Finding leap

17/01/2008.

In the spirit of the lord of the rings the New Zealand installment to the blog page will be in the form of a trilogy. It is a bit long but don't worry it is not full of Tolkein references. However, it does end with me climbing up Mt Doom, but don't worry I didn't go up there to burn my ring.

Can a guy do New Zealand in two weeks? No. But he can give it a bloody good go.

Starting in Dunedin, a seaside university town on summer holidays, I jump on the Taieri Gorge rail train and started heading north. The Otago central railway originally travelled the full 220km, or so inland to Clyde/Cromwell, servicing the farmers and gold explorers in the day.

The train traversed the first 60km through spectacular gorges, passing through mountain tunnels and over stone bridges, but then stopped in Middlemarch because some stooges decided to pull out the tracks. With my destination a further 160km away, I gave the train the two fingers, passed a kid $50 for a loan of his push bike and started pedalling. Following the old rail trail for the next day and a half, I passed through sheep filled farmland, nestled between modest mountain ranges, with scattered country towns. Being an old rail line the track was particularly gentle with only a soft change in grade. However, the northerly headwind made me earn my distance and produced the odd curse word directed toward the heavens and unfriendly kiwi gods. Arriving in Clyde, I dumped the bike and slipped onto a bus for Queenstown. This was my first experience of NZ roads and I was impressed, as we skirted along the edge of a lake bracketed between soaring mountains.

Queenstown was a destination for two reasons; to catch up with my beautiful friend Dale, and to throw myself off a bridge. Dale and her friend were road tripping the south island, so I took advantage of their sorry little car and scammed a ride to the Kawarau bridge, site of the original commercial bungy. Handing over 160 kiwi dollars (which by the way felt like play money) I went and lined up on the bridge. The que of lemmings leaping off the bridge, one after another (some more reluctant than others) was a bit of a detractor from the experience, as was the cost. Although I may have been slightly less confident if it was a cheap operation. With my ankles banded together I hopped onto the platform and took the briefest of moments to soak in the river gorge surroundings and the drop below. Within very little time (they move you quickly so you don't think too much about what you are about to do, and so you don't slow the flow of dollars) the countdown began. 5 - 4 - 3 - a deep breath and I tried to imagine the band wasn't there - 2 - 1 - Bungy! I leapt out without the slightest hesitation. At the moment of free fall I had a pang of adrenaline and felt my entire body tense up at once (as though my body were screaming at my brain "what have you done"). My eyes were wide open the entire fall as I sped towards the water to be dunked up to my shoulders. It was not until the spring back up that I found my voice and let out a triumphant yell and enjoyed the swing down to the raft below. The buzz stayed with me for the next half an hour, but it quickly wore off. It was something I very much wanted to experience, but for the cost and short duration of the kick, I probably won't go out of my way to do it again.

(That's me at the end of the rope. My favourite photo. Thank you)

Back to Queenstown with a huge grin on my face, I took some time to lounge about in a hammock and calm down from the bungy. With an afternoon to pass, Dale and I took off up the Queenstown gondola (chair lift) to admire the views over the town, lake Wakatipu and the surrounding remarkable mountains.

Queenstown is solely a tourist town and the gondola is probably the number one tourist activity. At the top the crowds snap some pictures, ride around on the luge (billycart) track, eat at the cafe, buy some junk from the gift shop and leave. Not being one for crowds, Dale and I set off on a two hour wander around and up the mountain for a private viewing of the mountain, lake town scenery. We scampered along the ridge line and with smiles on our faces after finding something most people don't, we returned to the tourist centre for a quick luge ride and the gondola back down the mountain. That was my favourite part of my visit to Queenstown. It is funny, with all the expensive, pleasure island style activities you can do, I most enjoyed walking around a mountain chatting to my friend. Queenstown is not my kind of town. Ok, if you view it as a launching point to the nearby tramping tracks or ski fields. For me the comparison with Pinochio's pleasure island is pretty bloody close. I went out one night there and half expected the swarm of backpackers (there are very few kiwi accents in Qtown) playing drinking games to start turning into donkeys (or perhaps sheep is more appropriate).

The next day I joined the girls' road trip. Squeezing into the back of Dale's match box car, which was being held together with sticky tape, we drove around the mountains and through the countryside to NZs claimed number one must do, Milford Sound. Along the way I experienced my only kiwi traffic jam, the result of a flock of sheep being herded between paddocks, several kilometres apart, along a major motorway, wedged between mountains and a lake. Surely, with all the NZ sheep jokes someone was taking the piss, but no, hundreds of woolly buggers clogging up the road.

