Sorting Out Details, Touring Around, Accomodation Woes, Hitting the Road

Arriving Christchurch from Antarctica, I find the weather continues to be rainy and misty. (as if I am complaining!)  I am not sure if it will clear up any time soon. So during breakfast this morning I was contemplating whether to stay in town or go to Akaroa and spend the night. Since I could not get my rental car until Saturday, there was no sense sitting around the room waiting for time to pass by. I felt like I should at least DO something.

So I put off my decision pending locating the bed and breakfast owner to see if I could stay. Once she told me the room was already booked out to someone else for the night, I resolved to find a bed at Charlie B's (a hostel).

Fortunately it was not a problem (according to the guy behind the counter) so I did some emailing for an hour trying to gauge the weather. It was hopeless looking and rather than spend $$ in Akaroa overnight, I'd just get the day tour bus trip, return to Christchurch, and pick up my car Saturday.

Having lugged my blue bag for a half mile or so I came to the conclusion that: 1.) I needed to put my stuff in plastic bags and 2.) it was heavy. I really could have used a backpack and may yet get one.

While waiting for the bus to Akaroa I repacked my stuff into large plastic ziplocks I'd brought along. At least that stuff will stay dry.

Interesting observation time: I am not sure why but women in NZ are not particularly pretty (overall). They remind me very much of women in the UK. Of course, NZ is VERY British (at least its heritage is) but I find it remarkable. Not sure if it's the nose or chin or mouth parts. Maybe coloration or physique. There does not seem to be much influence from the local indigenous types.

Folks here are VERY racist and don't seem shy about displaying it. I observed it personally this morning at Charlie B's where a local was looking over some ads for used cars and came over to the counter, run by an Oriental guy) bitching that one of the ads was in Japanese and that, "you folks need to write in English. That's the language here. Not Japanese or Chinese or whatever. This is New Zealand and we speak English." The clerk took it well and I just rolled my eyes. Can't say I disagreed with the bloke but he was pretty brutal in his harangue of the clerk.

Absolutely shitty day. I was not properly dressed and got cold more than once. A dreary, drizzly rain fell all day long. I read in the paper that summer is basically over and that the whole summer, in general, was dreary on the South Island.

The bus ride, though, was pretty and I can only imagine how beautiful it’s be on a clear day.

Akaroa is an old French settlement located on the Banks Peninsula and is also the site of an ancient volcano. The French sold off to the New Zealand Company in 1849 and the British began arriving. Much of the landscape was denuded of its timber by the settlers and it became a large sheep farming area.

The Banks Peninsula was formed by two large volcano eruptions. The approach to town takes one up and over the caldera of the volcano. Quite impressive.

Returning from Akaroa I hoofed it to Charlie B's only to discover they'd not saved me a room. They helped me out by phoning around and all the hostels were full. Finally found a motel about a mile from the city center for $25 US. Turned out to be a triple room. HUGE!! I should have sub-let it!

HAVE WHEELS, WILL TRAVEL

Up early and headed to town to get coffee and check mail but everything was closed until 8AM. DAMN! Only thing open was a McDonald's and I was not about to go there. So I waited around until 8 then checked mail. Got a response from Danny with his phone number. He'd just gotten in from a tittie bar !! HMM?!?!?

Made arrangements to be picked up by the car rental company and got the car, a Mazda 323 called a NEO here. Cute, red, 5 speed, has A/C, too. Stopped at a supermarket, picked up some food and headed north. The weather is still not cooperating even though the papers show a "sun" for all of the South Island. By noon, though, the sun was out. Maybe that's normal?

Stepped out of the car for a while and my arms got their first rays of full sunlight since September last year.

I was amazed at the lack of traffic I encountered. For many miles I was the only car on the road. Drove up to Hamner Springs intending to check out the hot springs there but couldn't locate them right away. So I called Danny to wish him a happy birthday. Dan is doing fine and taking 3 classes.

I finally found the springs but it was crowded so I moved on. Went to Lewis Pass (at about 3000 feet) and headed west and north to Murchison. Lewis Pass is at the north end of the southern Alps and the rive was beautiful. I was in no hurry either.

