Missing Pieces

24-3-2014

      Over the last couple weeks we've had some cool experiences, which I'll write about now to fill in the gaps. 

      After Queenstown we drove up to Wanaka, which is a neat town on Lake Wanaka, and nearby Lake Hawea. We weren't there for very long. We had arrived in the morning and found there was a big fair going on. There were horse shows, sheep shows, cattle competitions, tractor, boat, and housing displays, and lots of tents set up for an art fair that was easily half the overall fair. The whole thing took up about 4 blocks, maybe 6. We meandered around all morning and then made our way into the town itself. In town we ran into Markus and Tina, friends from the blueberry farm, at a public bathroom of all places. We laughed about where we had found each other and asked what each other's plans were. Turns out, we both had movie tickets to the same little theatre for the same movie, at the same time. It was a few hours away so we parted ways and met up later. We dawdled around at the marina and walked along the boardwalk in town, then left for the movie. We watched American Hustle, which sounded interesting and had a star-studded cast, but it wasn't that great. It was not a feel good movie. But it was fun nonetheless. The movie theatre had couches to sit on rather than chairs, and some old cars with no tops to sit in too. You could order popcorn or soda to snack on from the front counter, or sandwhiches, pizza, muffins, meat pies, or any number of desserts. It was really neat. 

    After the movie we left town and made our way up to Mount Cook, where we hiked to the Mueller Hut, which I wrote about. When we left the Mount Cook area we went back to Wanaka. We found free wifi and I checked my email for the first time in two or three weeks. I had missed a lot! Including the contact info for a friend of my godfather, who's a pretty cool dude, so of course his friends must be cool too! I called her up immediately and we got an invite to stay there that night! Not only that, she invited us to dinner with other friends of theirs who were visiting from Scotland, who would be returning from their trip to Dunedin the next night. I felt bad adding myself to her guest list so last minute, but she and her boyfriend seemed not to mind. In fact, they only encouraged us to stay. They were wonderful, gracious, fun people. I will always be grateful for their hospitality. We had a wonderful couple of days with some really fantastic people. It was way over and above anything we could have hoped for. 

     We had only intended on staying one night, but we ended up staying a few nights. On the third day we moved on, not wanting to overstay our welcome any more than I felt we already had. We said our goodbyes, exchanged contact info, and headed to Dunedin, on the Southern East coast. 

     Dunedin was a really cool, old city. We took a bus tour around for the commentary and history of the awesome old buildings. Turns out Dunedin was settled, built, and designed by the Scott's, with a few Catholic exceptions, so the city has a lot of European character to it. Neat stone buildings, a big old clock tower, an epic train station, a few old churches with a whole lot of character, a big Catholic cathedral, a couple really awesome boys and girls schools that reminded me of Harry Potter and Hogwarts, and an intriguing old prison, which we also toured. We also toured Speights Brewery, which is the Kiwi equivalent of Busweiser beer. They have a few award winning beers, like the Triple Hops Pilsner that won a class 1 gold metal for lagers at the 2013 International Brewing Awards (apparently a big deal, worldwide), and I can vouch for how deserving it is. The Distinction Ale was my other favorite, but it hasn't won any awards (yet). 

      Also worth finding in Dunedin was a Turkish restaurant right down the road from the i-site (information) and Speights Brewery. It was so good we went twice, once each day. We had Doner Kebabs, falafel, and baklava. Yum. I really can't wait until the day the US gets on board with Doner Kebab chains. They're the Turkish version of Qdoba or Chipotle, only better. Way better.

      Anyhow, we had a great time in Dunedin, in spite of not getting to see any Albatross or Yellow Eyed Penguins up close. At least I saw the Albatrosses flying overhead, and I've seen my fair share of Blue Penguins, but I guess seeing a rarer penguin is just not going to happen. Either way, I left Dunedin fairly happy. It really is a cool city. 

     We made our way to the West Coast after that, stopping in the Northeast quadrant of Mount Aspiring National Park to hike the Young Track past Mount Awful. 

     Once we left there we drove through Haast Pass, which was supposed to be really cool but we didn't drive between any rock walls or rock pillars like we heard about from other people. I have no idea what they were talking about. The town of Haast was even more disappointing, as there was nothing there but a few hotels and tourist centers run by mostly unfriendly people. We kept going. We drove to the Fox Glacier and walked up to the viewing point, sore calves and blistered feet be darned. We watched the crowds of guided groups walking over the dirt and silt and ice and congratulated each other on not falling for that tourist trap. Don't get me wrong, walking on a glacier would be super cool, but paying hundreds of dollars to walk on a glacier so tracked out you don't even need crampons or an ice axe, surrounded by hundreds of tourists, is not the way I want to experience a glacier. I'd rather hike the 30 miles in to explore something a little more pristine. And a little quiter. Helicopters growled overhead constantly. Cloud-cover or no, people were still paying for helicopter tours.

     In spite of the crowds at the Fox Glacier, we still drove up to the Franz Joseph Glacier. It was just up the road, and even if it is a tourist trap, it's a free tourist trap if you stick to the boardwalks, and it's still a rare opportunity to get to drive up to a glacier.  

      Franz Joseph Glacier was much the same as the Fox Glacier, with helicopters flying everywhere, only it was even more hidden in clouds. We didn't stay long. We headed for the next town and just kept driving until we found an actual town. We ended up in Hokitika, I think. It was a nice town. We bought fish and chips, ate too much, and then bought a small amount of groceries to round out our meal plans for the next few days. Mostly we just bought some fresh meat and milk- things that would have spoiled if we'd bought them before our hike. 

      We didn't stay there long. We left for Arthur's Pass, which leads to Christchurch, back on the East Coast. It was starting to get dark when we turned onto the Arthur's Pass Road so we didn't want to drive very far because we didn't want to miss much. We'd heard from travelers  and locals alike that this road was awesome, and not to miss. We drove about a half an hour without finding a good place to stop and sleep. Finally we came upon a holiday park, where we ended up staying for the night. The showers there were really nice, as was the common room. It was well taken care of, by far the nicest holiday park we've seen so far. We took long, hot showers and then went to bed. 

      The next morning we woke up late. It had started to rain even before we had finished our showers the night before, poured all night, and was still raining the next morning. We cooked our breakfast in the common room (which was surprisingly empty given the weather and the amount of guests there), taking our time in hopes that the rain would clear off. Check-out was 10:00. Luckily, the clouds started to clear off around 9:00 so we left at 9:30, right after breakfast. 

     The further into the mountains we drove the cloudier it got again. They were rising up and away but we were driving higher and higher. We still saw some beautiful sights, but the pass itself was completely clouded in. All I know is that we came upon a big, long bridge. It appeared to be a bridge into the sky, because we couldn't see the end, couldn't see off the sides. It was just a bridge through clouds. It was so cool. After a few minutes of floating on a bridge in the clouds our tires hit pavement, and we were in the mountains again. We turned a corner and voila! Sunny, blue skies as far as we could see. We started to descend, so I'm guessing the cloud bridge was Arthur's Pass. 

      On the other side of the mountains we came upon some cool things. We stopped at a roadside park labeled, "Cave Stream Scenic Reserve."  A group of kids and chaperones were walking around in wetsuits, so Luke approached a chaperone and asked about these apparent caves. She said it was really easy, and it was about an hour's worth of walking total. We looked at what we had, what we could wear (because we don't have wetsuits), and decided to do it. We put on our swim trunks (I bought these shorts at a thrift shop in the women's section but I'm pretty sure it's a men's swimsuit), long sleeve non-cotton shirts, old sneakers, and donned headlamps. Then we set off down the trail, following signs for the cave.

