#21 NZ: Fiordland of the South Island, January 6 -
21, 2007
Continuing South on the West Coast
The South Island has more square miles than the North Island
but only about one million of New Zealand's total population of a little over 4 million
lives there. And almost half
of the people on the South Island live in one of its 2 largest cities:
Christchurch or Invercargill. We didn't know how the 40 million sheep were split
between the 2 islands, but the lower human population density in the south would
undoubtedly impact our daily services availability and therefore route selection.
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We were reminded of the South Island's smaller
population as we arrived in the coastal town of Westport as the
welcoming billboard boldly told of its population of 6,000--for the region, not
the town. That was Westport, one of the "cities" and as we headed
south we were moving into increasingly remote areas, even though we were
still always on the main highway.
The increasing isolation was punctuated by frequent signs
stating "Last petrol for 100 km" (60 miles) and our guide book's reminder that the next bank was a couple of hundred miles
ahead. It was a bigger reach each day to find lodging, with our preferred 30 to 40 mile days giving way to 50 and 60 mile
efforts.
And it was on the west coast that novel conventions began appearing,
like coin-operated garbage disposal bins. Motel information sheets informed us
that there were only 2 TV stations and 1 radio station available in the area and
that they had no daily newspapers. We were also advised that the telephone
system would be shut-down during storms to prevent damage. If you didn't
like the standard sliced bread for sale in the store, you could order your
favorite brand 2 days in advance "not counting weekends" if you were lingering
long enough.
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Only in the outback would the local advise for dealing with
the sand flies be to embrace the opportunity be a part of the ecosystem. And that rather than begrudge the rain,
the promo literature encouraged everyone to "just do those outdoor activities anyway" (though people did stare as
we ate our lunch on a bench in a downpour.) And amazingly, the day's
online weather report became available
at the info center between 3:30 and 4 pm -- a little late for planning
purposes. In contrast, equally small Turangi on the North Island where we laid over an extra day waiting for the
weather to improve, was receiving its second daily online report from the same
government agency by that time. Yes, we were in the "wop-wops".
Fortunately, we knew we were headed for the boon-docks, so as
we could, we stocked up on staples. We squirreled away a week's supply of our
favorite pasta sauce (that was all the store had in stock), a 2 week supply of
bulgur for hearty, hot breakfasts, and a bit bigger supply than that of our favorite, equally hard
to find chocolate. Our favorite European brand of non-DEET bug spray also
emerged from the depths of our panniers and was immediately put into heavy
service.
Franz Josef Glacier
The Franz Josef Glacier and the nearby Fox Glacier were
among those frequently mentioned New Zealand tourist sights that made early
entries onto our "must see" list. Once we got closer, we learned that part of the
reason for their popularity was strictly for the lodging: without the lodging
they spawned, it would be impossible for the Kiwis to do the popular driving
loop that included the west coast. Actually seeing the glaciers was secondary to many.
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And once we were
at the glaciers, we were stunned to learn that despite the inferred
accolades from their frequent mention, they were short on credentials. We
assumed that they were the longest, biggest, the oldest, the deepest, or some
other kind of "-est" but we found no such information in our careful
research. They are but 2
of about 360 glaciers in New Zealand--2 that are conveniently located on the west
coast driving loop.
But "Franz & Fox" are notable as they are more active
glaciers than many of the other in the world. Huge regional rainfall amounts in
the Southern Alps and especially large open areas at their upper ends
means that they accumulate an unusual amount of ice at their tops. Because
of the large storehouse of ice and the steepness of the terrain, Franz Josef glacier
can advance or recede over 1 yard in a day--10 times faster than a typical European
glacier.
But like so many outdoor activities in New Zealand, one must pay
a guide to proceed and here it was to proceed onto the glaciers. In Iceland and the European Alps, we just
trotted out there on our own, but here you pay $90-140NZ for a half or full day guided
experience. Yes, you get extras like equipment usage (boots,
crampons, jacket, and pants) but nonetheless the big admission charge does get your attention.
And as always, one is gambling on the highly unpredictable weather as you reserve
your spot in a guided group.