Along the way I could not help but size the roads up pretending I were on a bike. This stretch may be worth cycling and no better way to determine what one is in for than to take a look ahead of time to see what I may be getting myself into. One thing is certain: there are few flat places. Most of it is rolling hills with an occasional steep spot.

From Lewis Pass I went to Murchison thinking I'd get a room but it was too early so I headed for Westport. Another beautiful drive this time through Buller Gorge. Normally Buller is misty and dark and somewhat foreboding and mysterious. The effect is heightened by primordial looking ferns. Even in the light of the sun it looked eerily primeval.

I saw where the road was "hacked" out of solid rock leaving a large chunk of rock overhanging the road forcing many trucks and busses to go very slowly to ensure they do not scrape the ceiling of rock.

I realized after I'd stopped for the first time earlier this AM that I'd gone over 70 KM without wearing a seat belt. I guess that 5 months on the ice and never wearing one there broke me of the habit. I never even thought about putting it on so it wasn't like I was aware of it and just ignored it. Strange!!

Stopped several times for photos and even walked out on this swinging bridge at some place I can not recall the name of? It felt weird to be so high with only wires holding the thing up.

On making it to Westport I tried booking a bed and breakfast but got only an answering machine so they lost my business and I went to Nancy's Hostel. Got a single room for $15US. Not bad. Cleaned up and went out to Bailies for a beer and then the "Do Duck In" for coffee and a sweet.

WALKING WITH THE DINOSAURS

I hadn’t expected to but ended up driving quite a few kms today. Left early from the hostel and headed first to Cape Foulwind. Not sure what I expected to find but maybe it was scenery and sun. Got neither. The place was first called, "Tauranga" by the Maoris which means "sheltered anchorage" or "sheltered landing place." Abel Tasman discovered it in 1642 and named it "Glyphaygen Hock" which means "Rocky Point." It was renamed Foulwind because Capt. Cook sheltered his ships here in 1770 and was assaulted by foul weather.

I then headed towards Karamea as I’d read that the scenery was gorgeous. First on the list were the old mining towns of Millerton and Stockton. Getting to them entailed taking a grueling 6 KM dirt switch-back. Try as I valiantly might I could not locate these two ghost towns. I guess they were really "ghost" towns in the sense that they were not visible to me. Could it be that Kiwis define ghost towns differently than us. I did find a couple of small villages but they were populated and I did not feel like displaying my ignorance by asking any questions. AHHH! Nothing like being an American male. Ha ha

I was, however, able to get some spectacular views from the tops of the hills looking out towards the sea.

One thing is relatively certain, this is no place to be bringing bikes. For starters the road sucks. And the grades! YOWZAH! I was reminded of the grueling ride to the campground in Monterey, California. This was worse and longer to boot.

Coasting back down hill I headed to Gentle Annies Beach in search of the Cow Shed Café. I found it at the end of another dirt road but this one was only 3 KM long and relatively flat. So far I was batting two for two. The restaurant was closed. And here I was, longing for a nice coffee, too. As it turns out, it wasn’t until late in the afternoon that I was able to satisfy my caffeine habit. Closed or not, the café is in a magnificent location. The grounds are well manicured, well laid out, and as a campsite, had many activities for its campers.

So….next stop---Karamea. The road was quite good with lots of winding curves and many one lane bridges. The Kiwis save in construction costs by building one lane bridges in the rural areas. Not a bad idea. No sense having wide bridges where little traffic goes.

Karamea was no big deal as far as a town goes. So I kept going north towards the beginning of the Heaphy Track. Along the way I took a detour to try and find the Oparara Arches. Visions of breaking down in the middle of nowhere and having to walk a very long way for help kept flashing through my mind as I saw no other cars either going or coming to the Arches. It was 15 KM of shitty, rut filled, rock strewn, slow-ass, unpaved road. At times I wondered if I’d gone nuts even contemplating doing this drive. In a truck I’d not have minded so much but this was a rental and low to the ground to boot. After 35 minutes I arrived and saw I was not the only crazy bastard there. Must have been about 8 other cars.

I parked and then walked 15 minutes to the Arch.

It is currently evening as I write this and I am at the Punakaiki Beach Hostel. I find my concentration constantly broken by the jabbering and activity of the many different nationalities represented here to night. They are cooking, eating, chatting in hushed tones, excited tomes, in English, in German, Japanese, and in other languages. It is a small world in a small room making an aurally, visually and olfactorily cacophonous racket.

