there’s a moment of panic thinking that you’ve gone down a one way street, but it’s really just a yield sign. If you walk down the street and someone comes at you….stay to the left. Coming into the harbor? It isn’t red right returning…..it’s red left returning. Hot and cold faucets are often switched and although I’ve been watching, I haven’t seen any toilets that flush counterclockwise….They just seem to go straight down there’s so much force in their flush.
Miracle Cure for Bug Bites - Cloudy Bay Sauvignon Blanc
They may not have snakes and spiders, but the sandflies and mosquitoes more than make up for it!!! Something found my legs on the way down here and by the time I went to bed, I couldn’t stop scratching. I’ve always put vinegar on bug bites and it works pretty well, but I didn’t pack any and was desperate for relief so I took some of the wine and just rubbed it on my legs and feet. Much better. I hate to waste good wine, but it would have been an equal shame to waste good sleeping time.
THURSDAY, MARCH 27, 2008
Men In Skirts and Other Cultural Oddities
So I got up a little late today and sauntered down to the restaurant for coffee and a look at the local paper. After a rousing discussion with the locals on the Glue Ear malady that seems to affect native children, I inquired at the reception desk as to which cultural diversions seemed to be the best value. The consensus was Te Puia, a Maori village with a weaving and carving school, geyser, thermal mud pool, and cultural exhibition. Best of all there was a gift shop. Excellent, beam me up. Great the receptionist said….the bus is turning the corner now. And so off I went, without camera or raincoat (It rained all day). I’m just delighted the bus driver knew where I was going and what backpacker I was staying at to bring me back.
The carvings are incredibly detailed, in a pinch and with a few hemp leaves I could weave a skirt (not!), the geysers were steamy, and the mud pools really did look like Middle Earth. The cultural exhibition was well done, but the best part is watching the men do the Haka, the war dance. I mean, seeing men beat their chests, twirl sticks and stick out their tongues is so manly. It’s so typically male to flaunt the plumage. I’m sure it made every woman there feel more secure.
Other Cultural Diversions
After that I thought it time for culture of a different sort. XORBING. Leave it to the Kiwis to invent an extreme sport that involves rolling down a hill inside a giant rubber ball. It’s not at all what it looks like - IT’S TERRIFYING!! Yet, when I first looked at the hill I thought it looked short and boring - sort of like going on the kiddie rollercoaster. First, some background. It was raining all day, constant drizzle and rather chilly. You have to put on a bathing suit and leave all your clothes and shoes and towel and everything down at the bottom of the hill in a changing room. Given the weather, that didn’t make it any more attractive. They take you up to the top of this hill in a van where you are told to dive into the middle of this ball -within- a-ball into which they have put a bit of warm water to make it easier to slide around in. The hole you have to dive through is about 2 feet in diameter and once inside you can’t see out and your voice echoes back at you. Once they zip up the hole you have to stand up and walk, which - pardon the pun - gets the ball rolling. There you are sliding around inside not knowing if you are upside down or going head over heels as the ball rolls down this grass track like a pinball on a raceway. You are tossed about quite a bit in the process, sure all the while you are going to land on your neck and break it, until you come to rest at the bottom and they unzip the hole and have you slide out. I will never ever again contemplate getting in the dryer for a spin!
More Men in Skirts
The men in skirts were so sexy, I had to go back for more, only this time is was a Hangi. We were picked up in a bus and taken to the Matai family's compound. Upon arrival they led us all into a big tent that was laid out for dinner, but that was just to tease us. We wouldn’t eat for another 2 hours. We learned a little song, a few Maori words, and then they led us down to the river where the warriors would be arriving by canoe. Very cool. It was dusk, the pathway was lit and interspersed with Tiki carvings (only they aren’t called tiki but I forget what they’re called) and there were walkways on both sides of the riverbanks. About 6 warriors rode in the canoe singing, holding torches and paddling in rhythm. When they got up to us they backpaddled so everyone could take pictures, all the while chanting, slapping the oars and doing their thing. Finally they got out of the canoe and led the way to the performance area where they danced, sang, explained their culture and taught us a few hand gestures so we could do our own Haka. (Oh boy!) It was very, very well done . And finally, we got to eat. Lamb, chicken, cumadin (?)(a type of sweet potato), cabbage slaw, cauliflower salad, regular potatoes, stuffing, trifle, chocolate roll and a few other things. Before they sent us home they took us back down that dark pathway to see the glowworms that line the path and live on the edge of the riverbank. They have a blueish electric tint that really makes me wonder: How many light bulbs do you think they used to do that? And how do they get some of them to go on and off (The men fade in and out; the ladies are always on. Just like real life.)