We had reserved a room for 4 nights at Franz, giving us 3
days from which to make our best guess as to a good weather day for our glacier
outing. We read between the lines in the 3 day forecast of
rain and wind and picked the middle day, having arrived in the rain. And "Oh my, but did it rain"
our first night at Franz. It felt like we were getting too much of their annual
average of 13' of rain. Over 70" of rain is the record for a 3 day interval--they know it
was more than that, but the rain gauge overflowed and they don't know by how
much. And though we saw our share of drizzle, we also experienced the downpours
that are the usual way they receive their rain.
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That evening and the next day we nervously watched both the
flooded lawn and the rising creek in front of our motel and wondered if it would
ever stop. On our walk in the rain out to a view point of the foot of the glacier
in the morning, we
chatted with some of the drenched folks returning from their half day glacier
walk and hoped we wouldn't be so unlucky.
Amazingly, and in conflict with the weather forecast, the
following day was glorious. We had picked the best weather day and had sunny
skies in the morning for our glacier outing. The clouds rolled in and a little
drizzle made an appearance as the temperatures dropped in the afternoon, but
overall we had stunning weather on the glacier.
Our guided glacier walk in the crevasses and on the surfaces
of the glacier wasn't a fantastic experience but it is one we were glad to have
had. Like other New Zealand outings with big ticket prices, there was a sizeable
gap between what we paid and what we felt like we got for the money. But that
being said, it was an infinitely better experience that it would have been
in the rain.
The rain at Franz Josef made us anxious to get out of the area,
though we'd be in it for at least another week. The lush landscape
didn't look that much different from the less wet areas and admiring the scenery
was often limited by the fog and low clouds. Managing the moisture
indoors was its own challenge too. We often lacked adequate ventilation in the
rooms to remove
the steam from showers, cooking, and drying laundry. Opening the windows to air out our rooms
wasn't workable because of the press of biting bugs waiting to get in the room.
Amazingly,
we never had a room with window screens until we were almost out of the sand fly
zone. In 1 town I tried to buy my own roll of
wire or textile mesh to tape over a window for a portable screen, but none was
available in town. And the ever-present smell of mold in the cupboards and
corners of the always-damp rooms added to our impatience with the region.
Making Peace with the Activity Prices
Paying the price for our guided walk on Franz Josef
Glacier came a little easier as we had become more firm in our resolve to pay
the premium to do new activities while in the country. We came to New Zealand for the
presumed great biking
and to see what the country was about. We knew we wouldn't be fed by our usual traveler
delights of numerous fine museums, the challenges of learning a new language, or
wrapping our brains around ancient history. We wondered what New Zealand would
have to make it special and we learned that the adult-theme-park-styled outdoor activities
were one of
the country's strong suits.
Our first dip into the ridiculously priced activities had
been at Rotorua on the North Island where we paid the standard $120-130NZ (mid
$80'sUS) entry
fee to take a 40 minute walk into a crater after a ride out to the site. Then we
paid the same standard fee for full-day group kayaking activities in Abel
Tasman Park. The glacier walk was slightly more at $140NZ, but we were definitely
seeing the pattern and didn't flinch too much at the price--you either pay to
participate or you only imagine what it would be like.
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The New Zealand tourism industry has done an impressive job of carving out a niche for itself as a
first-timer's outdoor activity place and we decided to take advantage of it. You can come to New Zealand with no
experience and little or no gear and still have a huge range of experiences. The
passive, walk-through at an outdoor site like the Rotorua geysers usually costs around $25NZ
but to do anything where they require you to be supervised or use equipment
instantly bumps the price into at least the $130NZ range. For that price, you could be
buying as little as a 1-2 minute experience on a bungy cord or you might get a full
day outing on the water or a glacier. And of course, the sky is literally the
limit, with helicopter views of a glacier running $235NZ for 20 minutes to other
aerial activities that are $1000NZ for the day.
It all comes at hefty prices, but the activities
are phenomenally easy to
access. Usually reservations the day before are sufficient for just about
anything if you have that credit
card handy. And we even called for a shuttle bus/water taxi combo one morning
and we were on the bus 10 minutes later--the bus had started an hour ago at another
city but happened to be passing by our motel.
And lack of equipment isn't a barrier
either. The companies doing the guided glacier walks will toss in waterproof
jackets and pants and a pair of boots in addition to the crampons every guest is
issued. For less packaged outings like the Tongariro Crossing on the North
Island, you can rent just about anything you didn't bring, including packs,
boots, hats, jackets and mittens. Outdoor shops in some towns will rent you
tents, sleeping bags and cook stoves by the day. Non-denim pants, a bottle of water and a tube
of sunscreen are the basic supplies to get you to the starting line of almost
any outdoor activity in New Zealand.
