Milford Sound, Hicksville

The day dawned promising when I got up. This was especially important to me because the Milford area is notoriously famous for its cloudiness, overcast skies, rain. Of course, with 90 KM to go, I did not make any bets.

My room last night, as I mentioned earlier, was made for 6 people. And again, it was a mixed room. There were only three of us: myself, this German fellow riding his BMW motorbike around the country, and an Indian/Pakistani girl.

I wasted no time getting out of the room stealthily. The temperatures were marvelous and I held on to a slim ray of hope.

By the time I got to the 400 meter pass leading into the Sound area, it was rainy and dark. Oh, well.

The vegetation changed then and quite a bit of snow was still visible at not a much higher altitude. Then there was the tunnel. What a tunnel!! As close to primitive and rough hewn you could get and still allow vehicles to drive through it.

No efforts were ever made to smooth out the interior and there were no lights! Egad! The bleeding heart liberal whiners in the US would have screamed bloody murder that this was unsafe and unfair to vision challenged people and would have filed a lawsuit to close the tunnel. I’d have voted to put them in there with candles to light the way and then send in a snow plow truck to clear them out and dump them over the side of the mountain. HMMM! A bit violent, eh?

Returning to the tunnel, it was about 1.2 miles long with an 8-10% downwards grade. Pitch black. But I mentioned that already. I saw a cyclist coming into Milford later on and sat there wondering how he had negotiated the tunnel. Did he ride or get a lift?

The tunnel was named after Harry Homer and work began on it in 1935 as part of a jobs project to ease the effects of the worldwide depression.. It took 17 years to finish.

My intent was to arrive Milford just as the M.V. Milford Wanderer sailed in. No sooner than I’d parked than I saw it pulling in. I figured these would be the only pictures I’d get of it while underway. It looked pretty cool. I paid for my booking and had a walkabout trying to locate the best spots for the taking of lots of photos.

At this one point a little bird got especially close to me and I extended my hand to see if it’d alight on my fingers. It then proceeded to fly all around me and getting quite close. I felt really special thinking how cool it was to be so close to these things.

Then my bubble got burst when I read later that evening that this is a species of bird that normally does this wherever any living thing comes through an area arousing the sandflies. It feasts on the flies that we have so much difficulty seeing. So at least I feel better that not only did I do my part to feed a bird but got rid of some nasty sandflies, too.

Good thing I had my DEET on, too or those things would have made me their lunch. Having been attacked once and experiencing their itch for two days afterwards, I did not want to go through it again. These things are much worse than mosquitoes!

An observation: not sure I can live on this west coast of NZ. There are virtually no radio stations (if one is picked up the music sucks) and although quaint, it is too primitive for me. Great for vacations, though.

The ruggedness is the primary attraction and very appealing in that very little development is present even though loads of tourists flock here, especially in the Milford area. In the 220 KM form Queenstown there probably are no more than 5000 people living in the area yet hundreds of thousands of visitors spend time here.

Before I knew it the parking lot was full. Jam packed with busses. They arrive, stacked airplane fashion, every few minutes, barfing out passengers to take the 1 ˝ hour cruises available here. Speaking of airplanes, they, too, were stacked up in the skies. I’d watch them all take off one after another and then line up behind one another in the air as they made their approaches to land. What a fucking racket. The place would be a damn sight better off if those flights were prohibited. What is it with people that can’t go anywhere without making a shitload of noise. Used to be one could go camping and get a lot of solitude in the camp grounds. Now you get yelling, screaming,. Loud radios, TV’s, generators, fights, drinking, etc. at all hours of the day and night. In a conversation with a local I found out folks don’t mind it here and so that’s the way it is (speaking of the airplanes now.)

When the weather is great, you get fantastic views---and a lot of noise from planes. When the weather is bad, no view--but no noise, either.

By 11 AM the clouds were breaking up and I was hoping against hope that it’d continue to improve. Well…today was my lucky day.

I can not believe how fortunate I am . I think of all the people that have spend thousands of dollars to get here yet see nothing and I pay nothing to come to NZ and get a fairly clear day. Not totally cloud free but on a scale of 1 to 10 with a 10 being cloud-free, today was between 7 and 8. Thank you, God!

