I went to see the nearby Lake Tekapo on one of my days off. On the way there I had numerous wonderful views of various mountain ranges (maybe it’s all one range, don’t know), but the camera sadly doesn’t do them any justice. I met two Asians on my way there. I stopped to have a look at the beautiful view, but the mountains were still at a distance, where only the Asians, with their natural squint, could see any details. Also they kept running up and down the road taking countless selfies, which didn’t do much to improve my already impaired view.

After the run-in with the Asian tourists — tourists here are always either German or Asian — and a total drive of about an hour, I arrived at the lake.

The lake is supposedly fed by glaciers (I’m not big on fact checking) and has not only very cold water, but also this very distinctive blue hue. At first I was slightly disappointed, since the lake looked the same old blue as any other lake. I then went for a walk up Mt. John or Johns or Johnson or Something and it turns out the lake indeed has a very distinctive blue. The view was wonderful, and I c0mpletely forgot about the Asians. But only until I realized, that they’d managed to get themselves into yet another one of my would-have-been awesome pictures. Again pictures don’t really do justice, not ones taken by an overpriced multipurpose rectangle in any case, but you should still be able to, at least get a sense of the place.

On my way home I feasted on utterly terrible, but perfectly priced (next to nothing), Fish & Chips and then arrived back just in time for dinner, which left me with a feeling of utter regret at having spent time and even a little money, ingesting synthetic fish and potato covered in thick layers of grease in a ‘restaurant’, which can only be described as amazingly and terrifyingly repugnant. Oh well.

Ever since I got here, I’ve wanted to wander off into the wilderness for a night or two. About a week ago I finally did something like that. The weather forecast was not particularly cheerful. Tuesday should be alright, but Wednesday should be rainy. Having nothing better to do Tuesday morning, I found a map and on that some hut in the mountains that I could sleep in; about seventeen kilometers walk from civilization, which I figured would be adequate for my first venture. I then borrowed a sleeping bag and fashioned a sort of working bag and sleeping bag arrangement and on I went with my, up until then, trusty jandals.

The jandals right away proved almost entirely useless. I could feel every rock and thorn and after about five or ten minutes the first rock pierced all the way through and two minutes later a thorn went all the way through and continued a good way up my toe. Great start, but on I went, now mostly on bare feet, having retired the jandals.

The first day being was supposed to be alright weatherwise, but it turned out to be extremely windy and not very sunny. I was walking the entire way in strong headwind and with a storm lurking up ahead. It never really started raining, though. The storm sort of wore out before it reached me, which I was very grateful for, knowing that the next day would probably be one long shower. The jandals also proved to be a good choice in the end, as I zigzagged along multiple streams having to cross them again and again. And on top of that I had to go through lots of puddles of mud and moss. Some of the crossings were knee-high and the water always freezing. I would’ve had to constantly take off and reapply my socks and shoes the entire way. Either that or carry my shoes, which wouldn’t have fit in the bag.

So the jandals in some way turned out to be the right choice, solely based on the fact that they barely fit in the already brimming bag, and that they the next morning provided a slight buffer from the cold ground. Other than that, I would have been better of without and most of the journey transpired barefoot and with a rope around my neck. Venturing into the Southern Alps of New Zealand like this, I could not help but feel just a little like Martin Freeman.

After four hours of walking without any real breaks I got to the hut. I expected nothing, but the hut featured six bunk beds, a fireplace, table and chairs. It even had a pan, a pot, two plastic plates and some mixed cutlery, all of which was in no state to handle anything, I was gonna insert into my mouth. But it was there, should someone, for some reason unknown to me, want to risk their lives for a hot meal.

I went up the hill behind the hut and devoured what little food I’d brought, and nurtured my now screaming feet for a while. While there I snapped a few photos and then sat down to read and enjoy the views and the serenity.

I made a fire if nothing else to use the fireplace, since someone had gone through the trouble of providing it. As it began to grow dark I figured I would have the hut for myself, just as I’d walked there in perfect solitude. I snuggled into the sleeping bag and went to sleep as the night, and with it the hut, grew completely dark. I was woken up two times by some animal, a possum most likely, trying to get into my hut. First time it scratched at the door, and banged against it for a while before giving up. The second time I got up and shooed it away. I then went out in the utter darkness and looked up at the stars. With no trace of any lightsource anywhere near, the sky was absolutely astonishing. The stars burned bright on a pitch black sky, and I sat in the cold enjoying it for half an hour, before going back to sleep.

In the morning I woke up refreshed, and my feet were no longer hurting quite as bad. Waking up, and watching the sun rise over the mountains, in the middle of nowhere, was probably one of the best parts of the trip.

Having expected rain, the way back turned out to be extremely pleasant. I set out early and walked at a brisk pace all day, as I could see clouds rolling in behind me. The day was relatively warm and there was little to no wind, so I decided to venture off the track and go for what would be either a slight shortcut or a terrible detour. Having set out early, I had plenty of time and decided to go for it, hoping that I would outrun the rain chasing me. It turned out to be a shortcut and without too many difficult places it saved me having to walk around a small ridge. Don’t know if it actually saved me any time, as I could not keep up the same pace, but it was beautiful, and the grass was soothing after walking on dirt and rocks for a while.

After just over three hours of hurried walking, I got into the car, and not two minutes later the rain arrived. The rest of the day it poured down, but I had somehow managed to just beat it, and the whole trip turned out very enjoyable indeed. Yes, my feet were absolutely killing me after thirty-something kilometers practically barefoot. Yes, I had to defecate in a hole. Yes, Yes, Yes. In the end, I loved every bit of it and will definitely be doing it again!