The availability of rentable equipment didn't tip the balance
for us in signing on for activities, though the fact that New Zealand is English
speaking made it very inviting to push our edge out a bit as the shared language
(and culture) added to our sense of safety. We did find the easy availability of new sports
experiences inviting and dabbled in several new activities. And with some
activities, as on the glacier, we did venture farther than we would have on our
own.
We did, mostly by chance, manage to pare the costs down here
and there. Our all day rock climbing outing from Wanaka was half the price it
would have been from nearby Queenstown. Our half-day kayak rental from Anakiwa
was half of what it would have been from nearby Picton. But you have to go
down the road to find price breaks as magically all the operators for a given
event in a given area charge exactly the same prices, like the
glaciers walks down south and the water taxis up north.
Glow-Worms
After arriving in New Zealand, glow worms were added to
my short list of things unique to New Zealand that I hoped to see, along with
kiwi birds. They weren't on the "must see" list as the first brochures I saw
regarding them were $180NZ bus trips to a well known cave--and that was before
we understood how often high price tags were tacked on to activities in New
Zealand. We managed to see a cluster in a small cave in the Abel Tasman Park up
north on the South Island for free and some again in a little dell at Fox Glacier for a donation of
$2NZ each.
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Glow-worms are bizarre little creatures that live in dark,
damp nooks in forests and caves. At night, the larvae of the fungus gnat
produce a pinpoint of bright light to attract insects towards their sticky
strands that function like a spider's web. Curious insects get paralyzed and
stuck in the strands and then the glow-worm munches them down. The hungrier the
worm, the brighter its light so the most needy in the colony generally dine
first.
Both clusters we saw created a fantasy-like experience,
making us feel like we were surrounded by the tiniest of stars in a night sky
but stars that are only a few feet away.
Their lights don't photograph well, so one must just enjoy the moment and leave
it at that. Though we did go back to the dell near Fox Glacier the next drizzly
morning to see what there was to see of them in the daylight, which was
their sticky strands that are invisible in the dark, both to us and the bugs.
Haast
Haast is one of those incredibly inconsequential "wide
spots in the road"
but it is on the tip of every South Island traveler's tongue because it is one of
the few identifiable places for hundreds of miles. It's where the north-south road
on the west coast turns
the corner and heads east. Surprisingly, this turn in the road occurs little
more than half way down the west coast as the southern end of the South Island has only
"out and back" roads and no through roads.
Incredibly, Haast was only linked up to the road
system in the 1960's--yes, that's right--the 1960's. Haast received limited air service in the
1930's and until then its major link with the outside world was by boat. Cattle
dropped off in the ocean were forced to swim ashore, so even the boat service was a little
rough.
The newness of the road towards Haast revealed itself in an unexpected way,
which was the suddenly odd assortment of names on every little creek that
crossed under the road. Every drainage ditch, culvert, and creek in New Zealand
seemed to either have a name or number or both and my cyclist's mind that's
always hungry for entertainment read every one. On the day we rode to Haast,
the names switched from having a historical ring to sounding more like someone
sat down and wrote out a long list of words and just stuck them on as they came
to them. "Gunboat" could easily be
historical in many countries, but not likely in this part of New Zealand.
"Windbag" seemed like a reach, as did "Hostel" in an area
traditionally short on habitation.
"Collie" might have been credible as "Dead Collie Gulch", but just "Collie"
seemed hollow. Then there was the systematic series of plant names that smacked
of the creeks all being named in the same week instead of over the decades by
the locals.
Haast is an important link in the modern road system, but still retains its
outpost quality. I was counting on its store to re-provision as we just weren't
prepared to carry all the fresh produce we would want to eat for 4 or 5 days, as even stashes for 48 hour
intervals load us down. But we were in Haast a day early as the
truck bringing the next batch of produce wouldn't arrive until
hours after we left the next morning. So I had my pick from 6 oranges on their last
legs and there were no fresh dinner vegetables at all to choose from. I snapped
up the 1 bag of terribly expensive frozen vegetables which
was, as I expected, freezer burned. The next night canned beets would have to
do. Prices on what they did have were at least double of those at the last
store. But despite
the top prices on both food and lodging we, like many others, were graciously
grateful for what Haast had to offer.