When you factor in how many days per year are totally cloudy it is easy to see why I am so thrilled.

My quest for a good spot to take photos took me out on a spit of land that, owing to the low tide at the time, required a nice hike with equal amounts of gawking and dodging rocks and debris. Arriving at the end of it I looked to the right to be confronted by this beautiful waterfall heretofore invisible from any other place on land. It is called Bowen Falls and is 162 M high.

Observation: I suspect the Kiwis suffer from an identity crisis. Why? Sometimes signs are in inches/feet/miles and other times in meters/kilometers. Sometimes I see pounds other times it is kilograms. Maybe they are trying to decide whether they want to be English or American. End observation.

As remote as this place is (from Te Anau to here is 90 KM and there is only one tiny village or town that I am aware of and it is off the main road by a few KM) what is remarkable is that tourism began in the late 1800s. The only way in was by horse and carriage so it took days to get here. Yet since then, Milford has nothing to show for it but a small lodge, gas station, and restaurant. Nothing else. People bus in or drive in to get to work.

I had a beer at the Sharkina Bar named after a large thresher shark caught in the sound in 1977.

Finally 430 PM rolled around and boarding began. The weather kept holding up so it looked promising. The "Milford Wanderer" is a converted scow-looking vessel with a capacity of 70 people. Once on board we were given our berthing arrangements and again we were all mixed. One of our bunkies, an Israeli woman, was not keen on the idea of mixed berthing so she went to pitch a bit of a fit to get it changed. She’s a skittish gal who is on holiday for 3 months leaving her husband with her family back home (yet I saw her kiss this guy goodbye?!?!?!) Her husband is a lawyer and she’s an interior designer who, so far, is not enjoying her Kiwi experience.

Immediately upon setting sail we were served our dinner starter, tomato basil soup. I was a bit confused/miffed as I thought we’d eat later especially since the day was so beautiful and I’d have preferred watching scenery. But I was a bit hungry, too. Damn! Decisions, decisions. As it turns out, there was no decision to be made. This was literally a starter. We did not eat until considerably later in the evening.

Incredibly, too, the weather cleared up even more as we sailed past magnificent vistas of waterfalls and high fiord walls.

The setup on board is fairly straight forward: 5 crew who sail, cook, clean, serve, etc. The dining facility is cafeteria style and everyone puts away their stuff.

About an hour out we saw a bunch of dolphins swimming along side and every once in a while one would hurl itself out of the water. OOHS and AAAHS all around.

We did a bit of circling trying to maximize the viewings and afterwards set out for the Tasman Sea. The crew set the sails for us although it was more for effect than functionality or anything else since the wind was blowing the wrong way. But what the hell, we were tourists.

It turns out this vessel also does 3 and 5 day sailings where in proper sailing conditions the sails add another knot or two to the speed of the ship. Once we left the shelter of the sound we hit some 1 to 1.5 meter swells which, if timed improperly, resulted in a good soaking of the poor souls on the bow of the ship.

We did not go too far out before heading back to the shelter of the fjord. When we came to a little bay we dropped anchor and those that wanted to swim, dove in, those that wanted to kayak made their way to the back of the ship and got into kayaks. I opted for the kayaking. Great fun.

Just before sunset we motored into Harrison’s Cove, the only natural anchorage originally used by the early whalers and sealers. Before anchoring we came across a whole shitload of dolphins jumping around and escorting us. We also got to see quite a few seals basking on the sun warmed rocks. No lack of wildlife here, that’s for sure.

Dinner was served shortly after we stopped. My dinner mates were Clare, an older lady from Chelmsford, England and Melanie, a young gal from Cologne, Germany. Claire is traveling through Australia, NZ, Fiji and Hawaii by herself for 3 months after which she will return to her home. Melanie is on the road for 6 months and bought a van. She sleeps in it but uses the kitchen facilities at hostels and backpacker places. No, she does not get a room. She parks nearby and walks in, uses the facilities, walks out and returns to her van to sleep. Pretty damned cheeky if you ask me.

Just before and right after dinner we were serenaded by an older gentleman who thought himself a virtuoso. He was pretty deaf and could not hear himself which may have been good for him but not for us. If he could have heard himself he’d have stopped. But no one wanted to ruin his fun plus we got a good chuckle out of it.