Back to the story: the path to the arch was filled with excellent viewpoints of the Oparara River, tannin tinted and with moss-laden trees providing shadows for dramatic effect. Occasionally a bright spot would present itself at which point I’d take a photo in the hopes it would come out well.

Now the Arch itself……I was expecting something freestanding that straddled the path. What I got was a beast of an arch over 200 meters longs, 49 meters wide and 37 meters high. Damn, the Godzilla of arches!!! It got this way because the arch is made of limestone and the tannin rich waters gradually eroded and ate it away over millions of years.

Walking along the trail I felt I was one of the life forms at the beginning of time when God created this primordial soup called Earth. Very primitive. Very wild.

From the Arches I continued another 3 KM to the Honeycomb Caves. There I found even more cars plus a couple of fairly interesting caves. One was loaded with cave spiders some of which were up to 2 inches long and sporting long antennae. I’d never seen anything like that before in a spider. To cap it all off there was a most beautiful crystalline shaped egg sac reminiscent of what David Bowie referred to in his Spiders From Mars LP.

.I wanted to go to the cave that contained the extinct moa bird bones but it required a guide and none were available. Bummer. The moa was an impressive creature reaching almost 4 meters in height. They were already extinct before the Europeans came and frankly I am glad, in a way, as now we can’t be blamed for the birds’ demise as so anti-European wackos out there would love to do.

I finally got along sought after coffee break in Westport at the Do Duck In restaurant. AAHH!

Heading south again I went towards Greymouth. The road reminds me a lot of the Big Sur area of California: no facilities, no markets, no gasoline for very long stretches. The whole west coast is relatively undeveloped and I like it that way. It keeps the riff-raff out. Plus it doesn’t hurt to have lots of shitty weather, too. The absence of people and cars make the roads an absolute joy to drive.

I decided that Greymouth was too far to drive in one day so I stopped in at Punakaiki to check out the "pancake rocks." Wow! Awesome! Millions of years ago they were formed under water and then the whole thing was forced upwards by plate action and gradually eroded away to what is capable of being seen today.

The Kiwis "Americanized" the site a couple of years ago by building a walkway in and around the rocks to include fencing to keep folks out. Seems there is a liability issue plus (yep, here come the morons again) people would go out onto the rocks, the waves would come crashing in, knock over the "stacks" and the people would die. You’d think a simple warning would be enough and that by looking at these formations people could see just how unstable they were. I mean, really, they looked like huge stacks of "rock" pancakes, piled high. Climbing on top of one of these stacks is not the most intelligent thing a person can do. But like the morons in Antarctica who decided black flags didn’t apply to them only to see one of their friends disappear into a crevasse, stupidity is not limited to only Americans.

Even with the barriers in place, the rocks are still an impressive sight.

I checked in at the Punakaiki Beach Hostel for $17NZ. A great place. Great location. Beautiful views from the porch of the ocean and access via a very short path to the beach. It’s run by a Swiss guy who bought it 7 years ago. I can only imagine what a gold mine it must be. He and his partners bake multi-grain loaves of bread, muffins, and other assorted goods which they then place out in the kitchen with a sign stating cost. It’s on the honor system and he says it works out really well.

I bought muffins and bread. YUMMY!!!! I wish I could get them every day.

Walking along the beach was quite relaxing. It is full of driftwood.

THE RAINY WEST COAST

Did my "get up early" thing and got out of the hostel by 7 AM. I can tell I’ve returned to the land of humidity---my face is starting to break out. What a pain in the ass! 48 years old and breaking out like a teenager! GEEZ! Also, my legs do not itch and hopefully the hair will grow back from where it was worn off by scratching! What will I think when reading this 20 years from now?

A very dreary day with lots of rain. After a cup of coffee I went to do the Truman Walk: only 15 minutes from the road to the beach. It was a dark forbidding looking forest complete with warbling birds that at first gave me the impression someone was whistling while walking the pathways. Got to see 2 beautiful blue mushrooms (never seen anything like them before) which I tried to photograph. Considering how dark it was in there I doubt any photos will come out and if they do, the flash will probably overpower them.

