Milford, Te Anau, Kiwi Burn

humboldt falls!

Oops! I’ve been forgetting to do the “if you’re just tuning in…” part of the entry. Right. So, we’re in New Zealand. We’ve been here for seven months. For a month we settled in and wwoofed quite a bit. Then we worked four months during the southern hemisphere summer. Now it’s been two months on the road in one of three modes: backpacking, wwoofing, or sight-seeing.   They complement each other nicely and keep us from needing a vacation from our vacation!   The autumn has been wonderful, and winter is slowly starting to nuzzle its way in the door.

This is definitely a sight-seeing entry! Fresh of the Routeburn Great Walk, we jumped in the car and drove the rest of the curvaceous, high-alpine road to the famous Milford Sound. The southern west coast of New Zealand

milford sound and mitre peak as seen from shore

has a handful of huge fiords/sounds and dozens of smaller ones — icy fingers of the sea sneaking between soaring peaks. Milford is the only sound that has a paved public road for access and a breath-taking, picturesque spire as it’s inland focal point (Mitre Peak).

The drive to the sound is amazing. First the Eglington Valley, then a climb up through the forest and above treeline to the Homer Tunnel — a project more than 30 years and several avalanche deaths in the making. Once you’ve bumped your way through the rough-hewn tunnel, it’s down, down, down, down, down to the sea!


the “Chasm” – a short stoll to sculpted stream bed

We spent a full day just relaxing at a hostel, going on short nature walks, enjoying the scenery, and playing the New Zealand version of Trivial Pursuit until they booted us out of the lounge!. We opted out of the cruise option. Milford Sound is not that lengthy, and $150 is a lot of money. After so many days in the backcountry, we were madly in love with our lentils, popcorn, etc. And of course we were loving ourselves for having the foresight to stock up on a six-pack of microbrew!

takahe – native NZ bird

Our trip back to the main town made for a casual day. We took advantage of several nature walks, including a visit to the Humboldt Falls! In town, we went to a showing of the locally produced imax-like film. It was good to see some of the gorgeous places that we didn’t get to visit. Thanks to a sweet bartender who pointed us to the hidden locals night upstairs at a pub, we had a great evening of live music and Old Dark (beer).

kiwi burn hut

Since the weather forecast for the weekend was miserable, we decided to give up the chance to do another great walk (i.e. the chance to be pelted by freezing rain and slog through the mud all day long), and instead we moved into a hut for the weekend! We weren’t due at our wwoofing spot until Monday, so we found a hut with a short hike in, stocked up on luxuries and necessities, and spent the weekend at a cabin. It was great!

Click here for photos of more sights, the tomtit that flew into our mirror repeatedly, Pat at Trivial Pursuit, etc.

First Great Walk

The night before departure. Wine, candles, steering wheel.

After an awesome week being part of a family and community, we were ready to continue the good times with our first “Great Walk.” Before coming to New Zealand, I thought “great walks” sounded like a grueling test of a hiker’s true abilities. Really, they are the most popular nature spots in the country due both to ease of access and stunning variety. We set our sights on the Milford Track but were quickly turned off by the $210 each REQUIRED to walk the track ($170 for transport, and $40 for a compulsory Personal Locator Beacon). And this is in the off-season. During the summer the hut fees make the value of the entire trip over $400! The New Zealand tourism industry is disappointingly voracious and vicious, without even the smile and a thank you you’d find in a similar U.S. situation. Boo!

Trajl views on the way to Lake McKenzie hut

So we quickly gave up on Milford and headed instead for the famous Routeburn. This turned out to be an awesome choice as the Routeburn literally has every type of scenery we’ve found on the South Island with just the right amount of hiking. Since it’s off-season, our hut fees are covered by our backcountry hut passes! The trail has four huts, which caused us to think we should block out four or five days for the journey. We quickly realized how cruzy the whole thing was. It could even be done in one really long summer day. We split it into two nights, passing alpine falls, gorgeous peaks, and the idyllic Lake Howden on our way to the Lake McKenzie shelter for our first night. Thanks to our endless packing at the covered trailhead, we’d missed the rain and didn’t have evening drying chores. Instead we opted for a hike around the lake to a cook cracked bowler in the alpine basin before dinner. The unfriendly family who acknowledged our attempts at conversation with grunts or less was offset by a lively family group of men and boys from Christchurch. We chatted away the evening!

Halfway up the pass - rubbing elbows with the clouds!

