Travel Journal: New Zealand (Part 1)
Day 0: We boarded a plane in Kuala Lumpur at 11:45pm on December 31. I couldn’t wait for the free champagne toast at midnight; that’s what any self-respecting airline would do, right?
Well. I realized it was midnight because the crew stood still and clapped for about 5 seconds. Zoey and I shared an exhausted kiss, then I sulked, even though I don’t drink alcohol. Thanks, AirAsia.
Two months of South East Asian backpacking behind us. New Zealand awaits.
Day 1: We landed in Auckland and took a taxi through quaint neighborhoods to our Airbnb. We ate cheap falafel and received a warm Kiwi welcome.
Days 2-3: We arrived at the airport to fly to the South Island and it was chaos. Apparently the holidays were a good time to install self-bag-check machines.
Eventually, we made it to Christchurch. The city sprawled below us, green and sunny. We rented a budget sedan; it was a 2006 Nissan and everything was in Japanese. They fixed the broken A/C before we leave the lot, at least.
Driving on the left side of the road was easy; driving on the right side of the car was extremely uncomfortable. Every tool was reversed — when my left hand moved to hit the turn signal, my windshield wipers attacked — and keeping the car between the white lines took active effort.
We met our hosts from Couchsurfing.org: Gerard, the semi-retired social worker; his sister, Maggie; and his flatmate, Len. We bunked in a campervan/bus in the driveway and it was everything we ever wanted.
Day 4: We drove. And drove.
Rolling green hills and fluffy sheep everywhere. And the lakes…
Days 5–8: Mt Aspiring
I haven’t seen Sky since high school graduation a decade ago. But he’s half the reason that Zoey and I came to Kiwiland; for two years, Sky has been tramping around New Zealand and posting breathtaking photos on Facebook with his smiling, bearded visage.
I didn’t know Sky all that well, but I knew we’d get along even better as adults. I was right.
We drive for 2 hours on terrible dirt roads, crossing small streams as we advanced up the Matukituki river. Finally, we arrived at the parking lot and head out, hoping to beat the rain.
We slogged through high winds and light rain, the fog obscuring our view. The mountains around us became barely visible silhouettes.
We reached the Aspiring Hut, a 33-bunk cabin operated by the Department of Conservation. Several other trampers were in residence, drying gear by an under-powered cast iron stove.
Zoey and I cooked delicious vegetable lentil curry, as one does in the bush.
[The Hut System refers to hundred of back-country cabins operated by the government, that hikers can sleep in for a fee.]
Day 6: It was still raining, hard. We waited for our clothes to dry while it lightened up. Around 2pm we couldn’t wait any longer and we set out.
The natural beauty and the physical exhaustion both astonished me.
First, we backpacked 3.5 miles up the river valley. All of the streams were swollen with rain and we sloshed through water, soaked to the mid-thigh.
This made for excellent waterfall watching!
Then, we gained 3,000 feet of elevation over just 1.5 miles, as we pulled ourselves up a creek using tree roots as handholds. We finally broke out of the tree line and crested a ridge that extended from the Bonar Glacier. We reached the Frenchman’s Hut, which gave us a view of the whole valley (including another Hut on the opposite side). We could even see Mt. Barff (yes, all of these names are real). It was unreal, and yet more real than anything could be.
Day 7: Zoey and I were happy as clams to rest, dry our shoes, and read in the Hut. Groups of trampers left on glacier expeditions, and more arrived for a quick night of sleep between peak ascents. New Zealanders are nuts.
We met a Kia, one of the famous New Zealand birds. There are only 5,000 of these alpine parrots left; they flock to humans looking for food and trying to eat anything and everything (boot soles, car rubber, etc). They are much too smart for their own good. We loved them, perhaps because we didn’t lose any gear to them.
[New Zealand has a fascinating ecological history. The islands were formed very recently (40,000 years ago) and all native animals descended from what could fly or swim there. Thus, the island had no land mammals and ground-dwelling birds dominated. Human natives (Maori) arrived only ~1,000 years ago. Human activity combined with recently introduced mammals (like rats and stoats) are devastating bird populations.
The Kiwi is one of these amazing bird. It is a flightless, nocturnal ball of fluff with a long beak sticking out. This bird is why New Zealanders are known as Kiwis.]
Day 8: Going down was so much harder than going up. This must be why cats get stuck in trees. My quads are made of Jell-O.
Here is Aspiring Hut, with a clear view behind it:
All told, we descended 3,000 feet, and walked 9 miles in distance, barely stopping to rest. We got back to Wanaka at 11pm, set up our tent, and passed out.
Day 9: I woke up alive. And hungry.