Got to the coast and walked up on a beautiful cove with wonderfully wave-weathered rocks and a huge overhang capable of sheltering at least 200 people. It was impossible to photograph properly given the dark overcast of the morning.

Next stop: Greymouth. Rain, rain, rain. I found an ATM, a post office, and a supermarket. The hard thing to do was to find the local brewery advertised in the Lonely Planet. Today would have been a great day to tour a brewery, too. On top of that, I’d get a free beer out of the deal. What a pain in the ass to locate even with a map of the town. I finally did the un-guy thing and asked at a service station.

You’d think that as a tourist attraction it’d be better advertised. To make matters worse the tours only took place three times a day and I did not feel like waiting around for hours.

According to the Lonely Planet, the road from Westport to Punakaiki and then to Greymouth is similar to the Big Sur of California. Whereas it has the white capped breakers, large rock formations out in the water, winding roads, the narrowness of which force you to ride right on the edge at times, I found it pretty tame. Nothing compares to Big Sur. Nothing. (Well, at least nothing I’ve ever seen or read about.)

It is very remote though and I can not deny its prettiness. But Big Sur it was not.

For lunch I stopped at the "Café 124 on McKay." Nothing spectacular to crow about. Good food, fair prices.

The weather man keeps promising it will clear. I will believe it when I see it.

So far I am still not impressed by Kiwi women. Can’t put my finger on it. Maybe I expected more cosmopolitanality but although they dress well, they are not generally beautiful like Brazilian or European women. Or even pretty for that matter.

I stopped in at Shantytown, a re-creation of an 1880s west coast town. It looked too hokey for me so I did not pay to go in. Moving right along to Hokitika, it was still raining considerably so I thought I’d check out the glow worm dell only to get there and realize it’s best seen in the dark. DUH!! I thought it was located in a cave that I’d have to walk into but guess not.

Town center being a mile or so away, I decided to check out the ‘greenstone" shops clustered there. "Greenstone" or jade as we know it was very treasured by the Maoris who used it to make jewelry (tiki) or war clubs (mere.)

In the 1860s there was a gold rush here and by 1866 44% of all immigrants came to NZ via Hoki. The port area was very dangerous to ships and one sank every 10 days. At the height of the rush 50% of NZ’s gold went through here, too.

The following day promised to improve so I side tracked to Okarito, which is right on the coast, looking for a room. Only one bed was available but there was nothing in the area: no pub, no store, no facilities at the backpackers, etc. so I left. At any other time it might have been nice but I was not in the mood for solitude and the place really did not look that great.

On arriving at Franz Josef glacier I again looked for a room. Things were appearing to go from bad to worse. Bad news all around. No rooms. I wandered a bit more and on impulse tried this one hostel called the Montrose. It was not my first choice but did not seem to be too bad. At the desk there were two Japanese girls ahead of me and there was only one bed left. The receptionist called around town to try and locate rooms for them and after several phone calls was successful. The only problem was that the hostel was over a mile away, the girls were on foot, and had huge bags to lug along. (typical packing by tourists? Or the typical, "I got to have everything" commonly associated with girls?)

Looked like everyone was going to be a winner here. I took the last room and volunteered to drive them to their new digs. They were very appreciative. On the way back I heard this wailing sound often associated with air raid sirens and, looking about, could not determine its origins. On arriving at the hostel, I saw all manner of people standing around outside with some in various stages of undress as they’d been forced out of their showers. One gal had a towel wrapped around her and this guy walks out with his face all lathered up, towel around his waist. Seconds late this fire truck pulls up. Turns out the fire alarm set itself off but these firemen were deadly serious as they hustled around lugging these huge hoses all pressured and ready to rain holy hell on the fire.

I did not get a warm and comfortable feeling about this place. After all, fire alarms going off by themselves are not very conducive to restful sleep. Excitement over, I went to my room, showered, shaved, and popped out for a beer.

If the weather is good, the scenery is spectacular from the town up into the valley. The Franz Josef ,along with the Fox Glacier, are the only two glaciers in the world that, at such latitudes, approach the sea so closely. Because of the way the Southern Alps cross the island and add to that the direction of the prevailing winds from the west bringing with them tons of moisture, this wetness falls as snow in the higher elevations and has nowhere to go but down. Given that the slopes are steep as the snow comes down the valleys, much more of the ice survives to a lower altitude. The steepness gives origin to very fast rates of descent. For example, a plane crashed on the Josef in 1943 about 3.5 KM from the face of the glacier. 6.5 years later the plane made it to the bottom of the glacier. That’s about 1.5 meters per day, very quick indeed. On average, the glacier moves about 1 meter a day. At times it moves 5 meters a day, somewhere about 10 times faster than the glaciers on the Swiss Alps.