     The trail wound down a hill to a very small river, more of a stream. We walked downstream about 100 feet until another stream popped up on our left and ran into the stream we were following. Looking up, we saw the cave entrance. Walking upstream now, we entered the cave. I turned my headlamp on but Luke used his super awesome police-duty-quality flashlight. We followed the twists and turns deeper, and deeper into the cave. The water actually got shallower, gradually. I didn't even get my shirt wet. The turns stacked up a little tighter, and the high walls got a little narrower, but it never got closed in or tight. It only got better. 

     A ways in we ran into a narrow area with water shooting through, and falling towards us. It proved easy to get over. Then it got deeper. It looked like I was going to get my shirt wet when I noticed a funny amber glow to the water up ahead. I could see it when Luke wasn't shining towards it (he was ahead of me), and I wondered if it was an interesting refracted reflection. Turns out it was daylight filtering through. The next corner we came around we were confronted with a big waterfall, at least 10 feet, and some bars in the rock that formed a ladder up. We climbed up, then crawled the narrow ledge out. If we fell, which seemed very unlikely, we only would have gotten wet. Above the waterfall, and between it and the exit, was a deep pool of water. The waterfall was caused by the excess water spilling overtop a natural thin wall that created a natural dam, so the pool of water was very calm. It was beautiful to look at. 

     When we got back to our van the parking lot was full of busses and more school children. We had only been gone maybe 45 minutes total, but the crowd had exponentially multiplied. We left and drove down the road, finding privacy under a large bridge to change. Then we kept driving.

     About an hour down the road the scenery changed again. There were rolling green hills covered in standing stones and boulders. It looked like some mythical giant had sat on top of the nearby mountains and thrown stones at the hills. Neat rock towers and piles were everywhere, just begging to be explored. It was the world's best adult playground. Of course we stopped and ran around. The rock was limestone, even though it was almost black on the surface, and perfect for barefooted gripping. I climbed up onto one rolling, swooping formation and ran around. I ran over arches and atop boulders, from one to the next. They just kept going. When the formation ended I hopped down and climbed up the next one.

     We were there for a couple hours, I think. We only left because we were hungry. I'd noticed a place on the map, just up the road, labeled "yummy homemade food cafe" and I wanted to find it. So, find it we did, and it was yummy. I had a vegetarian dish, a vegetable quiche of sorts that was totally amazing. Luke had some sort of curried chickpea pasty-like thing, I can't remember the exact name of it, but it was really good, too.

     We continued on, and before we knew it we were in Christchurch. We drove around again, and again we were confused. The traffic signs and visitor signs are all wrong. They haven't been updated to fit all the construction and demolished buildings since the earthquake in 2011, so trying to figure out where to go or how to get around is challenging, to say the least. It felt almost the same as it did the first time we drove through. The only difference was this time there were far more people around. 

     We found a United Video store and rented some movies, then we found a place to eat dinner. It was very busy, and it looked good, but it was just okay. We gave up on town and headed for Mt Vernon, on the outskirts of town. We drove through neighborhoods filled with beautiful houses, passed a number of cyclists, and ended up on a side road on a steep slope looking over the city. When we found a parking area we turned off so we could enjoy the view. The road itself was too narrow to stop, or look over at the view safely. At the parking area we found that it also looked out over a lake and a very small town on the bay of it. It was gorgeous. Since it was already getting dark we decided to stay there for the night. As it got darker the moon rose, big and yellow, and the city lights of Christchurch shimmered below. On the other side small lights turned on and off, and occasionally car lights snaked around the town through the dark and then disappeared.

      We got ready for bed, still marveling at the sights, then watched our movies. Surprisingly, we kept getting interrupted. Cars would come screeching up next to us, a couple came very close to hitting our van and we weren't in the way at all. They were careless with their headlights and we'd end up blinded. Most cars only had two people in them, some would sit in their car and do nothing (though I'm pretty sure they were sitting there getting high), some would get out and talk to people in another car that would pull up, then they'd both leave. At one point, a couple boneheads on scooters came roaring up, accompanied by a dude in a van. One scooter stopped, and the man got off and circled it, all sorts of agitated. I could tell just by the way he moved. The other was cursing at his scooter. When we smelled burning rubber we figured out that he'd hit the rock border to the parking lot, and the other bonehead, the one who was circling his scooter, was apparently stuck. Idiots. They made a scene for a while and then they must have fixed it, because they tore off in the direction they had come from. I think they were drunk. And the reason I'm pretty sure the people sitting in their cars were doing drugs is because if we got out of the van and made our presence known, they'd quickly start the car up and drive off. Who knew that such a beautiful, peaceful, middle-of-nowhere place by day could be such a sad place in the dark. We watched 3 movies by the time it finally quieted down. I think it was well after midnight by the time we went to sleep. 

    The next day we parked by the i-site, Christchurch Museum, and botanical gardens. We decided to take another bus tour to get a feel for the city. The way everyone talked about it, it was very much alive and happening. But when we drove through it, especially after 5:00, it seemed to be a ghost town. When we toured around on the bus we saw that the buildings that had previously appeared totally abandoned were busily being worked on during the day. We found out from the bus drivers commentary that some buildings were scheduled to be deconstructed and just not started yet. Others survived just fine and had only required a few minor fix-ups before reopening in the last year or so. Others still were mostly fine, but there was construction going on to build up the foundations, or other structural features, so they wouldn't have to be torn down. The city then seemed alive, with an optimistic population rebuilding, confident the city would be functioning again, better than before. They looked at the destruction as an opportunity to organize and rebuild the city to fit everyone's needs, and unlike before there would be more parks, and districts for shopping, or museums, or whatever. Far more organized than before. The city council was even looking at the locals' drawings, from preschooler  to professional, for building ideas. It seemed really cool. 

     Once we got off the bus we walked around a bit. We walked through the container mall, this time bustling with people. We rode on the trolly, all the way from one end to the other. We walked through the museum a bit, and through the botanical gardens. It was a beautiful day. And finally, I could see the life in Christchurch that everyone else talked about. 

     We ended up sticking around one more night, and leaving late the next morning. We came here, to Hanmer Springs, where we scheduled ourselves a nice trip to the hot pools and spa. It was absolutely lovely. The town is lovely, too. It's a semi-posh little town nestled in at the bottom of the mountains, and I've enjoyed walking around it. I wouldn't mind staying even longer, but we've already spent two nights here and we're ready to move on. On to Lewis Pass, back to the West Coast!

The Awful, Dreadful Hike

18-3-2014

    It started out in the rain. That should have been our first sign, but it was very light rain and it was supposed to clear up for the next few days so we decided to start ASAP. We had to ford a river at the beginning so we wanted to start before it rained harder and the water rose too high to make for an easy crossing. I wore my rain jacket but not my rainpants. I had on my Teva sandals and my new zip-off pants that I'd just bought in Queenstown. I took the bottom parts off so I could cross the river in shorts, then zipped them back on once I reached the other side to protect me from sandflies. Very handy, but the river was deep enough to get my shorts wet so I got wet anyways. I looked silly at first, but soon enough I was soaked anyways because of the rain. I didn't mind. 

     We hiked six hours to the Young Hut and stayed there for the night. When we got there I was feeling smelly, so Luke and I went down to the river and found a good swimming hole to jump into. It was freezing cold. The coldest water I've ever been in. I had intended on getting my hair wet but I got in up to my waist and that was enough for me. Within seconds my feet hurt because the water was that cold. We very quickly washed off, dressed ourselves in the cold rain, then went back to the hut. I put on every warm layer I had and eventually felt better. 