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Haast Pass
Climbing the wrong way--the steeper grades--over Haast Pass
was the price we had to pay do get out of the wet west coast and to share our blood with fewer sand flies. We debated long and hard as to
whether to bike the pass or take a shuttle bus. Some cyclist's reported that
their guide books claimed it was one of the most beautiful stretches of road
on the island and
was not to be missed. But it had its challenges. We decided to take the bus only
if it was stormy as steep climbing on a long day was enough to contend
with--sensory-distorting weather elements would be too much.
Lodging in the whole southern end of the South Island was in
short supply and it was an 80km or about 50 mile ride from Haast to the next
warm bed. Unfortunately for us, it was a 50 km or about 30 mile ride just to the
base of the pass, meaning we'd do the stiff climbing in the afternoon after we'd
already done what is often a full day ride for us. And worse yet, almost half
of the 3000' elevation gain would occur rolling up and down over and over again
just getting to the starting point of the big climb.
We knew the steep part was really steep, but none of the
guide books or other cyclists could put a number on it for us. Once we were into
it, we understood that it was one of the steeper sustained climbs we'd ever done, with over 1 mile being at uninterrupted 10-15%
grades. Well, the grade was uninterrupted but we however stopped a number of
times to catch our breath and get our heart rates down during the stint. During
one such stop we waved at the group of 20 or so Americans from a Vermont-based
biking company as they made their way up the pass on a shuttle bus with their
bikes on a roof rack.
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Our 100+ pounds each of bike and gear and lack of regular
training in the 15% range was enough to intensely feel the effects of the effort.
We both were driven to pause when the physiological stress generated a
characteristic but odd sensation of being dissociated from the tops of our
heads. Definitely time for more oxygen.
Another sign of being overtaxed was overcorrecting for
a wobble, resulting in weaving around over too much of the road. We'd press on until
the warning signs compelled us to find a spot on the road where we could both
stop and have a prayer of restarting. Restarting on a steep, narrow road is a skill
but it does take some cooperation from both the road designers and the traffic. The steepness of the most difficult stretch of road was
underscored by spotting the only emergency ramp for runaway vehicles that we'd
seen in New Zealand.
As expected, we began leaving the coastal weather behind us
before we even crested the pass: the solid bands of clouds gave way to clouds
with distinct edges; the water-laden gray colored clouds shifted to cottony white
ones; and
the humidity of the air rearranged by the winds was suddenly lower. For the
first time in weeks, we actually got a little hot in the afternoon.
The next morning after the big climb, we awoke to brilliant blue skies, little
wind and only a few sand flies. It looked like summer had finally arrived. The
mountain views weren't spectacular, but we savored the overall experience of
pleasant scenery, nice weather, and light traffic. Not long after leaving our
overnight village of Makarora, our legs gave their first signs of still
suffering from the previous day's efforts as the 5% grades were a struggle.
Luckily the discomfort eased over the next hour as there was a string of 10%
grades in our future--grades that were at the limit of what we could do that
day.
But the joys of the day were systematically diminished as we
approached our lay-over town of Wanaka. The beautiful skies turned dark and we
couldn't out run the sprinkles. Luckily we did pull in to our reserved motel
room before the downpour hit. But just before that, we had our worst encounter
ever with a belligerent driver on the road.
We were proceeding with the right-of-way across one of New
Zealand's many one-way bridges when an oncoming truck barreled onto the bridge
instead of waiting in the appointed side lane. We were in the middle of the
narrow bridge so our presence wouldn't be missed and he faced off with us, in
the middle of the lane. There was no way we could get around him. After some
very spontaneously emitted profanity on my part, he yielded, barely being able
to make room for us to pass. The lower traffic levels on the South Island had
definitely made biking there safer than on the North Island, but this
underscored the hostility we had felt on the road from many Kiwi drivers,
drivers that wouldn't budge to give us a safety margin.
Wanaka
Though we just couldn't shake some of the aggravations about
biking in New Zealand, we did get the hang of doing the activity circuit. We
dabbled with planning our itinerary around activities on the North Island at
the Tongariro Crossing, but it was on the South Island we refined it to an art.