There are lots of trails available for tramping. You just need time to do them all.

Two of my bunkmates are cyclists and like many cyclists, turned in early. Having arrived last I was relegated to the upper bunk. The only problem was access to it being difficult since the bunks were positioned such that the little ladders were blocked by adjoining bunks. Sure, I could jump up to the top but the lower bunk had a sleeper in it and to climb up brusquely would have resulted in the bunk’s swaying and creaking and jostling. Willed myself to take a very long urination break before I popped up to the top and hoped I’d not have to awake during the night. 

Checking Out Glacier, Beating The Sun, Ms. Yak-Yak

A peek out my window at 630 AM revealed cloudy skies. I was not pleased. The bikers were up and about early and I witnessed them in the same early morning rituals I’d practiced so many times in the past: dressing for the weather; choking down some bagels and fruit; jamming gear into panniers; strapping panniers onto the bikes. Had I not come to the conclusion this country is too hilly for me, I might be engaged in the same rituals.

By 730 I was at the Franz Josef Glacier. Actually the first car there. By 8 AM the steady "wop wop wop" of helicopters reverberated annoyingly through the valleys. What a fucking nuisance! Such a beautiful place but constantly interrupted by those annoying vehicles. And it was a steady procession of them, too. As if all the helicopter companies had this choreographed. They’d come from the west, head east to the head of the glacier and then turn back west. DAMN PAIN IN THE ASSES!

I took an early morning walk to a rock outcrop where the view promised to be spectacular. Since it was relatively early, the valley was shrouded in deep shadows but on the bright side, the clouds looked like they were taking a hike out of the picture.

Meanwhile, I read about how far the glacier had retreated in the past 200 years and how, not long ago it had advanced so far seaward that it was actually up and over the rock I was standing on. Now it was at least 2 KM further back up the valley.

Different levels of vegetation could be detected which corresponded to the ebbs and tides of glacial flow. At one time a lake had formed here (photos to prove it, too) and at another, it retreated so far around the corner of the valley that the face of it could not be seen from this vantage point as it is able to be seen today.

From the promontory I headed for another trail; advertised as being 15 minutes long in the Lonely Planet. What the LP did not state was that this trail had since been re-opened and its original ending point now extended almost all the way to the face of the glacier—almost 2 kilometers. So I hiked along the gravel valley bed to the ice fall. What a beautiful hike, past waterfalls, mist laden valleys and ice scoured boulders. Many rocks were tinged with a reddish algae which, reading about it later, is a pre-cursor to subsequent and more varied growth and re-birth of that particular area devastated decades ago by rolling ice sheets. And, true to form, if one looked closely at the various levels and complexities of growth in and around the rocks, it was plainly evident which areas had been ice-free the longest. I saw moss covered rocks, boulders with small plant life clinging to it, and huge rocks with cracks caused by larger plant growth shoving its roots into any orifice or cracked surface.

Reaching the end of the trail, after leaping many a rock and crossing a creek, I found a rope blocking my path with dire warning signs of what the collapsing ice face could do to one’s ability to live to a ripe old age. So I hung back. But it did not seem to stop many others (especially foreigners) who merely lifted the rope and kept going right up to the face of the glacier. I’ve developed a healthy respect for warning signs and was not about to risk my life yet a dark side of me wanted some ice to fall off the face to scare the shit out of those assholes who thought the law did not apply to them.

I also did not feel overwhelmingly compelled to jump the rope simply because I’d seen much better while in Antarctica. The advantage here was in being able to frame the glacier in something other than blue or white!!

Fortunately I’d gone at the right time as there were very few people tramping around. I was dilly-dallying looking for the right rock to bring back with me and also waiting for the sun pop up over the tops of the mountains so I could get a good photograph. Unfortunately, the skies were very misty and variably cloudy and this did not help things.