     We hung all our wet stuff outside under the porch roof, hoping it would clear up a bit and dry overnight. Just before we went to bed it was still raining, so I transferred my rain jacket and pants inside. They were sort of dry the next morning. Everything outside was even wetter than when we had hung it up. It had not cleared up overnight. It was still raining. In fact, it was raining harder. I put my damp zip-off pants back on, thinking it would be worse not to and get my only dry clothes all wet. I packed up the wet stuff, put on a new shirt, along with my rain jacket, and we headed out. 

      Luke wore his wet pants, too. It was supposed to get nice out so we figured they'd dry out as we went. It didn't get nice out. In fact, it rained and then rained harder. We hiked up and up towards the saddle we had to cross to get to the next hut, and the closer we got the steeper it got. It got so steep that I frequently looked back the direction we'd come from, not see further down than the immediate twenty feet below us, and wonder how in the heck we'd gotten up there so easily. Although, it really wasn't too easy. Everything was wet, slippery, not to mention steep, and the further up we got the windier it got. Sometimes it gusted so heavily we hunkered down into whatever crevice we could find and held on. The rain felt like sleet against our faces. Maybe it was. 

      Ridiculously, I was having fun. I thought we were half crazy for being out there, crossing over mountains (although a saddle is, by definition, the lowest point between mountains) but it was fun. There were waterfalls everywhere on the surrounding mountainsides, thousands it seemed. The clouds covered up a lot but they also thinned out in spots and we could see the silhouettes of the surrounding peaks, and all the waterfalls. And besides the view, it was nice to have a different experience, even if it meant foul weather. I really, oddly, had fun. Plus, I thought it was hilarious that we passed the army group (who had gotten up at dawn to leave, and we left late in the morning), and I was still wearing my Teva sandals. To be fair, I'm pretty sure they were carrying absurdly heavy packs, with way more than they knew they'd need, because it was a training exercise for the officers. Still, I got a chuckle out of it. 

     By the time we reached the Siberia Hut we were again soaked. Although, honestly, we had been soaked within an hour of leaving the Young Hut. For most of our hike our pants clung to us, and water squished around with every step, and every turn. Unlike the day before, we were soaked through this time. Either from sweat or rain, even my rain jacket was soaked inside and out. So was my pack, in spite of the rain cover on it. The wind had driven the rain in around the sides, and that's not easy to do. It had pooled at the bottom and thoroughly soaked my pack. Good thing I was smart and packed everything in water proof stuff sacks, or zip lock bags. They both worked. Everything inside my pack was still dry, including my change of clothes. I was relieved. 

     Luckily Siberia Hut had a warden, who had started a nice, warm fire in the wood stove, and we were able to hang our clothes on the ceiling rack nearby to dry them out. We changed into our dry clothes and settled in for the night. Mostly we just played chess until we went to bed. 

     The next morning when we woke up it was still grey. It was misty, and gloomy, so I slept in. The plan had been to hike to Lake Crucible, a six hour hike in total, off the main track. It was supposedly the most beautiful part of the whole track to see. But there was no point in hiking back uphill to see something that was covered by clouds so we nixed that plan. Instead, we were slow to get up, slow to make breakfast, and slow to pack up. 

     Halfway through breakfast the fog started to burn off. Within an hour it was a beautiful, sunny day. The grass still had dew on it, so it was still a bit wet outside, but it was drying quickly. Finally, a nice day. We thought about changing our minds again and going to Lake Crucible after all, but we ended up not doing it. Luke looked at the weather and the next day was supposed to be worse than anything we'd seen so far. Gale force winds were expected. We didn't want to spend another two nights at the hut, so we decided to hike all the way out that day. We had to cross the same big river to get out that we had to cross to get in, only 6 kilometers downstream of where we'd crossed to go in. In those 6 kilometers, more rivers had run down from the mountains and valleys in between and converged with the main one, making it even deeper and swifter than before. Not to mention all the rain we got, but that shouldn't make much of a difference by the time we got to it. It was estimated to be a 7-9 hour hike. And thanks to the weather forecast, it was a last minute plan, so we didn't start until noon. I made it my goal to get there and get across the river before dark. 

      Turned out the hike out wasn't so bad. The parts of the trail that we followed were a huge pain in the butt, but we quickly solved that problem by just walking on the gravelbar of the river instead. The trail followed it closely, and the only times we had to use it were when the river butted right up against the woods. We made it out in about 5 hours, I think. But by "made it out" I mean "made it to the big, main river". The one we had to cross. We looked at the river where it was marked to cross, and the fields beyond. We were so unmotivated to cross yet. I just didn't want to. We thought maybe we could find a better place. Besides, we still had to walk back to our car, so we figured we might as well walk up the river towards it and cross in the best spot we could find.

      We walked forever. Or at least it felt like that. I had chosen to again wear my Tevas, but because they were still soaked and my feet had been dry, I had rubbed my skin raw in a few places and it hurt to walk. We were both tired, and very sore. Each step got harder. The river only seemed to get worse, so we kept walking. We figured we'd eventually get to the spot where we had crossed before and have to back-track only a little. That didn't happen. We walked as far as we could before the river butted up to woods again, and we were left with two choices: either we scramble up, around, and through the woods, or we just cross there. The spot actually looked like a really good spot to cross. As good as it was going to get. So, we decided to just cross there. We found big sticks to help us, and in we went.

      The water was cold, and swift. It started off easy but then it got deeper. The water crept up past my waist, soaking the waist-straps on my pack, and my shirt way up past my belly button. I leaned forward on the stick for support and found that all that did was help the river sweep my feet out from underneath me. I started to slide, and wobble. The current kept pushing me sideways but somehow I managed to righten myself out again. I tried not to think about how much I didn't want to fall and have to swim in such cold water, with a pack on my back (because it wasn't so bad that I felt I had to unbuckle it). I concentrated on moving my feet and staying balanced, so much that I hardly even noticed the cold. Right in the middle of the river I got stuck for a few seconds. It seemed no matter how hard I tried to move, as soon as I started to shift in the slightest, I felt I was going to be swept away. I told Luke I was stuck, and he stopped. I think he talked me through it but I don't really remember. I was concentrating on not swimming. I got through it, but from then on I followed behind Luke. He broke the current for me. I don't know if it was that, or the fact that it was getting shallower, that made it easier. Probably both. Either way, we both made it across just fine. That was the deepest river crossing I'd ever done. Until then, I'd always been able to find some other means of crossing. Like a boat, or a fallen tree. 

      We still had a few kilometers to walk before we were back to our van. We walked through another field, and some thorny bushes, trying not to scare the cows. Finally we got to the road. From there we walked another two kilometers, I'd say. Hitch hiking was not even possible because the road had closed at 6:00 for construction on a slide area on Haast Pass. But once we were to the road it got easier.

      When we finally reached our van we were done for the night. It was almost dark, time to find a camp spot anyway, the road was closed...might as well just stay there. Plus, we saw at least 4 fire trucks, 2 police cars, 2 ambulances, a news car, and 2 helicopters whizz by, heading toward the pass. I don't know where the accident was but I know there was one. Probably a bad one. We decided it was best to stay off the closed road and out of their way. We didn't even drive the 2 kilometers back into town that night, we just crashed there at the trailhead (if you could call it that). It was a widened shoulder area big enough for about 4 cars, and surrounded by sheep, but we weren't picky. We were just tired.

     Supposedly, we hiked over the saddle on a ridge-line of Mount Awful, and also hiked past Mount Dreadful, but I couldn't say. It was too rainy and cloudy to see for sure, so I'll just have to trust the map. We joked about how appropriately the mountains were named, since they were prone to constant foul weather like we'd experienced, and we decided to name this blog post after them. The hike wasn't that awful, certainly not dreadful, but man was it trying. 