Well, it’s late. Hopefully my laundry is dry. I have to get up early to get my glasses repaired. I’ll need all the help I can get on the road to Wellington.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
MONDAY MARCH 24, 2008
A Lime Bush and a Cloudy Bay
After many winding turns from Auckland I arrived at the Bay of Islands - Paihai (pie-hey-ye) to be preicise and only minutes before two insane bikers that I passed while they were going 50-60kph down a hill and around some pretty sharp curves. (Iwas going slower than they were at some curves)
Checking in at a local backpackers, I noticed a lime bush with some luscious looking fresh fruit which made me think of a gin and tonic, which made me realize how thirsty I was and how refreshing a gin and tonic would be- especially with a fresh picked lime. Shortly afterward, while in the liquor store comtemplating at least the tonic water to go with a lime, I noticed a chilled bottle of Cloudy Bay Sauvignon Blanc, a "must try" wine that was highly recommended by friends. Perfect for a cloudy day in the Bay. Later I found a restaurant that was a BYOB, which afforded the opportunity to open the lovely bottle.
Michael
As I sat sipping my Cloudy Bay, a gentleman took a table near mine. He ordered a bottle of red wine and appeared to be writing notes. When he ordered dinner, I assumed he was traveling solo, and in a scene straight out of the movies, I asked the hostess (who also was the owner with her chef husband) to ask whether the gentleman was dining alone, and if so, whether he would like to share a table. To my relief he enthusiastically agreed, picked up his wine and joined me. (The hostess had this devilishly delicious smile on her face as he moved to my table and all the other tables were definitely taking note, I observed.)
As we dined, we compared notes on places visited, reasons for being here, and the relative merits of New Zealand. Michael is a 55 year old upstate New Yorker with a significant other who does not care to travel, but who doesn't mind his going off for weeks at a time. He has been traveling NZ for almost 2 months, having arrived with absolutely no itinerary. And this is where background and personality helps the independant traveler when plopped down in the middle of a country not knowing much if anything of where they are. If you are a resourceful person to begin with, then you will fall back on those instincts and do things like: 1) Read travel guides to see what others who have carefully researched the area recommend 2) ask everybody you meet what you should be doing while here and 3) Roll with the punches. It is an experience, both good and bad, and you will learn something from both. Not everything will go well, some things will seem humorous in retrospect and others will just be unpleasant. By asking around and knowing what he wanted to do, he was able to get himself invited on a very private white-water rafting trip with some of the nation's leading outdoor adventure-seekers - reknowned bikers, mountain-climbers, artists, etc. , each tops in their sport or field (but note - NOT in their work field. They choose to work to live, rather than live to work so what they do for a living is, to them, irrelevant. He considers himself the luckiest man alive to be able to live the way he does. He has taken time off to deliver boats for friends to the Caribbean, traveled about Europe, and been to many other exotic destinations. He was off the next day to sail the Bay of Islands for a few days with someone he met, after which he would be heading home.
TUESDAY, MARCH 25, 2008
SAILING, SAILING WAY OVER THE OCEAN BLUE
The weather was blowing and threatening rain so the morning's planned sail onboard the Sydney to Hobart racer, Wild Thing didn't work out, but my backup plan worked out just fine! Parasailing 2100 feet over the water was a blast!!!! Because I was too light, one of the boat handlers had to go with me as ballast to keep the parachute stable, so I had a local tour guide with me pointing out all the sights and letting me know exactly what to expect at each turn. Very reassuring until he decided to clown around and do a header in the harness. The boat handler brought us down just low enought that my feet were in the water and my buddy's head was dunked. He loved it.