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Traveling during the high season as we were made lodging an
issue, so bookings for rooms had to be made 3-10 days in advance, depending on
the area. Planning for an outdoor activity made that a gamble, as the weather was
forever a wildcard. So, we finally learned to book 3 or 4 nights in each
activity town, which would give us 2 or 3 days from which to guess about the
best weather day once there. The forecasts in New Zealand are less reliable than many other
places because of their more complicated circumstances, but we fortunately also
got more than our share of lucky guesses. That system had
us lingering about once every week or 10 days for a South Island activity and
after walking on the Franz Josef Glacier, next came rock climbing in Wanaka.
Rock climbing certainly isn't on the "A List" for
fit New Zealand
tourists like the glacier walk and the Tongariro Crossing, but it edged up on our
list just because it was there. Our Via Ferrata experiences last summer in the
Italian Dolomites piqued our interest in climbing and we got a little training
at Portland's Rock Gym in October. We extended that indoor climbing experience by spending a couple of afternoons on
indoor climbing walls in New Zealand, so it seemed like it
was time to move back outdoors to the authentic, parent sport. The New Zealand
sports theme park atmosphere made it easy, so why make our first outdoor climb
here?
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One of our reasons for taking in some of these first-time
sports activities in New Zealand was the opportunity to do them with
English-as-a-first-language folks but in Wanaka we were unexpectedly lead by a Spaniard
with a heavy accent.
"Oh well, at least the cultural setting was familiar". True to the first-timer's
package deal in New Zealand, the guide picked us up at our motel and hauled us
and the 2 other wannabees out to the fabled climbing areas in the surrounding
hills. We all
rummaged through the bin of predictably uncomfortable climbing shoes and were issued our
harnesses, carabineers, and helmets from the back of the van and we were off to
the rock faces.
We got what we wanted, which was a coached opportunity to
climb on living rock instead of plastic knobs. In some ways, we preferred
the indoor rock gym experience where more of your time is spent climbing and
less of it getting there and setting up. Indoor climbing also has the advantage of
one not
getting blasted by the sun or rain or being blinded by sighting your route directly into the sun. But
of course, the fresh air and grand views made being outdoors more fun.
My other-country bias leapt out with each hand hold as I
found my self worrying about coming face to face with a rattle snake. Not that
that has ever happened to me, but 'rattlers were occasionally found on the
little hill in my Oregon hometown of Eugene and were a part of the "caution in
the wilderness" training I received, beginning as a child. "Putting your hands
into rock crevasses that you can't see" was high on the list of things you
just don't do and here I was doing it, over and over again. The informed adult
in my head had to say "But there are no snakes in New
Zealand" with each hidden grasp made. It was a surprising distraction to be constantly countering that
appropriate-back-home training that was totally irrelevant in New Zealand.
The other surprise in climbing outdoors was that comforting
hand holds were much more difficult to find than on the indoor courses. I was told that the
schist rock in the area added to that particular challenge as it only provided
little knobs--had we been on the rocks around Auckland, the hand holds would
have been the more familiar, big shapes to grasp .
But as expected, our introductory outdoor rock climbing was a
success. The home-based business efficiently and professionally delivered what we thought we were buying and it
was only a
little above the standard daily rate for New Zealand. It felt like our
planned
stop-over in Wanaka gave us another punch on our "New Zealand First Timer's
Activity Card" as we slowly made our way around the island.
Queenstown
The Approach
The end of our first month of South Island travels had me
agreeing with a young German tourist we spoke with early in our trip who confessed that she
preferred the North Island to the South, despite the prevailing opinion being
the opposite. She was quick to say that she couldn't identify why she felt that
way, but it was a clear conclusion on her part.
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Our slow mode of travel gives us more time to ponder such
pressing questions as "Why is the North Island more interesting than the South?"
and I settled on the reason being the greater variety of scenery on the North Island. The look of the
land from one day to the next was more varied on the North Island than the South
Island. And, like a good photograph, a given scan of the landscape on the North
Island contained a better balance between objects of interest in the foreground,
mid-ground, and background than the South Island. The South Island
panoramas and views often lacked much of distinction in the mid-ground and
little varied in what we did see from moment to moment. Big mountains off in the
distance and trees or grasses closer at hand were the common South Island
theme, with little for the imagination to latch on to.