Mount Cook Area

Mueller Hut

10-3-2014

     Frankly, the "walk" to get here was a pain in the butt. It was more of a climb. The majority of the trail was stairs, and then the top quarter was all scrambling. However, it was worth it. It's beautiful up here. The view is incredible. We're on Mount Oliver looking out across a deep valley, and on the other side is an enormous ridge shaped like a crescent moon. To the side is Mount Cook, the tallest mountain in New Zealand. It is where Sir Edward Hillary practiced his mountaineering skills before he and Tenzing Norgay climbed Mount Everest, the first ever to do so. Like Mount Everest, it's a very dangerous climb. One of the most dangerous in the world, apparently, because of unpredictable weather and snow conditions combined with a very technical climb. I want to explore it, but I think I'll hone my mountaineering skills first. As in: I'll get some. This is not the place to start, and besides, this is not the time of year to climb Mt Cook.

    I'll have to be content with Mt Oliver, by the hut here. It's only a half an hour from here to the top and doesn't even require crampons or an ice axe. The plan is to go do it tomorrow. Right now we're pretty tired from our clamber up this mountain.

    In fact, everyone here but me is asleep already. I just couldn't help but write, because this is so cool. The moon is a little over half full and pretty bright, the starts are out, and outside it's quiet except for the thunder. It's like a thunderstorm only it's not; it's avalanches. Huge chunks of snow on the mountains across the way are hardening now that it's cooled down for the night, and they're breaking off and hammering down into the valley below. It's incredible to hear, and I wish it was light enough to see. I can't wait until light tomorrow morning, when it will warm up again. 

Queenstown

7-3-2014

     After the Routeburn we returned to Queenstown. I love Queenstown. It reminds me of a mountain village in Colorado, but not as ritzy as Vail. There's so much to do here! We hung around the area for a few days because we did a lot. 

     The first day we went to the racetrack. We drooled over some fancy fast cars and then they handed us the keys. Yep, no joke. I drove a Ferrari around the track, 4 rounds, with an instructor in the passenger seat. He told me what cones signaled for me to slow down, and speed up, and said things like, "Yep, keep accelerating." I smiled so big my face hurt. When my turn was done the instructor told me I managed to get all the way to 4th gear on the straightaway, and it felt like a short distance. 

    Luke got to drive a Lamborghini. I hate to say it, but I think his car was cooler. But the Lamborghini was a manual car only and since I didn't feel like ruining their really nice, really expensive cars, I stuck with the auto/semi auto Ferarri. Mine had the option to shift using the paddle shifters, and it would override the automatic shifting, but I didn't have to use them. Perfect.

     Luke was grinning pretty big when he stepped out of the car, too. It's hard to tell from the sidelines, but I think he was ripping around the rack too. 

      I don't know that it was a really big learning experience, other than the fact that I now know for certain I should never be allowed to own a car that fast. I couldn't be trusted to always drive the speed limit. No way. It's so fun not to! Although, there's a huge element of safety on the track that disappears when you involve public streets and have civilians running around. 

    After we drove ourselves around the track we got to do a "hot lap" in a Porsche. I wish it was a Porsche Carrera but we were in a Porsche Cayenne. Still pretty awesome. We both felt like pansy little girls after the Stig drove us around. That lap was fun. 

     The rest of that day we spent driving around the nearby hills touring vineyards. We had some seriously delicious wine, and some truly amazing food. Nutty, buttery chardoneys, sweet yet light reislings, savory lamb salad with beetroot and feta cheese, some fancy poached plum cake dessert that was moist but not heavy, with caramel drizzled over it and vanilla ice cream on the side. I tell ya' I could live here and die happy. 

     We finished our night off by splitting a burger from Fergburger in downtown Queenstown. It's a great locals' favorite, with great character, and some really great burgers. There's always a crowd, it's always busy, because it's always good. I'm glad Luke and I split one because we got The Big Al, and the thing was huge! I was full eating only half of it.

     The next day we started off strong. After all, we had to burn off that burger. So we rented some bikes, bought a half day pass to the gondola, and set off. The gondola is only a few blocks away from downtown, and right up the hill from the bike shop we rented from, so we walked there. Plus, we had 4 hour parking in a town where finding 30 minute parking is a pretty good. 

     I've never downhill mountain biked before. I've taken my bike on the trails around Marquette, which is darn close. I've even demoed a Specialized full suspension bike on those trails, but I've never done only downhill and not had some uphill too. This was all downhill. The bike park around the gondola was the dirt version of a ski hill. There were even "runs" that were rated by green circle (beginner), blue square (harder), black diamond (advanced), and double black diamond (experts only). 

     I stuck to the greens. Even the greens were hard. The first run down I was so nervous that I was on the brakes almost the whole time. I felt like a kid who just learned how to ski who was thrown onto the hill barely even knowing how to stop. After all, I knew that if I crammed on the brakes I'd just fly over the handlebars. I wished there was a bunny hill. I knew just enough to not die, like keeping my feet even when coasting, and using the back brake more than the front.

      Each run took about 45 minutes. On the other hand, with each run I got a little faster, a little more confident. Still, every banked corner made me nervous, because they looked to me like big ramps into the trees and off cliffs. But I did get better. I made it my goal to get better at the banked corners (which was every corner), and I don't know if I did, but at least I feared them a lot less by the end of the day. 

      We even did a blue square run for our last run. It was fast and scary, and fun. I survived! I went fast, I even got some air off the tiny jumps, I cornered just fine, and I didn't fall all day! I think I even like the sport, although I will continue to wear body armor. Yes, Mom, don't worry, we were in full face helmets, elbow pads, and a knee pad / shin pad combo. I may not have done it otherwise. 

     It was incredibly fun. More fun, I think, than bungee jumping. 

     Because we only got a half day pass, we had to return our bikes at 2:00. I'm glad we did, though, because by dinner time it was raining. We were lucky enough to have some warm weather and clear skies when we were on the trails. Biking in the mud is fun, but I'm glad my first downhill mountain biking experience was a little more stable. We returned the bikes and all the gear, then got ready for dinner.

     Dinner, it turns out, was also on the mountain. At the top of the mountain the gondola is attached to a big building that houses a cafe, bathrooms, a huge souvenir shop, a jelly belly outlet, and the whole bottom floor is a really nice restaurant with really nice food. It looks out over the gondola, all of Queenstown, the bays and peninsulas, and the Remarkables (mountains) beyond. It's really cool. 

     It's expensive to eat there, but we figured of all the places to spend money eating out, this was probably one of the best. We weren't wrong. The food was phenomenal. It was so good we ate way too much, and I think we were more stuffed than Thanksgiving and Christmas combined. We finally got to try the local dessert Pavlova, which I thought was a cake but it turns out it's more like merengue. It looks like angel food cake. 

     We also got to see the Kiwi Haka dance. Not the All  Blacks one (unfortunately it's not rugby season here, or I would have bought tickets to a game) but the native one. It was really neat. I used to hula dance in college. It was fun, something to do during my spare time other than drink, like everyone else seemed to want to do. It was very similar to that. I even learned a Haka (war dance), but it was different. I learned to dance with Poi Balls, too, but that was also way different. It was cool to see. 

     By the end of the night we were pretty darn happy, and tired. It was a fantastic day. One of the best so far. I really love Queenstown.

Routeburn Day 3

Routeburn, Day 3/ Actually Caples Track

4-3-2014

Mid Caples Hut

     The Caples Trail is less of a walking trail and more of an actual backcountry trail. It goes up and over a saddle, just below the snow line, and then follows the Caples River down a long valley to the car park (that's the Kiwi term for parking lot).

     It's very pretty. Parts of the trail are in the woods along the valley meadow and the river, parts are through the meadow. Snow dusted mountain peaks are visible on all sides. 