Melanie said he was at the hostel in Queenstown and made quite a spectacle of himself. He, too, is traveling for 6 months.

What is certain is that there is quite a crowd on this old boat. What makes it even more special is the weather. Would I be so thrilled if it were cloudy and rainy?

After dinner I went out and the stars were brilliant. It’s the first time I’ve actually seen so many stars in this particular part of the world.

We also have seals hanging around the hull. Maybe they expect to be fed;. I do not know. We’ve been told that I we leave the portholes open we may be able to hear them at night. Back in the lounge we all played games, chatted, and drank coffee until late at night.

After 11 PM the piano music had to stop so our deaf player resorted to serenading, in Russian, this Japanese girl. What a character.

What luck!!! There is not a cloud in the sky this morning, the 26th. Mind you, I was up twice during the night and the stars were brilliant but I never expected it to stay clear. So the question becomes---continue to drink coffee and see stars or stop drinking coffee and sleep the night through?

The Israeli gal slept outside on the deck. Man, how skittish. There was another gal in the cabin, too, so it is not like she’d be alone with three guys. And I thought I was puritanical when it came to panties clad women bouncing about a room but this one took the cake. Had two breakfasts! One a continental repast since it was so early in the morning and then a hot one about 830 AM.

My two chow mates, Clare and Melanie showed up early, too. I just can not see how anyone can sleep late in situations like this. I want to be up early to see everything I can. I do not want to miss anything, either. Even after the crew started the generators that generated not only electricity but a racket below decks people stayed asleep.

With skies brightening I went out to the stern where the captain pointed out a Fjordland Crested penguin. More were hidden in the bush as we could hear them squawking away. They are all in the process o molting and will soon leave with their chicks for points south.

The crew fired up the engines and we set out for Sterling Falls. It didn’t look impressive until we were told it was 500 feet tall. Now that’s a big falls. It’s so easy to lose perspective in the water with the tremendously high cliffs surrounding us. By measuring it visually, it was easy to then calculate the height of the mountains to our left---3500 feet! Sure looked deceptively shorter than that.

Needless to say our attention was captured. The falls exit out of a hanging valley, "U" shaped and formed that way long ago during the period of glaciers. The hanging valley was formed by glaciers themselves with the exit point being the "valley", now flooded with sea water, that we were in. The glacier that formed our valley was more powerful and lasted longer that the other, smaller one.

It provided a good visual perspective of how this place looked millions of years ago.

Speaking of which, Milford is 22 KM long with Mitre Peak towering over it. The peak got its name from looking like a bishop’s hat. It is about 5700 feet high and one of the tallest peaks in the world to rise directly from the sea. Water at its base is the deepest in the fjord---265 meters or about 860 feet.

This area can get up to 8 meters (almost 27 feet) of rain per year. That averages to almost an inch a day. In actuality, according to the Captain, 2 out of every three days is rainy. Yesterday’s trip, for example, rained all day and all night stopping just by morning (when I’d arrived.)

Next stop: seal rock where several fur seals were resting. One was cavorting in the water and a half dozen or so were basking. Along the way quite a few bottle-nose dolphins flashed by headed into the sound so we caught up with them on our return. Awesome! They swim right on the bow wave of the ship and every once in a while one would leap out of the water to entertain everyone on board. There was even a baby dolphin getting its sea legs.

I’d earlier wondered if something like this experience could ever occur in the US. My conclusion: no way. Not only for the price (in the US one would pay three times as much) but the whole experience itself. In the US it would all be gimmicked up with people singing and dancing and partying and whooping and acting like assholes. This was much more sedate, peaceful, relaxing. Another point is that at 11 PM we had the run of the boat. The crew went to sleep and the bridge was left open. Granted, we couldn’t do much in there without awakening SOMEONE but had it been in the US some asshole would have gone in there and messed around with the dials, buttons, controls, or whatever and then would have sued if they’d have hurt themselves. Grounds for suit? That he’d not been told he should not have been in there. Assholes. Sometimes I think we should just castrate these stupid morons that populate our country.