At about 930, hundreds of people showed up. It was as if some special clock had been set off in all of them simultaneously and they decided to show up. Only after a few minutes did I realize they were all part of these groups wherein the sponsoring company, having collected an outrageous amount of money off of them, volunteered to escort them up to the glacier face and even allow them to walk up these staircases carved out for them.

Once again, I thanked my lucky stars I was fortunate enough to have returned from Antarctica, privy to much of these activities. How lucky I felt not to have to go with such a large gaggle of people!

From a distance they all looked like a bunch of ants being led by the king or queen ant who possessed the radio. There were about 20 per group and later on I checked out the prices---$39 NZ for 3 hours. Let’s see, that’s 39x20=780. Not bad haul for three hours’ work!! Good grief. The unfortunate thing is that the guides were probably making only minimum wage. What a RACKET!!!

I stopped in town for groceries and to check the Internet. No mail but the market was in very sad shape. I suspect a buying opportunity may be presenting itself.

At the Café Franz I had a HUGE latte. AAAAAH!!! Then it was off to the Fox Glacier (pronounced GLAH – see - er)

I’m getting smarter (I think.) I immediately sought and found a room at the Fox Glacier Inn and Backpackers. It’s relatively new and I got a single room for $35 NZ. No bathroom or sink, just beds. Headed to the park and took off on a hike. Fox is a bit different than Franz in that you can get much closer to the face. The canyon walls seemed steeper and evidence of a huge rock slide is still readily visible.

Two huge ice caves awaited. As I was getting ready to leave I heard a thunderous roar followed a minute or so later by huge boulders of ice gushing out of the cave face. The icy river had its exit point at the mouths and I stood there for several minutes just gawking at the immense ice cubes floating by, tumbling downstream, beaten smaller and smaller by their journey.

It was simply a spectacular day to witness all this. The sun was warm, the skies relatively clear. Being on the west coast, these sorts of days are rare. The mountain tops stop all clouds from passing over the top and usual rainfall is in the order of 100 inches per year.

It’s no wonder then, that the glaciers get so big and flow down so low into temperate areas. The snow has got to go somewhere and the steepness of the mountain range guarantee that the direction is DOWN.

Having gotten my fill of the glacier I reconnoitered Lake Matheson in preparation for tomorrow morning’s sunrise. I’d seen photos of how beautiful the lake can be when the sun comes up that I figured I may as well give it a shot myself. The Lake is one of the most photographed areas on the South Island but only if weather conditions are perfect with no clouds and absolutely no wind. What I saw was truly magnificent even considering the blowing wind marring the mirror-like smoothness of the lake. In the background were the mountain ranges, the foreground held the lake and the periphery contained the trees which functioned as a framework.

Of course, like everything else here in NZ, getting to the spot for a photo entailed considerable walking. But it was pleasant, the weather good, and I had lots of time on my hands.

Upon returning from my reconnaissance, it was time to relax. So I grabbed some chow form my room and, sitting on the Hostel café’s verandah which faced west into a warm setting sun, I had a wonderful repast. It was made even more peaceful with the soft notes of music emanating from the café’s interior. Man!! This is the life!!!

BEATING THE SUN

The 23rd dawned BRILLIANT!!! JUST BRILLIANT. That pretty much sums up the early morning. No clouds anywhere. It was still dark when I left and made my way back to the lake. On arriving I noticed I was not the only one with the same idea. 4 others were ahead of me (based on car counts in the paring lot.) The path was dark but I was serenaded by ducks, assorted birds, cows, and other wildlife. Needless to say I arrived much too early and to have arrived an hour later would have been just as good. I failed to take into account that a "sunrise" means the sun has to climb OVER the tops of distant hills to make its presence known.

The lake itself was a bit agitated by a slight breeze making my desired effect elusive and significantly reducing my ability to capture its smooth surface in a photo so I resigned myself to just being able to take in a quiet sunrise.

Then the sun rose from my left (I was facing more or less south) and bathed the peaks of these Alps in a golden light. Add to the image a little mist rising from the pastures and you have a recipe for a magnificent view. No wonder everyone praises this place.

Amazingly, the breeze died a bit but by then it was too late. At 730 the viewing platform was loaded with people. Many took one or two photos and left right away. I call them the "point and shoot, been there, done that" crowd. I shot off close to a roll’s worth. Quantity means nothing in photography. I only hope I get one good photo from my morning’s adventures.