     This morning it was still misting and chilly, but it cleared up and turned into a beautiful, warm sunny day. Whereas yesterday we dawdled in snow, today we dawdled in warm grass.

     We still made it to our hut by 3:00 in the afternoon. We picked our spots in the bunk room (right by a big window with an even bigger view) and chatted with the three older ladies we met and friended last night. They arrived just after we did. 

      After that, we walked  around and explored a bit. We found the coolest slot canyon right by the hut. The river is wide open and flat until it corners around the hill the hut is on, and upon investigation, there turned out to be some really neat waterfalls and a really sweet canyon that the river runs through. It gets really deep in a couple spots, and looks like an awesome spot to cliff jump. It also looks like it'd be the coolest spot to kayak if there wasn't a log jam right in the narrowest part. Instead, I had to be content with just walking around looking at it from all different angles. Still, it was a fantastic evening adventure.

     Now it has just gotten dark. One planet is shining bright, preceding the rest of the stars. We had all been chatting away with everyone in the common room about bears, elk, deer, the US and New Zealand, but now we're ready for bed. We all are.

     Tomorrow we hike out. It's only about 5 kilometers away, I think we'll do it in an hour and a half. Then I plan on hunting down laundry and a hot shower. 

Routeburn Day 2

     It's snowing! I can't even begin to describe how excited I am to see snow. It's just the best thing ever! The temperature is pleasant, the snow is lovely, and it even smells good! 

     The wind picked up once we crossed over Harris Saddle, so we ended up putting our hats and gloves on. It made me very glad that I packed them, and my long underwear. I wish I had packed my tent booties, even though it's (supposedly)summer here.

    Someone said today at the McKenzie Hut, where we stopped for lunch, that Mark Twain was quoted saying, "The coldest winter I ever experienced was summer in New Zealand." For me that is not true, but it has been much colder than I expected. It has rained a lot, cold rain, and been cold every single night so far. Then I think about how cold it is in Michigan and I laugh, because this is not even close to cold, comparatively. This is probably shorts weather for a Michigander.  It's not even snow, but rain, at lower elevation places like the McKenzie Hut.

    I'm a little sad we're not staying at the McKenzie Hut because we met a few really neat ladies there who were a lot of fun to talk to. Two of the three are from the US, and one even from Washington. She hikes in the Olympics all the time. We exchanged contact info, helped them start a fire in the wood burning stove (which was actually a great deal of fun), and then we continued on to Howden Hut, where we are staying for the night. 

     When we first got here it was very quiet and almost gloomy. Everyone was sitting in small huddles, separate from each other, at opposite ends of the three tables that are placed in the shape of a T, only the top line is longer. Since there was only space left in the middle that's where Luke and I sat, and it seems we were the missing link between communications for all the groups. Now we're chatting with everyone on all sides, dinner is cooking away on the side counter, and the four behind us have started to play Euchre. They're all native Kiwis and I grew up thinking this was a Michigan game, so I'm excited. I'm finishing my writing now in hopes that I can join in.

Routeburn Day 1

2-3-2014

      I'm sitting here in the Routeburn Falls Hut. It's only 2:00 in the afternoon and we've already arrived at the hut we're staying at tonight. It's cold and pouring down rain outside. We made it here just before the rain got really heavy, and it's supposed to only get worse. It's supposed to get cold enough to turn to snow all the way down to 700 meters. We're at 1000m here, where the snow level was two days ago (keep in mind it's late summer here, and 1000m is only about 3000ft).

      We just have good timing. We made it here before the weather got too bad. We're a little wet but not soaked, as the newcomers are now. Our luck now is due to our luck this morning, since we wouldn't be here this early otherwise. We parked at the Greenstone Trailhead, 28km away from the Routeburn Trailhead, because that's where we're ending. In case you don't hike very often let me put this into perspective: most people hike 8-10 miles, or 10-12 kilometers, in a day and then they stop and make camp. As a ranger I typically hike 16-20 miles in a day. My longest day was 28, for a Search And Rescue. So that translates to a long day being (16-20mi) around 25km. To do 28km would either be a very long day, or two days, and that isn't including the 8.8km to the hut we're in now. My whole points that we needed a ride, and it seems everyone does this loop the other way around so the shuttles' times were off. That left us with only one option left: to hitch-hike. Very common in this country, but we were fairly remote. I mean, we drove through rivers to get to this parking lot. I figured our best bet would be to get a ride from someone coming off the trail, and I wasn't at all sure that anyone would even come off the trail today. I really, really didn't think it likely that anyone would come off the trail in the morning; it'd likely be afternoon before we could hitch a ride. We knew the weather was only supposed to get worse as the day went on, so we got up and ate breakfast at 8:00 anyway, hoping for a break. 

     We had just zipped our packs up and locked the van when a van with a trailer pulled in. A group of people got out, ready to hike the Greenstone Track, who were very friendly and talkative. We talked to the driver and found she transported people to trailheads for a living, and she was willing to give us a ride to the Routeburn right then, and her price was half of anyone else. We accepted right away! 

     For anyone who may be traveling to the Queenstown area in New Zealand (which I highly recommend) in the future, if you find you need a ride somewhere within a few hours of the area, I suggest Buckley Transport. The lady who does it is excellent, very friendly, a very good driver, and she even gave us some tasty ginger fudge candy thing when she dropped us off. She said it was for energy on the trail. I think she was just ridiculously nice.

    Now I'm sitting in the hut, after few hours later. Dinner has been made and eaten. Tea has been made, twice. The hut warden gave his speech to all of us (all 48), which was both informative and humorous.  He warned us about the possums and the kea birds, and about how mischievous they get. When it's quiet they're up to something, and they get quiet at night. So, keep the doors closed and keep our stuff indoors. Kea birds in particular are very curious about anything new, and they will pick things apart. 

     The warden also talked about cleaning up after ourselves and other hut etiquette, as expected. Most  impressively, he left everyone in a good mood. Now everyone is playing cards and talking in small groups. One person is playing guitar, another ukulele, and someone else is singing. Some people are reading, others (like me) are writing. Here and there we're all looking at this giant poster on the wall behind me that says, "Welcome to Routeburn Falls, Merry Christmas!" in 25 different languages.  We're all collaborating, trying to guess at least 20 because if we do, the warden has promised a large Cadbury chocolate bar. I brought my own for this trip (yes, I have an unhealthily large sweet tooth) so I'm just in it for fun. I recognize Mandarin Chinese, Arabic, French, German, Spanish, Portuguese, Hawaiian Polynesian, Italian, Thai, Russian, Hindu, Maori, and I think that's it. Oddly enough, English is missing. 

     It's a lot of fun. Everyone seems to feel more comfortable and settled now, including me. I'm also starting to feel very tired, so I'm signing off now and going to bed. 

Goodnight

-Carolyn

Horseback Riding

2-3-2014

     Yesterday we went horseback riding at a ranch near Glenorchy. It was a big place with only a few small but spacious, and clean, buildings. Lots of land. They had 45 horses and they all got along well enough to roam around together. Except for the pony, who was apparently very unfriendly. He had his own small paddock. 

     The ranch does guided tours from a few hours to a full day, sometimes even overnight up to a whole week. They have a lot of horses so they don't wear any one out. 

     When we showed up there seemed to be no-one around but the horses and one employee who came out to greet us. 

     "Can I help you?" She asked. 

      We had an appointment, but somewhere something got messed up and we weren't on their schedule. There was a bit of running around but they still let us ride, and because of the mess-up we pretty much got a private tour. 

      We had to wait while they went out and rounded a few horses up for us to ride. It didn't take long. The tacking (saddling up) went quickly too, and soon enough we donned helmets and muck boots and were introduced to our horses. 

