As is
becoming standard for this blog, this post is about three weeks late. But we seppos embrace the mantra, “Better
late than never.”
The next day (day three) we took off towards Nelson, where we picked up a map of local breweries and brewpubs. We scooted around town (with a designated driver!) to four breweries enjoying the New Zealand brews- I was excited and geeking out as a lot of hop varieties are grown in the region due to the ideal growing conditions.
We finished the afternoon (and tour) by picking up a growler of a local stout and four liters of apple juice, then headed down to the beach to enjoy the sunny weather. We then drove up to meet up with one of Jim's friends that he met sailing two years prior, who lived on the edge of an apple and cherry orchard. We had fun meeting some authentic Kiwis and watching the sun set over Abel Tasman national park.
On day four of our trip, we got an early start for the long drive down to the West Coast, where we stopped at Punakaiki (pancake rocks) which, while still beautiful, we found a little anti-climactic. We hopped back in the van, and scooted on down to Greymouth, where we parked the van in a holiday park, and walked to the Montieth's brewery, where we had dinner followed by a brewery tour and tastings. There we met Kym and Dale, both seasonal Alaskan dog sled mushers who were on vacation in New Zealand. Kym coincidentally was moving to Utah when she returned to the States, so Kat and she exchanged contact details.
On day five, which was Thanksgiving Day, we headed down to Fox Glacier so we could be up early for our glacier hike the following day. We went on a short hike around Lake Matheson, then parked the van and enjoyed some pre-dinner drinks with our campervan neighbors, all from France. After listening to music and having a good time, the four of us went into town for a Thanksgiving feast at an American-style restaurant. While the food wasn't anything to write home about, we had a great time sharing stories and honoring Thanksgiving traditions together.
On day six, we woke up early and met up at the Fox Glacier lodge where we got fitted with crampons (Lyds and I brought our hiking boots), then bussed up to the glacier. We chose to do the half-day hike because we wanted to maximize our time on the glacier and see the most we could. The experience was absolutely incredible! The glacier was beautiful and we really enjoyed learning about the geographic nature. Contrary to conventional wisdom regarding global warming and melting glacier, glaciers have been growing and receding for millions of years, and no more or less so over the past couple of thousands of years. The glacier itself is constantly changing and moving; the guides have to make new paths nearly every day. As a result, no two hikes are exactly the same, and new caves, crevices, and channels are forming and devolving every day.
The next day (day seven) we made the long drive down to Queenstown where we were to spend the next day seeing the city and partaking in the adventure sports that it's known for. Jim opted to do the Nevis Bungy jump (Kat joined him for moral support, but opted not to do the plummet- I don't blame her) and Lydia and I booked in a hang-gliding tour. The tour picked us up from the holiday park, where we jumped in the van with other hang gliders and paragliders, where we were promptly met by a young Chinese woman, who in broken English told us with a wide smile that she had, "broken leg doing this sport, okay?" Lydia and I exchanged a silent glance, spare for the sound of an anxious gulp. Was this woman telling us she had just broken her leg hang gliding? If so, why is she in the van and not in an ambulance? She seemed pretty happy, so maybe she had broken her leg in the past parasailing? But then why would she be doing it again? After a few minutes of concerted introspection, the van stopped and one of the instructors popped his head in, asking which person had broken their leg, and confirming that she was okay to paraglide, while inadvertently quelling Lydia's and my fears by confirming that the woman hadn't actually broken her leg
doing the sport. We geared up excitedly, not sure what quite to expect, and received instruction from our tandem pilots. As I've sky dived before, I was expecting something similar, but wasn't really sure if it'd be fast, loud, or windy. As it turns out, it was none of those, and may perhaps have been the most peaceful and relaxing thing I've ever had the opportunity to do. It's literally like you're flying, but not quickly or turbulently like in an airplane. It's almost dead-silent, and we only were moving at about 25 miles per hour, and the scenery just lazily drifts by. Probably the most exciting (and my favorite part) was the landing. My pilot took me on a bit of a ride where we got to do some stalls and hard banks, but we landed like a feather.
Here's a GoPro video of Lydia's flight:
And Mine (apparently my pilot had his GoPro set to a lower resolution):
After returning to the camp site a couple of hours before Jim and Kat, Lydia and I moved the van, then grabbed lunch at the famous Ferg Burger in downtown Queenstown. We poked around the city, I swung by an internet cafe for some quick emails, then we ended up meeting up with Kat and Jim on the way back to the van. We found a new (less expensive) camp ground still walking distance from town. Coincidentally enough, our campground neighbors were the same French friends we had met at Fox glacier. After exchanging contact details to meet up later in the evening (they went into town for dinner), we started the evening playing some drinking games in the van (it's probably been six years since I'd last played circle of death), then headed out for an evening on the town. We ended up meeting up with the two guys from the four-person french crew, after which point the rounds of jager, chartreuse, and mixed drink shots turned an evening out in Queenstown into an evening out in Athens, GA (my college town). Long story short, it was a fun, albeit late night, and we found ourselves not rising particularly early the next morning.