On the way back to the car park with a patch of bushes just filled with beautiful cobwebs of all sizes and shapes. Not sure why this happened where it happened. A colony of spiders? Of course, I positioned myself to optimize the webs, the mist collected on them and the sun and made Kodak some more profits.

I returned to the hostel, got my deposit back and went for a bowl of latte. A person can get addicted to these things! The price is right, too. About $2 or $2.50 NZ for a huge bowl. MMMMMM!!

All too soon it was time to head out.

The car was pointed southwards on SH 6 towards Lake Paringa. I read there was a really good restaurant there serving excellent salmon but I was too early in the morning for lunch and did not feel like waiting around. In retrospect I should have waited but at the time had no clue how long all my journeys would take.

Until 1965 the only road link between Otago Peninsula/Southland and the west coast was the Haast-Paringa Cattle Track. Only horses and cattle went that way. Now it is a hiking/tramping route. Imagine! 1965!! Not that long ago but before a railroad was put in. The road took years to build because weather conditions were so horrid and kept washing out the workers’ efforts.

At Knight’s Point, named after a surveyor’s dog, the views of the coast far down below were unparalleled.

The road turned inland at Haast and followed the Haast River into Mt. Aspiring National Park. No lack of waterfalls easily accessible on foot only minutes from the roadway.

Which brings up a point: there are many times I feel like I am the only one on the roads. This whole area is even less developed than Big Sur and far more huge. Not only is it sparsely populated but almost every attraction is devoid of masses of tourists. The reason? You need to walk quite a bit to take full advantage of the sites. I could only imagine how this sort of feature would thin the crowds in our state parks in the US. It is not unusual to have to walk 15-45 minutes one way to see anything in this country. The US mentality, meanwhile, is "If I can’t see it from my car, it is not worth seeing." Arm chair tourists. Lazy bastards. In that respect, NZ is a tramper’s paradise.

From a cyclist’s perspective (and there are a shitload of cyclists out here) the road from Fox Glacier to Queenstown is great. Albeit rolling with flat bits and a couple of nasty 5-12 km climbs. The road goes along Lake Wonaka. Absolutely beautiful. The lake itself is about 30 miles long, 1000 feet deep and at 910 MSL, the deepest part of the lake is below sea level. Millions of years ago, huge glaciers rolled through here at heights over 3000 feet. Hard to imagine.

Stopped at Cameron Creek and took a 10 minute walk to the view point. I also had my first nasty experience with sand flies. Pesky little buggers. Vicious little bastards. Tiny insectorial predators.

I quickly got out my deet and kept them at bay. The nasty little shits don’t actually sting but, in fact, bite off chunks of a victim’s flesh while their mouths drip an agent that dissolves the skin like an acid and this causes incredible itchiness.

The geology of the area here is changed as well. Even along the coast. Near Westover it is subtropical. Here it is more like southern California—the high desert type of land. Much fewer ferns, drier, too.

Hitchhiking seems like a safe thing here as I was able to see quite a few people engaging in it. I passed three young girls today (all traveling separately) but saw no male hitchhikers. Maybe they were hiding in the brush waiting for their cute lady friends to get a ride before they showed their faces??

Being the seemingly unexplored and wild area it cracked up to be, it is no wonder the guide books say to fill the gas tanks before venturing into here. There really is little habitation.

At about 1430 hours I stopped at Wanaka looking for the Tekana Café having read about it in a pamphlet or guide book. I scoured the streets up and down with no success. The shop must have been out of business. However, the little walkabout was worthwhile as I scored 4 rolls of ASA 200 film for about $13 US. CHEAP!!

The day was beautiful, sunny, and warm. I stopped in for lunch at the Sweet Retreat. YUMMM!

Done with my screwing around I headed straight for Queenstown and checked into the Wakatipu Lodge YHA Hostel. Took advantage to also book my boat ride in Milford Sound. Since the boat ride isn’t until Friday night I have time to relax in Queenstown before going to Te-Ana.

MEETING MS. YAK YAK

Out of necessity I did laundry (yech) and took a shower (not so out of necessity!) I wandered around town until about 9 PM and then headed back to my room to catch up on my journal. I checked out the lounge but it was dead so I had no reason to hang around there.