Additionally, people would bitch about the service or lack of it. Nobody that I spoke with or overheard on this trip had one bad word to say.

Clare agreed with me that when you start asking people what they want to see or have (in other words, giving them too many choices) then the shit hits the fan.

OHHH! Almost forgot! A couple of weeks ago the QE2 sailed into Milford Sound. Can you just IMAGINE it? The Queen Elizabeth, in all her monstrously huge and magnificent glory, steaming in here? What a sight that must have been! A 70,000 ton gorilla!

The Marco Polo (cruise ship that sailed into McMurdo) also came here.

We docked at 930 AM and I got one magical shot of Mitre Peak reflected off a tidal pool.

HICKSVILLE HERE I COME

Having actually seen cyclists coming into Milford I felt sorry for them on their exit. Miles and miles of climbing to get to the tunnel and then another 1.2 miles in a ten percent grade. YECH! And in total darkness to boot. I’d turned out my car lights and it was nasty dark. Black dark. Dark dark. There should be no shame in hitching a ride as far as I am concerned. Once at the peak then the other 117 KM to Te Anau was roly-poly to steep. No way, baby. Not for this cyclist!

Heading out I passed "The Chasm" again but this time decided to stop. Of course, there were a half dozen tour busses there and it was hilarious (if not sad) to watch all these Oriental tourists come chugging up the path, grabbing a quick glance down the chasm, do a second or two of video taping and then moving on as if they were locomotives. Don’t dare get in their way or they will barrel you over.

Another case of "chug-on-by" shootings. So sad. No one even bothered to read the placards or try to get an idea of how this are was formed.

So, for those who may be interested, here’s a little "Chasm" history: The Cleddau River runs through this very narrow and steep valley or "chasm." The force of the water eroded the many boulders found here and caused some very interesting designs to be formed. When rainwater accumulates in the boulder depressions it makes for very interesting photographs. There is an Upper Falls, about 70 feet deep and about 50 feet further on it cascades through a natural rock bridge to another waterfall.

The Southern Scenic Route picks up at Te Anau and heads towards Invercargill. This is an area sparsely populated but full of naturalist activities. Caves near Clifden, Lake Hauroko, deepest in NZ, the Dusky Track, Redcliff Wetland Preserve, etc. No lack of things to do or see.

My destination was Invercargill. Two nights ago, Theo, the BMW guy, told me that back in the 70s the Rollingstones toured Invercargill and made this paraphrased comment , "By 530 PM you could put a bed on Main Street and go to sleep."

Well, had the Stones come on Saturday like I did, they could have placed the bed in the streets by 3 PM.

No shit! This place is HICKSVILLE, SLEEPY TOWN, RETRO-VILLE all rolled into one.

I got to the Southern Comfort, claimed my lower bunk (not mixed tonight--DARN!) and went looking for a pub, café, or Internet place. At first I thought I was in Spain or Mexico or one of those siesta countries. Then I noticed that every single business seemed to be closed at 12 or 1 PM on Saturdays.

Never seen anything quite like it in NZ. However, the young kids were out going up and down the streets, cruising with their shitty radios blaring bad music. This place is straight out of the 60s and 70s. I saw 65 and 68 Impalas, Dodge Darts, old Kiwi V-8s, and all manner or older cars revving the roads.

Well, wonder of wonders! I just ran into someone from the Ice and she’d just driven in via the Southern Scenic Route and will also be staying at the Southern Comfort Backpackers. We arranged to meet up after she’d had a chance to clean up a bit so I went to the lounge and ran into Melanie. She had not reserved a room so had to stay in her van. Like me she finds it incredible that people are willing to spend so much money on things like bungy jumping, etc. For example, for $280 NZ you get to jump off three ever higher platforms/bridges/towers. Assuming it takes 5 minutes to suit up and 3 seconds to fall plus 5 minutes to be winched up again, that’s almost $400 NZ per hour!

Her greatest chuckles come from watching the Japanese tourists always getting their pictures taken in front of something. Either that or wearing the little floppy Gilligan Island hats doing things like luge or something else obnoxiously touristy.

My Ice freind showed up and said she was headed to Stewart Island and that she’d been taking it easy while catching up on sleep and watching movies. In the Otago Peninsula she went to see the penguins and now has a mission in life: to see as many different species as she can in their native habitat. She expects to be back in Alaska by the end of March.