We were among the first up the pass the next day. We had the cloud-filled basins and snow-capped peaks to ourselves almost the whole way to the top. It felt like we were hiking on the edge of the world! As we approached the trail’s summit, the freezing winds picked up and cloud from the other side poured over like a steam from a witch’s cauldron. To our pleasant surprise, the summit shelter was enclosed AND we met some wonderful Kiwi’s — JoAnn and Ian — a 50-something couple down for the weekend. We swapped backpacking tips and tricks before heading down into the fog-laden valley. At the treeline, we got to take in the pretty Routeburn Falls and explore the enormous 48-bed shelter that is full to the brim every single day of the six-month season. I’m not a lover of crowds, and I couldn’t imagine enjoying that kind of back country experience. I’m glad I didn’t have to!

clouds coming over the pass

We still had time to make it down to the Routeburn Flats before dark where we shared the shelter and dinnertime with Manabu — a Japanese man whose lifelong dream was to move to New Zealand and work on a dairy farm so he could give his children a better life with more opportunities. He turned us on to a new light-weight dinner meal (corned beef, peas, and rice) and we shared a great round of conversation (a “yarn” as Kiwi’s would say) with John — the Routeburn Falls hut warden who had dropped down to ensure our hut fees were accounted for.

the view from inside the Mid-Caples hut

Our hike out the next morning was wonderfully relaxed — far from a premonition for what the rest of the day would bring. To make it back to our vehicle, we either had to turn around and retrace our steps on the Routeburn, or find our way 25k (16 miles) to the nearby Caples trailhead. Thankfully, Jo and Ian turned up in the car park just as we struck out down the road. They gave us a ride halfway, sharing a coffee with us at Kinloch Lodge (where Pat and I went for our anniversary). It was a long walk — nine miles on the road to the Caples trailhead, and then three hours to the Mid Caples Hut. After some tense moments, we arrived just at dark, thankfully! The following day was another long, wet, exhausting, and (especially after the Routeburn) boring trudge

view from McKellar pass after the long slog through beech forest (I don't know this woman. My camera died, so I borrowed her photo).

through seemingly endless Beech forest. We finally summited McKellar pass to breathtaking views in the late afternoon. We had the pleasure of finding a brand new trail, and the creators of said trail at the entrance to our descent — turning a three-hour bushwack into a fifty minute trot. Yay! (We learned from the workers that funding for this 2.5 k stretch of trail was $600,000. That’s almost as much interstate costs in the U.S.!)

Once on the valley floor, we hiked an hour up-lake to McKellar Hut where we sunk our teeth into some much needed R&R. We shared the hut with a Kiwi hunter named Dave who was funny and a good companion. We made up for our two harrowing, 20-mile days by sleeping in well past ten — something I didn’t think I was capable of less than a year ago! Then it was back to the trailhead and up to one of the famous fiords!

Click here for more photos of stoat trapping success, waterfalls, stream slurping, and beyond!

Last Light Lodge

The getting-started sign.

Before we left on our Port Craig hike, we’d gotten word back from our hoped-for wwoofing host in Tuatapere. He was full up, unfortunately, but had a “friend who just opened a backpackers” that needs lots of remodeling and TLC. Locals pointed us in the right direction in vague ways, recalling many a set of directions I’ve received traveling in Latin America — the place was “just up the corner there.” We manage to pay a visit before hitting the trail and decided we’d be down for a few days of work trade at the Last Light Lodge.

Our first experience with passionfruit (center) and feijoa (top and bottom). Both are YUM! And gone in the photo.

Tuatapere is the farthest south, farthest west collection of people on the south island, and so it is the place where the last wisps of daylight can be seen each evening. Craig, our host, is a laid-back music lover who manages to look a bit French with his gentle features, worn jeans, plaid overshirts, and olive green railroad cap. He’s also a chef, among other things. He’s talented enough not to have to throw in heaps of butter to get his creations past the taste test. I’m sure the cafe he is opening will be a roaring success!

We told Craig we’d arrive Saturday morning. Friday evening, however, saw us off the trail before sunset. Given the come-and-go impression we’d gotten when previewing Craig’s place, we turned up early to see if he might agree to adjust our arrival date. He welcomed us, and we cracked into a great evening with a few bottles of wine.

Now if only the posts were square…

During our preview visit, Craig had given us a tour of the expansive property while explaining his many visions for improvements. He has a great eye for detail and overall flow — I’d love to see the place when it’s finished! We chose the “fence project” – a bid to narrow up one of the entries to the property and provide privacy for the main house. Instead of fence posts and cross braces with fence boards nailed on, this creation was to be panels of corrugated metal. I couldn’t see how we were going to get an attractive outcome with these materials, but I thought, “hey…. it’s not my fence!”

Pat and I set to digging post holes with a heavy pinch bar — pounding through the asphalt and digging down 500mm. Lots of measuring, concrete mixing, measuring again, leveling, wiggling, adjusting, and more measuring later, we had finally cemented in a respectable number of fence posts! It

The almost finished product…

was my first construction project using the metric system, and I would love to never go back. Measuring in millimeters (said “mils”) is where it’s at! At some point in our post-setting, it was decided we should start assembling some panels to be sure our calculations were spot-on. Craig borrowed a nail gun that would shoot galvanized nails, but the cartridge was the wrong model. Stuck with nails meant for a gun (no other galv available) we cursed our way through many bent nails and we put up panel after panel. As I should have know, the fence looked pretty sharp when all was said and done! (or rather, when we ran out of corrugated sheets).