      I was on Sparky, on a Western saddle that looked more English than Western. Luke was on Quiz, on a stock saddle. It's an Australian style saddle used by stock herders, hence the name. Our guide was riding on an English saddle. I guess I hadn't thought about how unique Western saddles are to the US until then.

     Anyways, it was easy riding. Very comfortable. Sparky was kind of a princess, or rather: a gentleman. He hated walking through mud and especially puddles, and he snorted every time we walked through a cold river, which was fairly often. He was also very careful with his footing on the gravel riverbed and in the rivers, taking it slowly, as if to make sure each step was as comfortable as possible. I had to encourage him on each and every river crossing, and especially the part where we walked up a small river for a few hundred feet. I couldn't help it, I laughed out loud. More than once. I could tell he was just being fussy. It's not like he was injured or afraid, he was just fussy. I found I was very glad to have a horse with so much personality. In my experience, most rental horses in the states  are sadly devoid of spunk because it's safer for inexperienced riders that way, and most rental horses get inexperienced riders. 

     Even though Sparky was fussy, it was easy to figure out where to lead him, and he was very responsive to the reins. One small, gentle tug in one direction and he'd go that direction. He didn't respond well to kicking when I needed him to go, but a pat on the butt got him to move right along, no matter how cold the water was. (It's a glacial river). 

     The best part of was when we got to trot. Turns out Sparky used to be a cart-racer (so the guide called it), which entails trotting as fast as possible with the rider in a cart behind being towed. So, as the guide put it, Sparky could trot faster than the other horses could canter (which is faster, usually).

      When we started out I was the last in line. When we started trotting Sparky quickly got fed up with Quiz's slower pace and passed him. It was very bumpy, more awkward than I remember (it's been a while), but very fun.

      The rest of the trip Sparky went out of his way to make sure Quiz didn't pass him back, making me laugh out loud again. Poor Quiz. 

     I think it's safety say that both Luke and I had a lot of fun. Like I was saying earlier, it's uncommon to be able to rent horses, even guided, and be able to trot, tide through rivers, and get great horses that are well trained and still have  some personality left. 

Bungee Jumping

28-2-2014

    Bungee Jumping is the most terrifying thing I have ever done. Yes, I did it. No, I don't know why. I don't consider myself an adrenaline junky (at least I haven't before) and honestly, the whole concept of jumping off of something very high, attached to an elastic rope, seems like a very poor strategy for cheating death. However, we were in Queenstown, and Queenstown is known as the adventure capitol of the world. You can hang-glide, paraglide, mountain bike, skydive, whitewater raft, jet boat, ski, snowboard, and do anything else you can think of. It's where bungee jumping was invented. I assume by A.J. Hacket, since that's the name of the company who runs it now. They have the best reputation in New Zealand, and the option to jump at a number of places, including the Kawarau Bridge which is where the very first bungee jump ever took place. That's where we went. First off, because it's a bridge. Because jumping off a cliff attached to something stretchy and swinging is not cheating death, it's suicide. If you happen not to die, you have just unsuccessfully committed suicide. 

     So, anyhow, the Kawarau Bridge is just East of Queenstown, over the Kawarau River. It's a big, beautiful, turquoise river, swift and deep. It's one of a few rivers around Queenstown. (The other, the Shotover River, I'm just itching to kayak!) When you jump you get the option to not touch the water, touch it, or dunk in it. We, of course, both opted to touch it. A little different than most but without my head going underwater. Or so I thought. Once I was all strapped up they said, "Make sure you really jump out, don't just fall straight down, or you'll get wetter than you want. And make sure to touch the water with your arms first, and tuck in your chin."

    Oh great. This sounded like a bad idea.

    "On the count of three. One...two..."

    "Wait!" I said. "Is there a good spot to aim for? Any advice?"

    "Just look up at the other bridge," said the guy counting.

     Yeah, right... Okay, I'm just going to pretend I'm on a diving board. A really, really high diving board. And my legs aren't going to flip over my head. This is just like cliff jumping. Sure...

    "Three!"

     Oh shit. Sorry, but that's what went through my head. I jumped anyway. From the sound of it, it was jump or be pushed, and I was absolutely not going to be pushed. 

     According to the guys who picked me up on the boat, I screamed like I was being murdered. I told them that's because that's what it felt like. I was falling, too high up, so I screamed. When I was done screaming I was still falling, so I screamed some more. I've never screamed in my life. Until then, I was pretty convinced I didn't know how. I proved myself wrong. 

     Just about the time I thought falling was fun I touched the water. It felt very gentle, barely even noticeable except suddenly I was rising back into he air and the top of my head was now wet. So was my sweater (it was cold that day!), but just the shoulders. I guess I didn't jump out far enough, because I dunked. Or it was a little prank by whoever set the length of the line, but I doubt it. 

     The fun part was actually bouncing around in the air after the first drop. I thought I would hate that part, but I didn't. There was no whiplash, like I had imagined there would be. It felt more like jumping on a trampoline without touching the trampoline. 

    Before I even stopped bouncing or swinging the chase boat was extending what looked to be a giant PVC pipe for me to grab so they could pull me into the boat. I accidentally body slammed the guy at the stern (back) because I was still swinging. He grabbed my shoulder like he was going to body slam me into the bottom of the boat. He did flip me, but gently. It was the best way to get me into the boat.

    It was all very quick. I walked up, gave them my ticket, they ushered me onto the platform and set me up, counted to 3, then I jumped. A few seconds later I was picked up and ferried back to shore, where I climbed many stairs back up. Except for the fear, it didn't feel much different from jumping off the diving board in a pool, swimming to the ladder, and going back for more. Only the "more" would have been expensive again, and probably just as terrifying, so there was no "more". 

     If my descriptions aren't enough, I hope to be posting pictures, and maybe even video, of our bungee jumping. Then you can literally see the terror on my face.

     I'm still not certain if it was fun or not. I think I probably won't do it again, but then I never thought I'd do it in the first place. I think I did it because it's an uncommon opportunity to be able to bungee jump at the very spot that inspired the whole thing to begin with, the spot of invention: the Kawarau Bridge.

Doubtful Sound

26-2-2014

     After our short kayaking stint in Milford Sound, doing a longer kayaking trip seemed like a great idea, and a Doubtful Sound was the perfect place to do it. 

     Doubtful Sound is incorrectly named a sound since it's actually a fjord, like every "sound" in Fjordland National Park. It's inaccessible accept by guide. We had to cross Lake Manapouri, which is pretty big in and of itself, by boat. It took us an about an hour. Then we went by bus along a gravel road that wound through a valley, crossed into another valley, then over to the innermost reaches of Doubtful Sound. There we hopped onto another boat and went a little further before we stopped and loaded ourselves into kayaks from the boat. We had changed into wetsuits before getting on the bus, so we were ready to go.

     We paddled leisurely up the fjord while the guide talked about our surroundings. The top layer of the water in the fjord was actually fresh water because of all the rain. It gets to be about 25 feet deep, but currently the fresh water level was only 15 ft deep. 

     There's a rare and extremely endangered bird that lives there, called the Kakapo bird. Other than invasive predators, one of the reasons it's so rare is because it only mates when a certain kind of tree is blooming, which normally happens every 7 years or so. It's been 14 since the Rimu Tree last bloomed. But the female Kakapos refuse to mate without it, because their young survive only on the Rimu.

      When the Rimu Tree does bloom there is a lot of pollen. It's all over. So much so that the water actually turns yellow because of it, and later in the season there will be brightly colored algae blooms all over. I guess it's pretty spectacular to see. 

       We didn't wee any Kakapo birds, but we did see a Blue Penguin. It's the most common penguin of New Zealand, but it was still neat. I haven't been able to sight a Crested Penguin, or any of the really cool looking endemic and endangered ones, but at least I've officially seen a penguin in the wild. It looked a bit like a duck, just floating around. 