We showered at the gas station (classy as hell) and charge checked out the lakeshore (beautiful but windy as Fleege). We set up camp in the Lindis Valley next to stone ruins from a forgotten gold rush. We are swarmed by sand-flies, which are New Zealand’s national insect pest (on the South Island).
Day 10: We rolled into Queenstown, the adrenaline sport capitol of the world, home to bungee jumping, speed-boating, skiing, and more. Apparently, tourists outnumber locals either 3:1, 5:1, or 34:1, depending on who you ask.
We hung out with Sky, walked the local redwood grove, and got our asses out of there. By 8pm, we were parked near Te Anau, packing our bags, and by 8:30, we began a 1-night backpacking trek. With sunlight until 10pm in the summer, you can actually start a tramp at night.
Around 10 we reached our destination, a tiny 4-bunk hut on the shores of Lake Manipouri. This ramshackle historic hut was tiny and seldom-used. As we entered, we were greeted by hundreds of mosquitoes, which are pretty rare in the N-Zed. It started to rain outside, and since our $7 Salvation Army tent had the world’s smallest excuse for a rain fly (about 2' by 2'), we decided to make the hut work.
I’ll summarize the miserable night: we killed as many as we could; the fire we made failed to drive them out; we bundled into sleeping bags; the bastards kept at our faces for hours until we decided to set up the tent on the floor of this cabin, and slept a few hours until the sun rose.
Day 11: We sat by the lake shore. Sunshine and rain flirted through the clouds until we couldn’t decide whether to stay or pack it out. A sleep shortage had been announced and morale was low.
We hiked out. At a cafe, we struck up conversation with a hitchhiking Aussie named Ryan. What the hell , we said — let’s all go to Milford Sound together. His devil-may-care demeanor and exquisite mustache buoyed our moods.
We camped among the crowds along Cascade Creek and the Milky Way comes out to greet us.
Day 12: Milford Sound was described to me as “the Eighth Wonder of the World.” Seems like there are more “eighth wonders” than actual wonders these days.
This fjord is majestic and the road there is killer, too. We cooked lunch and walked the windy shoreline. We said our see-ya-laters to Ryan and got out of there. We did two short walks in the area, and camped at a private campsite.
Day 13: It was absolutely pouring by the time we woke up, and the tent was cold and soaked inside. Fucking bullshit tiny rain fly. We packed our soaked possessions into the sedan, took a wood-heated shower, and hit the road again.
We stopped in Te Anau at a park to air our our belongings in the sun and figure out our plan. We ate at the world’s least friendly cafe: tiny portions, no bathroom, $2 charge to use the outlet, 30-minute wi-fi, and passive aggressive service.
We wanted to get the hell out of tourist-ville and conserve some dollars, so we drove to a free campsite (aka parking lot) in the town of Lumsden, which only exists because it’s in the center of three other towns that people actually want to visit. The rain came back, and after watching The Rundown (starring the one and only Rock) in our car, we felt dread at sleeping in the rain.
After an educational conversation about the state of our relationship and current mental health, we mutually decided to pony up some cash and rent one of the few remaining hotel rooms in the area. This is lesson I won’t soon forget.
Day 14: We started to feel human again, and we booked another night.
Day 15: We drove through Queenstown again to Glenorchy; it’s a beautiful drive along a massive lake. Then down a dirt road we reached the Dart river, one of two glacier valleys that feed this lake. We hiked a few miles up the dart, skipped some rocks, got swarmed by sandflies, and returned.
We drove to another private campground for the night, and we just fell apart.
This night marked the halfway point of our time in a New Zealand. We had been mentally and emotionally drained for weeks.
That night also marked a tipping point, and we began to truly love the journey again. I began to respect the rest and space that our bodies need, especially on a long journey.
I’ll end with a few of the many lessons I’ve learned on this trip.
- Don’t lock yourself into a long itinerary. On a long trip, don’t buy flights more than a week out (unless they’re flexible/refundable).
- The feeling that I have to make the most of my time somewhere and do unique activities can derail my need for rest, even when I’m aware of it. Keeping expectations low and flexibility high is important.
- Asia does not give us enough space and nature. It’s hard to walk outside and find quiet in nature when the jungle is dense and hot, and the towns are loud are foreign. It can be fun, exciting, and inspiring, but it can be hard to re-charge.
- Collary: Zoey and I are nature adventure travelers, who like clear open space and the ability to re-charge in quiet homes.
- When the body is not fully healthy, and we are not prepared for the weather, camping will not recharge us.
- Spend the money when the body needs it.
- Physical space — while home or traveling — is necessary even in the healthiest of relationships.
To be continued…