Being from a “hunting” state, Pat and I were amazed that you’re allowed to kill as many deer as you can find!

Fun times at Craig’s also included excellent muddled vodka drinks, including kiwi fruit and feijoa, under the pretext of using up a failed jam experiment, several evenings worth of movies (to include Bruno), a night of pictionary, a Saturday evening on the town where a local rugby player took off his pants to show me his injuries, and getting to meet Craig’s brother and his son — in town on a deer hunting mission. They managed to spotlight five deer before having to head back north. Hopefully we’ll get to visit them as we wander northward!

Toward the end of our stay, we took the afternoon off to explore the local limestone caves — a favorite pasttime of mine. Managing acrobatic feats in the face of possible peril is great fun on its own, but the caving experience was topped off by a local natural phenomenon — glow worms! These larvae live on the cave walls. Sort of like a spider, they dangle a whole mess of sticky threads a few inches from their tiny

Sticky glow worm threads (on a tree. Not my photo.).

bodies. Then, a chemical reaction at one end of the worm causes it to glow an awesome, bright green — a pinpoint of light the same color as a traffic light. In theory, flying insects are attracted to the light, get stuck in the sticky threads, and are reeled in for lunch. In the dark, a ceiling full of these glowing pinpoints looks like a surreal night sky — very cool!

Faux night sky of glow worms – amazing!

All in all, I would highly recommend that one and all will make or break a stop over in Tuatapere based purely on accommodation choice.   Last Light Lodge is where it’s at!

Photos of the red-head who took his pants off at bar (and other things) by clicking here.

Port Craig Before Craig’s Place

beach view on our first day of the South Coast track

Not that I haven’t met many truly wonderful Kiwi’s, but I have to say my experiences at large have been disappointing. While anecdotal, a Kiwi restaurant patron where I used to work raved to me about how wonderful her time in America had been and how struck she was by American friendliness. No offense to our amazing wwoofing hosts and awesome kiwi friends, but when it comes to interacting with strangers, I’ll take the U.S. over Kiwi-land any day.

swamp! thankfully we got to go around it.

And so it was that we arrived in Tuatapere (Too-uh-tap-er-ee), a bit jolted by a complete absence of polite geniality from the woman at the Invers I-Site to the proprietor of the internet shop to the Hump Ridge booking office. Friends and colleagues had put us on to a well-known hiking trail in this area, but we failed to catch wind of the fact that it’s not managed by the NZ forest service (DOC). As such, there is absolutely no way to hike the loop without paying $130 each. That’s not a typo. And of course the blow was strengthened by the I-Site worker bullying us toward a “booking” on the trail — an unfortunate hallmark of New Zealand’s weird commission-based tourism booking industry. To add insult to injury, the doors to the home of the famous Tuatapere sausage had been boarded up a week prior to our arrival, and the town’s streets were all but deserted.

beginning of port craig hike

After re-grouping and a night of rest, we tackled the South Coast track — the public trail that connects the elite Hump Ridge track to the outside world. We raced the sun along a beautiful coastline — sometimes on gorgeous secluded beaches with stunning backdrops, and sometimes in the mossy New Zealand forest. Constant aggressive signage about the Hump Ridge track – warning walkers not to even think about going near it without paying – showed up frequently along the trail. The wording would make the unknowing hiker assume he or she was already on the precious track and practically committing a felony with every step. Not winning a lot of tourism dollars here, Tuatapere!

Our sunset arrival at the “hut” – the old school house from a logging town of days past — was idyllic. The schoolhouse itself — Victorian architecture painted white with apple-red trim was too adorable. Inside we discovered three tiers of bunk platforms that made me feel like I was back in grade school

school house from early 1900’s remote logging settlement. Now hikers get to sleep here!

exploring the world. An ominous conversation with hikers we’d met on the trail sort of prepared us for the only disappointment of the trip — Jenny and Theresa, a mother-daughter duo from a farm on the North Island (Hamilton). No matter how often or humbly we tried to make conversation, they luxuriated in snobbery like pigs in muck. “So… what’s your favorite trail meal?” “Oh… when you’re out in the real rough and tough back-country for days on end like we are, it all just tastes the same.” “Hmmm… so was the track coming down off Hump Ridge (they had paid to do the hike) muddy?” “Nope. It was great.” “Oh, It says here in this pamphlet that it usually is muddy (and our entire hike in had been full of mud).” “Well, you have to

A must visit place!

understand. We’re *farmers.* If it’s only ankle deep, it’s *hardly* mud.” And finally , when asked about their trip plans (aka when are you LEAVING?!) the mother’s nonchalant story about losing two toe-nails on the hike down off the ridge and “not realizing it.” She “just thought a piece of bark was caught” on her sock.   Ew!