At Milford we had a glorious afternoon for a cruise around the sound (which is actually a fjord, created by glacial force). The scenery was stunningly beautiful and it was wonderful to have someone to share it with. The cruise meandered beside the mountains, stopping under waterfalls for a quick splash and out to the edge of the Tasman Sea for a brief viewing towards home. When the cruise finished the clouds came in and within no time it was pouring rain.

It rained all night and in the morning the sound of the rain was replaced with that of waterfalls streaming down the mountains. All the rain made me a little nervous as I was about to start a two day tramp across the mountains. The girls drove me to the starting point of my walk and with what would best be described as a drop and roll farewell, I found myself alone with my pack, climbing out of the mud, facing a fold in the forest which was the start of the track.

On the tourist road

21/01/2008

The Routeburn track is one of New Zealands most popular tramps. The track is a well trodden 32km long path through some spectacular mountain countryside. Most people do the tramp over three days. However, due to a series of random events I was due at the tracks end in one day and half. This meant I didn't have much time to dawdle so I lugged my pack on and entered the forest. I was a little nervous about what lay ahead, but from my first step to the last I loved every moment. You could not wipe the smile off my face. The first 10km of the track was along a forest track which had taken on the appearance of a waterfall with the persistent rain. Mist prevented visibility beyond the immediate surrounds and streams and waterfalls gushed across the track with the rain. A bypass was required for one waterfall (Earland falls 176m high) which was so powerful, it nearly took my head off just trying to get a look at it. I splashed and rock hopped my way along the track, occassionally passing trampers heading in the opposite direction. They didn't seem to appreciate the rain as much as I, and most eagerly asked "how much further?". The rain and cloud was the perfect start to the walk.

As I broke free of the tree cover the cloud lifted and I was unveiled some of the most spectacular scenery . I took some time for lunch and jumped straight back on the track. Hiking along in the sunshine, up and along the side of the mountains I simply laughed and smiled at the views across the valley of snow capped mountains.

I passed many other trampers heading in the opposite direction and most were happy to stop for a chat about walking plans, the wondrous surrounds and where we are all from. That is one of my favourite things about bush walking, how people loosen up and are willing to talk to just about every stranger that crosses their path. I reached the highest point of the track late in the afternoon and began the decent to my campsite. Most of the trampers were off the track for the day so I walked alone for several hours as the sun settled in behind the mountains. I reached my campsite and had camp set up with the last of the light. I had covered over 26km in one day and honestly I barely even noticed. It was fantastic. My campsite was a spectacular spot on the bank of a running stream in a flat between more mountains. Before bed I chatted with my neighbouring campers. We were three lone trampers, but got along like old friends. In the morning we each went our separate ways.

I took my time packing up camp and enjoyed sitting by the stream picking through my breakfast. I had done the lion's share of the walk the previous day so just took my time walking the last 6km through the forest and crossing swing bridges spanning rapid streams. I stepped off the track as the bus arrived and took the ride to Queenstown. I had done the walk. It was fun. Now what?

Not being a big fan of Queenstown I organised my exit strategy as soon as I arrived and booked myself on the morning bus up the west coast to Greymouth. Early in the morning I trudged onto the bus with a herd of backpackers, most of whom were headed to the glaciers (Fox or Franz Jospeh). As I had lived on a glacier, when down in Antarctica, I thought this was something I could probably skip. The bus ride wound through the mountains and passed from one lake to another until we reached the coast. I was surprised at how tropical the plants looked. Ferny tropics leading up to alpine mountains. Unusual for an Aussie. The bus served a dual purpose, acting as the newspaper mail truck to towns along the way. Our scallywag bus driver didn't even slow down to piff the rolled up papers across the bonnet and scatter the papers across peoples driveways, as we zoomed along at 110km/h. I couldn't help but laugh everytime. Although I wasn't interested in paying the tour guides to take me up and see the glacier I did take a brief moment to snap a photo and admire the Franz Jospeh glacier from the nearby town.

The bus took me the remainder of the way up the coast to Greymouth. A low key fishing town, and the end of the line for the Southern Alpine train which runs across to Christchurch. As I had missed the only train for the day, I spent a night in Greymouth, enjoyed a seafood dinner and visited the beach. The beach had been completely mined for greenstone (jade). This stuff was extremely valuable to Maori tribes who used them to make pounamu mere (greenstone clubs) which they used to bash each other over the head. Apparently, the stone is stronger than metal so they did do a fair bit of damage and the Maori's did manage to wipe out the Moa (3m tall flightless bird) using the tools.