On day eight, we got moving around noon and made the long drive down to Milford Sound. Perhaps offering the most impressive views of the entire trip (which is saying a lot, because all views in the South Island are impressive). We rolled in around 5pm after navigating the mountain passes, and a mudslide clean-up area, in a persistent drizzle. We headed to the near-abandoned cruise port where we befriended on of the cruise booking staff who kindly set us up for a cruise the next day, gave us the lay of the land, and informed us that whether we liked it or not, we'd be spending the night in Milford Sound, since they shut down the one road in and out out of fear of mudslides. Apparently the mud slide from a few weeks earlier had stranded our cruise attendant friend in Milford sound for nearly two weeks. She reassured us that mud slides are only a risk when it rains a lot, at which point we collectively looked outside at the more-than-just-a-drizzle rain, and all shifted uncomfortably. We headed into the "town" where there was one bar/lodge, and we enjoyed a hot dinner, a few beers, and a couple games of pool and foosball (both of which, Jim cleaned up). We tucked in for the night, safe from the rain and persistent biting flies in the parking lot outside as the rain continued to fall, and each silently reflecting upon our newly found knowledge on the causes of mud slides.
We awoke on day nine early to catch our 9am cruise out on the sound. We all boarded and shortly thereafter, lost Kat somewhere on board. Figuring she had just gone to the bathroom, Lydia, Jim, and I took full advantage of the continental breakfast on the lower deck, growing concerned after about 15 minutes about Kat. We poked around the ship looking for her, only to find her on the top deck taking in the sites, where she had been all along. We fought the cold and the wet and took in the sight and immense beauty of the sound. We saw wild seals, epic water falls, and mountains looming in the distance.
The cruise was well worth the price of admission, and just the right amount of time. We hopped back in the van and went the direction from whence we came, a six hour drive back through Queenstown and all the way out to Lake Tekapo. As an aside, some advice for any about to embark on a caravan trip around the south island- if you go to Lake Tekapo (and you should - it's incredible), do not stay at the Lake Tekapo holiday park. At a hefty rate of $80/night, we suspected that perhaps the proprietor had fallen upon difficult financial times, particularly given the sub-par standard of the amenities. Our suspicions were confirmed (almost comedically) when we went to go shower, only to find that in order to enjoy the luxury of 10 minutes of hot water, one must deposit a two-dollar coin in the coin-operated water heaters. Rip-offs aside, the lake was beautiful, offering stunning views of the Mount Cook, the tallest mountain in New Zealand.
On day ten, we finished the remaining drive back up to Christchurch, where we said our saddened goodbyes to Jim and Kat (Kat had to fly out early the next day). We dropped them off at the Antarctic Museum so Kat could hold a penguin, then Lydia and I hurredly gathered provisions in town, then promptly drove two more hours to Arthur's Pass for some overnight camping. Lydia found what looked like a suitable trail from the Lonely Planet New Zealand guide that Kat and generously left with us. Arriving at the trail head just after seven, with no knowledge of the terrain or an absolute understanding of the distance required to hike, we departed and scrambled up the trail as quickly as we could, trying to beat the sunset. The trail itself was not particularly inspiring- about an hour and a half of scree-laded series of switchbacks, but the top was incredible. We found ourselves at a seasonally-abandoned ski resort, with a deserted public park lodge (complete with electric lighting). Lydia brightly offered a The Shining reference, to which I was not particularly enthralled (read: it was creepy). We found the flattest site we could to set up the tent (which we later found was apparently not flat enough), and promptly headed into the shelter to cook dinner and watch the light wane, protected from the strong mountain gusts. Dinner consisted of a couple of cans of soup and a cold sausage, which hit the spot. While eating, we could hear the
Kea's circling and land on the roof, trying to work out how to get in so they too could join the feast.
We finished our dinner, retired to our tent, and settled in our sleeping bags. We spent the majority of the night sliding to the foot of the tent thanks to the 10-degree incline on which we had set the tent. Needless to say, it wasn't peaceful rest. The next morning (day eleven), our poor night of rest was offset by the stunning sunrise and clearing fog through the valley. We hiked back down the trail, whose descent turned out to be much more difficult than the ascent, saddled up in the van, and drove back into Christchurch. We found what was probably the nicest holiday park on our trip, if not in all of New Zealand, where we enjoyed the warm weather and lunch. We took a cab into the city (well actually about a kilometer outside of the city, due to some communication breakdown). It afforded us the opportunity to see greater Christchurch, before we headed into the city to see the earth quake damaged areas and find dinner. After about two hours of walking trying to find a suitable place to eat, we found a really cool container bar on the outskirts of town, where we relaxes and shared a pizza. We ended up walking all the way back to the holiday park (unknowingly passing Morgan and Evan's street along the way). We cozied up in the van, watched a movie, and went to bed.
On our last full day in New Zealand (day twelve), we took a drive over the Port Hills to Lyttelton, where we sought haven from the rain in a different modern container bar. We spent our afternoon sipping on coffee and beer there, before heading back in to Christchurch to have dinner with Evan and Morgan. We had a lot of fun sharing a pizza with them and swapping stories. Evan and Morgan were nice enough to let us stay our last night in their home, before flying out the next day.
Lydia and I rose late, filled the van up with fuel (finding a gas station around the airport was perhaps the most challenging task of the entire adventure), hopped on our flight and returned back to Melbourne.
It was an epic trip with great friends, and we had an absolute blast! We were sad that it came to an end, and time flew by, but we felt like we had made some lasting memories and made the most of our trip. A big thank you to our good friends Kat, Jim, Morgan, and Evan for making it a truly amazing seppo adventure!