We escaped the pair for the day and hiked a few hours up to “the oldest, largest wooden viaduct in the Southern hemisphere” – part of the elaborate and remote logging operation that ran for a decade in this farthest south, farthest west corner of New Zealand. When we returned to the schoolhouse, we searched around for one of the village-remains-walking-tour-pamphlets promised by signage. There were none about. I quizzed our hut companions

percy burn viaduct

who gave me blank stares. I explained slowly and clearly before daughter made eye contact with mother and reluctantly dug one out of her pocket. “You can use mine. But I want it back.” Sheesh! It was neat to see all the lingering components of the former town, and the literature managed to paint a picture that few historical sites usually do. The beach and former port were gorgeous and we even got to see Hector’s dolphins! The ladies vacated early the next day, leaving us with a peaceful morning and return trip to the parking lot.

More photos of this gorgeous place by clicking here.

Easter in Invers

Queen's Park "bench"


An eerie feeling swept over me as we pulled into Invercargill. Our sensory barriers were firmly in place thanks to endless warnings about the south island’s southern-most city being a horrible wasteland. So, it was in a daze that we slowly lowered our defenses to find tidy suburbia that could be Almost-Any-City, USA. As we rolled toward the heart of town I still couldn’t shake the feeling or pin down what my subconscious was picking up. Until, that is, I depressed the clutch and shifted into neutral to coast up to the red TRAFFIC LIGHT!!

Astounding birds at Queen's Park aviary. (Not native.)


It’s been months…five at least… since I’d been to a place with a truly modern heartbeat. Even Queenstown — adventure capital of the country — is quaintly free of traffic lights. And so it was this entry back into the “real world” that had me in a bit of a daze.

Invercargill — better known as Invers or In’gill — treated us like royalty. We stayed at a quirky backpackers with an overeager, well-meaning proprietor our first night. On a run the next morning I was shocked not to encounter another fitness-oriented soul. Wanaka — little international town that it is — is full of athletes and gives newcomers like myself an inaccurate sense of what New Zealand is all about. Despite it being Easter Saturday, the Farmer’s Market was still crawling with people. I fetched Pat, and we returned to enjoy our first passionfruit, local baked goods, and a carton of farm-fresh eggs.

The city's most recognizable landmark. Guess what it is...?

Having arrived on the eve of a holiday weekend, we were more or less forced to relax and do nothing. We debated at length the pros and cons of ticking Stewart Island off our NZ bucket list. All told, we decided getting a few miles from the mainland to see a few new things didn’t outweigh spending a few hundred dollars. Instead we treated ourselves to the British film “Paul” with scenes purported to take place just a stone’s throw from my hometown. To our disappointment, the “Moorcroft” in the film looked nothing like the real thing as the credits at the end of an otherwise enjoyable film would confirm.

children's playground

Highlights of the Southland Museum included learning about the sub-antarctic islands belonging to New Zealand, realizing the ‘roaring 40’s’ referred not to a decade but to winds circulating uninterrupted at said latitude, and seeing the ancient Totara lizard-relative in the flesh. We also got to visit Queen’s Park — a place sophisticated enough to attain the atmosphere of New York’s central park. Funky sculptures, well-tended gardens, a lush greenhouse, an astounding aviary exhibit, and a virtual petting zoo full of endless species made for an awesome afternoon. Before leaving town we capped off our Invers adventures with a visit to the picturesque water tower — the town’s most recognized landmark. More like a capitol building of days gone by, it was a nice finishing touch for our final moments in In’gill.

Photos that probably tell it better than I do by clicking here.

Mouse in our House (the Catlins)

Chris and Pat in their Swandriis

We had to beat quite a bit of inertia to make it out of the Wanaka area, but we had fun doing it! After surviving our first NZ “Bush Party” where everyone dresses up in Swandriis (Swan-dry) and gum boots (rain boots), we managed a final day in Wanaka doing laundry, shopping, and meeting up with a few friends.

Thanks to our typical sluggish pace, we didn’t actually get on the road until late the following afternoon.

The fall colors sprinkled among the oft desolate, barren farmland were our vista for several hours. Frequent and massive boulder fields with fascinating, sculpted occupants were an occasional treat. Before sundown (coming ever earlier these days), we finally made it to a forest and found a little two-track where we parked, made dinner, and went to sleep. For a few hours. Until about 11:30.

Nugget Point

A few weeks ago, at the Raspberry Creek car park (jumping off point for the Rob Roy glacier and Mt. Aspiring Hut), we seem to have acquired a pet. It’s not altogether uncommon to return from a hike and find car-food gnawed by a field mouse. It is uncommon, however, for the mouse to take up residence. From a recent mouse-in-tent experience, my confidence and bravery in the mouse-catching department were running high. And so a hilarious night ensued – waking to mouse noises, whisper-shouting at each other as the mouse scurried about our “house,” and ultimately failing each time to catch the mouse. The next days brought mouse traps, a full van evacuation of stuff, and many trail hours spent on inventing home devices that would drown or otherwise disarm Mus Musculus. To our relief, upon return from our latest hike in the Catlins, Mr. Mus seems to have followed his eviction orders.