He's a local who for many years had said "No way - You have to be crazy to do that" but after he had been working for a while the owner insisted that he try it so he could relate to the customers better. One try and he was hooked. He said that since then he has probably been up over 100 times. Asked how many times the line breaks or accidents happen, he said none that he has seen, although once the line did break (in the U.S.), but the customers just floated down to the water very gently. So he's pretty sure that that is what happens. Oh, that's sooooo reassuring.
A Lime Bush and a Cloudy Bay
After many winding turns from Auckland I arrived at the Bay of Islands - Paihai (pie-hey-ye) to be preicise and only minutes before two insane bikers that I passed while they were going 50-60kph down a hill and around some pretty sharp curves. (Iwas going slower than they were at some curves)
Checking in at a local backpackers, I noticed a lime bush with some luscious looking fresh fruit which made me think of a gin and tonic, which made me realize how thirsty I was and how refreshing a gin and tonic would be- especially with a fresh picked lime. Shortly afterward, while in the liquor store comtemplating at least the tonic water to go with a lime, I noticed a chilled bottle of Cloudy Bay Sauvignon Blanc, a "must try" wine that was highly recommended by friends. Perfect for a cloudy day in the Bay. Later I found a restaurant that was a BYOB, which afforded the opportunity to open the lovely bottle.
Michael
As I sat sipping my Cloudy Bay, a gentleman took a table near mine. He ordered a bottle of red wine and appeared to be writing notes. When he ordered dinner, I assumed he was traveling solo, and in a scene straight out of the movies, I asked the hostess (who also was the owner with her chef husband) to ask whether the gentleman was dining alone, and if so, whether he would like to share a table. To my relief he enthusiastically agreed, picked up his wine and joined me. (The hostess had this devilishly delicious smile on her face as he moved to my table and all the other tables were definitely taking note, I observed.)
As we dined, we compared notes on places visited, reasons for being here, and the relative merits of New Zealand. Michael is a 55 year old upstate New Yorker with a significant other who does not care to travel, but who doesn't mind his going off for weeks at a time. He has been traveling NZ for almost 2 months, having arrived with absolutely no itinerary. And this is where background and personality helps the independant traveler when plopped down in the middle of a country not knowing much if anything of where they are. If you are a resourceful person to begin with, then you will fall back on those instincts and do things like: 1) Read travel guides to see what others who have carefully researched the area recommend 2) ask everybody you meet what you should be doing while here and 3) Roll with the punches. It is an experience, both good and bad, and you will learn something from both. Not everything will go well, some things will seem humorous in retrospect and others will just be unpleasant. By asking around and knowing what he wanted to do, he was able to get himself invited on a very private white-water rafting trip with some of the nation's leading outdoor adventure-seekers - reknowned bikers, mountain-climbers, artists, etc. , each tops in their sport or field (but note - NOT in their work field. They choose to work to live, rather than live to work so what they do for a living is, to them, irrelevant. He considers himself the luckiest man alive to be able to live the way he does. He has taken time off to deliver boats for friends to the Caribbean, traveled about Europe, and been to many other exotic destinations. He was off the next day to sail the Bay of Islands for a few days with someone he met, after which he would be heading home.
TUESDAY, MARCH 25, 2008
SAILING, SAILING WAY OVER THE OCEAN BLUE
The weather was blowing and threatening rain so the morning's planned sail onboard the Sydney to Hobart racer, Wild Thing didn't work out, but my backup plan worked out just fine! Parasailing 2100 feet over the water was a blast!!!! Because I was too light, one of the boat handlers had to go with me as ballast to keep the parachute stable, so I had a local tour guide with me pointing out all the sights and letting me know exactly what to expect at each turn. Very reassuring until he decided to clown around and do a header in the harness. The boat handler brought us down just low enought that my feet were in the water and my buddy's head was dunked. He loved it.
He's a local who for many years had said "No way - You have to be crazy to do that" but after he had been working for a while the owner insisted that he try it so he could relate to the customers better. One try and he was hooked. He said that since then he has probably been up over 100 times. Asked how many times the line breaks or accidents happen, he said none that he has seen, although once the line did break (in the U.S.), but the customers just floated down to the water very gently. So he's pretty sure that that is what happens. Oh, that's sooooo reassuring.
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