But my South Island stereotype shifted as we rode from Wanaka to Queenstown via the Crown Range road. For part of the journey, the
steep hills were practically in our laps like in Scotland, with all of the
hillside details in clear focus. The brilliant lupines in white, pink, purple
and blue were right there at our feet, not off in the distance.
It was a tough pull to the summit of the Crown Range pass, which is the highest sealed road in New Zealand at 1076m
or about 3500' but the newness of New Zealand as a country was underscored at
the top. There a commemorative plaque noted that the route began as a Maori
trail and then it became a road, but the surface was
sealed for the first time in the year 2000.
And it was at the summit that the "in your face" hills and
lupines gave way to the steep-sided valleys
filled with lush green fields and sparkling rivers. The severely switch-backed
road we'd soon be cruising down punctuated the steepness of it all. And until we
approached Queenstown, all of our views of the South Island mountains for the last couple
of weeks were 'yawners'. We'd only gotten glimpses of the Southern Alps when
they were far away and once we got closer to them, they were usually shrouded in
clouds. But here in the Queenstown region with its typically clearer skies, we enjoyed endlessly staring at the series
of dramatic, jagged peaks.
I had thought the name of the Queenstown area's mountains,
"The Remarkables," to be rather childish, but that all changed
once I saw them. They
really were remarkable compared to the other mountains we'd seen in New Zealand, as I found myself remarking about them multiple times an
hour while in their presence. Their extreme steepness meant that it was easy to
be close enough to appreciate the roughness of their terrain and the drama of
their presence, and the heavily textured surfaces kept my eyes riveted on them.
Arriving in Town
Riding through downtown Queenstown after 8 hours on the road
made me sympathetic with the criticisms we'd heard and read of its
commercialism. As Bill put it, the effect of central Queenstown's ambiance was
like when we arrived in downtown Las Vegas after camping and biking for a week
in Death Valley--sensory overload. And heaven
forbid, but modern 3 storey buildings stuffed with aggressive retail marketing
vigorously competing for your attention was quite a contrast to many sleepy
South Island towns that still sport their plain, smooth, turn of the 20th century facades
with fewer windows.
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We didn't linger in the commercial core as we were pooped
from the big riding day that finished with a rare hot afternoon and we instead
made a beeline for our reserved hotel room. We had to push our bikes up the
short steep hill that approached 20% grades, but it was worth it.
What turned out to be a luxury hotel at
the going rate for motels was a thrill. Inexplicably, the manager
upgraded our room to include a view of the lake and a free, in-room washing machine.
The bathtub and CNN on the tube were already delighting us, but the overall
soothing ambiance of the room had us plotting to spend all of our layover day
savoring its comforts rather than hiking as planned. Oh, and that $30 bottle of
wine on the counter sure looked tempting. The luxurious room was an added bonus
as it coincided with our 28th wedding anniversary and it countered what was
expected to be grim accommodations in a couple of days in a too-cheap campground
cabin in the middle of nowhere.
Love It or Hate It
Few people are indifferent to Queenstown--they either
love it or hate it. Surely the crowds that pour into it in the winter when it
wears its ski resort face must love it for the many trendy bars and cafes
available to nurture them after a day on the slopes. And the fact that the place
is swarming with adrenalin junkies
that converge for the dizzying array of summer activities that could suck thousands of
dollars out of your pockets in a few days time speaks volumes about their
perspective.
But others we spoke with got out of town as quickly as they
could. Several were so repulsed that they shortened their planned stay in the
town; others with the same opinion were staying way out on the fringes and
briefly ducking into town for the essentials.
We were among the schizophrenic few that were simultaneously
drawn to it and repelled by it. Of course, our opinion was in part colored by
being there on our 4th day in a row without rain--possibly the longest dry spell
we'd had since arriving in the country. And then there was the killer deal we
stumbled into on our luxury hotel room--the most soothing room we'd had in our 6
years of travel. And looking out at the very remarkable Remarkables from our
comfy hotel room without having to cope with rain or sand flies made Queenstown
seem like a fine place to be.
Should we have been in need of parts or gear, Queenstown
would have looked like a gift indeed. In addition to the activities merchants,
the town was brimming with outdoors and sports stores. Display models of tents
were set-up on the sidewalk, just so you wouldn't miss the point. We didn't go
in, but I suspect that between the array of shops most any pressing outdoor gear problem
could be solved, which is a huge benefit to the tourist with a vacation riding
on specialty equipment in
this relatively remote area.