     By the end of the day we had paddled 14 kilometers. It only felt like 5. We did break for lunch, boarding the boat again and eating our packed lunches. We all made use of the toilet in the cabin and then we got right back into our kayaks. 

     I don't know how long we were actually kayaking, but we started our day at 7:15 and ended up heading back across Lake Manapouri at 4:30. It was a nice, full day of kayaking, and it felt good. 

     On the boat ride back our boat took a detour. It veered off into one of the smaller wings of the lake, zipping all the way down to the end, and then the captain beached us. One of the cool things about all these glacial lakes is that the banks are really steep in most spots. So steep that you can drive a boat right into shore, beach the bow onto the sand, and still have the motor running smoothly in the water at the stern. 

      Me and Luke hopped off without even having to get wet. The captain and our guide passed us a kayak, then waved goodbye as they and the rest of the tourists drove away. 

      We had a whole beach to ourselves. We had the whole bay to ourselves. There was no-one around, no sign of human life visible in any direction. Behind us in the next bay over, somewhere in the distance, was the town of Manapouri, I knew. But from where we were, it was a quiet, picturesque paradise. 

     The first thing we did was find a flat spot back in the bush to put up our tent, followed by putting up our tent. We were quick about it, and we quickly threw all our stuff inside, unzipping the least amount of doorway as possible so that the sandflies couldn't get it. They were bad. We covered ourselves with long sleeves, long pants, socks, and everything else, and protected any remaining exposed skin with Deet. Those buggers still swarmed around us, they just didn't bite. We walked along the beach as far as it would go in both directions, which included some bouldering on one end. It was really neat. 

    After that we cooked dinner; a luxurious butter chicken sauce with chicken over rice. We cleaned up and pondered our options, including kayaking some more, but the sandflies got the best of us and we retreated to the tent. We had a killer view from our tent, so were happy to sit in there and watch the waves roll in. And we watched the sunset. Meanwhile, the screen slowly turned black as more and more sandflies surrounded the tent. There was even a constant thwapping against the tent as they repeatedly flew into the rainfly.

      I didn't care much, though. So long as I didn't have to pee I didn't care that the bugs were bad. I was perfectly happy to stay in the tent and snuggle. It was a beautiful night. The stars were out but it never did get that cold. 

     The next morning we took our time getting up. The bugs were still pretty bad so we were in no hurry to leave the tent, but eventually we had to. I sprinted to the water and washed off, quickly toweling off and dressing before the bugs got me. I managed to get away with only 3 bites. We made breakfast, eggs with potatoes and onions, then cleaned up and broke camp. We packed everything into the double-seater kayak then left. We tried to radio to the kayak company but for some reason it wasn't working very well. We could hear everything just fine but they couldn't hear us. We managed to find out that because of lake conditions we should stick to the bays and use the portage between bays rather than paddle around. It was windy, and getting windier. I could see whitecaps outside the bay, so we steered clear and headed for the portage. 

      Finding the trail for portage was a little tricky, and we ended up mucking through a very shallow, very silty shoreline, dragging the kayak for about 50 meters through it all. Then we had to get across to the other side still, about another 100 meters. The kayak was way too heavy with all our stuff in it (plus the gear the company gave us, which just about doubled our load) to carry, so we dragged it through the portage too. Luke is brilliant, so he set up a system to pull the kayak and it didn't take hardly any effort at all. 

      Once as reached the beach on the other side, he tried radioing again. It still didn't work, so he pulled out his phone and called instead. Finally we could communicate, so the company knew when to expect us back for pick-up. They told us it would only take about an hour to cross the next bay and get to the boat launch in the river channel. 

     I have no idea how long it actually took, but I'm guessing a little more than an hour. The water was really choppy, with waves ranging from 3-5 feet, going in exactly the wrong direction for us to safely get to the channel, yet alone in it. 

     I'll admit, I was slightly terrified. I've tried kayak surfing enough times to know it's a lot harder than it looks. When you're surfing a wave, the minute your kayak starts to turn (as it naturally does), you get completely sideways and then flipped within seconds. It's hard work to stay on track with the wave, and even if you manage to do so successfully, you'll end up on shore. We didn't want to end up on shore, but to go with or against the waves was completely the wrong direction. Our direct path was parallel with the waves. 

     To add to the challenge, we had a narrow sea kayak loaded down with gear, so when we were going with the waves the nose sank under water. Not good. 

     Waves crashed over us. Water lapped over the middle, front, and back. We got soaked. We had spray skirts on, of course, but they didn't help much. Sitting water just leaked right through them.

    It was stressful, thinking we might flip with every wave. I'm used to kayaking alone, not with a partner, so that whole element just  added unpredictability into what I was familiar with, which just made me even more nervous. Thankfully Luke is very adept and skilled, just as much as I am, and we managed to not flip. Not only that, but he steered us perfectly on the only route that work to get us safely into the channel. 

    Once we made it into the channel we were home free. No boats were out and about, it was too choppy, so we didn't have any traffic to worry about. I was afraid if I stopped paddling my arms would stop working, but the channel was nice and flat and the paddling was easier. 

     Between the bugs, the wind, and the chop, it's no wonder why most people don't do what we did. It did seem half crazy. But it was also incredibly fun. There aren't a lot of places in the world where you can look around and not see a single sign of humans anywhere, yet alone in such a beautiful place. There's a running joke in New Zealand that if there weren't sandflies, all these beautiful places would be too crowded. I have no doubt that's true. So in a way, I'm thankful. And I'll gladly tough out the little things for opportunities like this. 

-Carolyn 

Steward Island

Stewart Island,  24-2-2014

            Stewart Island was SO COOL. We heard that it’s always raining there, and it’s notoriously muddy trail, and the sand flies (biting gnats that are far more irritating than mosquitoes) are everywhere. It’s all true. The trail was very muddy, up to our knees in spots. It rained almost the whole time, with bouts of hail every few hours. I didn’t have a problem with the sandflies but probably only because it was too windy for them to be out and about. I’m talking gale force winds at times, to the point where I stayed well away from any steep slopes I could have blown off of and I wasn’t just being ridiculous.

            It was also my second most favorite hike I’ve ever done; the first being my very first Search And Rescue, which also happened to be in the pouring rain. (Maybe something’s wrong with me.) Perhaps it was the company, since we were with friends from the blueberry farm. Claudia and Michaela, from Austria, Vijay, from France, and Markus, from Germany.

            Markus and Vijay decided not to stay in the huts, so those poor souls were stuck in tents out in the rain, hail, and wind. We tried to get them into the common room of the hut the first night, but the warden was unwelcoming, unfriendly, and refused to let them inside if they weren’t sleeping there that night. So we cooked for them using the kitchen in the hut, hung their soaked clothes by the fire, and hung out together outside. Yep, outside. Luckily the rain quit for a little bit, and we had a good time anyways, despite the warden. We played Moron (that’s the clean version of the name), a card game, on the porch. We were out of the rain but surrounded by clouds of sandflies. We covered up. Then the wind picked up so we battled the wind to keep the cards in place, played a few more rounds, then called it quits. It was too windy , and dark anyways.

            We were all tired, and we knew once we went to bed we wouldn’t wake up until daylight, so instead of going to bed and waking up in the middle of the night to look for kiwi birds, we decided to go walk the trail to the ridge and back right then.

            Sidebar: Kiwis are local native birds to New Zealand. They’re flightless birds, nocturnal, with long-ish legs and a long, straw like beak that they poke into the ground looking for bugs. They’re a relative of the Moa bird of New Zealand, also flightless, which is now extinct. They were hunted out by the first people who arrived here. Interestingly, the Moa bird has solid bones, not hollow bones as most birds have, which suggests that they never had the ability to fly.