The next day I waited for the train at the station and while minding my own business, randomly bumped into an old mate from my basketball days and his new bride. They were also travelling to Christchurch so we rode the train together, crossing the south island passing through the mountains. The train ride is pegged as one of the most spectacular train rides in the world. It was pleasant and all but it didn't live up to expectation for me. Maybe it is better in the winter when the mountains are frosted with snow. My friends dropped me at a backpackers in the city where I dumped my bags and went off in search of food. I really liked the look and feel of Christchurch. It seemed to have a European town vibe, with beautiful old buildings and cathedrals, big open public squares, a tram system, all set around the river Avon. I had a beautiful meal by the river and then stumbled across a free buskers comedy show, where five or so buskers each did 20 minute sets to a huge crowd in amongst the old buildings of the arts precinct. The show was great and I laughed like an idiot with a crowd full of strangers. Brilliant!

Early in the morning, I was back on the train, this time heading up the East coast along the edge of the Pacific ocean heading for Picton at the north of the south island. I rode the train with a dutch girl I met at the backpackers and swapped travel stories. I did get a bit sick of having the same conversations with people. This was another scenic train ride. Once again the ride was nice and all but I found it a little dull. I think next time to make it a bit more exciting I might try and ride the train without a ticket. I don't think it would be that hard. I scoped it out for future reference. If you want to take a bag that is no problem as they all go into a luggage carriage and no one checks a ticket when you hand it over. The next bit is getting passed the conductors. That is easy enough. Just hide on the viewing platform the entire ride. They never go there. Easy free train ride and you get plenty of fresh air, with only a touch of diesel.

I was keen to get to Picton as I wanted to get out on the water and explore Queen Charlotte Sound. This is an historically significant site where Captain Cook spent a lot of time on his around the world journeys. He liked it as it has lots of fresh water and food available and has good beaches for running a ship aground to make repairs. I jumped off the train and went straight to the ferry harbour and stepped onto a boat as it was leaving the docks. It was fantastic to zoom across the water and imagine the Endeavour sailing these waters (the area hasn't changed much since Cook was there over 200 years ago). I particulary wanted to see Ship's cove and Motuara Island where Cook claimed New Zealand in the name of the King.
The island has a memorial cairn on top and is preserved as a bird sanctuary with blue penguin nesting boxes throughout. I enjoyed my afternoon on the water. At the top of Motuara island, at the lookout along side Cook's cairn I could see to the north a blue hazy landmass, the north island, my next destination.

Tramping in the long white clouds

27/01/2008

My original intention was to spend more time at Queen Charlotte Sound and perhaps take a day trip kayaking around the area. However, as is New Zealand, the weather became a bit grim so I took the next Interislander ferry across Cook Straight from Te Wahi Pounamu (place of the greenstone, south island) to Aotearoa (land of the long white cloud, north island). It was fitting that the crossing was made on a rainy day and that I could barely make out the hills as we eased through the long white clouds. The ferry takes many tourists and vehicles between the islands with ferrys running surprisingly regularly. As the weather was unfriendly outside I sat through the voyage in the main lounge watching kiwi TV for the first and only time in my trip. With my fellow passengers we watched the memorial service for New Zealand's favourite son, Sir Edmund Hillary, the first to climb Everest.

As the ferry pulled into New Zealand's capital city of Wellington, I decided that I was through with public transport and that I would take on the north island by car. Wellington looked like a busy city, so I didn't think anyone would mind if I didn't stick around. I was in New Zealand for the natural beauty, not to bum around the city. I took the keys to my new little car and started heading north through the rain. After meeting so many people on the buses/trains/ferrys etc on the south island I felt like I was cheating a little leaving them behind and taking off on my own. I would have liked to have swung by a bus stop and offered anyone heading my way a lift. With this mind set I was ready to pick up hitchhikers. It was fun driving along the kiwi roads, listening to kiwi radio and the music of the area. My aim was to reach a town called Turangi at the southern end of Lake Taupo in the middle of the north island. It was a cloudy day so I couldn't make out much of the scenery. Along the way I did give a ride to two hitchhikers, heading north to Taupo. They were friendly and talkative and appreciative of a ride in a nice car as we sped along desert road through the rain. I didn't know it then but the cloud we were driving through was obstructing the view of some spectacular mountains in the Tongariro National Park. I would be setting off on a two day tramp in the park the next day. The long white cloud was acting as a stage curtain preventing me from getting the slightest glimpse of what lay ahead.