We said our good-byes and I headed back to my room. It turns out that one of the roomies is a guy I was chatting with in the lounge who is a paleontologist attempting to prove that much of the wildlife in NZ did not evolve here but either flew or swam here after the Gondwanaland Drift. We discussed the projects going on at Cape Roberts (he’d been to the Ice and studied in the Dry Valleys.) He’d just gotten done with a multi-day tramp through Stewart Island taking photos for one of his presentations.

Dunedin, Wandering Aimlessly, Back in Cheech

Man, the wind was HOWLING last night! In the morning it was still screaming and I was wondering what kind of day I have in store for me.

I need not have wondered for too long. Most of the morning continued to be a bit blustery but as soon as I pulled into Dunedin it stopped. I took the Catlins Route to get to Dunedin as it is supposedly more scenic. 50 KM of it is unsealed with a lot of the route following the coast. I stopped in at Curio Bay to check out some fossilized forest remains. Fortunately the tide was low and I was able to see fallen trees and stumps. This area helps to prove that NZ was part of Gondwanaland. I tried getting to the Cathedral Caves but the tides were high.

The folks along this route are suffering through a modernization moral dilemma---they want the road paved but do not want the higher traffic it will bring. I would not want the roads paved. First off, they are not so bad that cars can’t use them and folks that want to do tourism will use the dirt roads anyway. Everyone else is probably going someplace else anyway and should take the paved roads inland.

Got to sample my first "dairy" along the way in Milton. I kept seeing the signs and then realized it’s as close to being an ice cream shop as you can get here.

Dunedin is the second city of the South Island and home of NZ’s first University. Settled by the Scottish, it still has deep roots evidenced by a distillery, haggis festivals and a prominent statue of Robert Burns downtown.

Its Maori history is drenched with blood (so much for peaceful natives the whiny liberals are always decrying.)

Had no problem finding the Penguin Palace Backpacker. What a place. Classy building, too. Turret style staircases lead to the upper floors with each having a 60 foot long cartoon drawn on it as it spirals up. All the rooms are named something like Daisy, Mickey, Minnie, Daffy, Hughie, Lewie, and Dewey. You name the Disney character, there was a room with that name.

The kitchen was very adequate and large. It also had a couple of lounges, washer, dryer, mixed showers, too. I got a single room for $12.50 US per night.

Having not much better to do, I took a walk around town. Most everything was close by and the town catered to the 17,000 plus students beginning to arrive for classes after summer break. Lots of activities, music, bars, etc. just as you’d expect in a college town. The gals are much cuter here, too.

I went to the Arc Café on High Street for some pizza and beer. I also used their free Internet service. It was a bit of a pain in the ass because the machines were Macs and they were also old. The mouse was not very lively either which made navigation difficult. I will have to look for a full service Internet provider tomorrow. My perambulations led me to another provider at a café down past the Octagon but it had a waiting list and I had no intention of wasting time waiting for connectivity.

It was a beautiful sunny day so I stopped by the Octagon and listened to the local Dunedin Jazz Band play some decent music for an hour or so. Lots of folks showed up and the mood was festive with many of the tunes being crowd pleasers.

WANDERING AIMLESSLY AND ACTING THE TOURIST

Another beautiful beginning of a day but a bit brisk. I ventured out relatively early only to discover not much opens prior to 9 AM. However, the standard coffee shops and bakeries were so I got myself a muffin at one and a coffee at another.

At 9 I got online, checked mail (nothing worth mentioning) and hot footed it back to the Penguin to retrieve the car. Seems the city has a law where certain areas allow you to park for free until 10 AM and then you get ticketed.

Destination: Baldwin Street, reputedly the steepest street in the world at a 1:1.26 grade. WOW! So glad I was not trying to go up that beast on a bike! Not being a glutton for punishment, I drove to the top. Let the tourists walk, they need the exercise! There was a park bench at the top so I got off the road and had a seat watching Japanese tourists struggling to make their way upwards, panting at the exertion. One woman even did it in high heels. She got my approval.