Balclutha was our first morning stop beyond the gates of Wanaka. I skyped with my

lake wilkie - cool catlins walk

CASA kid for an hour at a cafe before we took in this agri-hub for all the local farming communities. Pat got on well with the curator at the local museum, and we beat the street for Pat-sized jeans to replace his current pair that is in tatters (to no avail). 🙁

We got our first taste of the Catlins as soon as we hit the edge of town. Small paddocks, maybe ¼ of a football field, surrounded on four sides by shelter belts made for curious countryside. On a whim, playing to my desire to see a cheese/dairy factory, I turned off down “Factory Rd.” We found abandoned-looking buildings but dug up signs of life in the form of Chris and Andre — business partners who had just moved their production into an old factory shed. They explained the strange paddocks/fields – “You should be here in the winter when the wind is howling and Antarctica is just around the corner!” They said the area was full of small farms who take good care of their animals and warned us about what we’d see (or rather… wouldn’t see) as we

I'm in love with fungi!

passed commercial farms farther south. We learned from the two probiotic producers that the more lucrative dairy production is quickly replacing sheep farms, that NZ is the greatest exporter of dairy in the world, and that in Southland alone (about the size of your average county — Lane, Multnomah, Humboldt, Campbell) there are over one million head of cattle.

Our days in the seaside Catlins were spent visiting stunning overlooks, historic lighthouses, myriad waterfalls, and various points of interest. We loved Cathedral Caves — accessible only when they aren’t half-full of seawater (low-tide). The high ceilings complemented my first encounter with living kelp. Because we were essentially walking on the sea floor (the area is without water for only a few hours each day), we got to see how kelp attaches to rocks. Cool! And I learned that rotting kelp (washed up inside the caves) smells like balsamic vinegar.

kelp at its roots

Other highlights were the Catlins River Walk, a sea lioness who came right up to us, a weird sensory experience in a historic tunnel, visiting the Southern-most point of the South Island, and learning about the native plants. The Catlins River Walk was a two-day journey that started tame and then launched deep into forest, to follow the cloudy stream toward its source, passing tiered falls all the way. We found a perfect campsite, had a picnic, and loved the pine forest and cool fungi — purple, red, orange, green, brown, many shapes. As usual, no signs of animal life. One deer print. One bird. One beetle. But a nice hike anyway!

Now we’re regrouping in Invercargill before heading to the Hump Ridge Trail. It’s been nice to relax!

More photos by clicking here.

These Boots are Made for Sloshin’

(note: my blog font has turned into a nightmare.   Sorry!   I’ll fix it soon.)


Our seven-day trip into Mt. Aspiring National Park’s gem-country was epic, capped on either end by getting to spend time with Emily, Chris, and the kids! The trip featured endless river crossings, breathtaking valleys, looming-soaring-glacier-capped peaks, turquoise waters, plenty of scrambling, and a curious absence of wildlife.  1Wildlife in New Zealand barely registers on our U.S.-honed sense of wonder, unfortunately. There are no large native mammals. In fact… no native mammals at all, save for a bat. Birds are king here, and voracious hunting of introduced species (deer, opossums, rabbits) means that you see little more than cute little winged creatures in the woods. In a way, it’s nice not to worry about bears and the like. It feels like we’re in ancient, ancient forests where life is just finding its beginnings.

The fam escorting us to the banks of the Makarora River where the trail “begins.”



Day 1: trailhead to Young Bivy.

We got a late start, but the whole family saw us to the first river crossing — the mighty Makarora. We donned flip-flops and battled sandflies during the gear switch once across. It was ten minutes down the trail when we realized we’d left the golden nuggets of our food supply in the fridge at Chris and Emily’s. The chicken, the roast beef, the cream cheese, the pesto… for a few moments we were at our wits end with disappointment. Then we accepted our involuntary vegan fate, and walked on! We made it to the Young Bivy (a small two person shack accessible to us thanks to Chris and Emily) with a bit of autumn light left in the day, and we were thankful to skip setting up camp and move straight into dinner!

young bivy from the hill above

Day 2: Young Bivy to Young Basin

We climbed, dangled, and stretched across numerous spurs, ravines, and gulleys to reach the Young Hut (cabin) in time for lunch. As we neared the treeline a few hours later, ominous clouds started to flow down the mountainsides. We greeted the head of the Young Basin in all its alpine glory at 2 p.m. The next step is to climb Gillespie pass, but we weren’t sure we could make it up and down the other side before dark in inclement weather. Instead, we huddled against boulders cooking dinner and crawling into our sleeping bags well before the sun disappeared!

Day 3: Gillespie Pass to Siberia Valley

Having slept the entire night on top of my empty pack (for insulation from the cold ground — Jim Blanchard would be proud), we were more than eager to get going at first light. The trail to Gillespie Pass is straight up, gaining a foot in elevation with almost

climbing up Gillespie Pass in the Young Basin


every step! The views were so incredible and a reward in themselves. The descent took hours, and Siberia Valley found us smiling but exhausted. We tacked on another mile or so before finding a camp, making a few meals on the trail (literally), and calling it a night!