            Because the kiwi-bird is nocturnal it’s fairly uncommon to see one. That, and they’re supposedly very shy. We walked two or three kilometers up to the top of the ridge and didn’t see a thing. It was very windy, and the trail was the muddiest we’d seen yet, but it was still fun. We tried to walk as quietly as we could for a while, but we were slipping and sliding so much that between the squelching mud and us laughing, I don’t think we were that quiet. We had some spectacular near-misses and fantastic saves, which prompted Markus to comment, “Even if we do not see a kiwi, it was worth it just for this.”

            At the top of the ridge the bush gave way to grass, with a sporadic bout of thorny thistle bush popping up here and there. The ridge wound down to very large rocks that the Tasman Sea crashed into. This was one of those spots where I retreated back into the bush (I say “bush” and not “woods” because “bush” really is a much more appropriate term for the vegetation here) so as not to be blown down onto the rocks.

            We couldn’t do much exploring around the ridge, so we just headed back down the trail. We had given up all hope of seeing a kiwi bird so unlike the walk up, we didn’t even try to be quiet. We walked freely and spread apart, talking at normal volume.  Us girls were a little ways ahead, and the boys behind, when I heard Luke make a strange noise. I looked back and saw all the boys stopped and shining their flashlights around into the woods. I knew right away they’d probably heard a kiwi, and Luke had made that noise to get my attention without having to yell. So Michaela, Claudia, and I quickly crept back to the boys as quickly and quietly as we could, hoping to see a kiwi-bird.

            “There was one just there!” Luke said. “And they’re huge! At least this big!” He gestured a size of a small dog,

            “There, it is that noise again!” said Markus. “Like what we heard the first time, and we saw a kiwi.”

            We all looked around.

            “There!” someone said. We couldn’t see it, but we could hear something shuffling around in the underbrush.

            “Let’s all turn off our lights for a while,” someone else said.

So we did. And we waited. We could hear it moving around, getting closer. It sounded as large as a deer, but I think that must have been it shuffling its large feet through the leaves and poking for bugs.

Closer and closer it came, until it sounded like it was only a meter away. Someone said, “okay!” and we all turned our lights back on (on low, of course; kiwis have very sensitive eyes).

The kiwi-bird was only a few feet in front of us. We all stood still, huddled together and afraid to move because we didn’t want to scare it away. We carefully grabbed for our cameras as it came closer. Maybe it just didn’t care we were there, but it walked right up to us. We were all in disbelief as we watched it walk up and peck the ground right by Luke’s feet. Then it pecked between Luke’s toes! None of us could believe it! It even stayed there long enough for us to get a few pictures. But, finding no bugs between his toes, it moved around him and shuffled on behind us. We watched it go behind some fallen logs and then we started talking again.

“I can’t believe it!” I said. “That was so cool!”

“It poked my feet!” Luke said.

“It poked your feet!” Markus said. “But I think that was a different one,” he continued. “The first one we saw was much bigger.”

The one we had just seen was about the size of your average house cat, which was only about 2/3 the size of what Luke had indicated earlier.

We all talked excitedly for a minute, still watching the kiwi-bird as he popped in and out of view, until someone suggested we turn off our lights again. Sure, why not?

We did, and we listened. The kiwi-bird sounded like it was indeed coming back towards us again, from where it was behind us on our right. Then I heard more rustling behind us to our left, a little further away. And more rustling directly in front of us, where the boys had seen the big one! We waited a few moments longer, letting one get close again, then we turned our lights back on. The same kiwi-bird was back near us again, poking his beak deep into the ground. I looked around for the other kiwi-birds but saw nothing. One was cool enough, though. We watched it until it disappeared again then we made our way back to the hut. I can’t believe how incredibly lucky we got.

It turned out the hut was only a hundred meters down the trail, so we got back and stood around for a few minutes, still totally geeked that we’d seen a kiwi-bird. But we were still very tired, so we only lingered a few minutes and then we all went to bed.

The next morning we slept in, or at least we tried to. Someone was rude enough to stomp through the hut, rattle the doors on both sides of the room, and then leave them open. Within minutes we were all attacked by sandflies. I couldn’t believe someone could be so idiotic and inconsiderate, especially after we had all gotten lectured on not leaving the doors open by the warden when we arrived. I know we weren’t the only ones.

Still, I was not willing to get up yet, so I buried my head in the hood of my sleeping bag to hide from the sandflies and tried to get back to sleep. Then I heard a voice say, “You all have to get up. We have to clean for the next people.”

What?

“What time is it?” someone asked groggily. I think it was the person in the bunk above me.

“Practically noon!” the warden responded sharply. Then she stomped out. I peered out of my sleeping bag and watched her leave. She rattled the doors again and again left them open.  I was appalled. How rude! Especially from the very person who lectured everyone not to leave the doors open!

“What time is it?” I asked to anyone in general once she had left.

“9:30,” someone answered. Not even halfway through the morning, and that was considered close to noon?

We took our time getting up. We took our time packing up. Then we took our time making breakfast in the kitchen. We tried to go wake Vijay and Markus up, but the warden turned Michaela around. She said we couldn’t go down there, and besides, there was no need because she’d already talked to them and explained that they weren’t allowed at or near the hut.

Again, HOW RUDE! But at least I knew they were awake. It really wasn’t within the power of the warden to tell us we couldn’t go see our friends, and when she tried to stop us again we told her as nicely as we could how offended we were by her behavior. Then we cooked breakfast for everyone and brought it down to the tent-site.

I’ve never been so disimpressed with anyone in visitor services in my life. We even filed formal complaints about her to the Department of Conservation office (the people who employ the rangers and manage the volunteers) in Oban, the town of Stewart Island. It’s not something I eagerly did, but I felt that whoever was managing volunteers needed to know just how awful that warden was making people’s experience.

Nevertheless, our trip was not ruined. We still had fun at the hut with the horrible warden, and the hut the next night was fantastic. Overall our experience was great.

The trail was wet but beautiful still. We only did the short loop but there is a bigger loop that goes around the entire island. It’s a seven day trek and we didn’t have time for it, but if I ever get back to New Zealand someday I’ll be sure to do the longer one. And I’ll probably fly in and out again.

One of the best parts of the whole experience was the way we got in and out. We had flown in and in spite of the wind (which was actually dying down), we were able to fly out. We even got the same pilot. He looked like he was the same age as me, which is only 25, but he was an excellent pilot. Even in the wind he landed the little eight person plane very smoothly, both times.

Leaving the island was a bit more thrilling than leaving the mainland, because once we took off we immediately banked hard. I looked out my window and looked straight down to the ground. It was so cool! Even when we straightened out I still kept my eyes peeled below us. The straight between Stewart Island and the South Island has the highest concentration of Great White Sharks in the world, and supposedly you can see them easily from the plane, so I was keeping my eyes peeled. We weren’t that high, so I was hopeful. But alas, I did not see any sharks on either flight. We still took a lot of pictures, because the view was amazing.

Also, on the flight back Michaela got to sit in the co-pilot seat! So of course we took a million pictures of that. She entertained us all by announcing that snacks and drinks would be served in twenty minutes, and we all knew it was only a fifteen minute flight. Then she welcomed us back to the mainland, in her Austrian accent, and said she hoped we enjoyed our flight. It was pretty funny.

Afterwards we all got pizza together at Hell’s Pizza in Invercargil. They make a very good pizza for a very good price. We were all happy with it. Then the time came when we all had to say our goodbyes and go our separate ways. We had all already made plans for what to do next, and unfortunately not together. I was just glad we could make the trip to Stewart Island work. It was really fun.