After a bit I engaged a local in some chit chat. The guy is a professional chatter box, parking himself there day after day, yakking away at any tourist who gives him a bit of attention. One of his stories was quite interesting and involved a couple of friends of his who are professional sheep slaughterers. Their professionalism and good work must have caught someone’s eye as they were offered a contract to work in the UK. SO on the way they decided to stop by NYC. Before long they were hopelessly lost---in Harlem. With no clue what was going on around them.

It was a hot day and they could not figure out why there were no whites about so they stopped in at a bar for a beer. The bartender asked them if they knew where they were.

In the course of trying to figure out what each other were saying another black guy asked them where they were from. When they said, "Dunedin", the black guy mentioned he’d been there to refuel the ship he was on. Turns out he used to work a freezer ship and that little coincidence probably saved their asses.

For the rest of the day they drank for free, were treated to dinner and a bed at the guy’s house. Overall they had a jolly good time. Small world!

Then my new park bench friend told me about a Canadian who’d stopped up there and slagged off the Kiwis and their country because the airlines lost his luggage. As if it was the fault of the people of New Zealand for his lost bags. Asshole! Morons abound on this planet.

Next up were 4 Israelis wanting to know where to go to get a good view of the city. My new friend and I both said, "Mt Cargill." I tried explaining how to get there by showing them my map and pointing it out to them. They left and since that was also one of my destinations for the day, I bid my new friend adieu and left. At the bottom of the hill I saw my Israeli buddies following me. A mini-adventure began then.

NZ can be a pretty frustrating place to visit for those looking for certain landmarks as many of them are not well sign posted, if posted at all.

I got on SH1 which is where the map had me pointed and after 10 Km of no signs telling me which way to go and all the while noticing Mt. Cargill getting further and further away, I filed my male proclivity to venture off direction-less and asked a local road worker how to get where I wanted to go.

He had no clue so I studied my map a bit more, calculated distances and realized the road I could take to get there was a few miles back. By now the Israelis were right behind me, also pulled off. I told them what I was about to do and turned around.

When I found the street I was looking for I realized there were absolutely no signs for Mt. Cargill anywhere. I headed up a hill and knew this HAD to be right. The road became even more steep and the pavement ended. The dirt was well compacted so it was not bad. Damn! Seems like everything I want to see in this country is off a dirt road. That’s good, though, as it keeps the less adventurous away and minimizes crowding.

The view of the city and the bay from so high up was spectacular.

Cargill was the first Mayoral equivalent when the town was founded in 1848 as a whaling center.

Had a nice chat with a local elderly gentleman who knew a lot of the history here. Would have been nice to spend an hour or so with him drinking beer and listening to his stories but he was with his daughter who’d come from Australia to visit him.

I said my good-byes to the Israelis and headed to the Organ Pipes along this little goat trail. What a hike! Most of it was downhill through dense brush and scrub. After what felt like an eternity later (only about 20 minutes but compounded by the heat) I got to my desired destination. Rather a disappointment. Having made it this far I took a photo for my efforts and headed back. Not sure what I was expecting but what I saw looked more like a pile of rubble with the actual Organ Pipes (very similar to Devil’s Postpile in California) quite a ways uphill and inaccessible.

I must say that although the guide book tries it damnedest to make these places sound interesting and on par with sites in the US, most fail miserably. We have no idea of the absolute numbers of natural beauty and the degree and depth of that beauty that we are so lucky to have in the US.

Since the trip back was uphill it took me 30 minutes. All this walking is what keeps the Kiwis from becoming obese. I’ve seen almost no obese people so far, especially kids.

Back in town I went to a little Lebanese takeout and had a lamb kebob. Since it was such a nice day I headed back to the Octagon and ate my meal while also sharing some with the noisy gulls. Actually quite fun to watch them squawking over the bits of bread. Funnier still was observing the dominant ones screeching and posturing at the others in an effort to keep them at bay yet all it did was make it impossible for those obnoxious ones to eat. I didn’t help matters any when I’d throw the scraps in the opposite direction to watch them get all riled up. Too funny.

Fun over, I went to the Otago Museum. It is highly renowned and is filled with Maori history and artifacts. As I walked in this young lady asked if I’d mind donating a strand of hair for DNA research so I did. The hair will be put in a time capsule and sealed for 1000 years. Couldn’t see the harm in it but then again, what dark conspiratorial schemes maybe going on without our knowing?