Day 4: Siberia to Top Forks via Kerin Forks and Jumboland

Lots of ice and a mysterious ground fog kept us company as we packed up and headed down the trail. For once, the walking mirrored the kind of hiking we are used to in the states, and we reached the Wilkin River in record time. We puttered around the banks to find the best crossing and finally settled on a place that was thigh deep. Our two person stability crossing (hold each other’s shoulders, take turns moving) had us on the other side and enjoying lunch and sunshine in a meadow before 11 a.m.! Then we scrambled for hours along the valley walls to Jumboland Flats (named for Jumbo the horse) where we beelined for Top Forks Hut several miles up the valley, crossing the Wilkin each time its meandering got in our way. The sunset glowing off the Mt. Pollux glacier welcomed us

Mt. Pollux and its impressive glacier

to a warm hut where Brian, keeping watch on camp for his hunting buddies, offered us wine and myriad other treats they’d flown in by helicopter. SCORE!

Day 5: Top Forks to the Lakes

Our last day of new trail scenery was full of open alpine meadows, aquamarine waters, and snowy crags with a soundtrack of flowing creeks, calving glaciers (LOUD!), and chirping birds. We set off for Lake Diana, and chose Castilia at the fork in the trail — the very head of the Wilkin River! We scrambled over boulder fields and back and forth across creeks for two hours to finally slip into the bowl that contained the icy blue lake. We had a quick lunch and beat a hasty retreat against the incoming gloomy clouds. Back at the fork, we set off for Lake Lucidus and were

Pat taking in the alpine valley views.

promptly awarded with our goal. The return to camp was relaxing, and Brian had us warm and wined in no time!

Day 6: Top Forks to Kerin Forks

This was our only day without new scenery, so it almost felt like a rest day. We took our time and lazed our way through all the ravines, gullies, down-climbing, etc. back to Kerin Forks. We had the hut to ourselves and Pat got the fire going so well we didn’t even need our sleeping bags!

River crossing: the theme of this trip!



Day 7: Kerin Forks to Makarora

We quickly learned why so many people either fly in to Kerin Forks or take the jet boat in and out. This stretch of the walk is, in a word, boring. The river flats fail to stun after days in remote Jumboland. Pat said he felt like his was back in Iraq with the helicopters flying overhead all day long. Avoiding cow-pies was a major focus of the day. All told, outside, walking with your best friend isn’t a too terrible a way to spend a day, and we were in no position to complain. The Makarora had risen after two evenings of rain, and so we struggled one last time against river current in soggy boots before arriving at the highway. I managed a ride in no time and returned with the van to deliver us to showers, pesto, and a cozy, dry evening!

More photos by clicking here.

References

References
↑1 Wildlife in New Zealand barely registers on our U.S.-honed sense of wonder, unfortunately. There are no large native mammals. In fact… no native mammals at all, save for a bat. Birds are king here, and voracious hunting of introduced species (deer, opossums, rabbits) means that you see little more than cute little winged creatures in the woods. In a way, it’s nice not to worry about bears and the like. It feels like we’re in ancient, ancient forests where life is just finding its beginnings.

Turned into Tourists! – Making Up For Lost Time

Apologies for not realizing I failed to mention what we’d be doing when we finally LEFT WANAKA!! We’ve officially turned into tourists. We started small, hitting up events and trips in the local area. Today, after we get all our “jobs” done and get our things “sorted,” we’re officially beginning our NZ country-wide adventure!

Chef Anna, super-preggers with twins and the beautiful Gabby in the background at Kai. (Nicole! This is your doppleganger!)

Highlights of our segue into our permanent vacation mode included an amazing, lazy-Sunday drive up the valley into the mountains to enjoy the fall “colours.” Then I wrapped up my last four days at Kai, and Pat did the “Gauntlet” – a drinking performance required upon abandoning employment at the Ale House. It’s seven ounces of every beer on tap, followed by three heinous shot-concoctions chosen by co-workers as fast as possible. He says it was painful! Afterward we ended up at a co-worker’s house attempting to play Balderdash, but mostly drinking wine. I retired early and found upon waking that the boys had started bare-knuckle boxing late at night. All were nursing injuries and were quite pleased with themselves.