Even though elements of our Queenstown stay were deeply
pleasing to us, there was no denying that throbbing retail scene that set new
standards in manufacturing needs rather than satisfying the basics. In other New
Zealand small towns,
the storefronts were a familiar mix of hardware stores, clothing shops, and other "meet
your daily needs" places. In Queenstown, those shops are dwarfed by promoters of
an amazing mix of activities.
Missing your Harley or never had one--there was a Harley Davidson
rental and tour group shop on Queenstown's main street. And the array of things
being promoted to do in the air above Queenstown
attached to a string was astounding. You could tandem paraglide, hang glide, or
skydive with a pro managing the technical details. You could float with the help of a
parachute while being towed around the lake by a boat. There was the truly
bizarre wingless aircraft hanging from a tether and canyon cable that would let
you buzz around and do loop-de-loops. Or if you just want the thrill without the
risk, the flight simulator would do the trick. Queenstown is home to the original bungy jumps,
so they were every where, as were body-friendlier looking harness-styled
jumps that keep you more upright.
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It was a mind-boggling
array of thrills, with the cheapest being a couple of minutes on a bungy for around $150NZ.
Gliding for 10 minutes would run closer to $200NZ but be sure to bring
your own fleece jacket 'cause if you buy one from the parasailing folks, it will
set you back $350NZ. The most minutes for your dollar were on the flight
simulator where $225NZ buys you an hour. It was hard to assign a winner for the
"Most Outrageous Pricing Award", but the $29NZ charged of spectators of one of the events
would have to be a contender.
Milford Sound
It was a toss-up between Doubtful Sound or Milford Sound for
our last planned group activity, with us finally picking the cheaper of the 2
fjords for the greater drama of its steeper sides. We based at the pretty lakeside town of Te Anau to further reduce the cost of the bus ride and the length of time on the
roads to the water. The 75 mile bus ride to the Sound from Te Anau was highly rated and
indeed we enjoyed it more than the 2 hour boat ride in the Sound itself.
These Sound outings are yet another of the very well
organized and efficient conveyor belt activities available in New Zealand. As at
other sights, the very personable and easy-going drivers and guides take the
sharp edges off the mass-production feeling, but the numbers tell the story. The
Milford Sound tourists have been doubling in numbers every 5 years for an
unstated length of time. On a busy day, there are over a 100 buses a day hauling
visitors from Te Anau or Queenstown to make the boat trip into the Sound.
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We were lucky as our driver estimated that only about 40
buses of all sizes were making the ritual journey on our appointed day for one
of the 35 boat trips. At one
of the numerous stops for a short scenic walk or look at the peaks, our driver
said he'd seen as many as 18 buses waiting for their passengers on busier days. Even he agreed
that being heel-to-toe on the little nature walk was no fun for anyone.
The bus ride from the east side of the Southern Alps up over
a low pass and down the other side held our interest with the sheer valley
walls, the currently rain-fed skinny waterfalls, and sightings of debris from recent
avalanches. The drama of the rocky and rugged terrain is always of interest to
us and the especially hard rock in this area retained the sharp lines created by
the glaciers despite thousands of years of erosive forces. And getting a close-up look at the notoriously destruction alpine parrots,
the kea's, was an extra treat. We however dreaded being thrown back into the wet
weather and sand flies so typical of the west coast.
The centerpiece activity--the over 2 hour boat trip on the
Sound--was much lower on content for us than the bus ride. The main gimmick on
the boat was repeated often, which was the captain nosing the bow of the boat
within a few yards of the vertical rock faces to get close to a waterfall. The spray of the
waterfall increased the giggles as travelers now got wet from the waterfall as
well as the alternating drizzle and rain. Waterfalls are the main attraction and
all of the promoters insist that a rainy day is the best day to see the Sound as
there are more waterfalls. I guess we are party-poopers, but we'd have preferred
dry weather and blue skies to take in the scenery at the expense of the
waterfall sightings.
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So, another punch on our imaginary New Zealand Activity Card: we'd seen Milford
Sound. Once again, it was an interesting experience but seemed both over-rated
and over priced for what we got at the standard daily rate of $135NZ per person. We were glad
we'd taken the general advise in only planning to visit 1 of the 2 Sounds.