I had hired the car, primarily to give me the freedom to do a two day tramp in Tongariro without the hassle of timing my trip around buses. Early in the morning I drove through the continuing white cloud to the main visitors centre where I left the car and set off on a 45km tramp around the Tongariro northern circuit. Tongariro contains varying landscapes featuring forests, lakes, streams, desert-like areas in terrain formed by volcanic activity. The cloud continued to obstruct my view, but I was hopeful that is would lift in the afternoon. After about 10km of tramping through the long white clouds, the heavens were lifted and I was rewarded for my efforts with the sight of two spectacular volcanoes which are the centre piece of this wondrous area. Mt Ruapehu (last erupted in 1995) and Mt Ngauruhoe ( last erupted 1976).

My tramp went along the saddle directly between the mountains, and then looped around Mt Ngauruhoe, also known as Mt Doom from the lord of the rings. It was a spectacular tramp between the mountains. Once I had sighted them I couldn't take my eyes off them. I walked on through the desert/lunar landscape (this is where most of the Mordor scenes were filmed) to the halfway point of my walk and my camp for the night. I camped by the edge of a cliff and waterfall, with Mt Ngauruhoe and it's iconic volcano shape always in my sights. I had walked for a day on my own, hardly meeting any others silly enough to take to the track in the morning cloud. I awoke at sunrise to watch the suns light melt down from the near perfect cone of the volcano. I couldn't pack up camp quickly enough to get closer to the mountain and see what else lay on my path. After a reasonable climb up the rocky path alone in the morning I reached the Emerald lakes and sulphur steam clouds as well as the Tongariro crossing. This is the most walked one-day track in New Zealand. I got there just as the first of the day trampers arrived. I would also walk the crossing, although I was going in the complete opposite direction to the bus loads of day trampers.
This part of the tramp was truly spectacular and I can understand why so many come to walk the trail. The track runs between ginormous craters, bright cyan coloured lakes, rocky cliffs, volcanic cuttings and edges along the base of Mt Ngauruhoe. I had never walked anywhere like it and was blown away by the surrounds. It was kind of strange to have walked the previous day without seeing anyone, but then on this day passed close to one thousand day walkers. I was going in the opposite direction to everyone else. I liked that. As I dodged the tourists, trudging up the trail, I edge around the base of the volcano and decided I was going up, Frodo style. Yes, it looked really steep, but I had pretty much walked around the mountain, to be satisfied I had to go up. I dumped my pack and began the scramble up the mountain. It was a long climb and I was a bit disappointed when there were quite a few people already up there. The cloud had returned when I reached the top but of the glimpses I managed, the view below was quite awesome. I walked around the crater rim and gazed into the mess of a cavity which still had patches of snow inside. So, that was it. I had climbed the mountain. The climax of the trip had passed. The only thing left to do was go back down again. Going down was heaps of fun as I almost skied down the loose rocks, where each step took me about five. I re-found my pack and continued on the track. I had climbed the mountain and done most of the track, so simply enjoyed the rest of the trail, occasionally looking over my shoulder at the mountain and smiling to myself.

After two long days of walking and conquering mountains, my legs were well and truly pissed off at me. I drove the car around Lake Taupo before heading on to Rotorua where I promised myself a nice long soak in a spa. Rotorua wasn't my cup of tea. Way to touristy. I was convinced the kiwi's truly are masters of tourism. Anyone who can turn a puddle, stinking of rotten egg sulphur, into a major tourist attraction is a master of their craft. I was amazed at the number of hotels and maori fun parks they had in this place. To be honset I found it a little disgusting. The smell was actually the most attractive part about the place. Learning from my experiences in the heart of NZ tourism, Queenstown. I decided not to spend too much time in the anus of NZ tourism. I reluctantly paid my money and went for a long bath in the Polynesian spa, by the edge of Lake Rotorua. Slipping in and out of spa pools ranging in temperature from 38 to 42 degrees, I gave my legs a much need rest.

Having turned my nose up at Rotorua (the place wasn't all bad, on the way out I did see some impressive buildings and gardens, and I'm sure that if you venture into the surrounding forest there are probably some pretty nice spots) I continued onto Auckland, my exit point for New Zealand. Auckland is a city. That's about all I got. It reminded me a bit of Sydney and Brisbane. The Auckland domain gardens are pleasant and the museum is an impressive building with an interesting Maori/Pacific islander display. I managed to keep myself occupied in Auckland for a day, wandering around the city, looking out over the harbour, before driving out to the airport and saying farewell to New Zealand and it's mountains. I recommend New Zealand, although if you go, try and get off the tourist trail. If you are lucky you may see some real kiwis. My next adventure is to Pohnpei, in the Federated States of Micronesia. I am visiting the land of the little people.