After a visit to a gypsy fair where all the “gypsies” shocked me with their advanced age, we attended the local soccer game and then collected ourselves for our second NZ backpacking trip. As the entire area fills out in

Gorgeous autumn in Wanaka!

fall colors, we’ve been getting more and more anxious to start our adventure. For this reason, we decided we were going hiking rain or shine, even though the forecast was the former. The Raspberry Creek carpark greeted us with gusting wind and freezing precip. Our side-trip out of the valley to the Rob Roy Glacier was surprisingly pleasant, although much of the glacier was fogged in. The remaining three hours up the valley was some of the most violent, epic hiking weather ever. Gale force winds, stinging rain… if it was snow, we’d have been in a full-on blizzard. I felt like a cave-woman traipsing across Siberia. We arrived soaked to the bone and a bit brutalized.

glaciers and beautiful country viewed from Cascade Saddle


A long night of poker and eating by the fire slowly rebuilt our confidence. My alarm clock in the morning were the Kea (like “Kia”). What I had thought was a photoshop joke turned out to be true — there really are alpine parrots in New Zealand, and they really are insanely curious about you and all of your things. By noon, we’d collected our spirits and managed a rewarding trip up Cascade Saddle in full sunshine. The view from the top was worth every step — glaciers, soaring snow capped peaks, verdant river valleys — amazing! That evening we arrived back to the carpark under glowing pink skies.

Puzzling World photo ops


Our social life blossomed in the absence of grueling work commitments. On the way back to town, we stopped in to volunteer at the nursery. Then we joined in the local poker night — free to enter and my prize for 3rd place was a $50 bar tab! The next night was a wild karaoke evening with the very-British, very-composed Martin putting on a fabulous “Prince” performance and Pat and I testing our talent on “Love Shack.” We also managed to visit “Puzzling World” – a quirky tourist attraction complete with outdoor maze, and three astounding visual illusion displays from Holograms to Following Faces to water flowing uphill… it was great! They even had fascinating toilets!

Peter and I in the final moments of his Shave for a Cure.


Our coup de grace was a Thursday filled with a fun AGM ending in wine and hors d’oeuvres and then attending Peter’s “Shave for a Cure” at the Albi (Albert Town Tavern) where he gave up his eight-year dreadlocks in the name of cancer research. Afterward, we danced and sang karaoke all night until it was time for the requisite night cap at the Mint Bar. It was an amazing “last night” in Wanaka, and an excellent prelude to our week-long foray into the New Zealand bush!

Click for more photos of our Wanaka Finale.

Click for more photos of our Mt. Aspiring trip.

The End of the Beginning: finding perfection in Wanaka

After a grueling marathon of trading my time for money, I am ecstatic to have so much freedom! This week has been filled with blissful moments, including right now here in

Brute strength for hire - Pat slinging 50 pound bags of laundry is all in a day's work

my “office” — leaning against the grassy high-water bank, gentle breezes playing with my as hair as tiny waves brush the shoreline and snow capped peaks keep a watchful eye on the setting sun.

My first taste of the aforementioned freedom landed me in the front seat of Pat’s Saturday delivery van.We headed several kilometers down the road, marking time by the vineyards sprinkling the pastoral countryside. Cromwell is the agri-hub of Central Otago, and properly home to a giant fruit statue mentioned in guidebooks. We took the

requisite photo and even got to go for a short stroll around “Old Town” – the charming remains that survived the creation of a reservoir

foreground - American tourists. background - the giant fruit statue!

that left a scar on many locals long ago.

Sunday was my first entire day off with Pat in over 40 days — since our anniversary. We celebrated properly! We followed up a casual morning with a bike ride along the incredible Clutha River. The emerald green water against the pale, autumn landscape is a show-stopper! We ended the first leg of our journey at the Luggate country pub where a young fiddler/pianist serenaded the crowd. After goodbyes, we pedaled a new route home, luxuriating in the late afternoon sun. All told we took in over 50 kilometers worth of spectacular vistas, and Pat fell in love with mountain biking.

One of the endless, breath-taking vistas of the Clutha River trail!

On a whim, we stopped into the notorious cinema and discovered we’d make the next show if we hurried. We caught “The Social Network” on its final showing and were appropriately charmed by the mis-matched seating for which the theater is famous — you can even take in the film from the front seat of an old car! I left the theater completely satisfied wearing a smile that foreshadowed the next day’s fun.

Despite a (formerly) packed work schedule, I still religiously scoured the local community bulletin each week for cultural, fun, or healthy community opportunities. Thanks to the sharp drop-off in my work commitments, I was finally able to make the native plant nursery volunteer mornings! The people were fantastic, the views from our tea-time platform were incredible, and I had forgotten just how much I love playing in dirt!

Vineyard View - amazing! The wine isn't bad either. 🙂

As a double bonus, not only did I receive a vowel key containing the first ray of hope that I might wrap my tongue around New Zealand’s bewildering and prolific Maori names, BUT I also found myself in the company of avid local backpackers who hold the key to wilderness you’ll never read about in any guidebook. Score!