That Wild New Zealand Weather
Being in New Zealand and especially on the west coast of
the South Island was an eye-popping education in meteorology. Despite buying a
book on the subject, we were still at the stage of having more questions than
answers while on the west coast, but our appreciation of its complexity had sky
rocketed during our stay.
Oregon is on the Pacific Ocean, New Zealand is on the Pacific
Ocean; Oregon is in the "Roaring 40's" latitudes for strong winds and so is New
Zealand; and the weather in both Oregon and New Zealand are affected by cold
polar air and warm, moist air from the tropics: it seemed like it shouldn't be any harder to predict weather in New
Zealand than in Oregon but it is and its a nightmare.
We intently stared at the briefly displayed weather maps on the nights we
had access to TV news and were aghast at what we saw. Some nights there was an
assortment of 5 different low and high pressure systems jostling for dominance
over New Zealand. Grasping the array of pressure systems was hard enough, but
then it was the collisions at their borders that would create
the weather we felt. We listened to the description of multiple troughs and
fronts depicted with pink and blue lines with attached triangles and half circles;
we studied the labyrinth
of compressing or expanding isobars; and we watched the time lapsed
projections and still were clueless as to whether to expect rain or shine the next
day in our area. And of course, we could easily have both and both multiple
times and our informed guess was almost as good as the pro's.
It is apparently the presence of the massive and dry
continent of Australia to the west of New Zealand that makes its weather so
different than Oregon's as the US Pacific Northwest lacks a similar companion
land mass. The air cruising over the enormous lands of Australia heats up and
then hits a warm current in the Tasman Sea as it heads west, loading up with moisture in a way
that only hot air can. That moisture laden warm air slams into the roughly
north-south-oriented New Zealand mountain ranges and is forced to suddenly rise.
The rising air catches a chill and blammo--dumps most of the volumes of water
that can be held by warm air and not by cooler air. That results in New Zealand
having some of the highest rainfall areas in the world and being the second
stormiest country in the world. In addition, in New Zealand's wettest areas,
much of the water is deposited in downpours of inches in hours. We saw warnings of
possible 3-4" downpours in 3 to 6 hours several times while in New Zealand, and
surprisingly, not just near the mountains.
Once again I wished I had kept a little calendar to track the
number of days with rain as we traveled. It always seemed too grumpy and obsessed at the time, but it
would have made for an interesting look back as both November and December had
been worse than average for New Zealand this year. I was left guessing that in the our first month on the South Island we must have had rain 5 or
6 out of every 7 days. Luckily we weren't out in it every time. Several torrential downpours that occurred while we were on
the west coast fell for 10-12 hours, but mostly overnight. We might catch the
beginning or the end on the bikes, but not feel the full force (or volume) of it.
Several of the gully-washers were on days we laid over for
hiking, like at the inland Nelson Lakes in the north and at the Franz Josef
glacier. Those times, we trimmed back our plans and settled for a fitness walk
and doing chores rather than the hike that we'd anticipated. And
many of our riding days were in alternating drizzle, showers, downpours and
drier spells, which iwa far superior to all day rain.
It's mid-January now, which is mid-July weather in the
Northern Hemisphere and the TV meteorologist's are beginning to talk about
summer in the past tense. We were still hoping for an improving trend for our
last 6 weeks in the country when the weather is typically "more settled" but are now worried that they've written off the
summer of '07.
Where We Are Now, January 25, 2007: Invercargill
In early November, Invercargill was but a hypothetical,
southern-most destination for us on New Zealand's South Island and here we are.
But of course, it isn't really a destination but a point to loop around as we
begin our journey north up the South Island. The original plan was to cruise up
the east coast, taking in a couple of cities and some marine life viewpoints
marked on our map. But Map Man is in a dither as several South Island Kiwi's
have urged us to tour north on the inland roads, taking some routes he already
decided against. Lodging availability information from the tourist office folks
in Invercargill may be the deciding factor in our route.
We have a little over 4 weeks to make our way back to the
Picton ferry at the northern tip of the South Island. From Picton we'll take the
ferry to Wellington and after a couple more sightseeing days there, we'll hop a
12 hour train to Auckland, skipping the difficult traffic on the return trip on
the North Island. We'll be back home on March 1.
Love,
Barb