The Hostel is very nice. It has a huge modern kitchen, a TV room, great views of the lake, etc. Earlier I observed I’d be having about 3 roomies but I was able to get a bottom bunk since none had shown up. As I walked in a girl walks out. No big deal, I thought, probably a friend of a guy in there. Walking into the room, however, I see two other girls in there. I say to myself, "OK, what’s going on here?" The look of confusion on my face must have been very obvious. One of the young ladies says, "It’s OK, it’s a mixed room."

"Mixed room?" What the hell is that? But hey, what the hell, I’m game!

Then in walks a tall blond gorgeous Dutch gal. DAMN! She’s beautiful. But she can’t SHUT UP!!!

YAK! YAK! YAK! Me, me, me. I, I, I. She LOVED to talk about herself.

Something about taking a year off, traveling and working in Australia, vacationing here, returning there, how she got a car fairly cheaply, how she gets free accommodations everywhere she went (duh!! I wonder why? Damn, I’d give her free sleeps, too!), how everyone was so nice to her.

All I could think of was, "what if she were short, had a hairy lip, armpit hair, ugly, or fat? Would she have received the same treatment." Ah, well. It was entertaining.

Did I mention how beautiful she was?

She chatted (not we) until 1045. I hardly got a word in edgewise and that’s a major feat considering how I love to blab.

The other two girls arrived so now there were three. I wondered if they found this amusing ore unusual. Or were they already used to having totally strange men sleep in the same rooms with them. I felt like a fox (albeit old, grey and unwanted) in a hen house. VERY WEIRD!

HEADING TOWARDS MILFORD

Morning dawned fairly free of clouds and I was out of the Hostel by quarter after 7. I didn’t want to get up any sooner plus there was no rush. In the lobby I said goodbye to the lovely Ms. Chatterbox (never did get a chance to ask her name!) and went downtown to the Naff Caff for my morning jolt. It was closed until 8.

Rather than waste time sitting around I went to the dock area and caught a scow unloading thousands of sheep arriving at the end of their "Death Cruise" bound for the abattoirs and soon to be chops, stews, and what not.

Well, that vision still in my head I headed back to the café which was quite good and well recommended by the receptionist at the Hostel. Then it was time to find a cheap Internet kiosk. My wanderings via local advertising took me to a place in a mall-like building but no sooner than I sat down, logged on, got my mail and began reading it than the fire alarm went off scattering everyone to the winds. Scare over I went back in to be depressed about the market being down again. .

Queenstown has a population of only about 7500 people which swells, of course, with tourists but the town felt bigger. It used to be a mining town and the road to Glenorchy, 42 KM away, was only finished in 1962. Really undeveloped around here, that’s for sure.

Queenstown is also the center of any adrenaline activity you can think of: bungee jumping. Jet boating, para-sailing, parachuting, rafting. Basically anything that can go higher, faster, wetter, deeper, farther, harder, etc. is found here. Lots of of young kids spending atrocious amounts of money.

Got some shopping done, booked a room for the evening and tanked up the car headed towards Te-Anau. Magnificent scenery and godawful winds. I was so glad I was not on a bike! It was so bad that when I pulled off the road I had difficulty opening the car door. Thank goodness I was facing into the wind as had I been the other way around the force of the wind might have ripped the door from my hands.

On the way to Te Anau I skirted the Remarkables Range of mountains that girdle Queenstown. And they are truly that—remarkably beautiful. Wound my way along the coast of Lake Wakatipu.

Clouds moved in and I moved on arriving at Te Anau Downs and Grumpy’s Backpackers Hostel. Each room sleeps 4 to 6 but has an en suite bath, fridge and TV. All for $8 NZ each. The arrangement of the suite was such that there were two actual room with one having 2 beds and the other 4. I chose the room with 2 beds which was closest to the door so I could make my escape without waking anyone up.

I took a walk around the area and admired the views from the hostel itself overlooking a lake. When I got back a nice crowd was evident. All were crammed into the kitchen area: two Ozzies, some Germans, some that may have been Dutch by their accents. Quite humorous to watch them all trying to make dinner. Pots boiling, knives cutting and chopping veggies, dishes being washed, kids yakking.

Click Here To Continue To Part 2.