The unique feature of the week has been several unhurried afternoons. We managed to do some free wine tasting at the local, biodynamic vineyard. The icing on the cake was the commanding view of the lake and islands from our hillside perch, complemented by an array of quirky sculptures belonging to an outdoor exhibition being hosted there. The following day, we also lucked into a peaceful moment at the hill top war memorial overlooking the downtown. This is the end of our New Zealand beginning, and it’s been rejuvenating to see so many new sides of Wanaka!

wanaka panorama

Finally, yesterday was one of my top ten days in New Zealand. My friend Hayley and I set off across the chilly Cardrona valley before the sun began to warm it, landing in Queenstown just as shop doors were opening. We couldn’t have imagined a more laid-back or productive day. We visited “op-shops*” galore, did a Warehouse** run, found an unlikely used book, got some shells drilled for jewelry making, recovered on the lakefront, shopped some MORE, AND managed a visit to New Zealand’s “most scenic” enclave.

One of dozens of Arrowtown's charming scenes.

We fell instantly in love with rural Arrowtown as we wandered its charming streets enjoying our ice creams and the rustle of the leaves in the sunshine. We didn’t want to come home! The only casualty of the day was one of my brand new gym shoes. It fell, without my noticing, out the side door in one of three “car parks.” Ironically, I was so smitten with having gotten new shoes I had actually photographed the new alongside the old the day before. What I thought would be a photo to illustrate my excitement to friends and family has become a memorial to the short life of shoes that traveled a long and complicated road to my feet. Despite dedicated recovery efforts, I’m still a shoe down. C’est la vie! Problems like this are a sign of a happy life, no?

*”op-shop” is the New Zealand nomenclature for a second-hand store, referring to the “opportunities” that grace the shelves and racks.

**The Warehouse is New Zealand’s version of Wal-Mart.

Tonight is Pat’s last evening at The Ale House. It’s compulsory to do “The Gauntlet” upon ending employment — 7 ounces of every beer on tap followed by a three shots chosen by co-workers. Our days in Wanaka are numbered, but we’re enjoying them immensely!

More photos here.

Ring of Fire: will an earthquake kill me?

Probably, unless you’re a news junkie (Garrett?), you’ve not heard of “The Moon Man.” He is a lunar scientist in New Zealand who has successfully predicted both major Christchurch earthquakes based on “king tides.” It’s my understanding that a kingtide is described by both a full moon AND the closest moon-earth relationship possible. The last kingtides were apparently 212 years ago, if I remember what I read.

Moon Man says the biggest kingtide yet is coming in five days and he expects another big earthquake along one of New Zealand’s countless fault lines. He’s been accused of fear-mongering and been run out of the country. Some are believers (Pat’s boss is flying to the North Island for the duration). Pat and I are both skeptical, but I’ve learned my lesson about doubting mother nature*. Don’t laugh. We’ve made a disaster plan in case we’re not together if/when something happens (pretty easy when your family consists of two people) and stocked up on food and water. It feels a bit silly, but I suppose it would be sillier not to. With the Ring of Fire going off the way it has lately (Christchurch, Christchurch again, Japan…), I’m not betting against it!

To avoid worrying our mothers unnecessarily, I’ve set this blog to auto-post on the 21st — after the “kingtide” has come and gone. If something reallly does happen and we can’t communicate, you’ll know we’re safe!

So, what are things to think about when you bother to contemplate this sort of thing? Because Lake Wanaka is enormous and has the potential for major flood/tsunami destruction, we’ve chosen to meet on the road outside our gym which is up on a hill. Plan B, supposing the hill falls down or the area is inaccessible, is to meet out at an intersection near Pat’s work where there is nothing but wide open space. That’s also where we’ve stored some of our more excessive earthquake preparation purchases. Because we’re mobile anyway, we don’t really have to think about blankets, flashlights, extra clothes, cooking fuel, etc., as we have that stuff all ready to go!

All right. Fingers crossed for no earthquake. Probably I will forget all about it in the next few days. So, Moms, if you read this and you haven’t heard from us AND you haven’t heard about a major New Zealand earthquake — we’re fine, just absorbed in long work days!

*once when I was 18, I was climbing Static Peak in the Grand Tetons with two friends. A typical afternoon storm rolled in and brought with it the static electricity that I had grown accustomed to – living all my young life in dry, stormy Wyoming. One of the guys, after working at a nearby camp all summer, suggested we follow the camp’s safety precautions in this sort of situation and all get into “the lightning position.” The other guy readily agreed, while I turned my nose up at such silly nonsense. After ten minutes, they rejoined the picnic, flanking me on both sides. As I smuggly enjoyed my ramen noodles, I suddenly felt small, quick rapid tugs on the back of my hair, then heard five or six snaps, then saw a bolt of lightning race across our heads from right to left before letting out a deafening crack. I threw myself down hard on the ground as the ache of electrocution throbbed in my limbs. In an instant panic we were all shouting, grabbing gear, and running for the edge of the peak. We scrambled and stumbled our way to an overhang a quarter-mile below where we promptly flipped on the rescued video camera and recorded — Blair Witch style — our breathy accounts of what had just happened to us. When the rain that followed the lightning had dried out of my hair, I discovered a large chunk of the back had been fried off — truly a close call. Next time, I’ll get in the lightning position.