Just before heading out of town for a drive to the Otago Peninsula I stopped in for some coffee and a sweet cake. A person can grow fond of this kind of lifestyle!!

The drive was taken at leisure and it was quite pretty following the water’s edge most of the way. My primary purpose for this trip was to check out the penguin sanctuary located just before the end of the peninsula. But the end of the peninsula was where I went first to check out a royal albatross roosting area. Fortunately I was even able to watch them soaring about---what huge wingspans!! Some up to 9 feet wide.

From there I walked down to water’s edge and got REALLY close to some basking seals. I was amazed that I could get so close. The only rules were that we couldn’t interfere with these beasts (similar to Antarctic rules) and should they begin to move, we should get out of the area.

I counted 6 of them and found one that was sleeping but must have been having a bad dream as it kept snarling all the time. Another one I tried to get close to and he must have been pissed as he growled at me and I got the hell out of there. Of course, there is always the asshole tourist who insists on getting very close. Usually those we end up reading about in the next day’s paper. It was quite funny to see these schlubs get really close and when the seals growled they’d run assholes and elbows to get out of there.

Quite cool to be able to be so close.

The penguin tour ($25 NZ) was, like many things here, a matter of timing. The parent penguins do not come back to shore until much later in the afternoon. They leave early in the day to feed and once they return, go back to the nest to regurgitate food for the chicks. The object was to see adults but the only ones visible were those that were molting. They looked like hell and scrawny, too as they can not eat (therefore can’t swim) until the new coats come in.

The babies do not have the same coloration as the adults and the good looking adults were all cavorting on the beach from our prying eyes.

Oh well. The penguins are called Hoihoi or yellow eyed penguins. They are quite rare with only a few thousand left in the world and New Zealand is the only country in which they are found.

Our guide was very informative and the tour lasted almost 2 hours. It’s quite an operation they have with something like 75 passengers an hour every day for 5 months. At 25 a pop, that’s $1.5 million per year!! Yeehaw!

It’s interesting to listen to the news here. Sports dominates everything with the current big sports news being the America’s Cup. NZ leads Italy 3-0 in a best of nine. The other big sports news is Australia kicking NZ’s ass in cricket.

Nationally the new socialist government, under the guise of helping the poor and downtrodden, is now creating huge bureaucracies (ministries) that add a lot of managers and department heads for commerce and health. What the people don’t see (at least the ones paying taxes) is that all this will cost a lot of money as the poor and downtrodden won’t get these jobs but some bureaucrat will.

Then their taxes have to go up to pay their salaries and the salaries of their secretaries.

Meanwhile the poor and downtrodden are still without jobs. What a joke. But that’s socialism for you.

Another nail in New Zealand’s coffin was a landmark case won by an American who sued for mental anguish because his wife died in an accident on one of the Shotover jet power boats. They settled out of court but nevertheless, the fact remains that since the council, government, and tour company settled at all bodes ill for the whole adventure tourism industry. I can see the prices climbing already as companies scramble for insurance. The lawyers are salivating and circling like rabid hyenas.

Shakespeare had it right: kill all the lawyers.

Another nice day today so I stopped by the Moeraki Boulders. Extremely cool. Spent over an hour walking among them. It’s about 30 Km south or Oamaru and look like huge basketballs stuck in the sand. There are legends associated with the boulders but the scientific explanation is that they eroded from the mudstone cliffs behind. Technically they are called septarian concretions which is what happens when minerals crystallize equally in all directions from an organic nuclei. Continued erosion exposes an internal network of veins giving them a turtleback or, as I call it, a basketball look.

Although I did not see them, supposedly further down the beach are supposed to be boulders with the fossilized remains of a 7 meter plesiosaur and a smaller mosasaur.

There used to be many of these boulders littering the beach but over the years people kept stealing them so that all that remains are the big ones no one can carry out. The site is also a national protected area so that helps.

From there I went to Oamaru and spent a couple of hours wandering their botanical gardens. I walked, did some reading, ate a picnic lunch. Just splendid. A very serene place.

Then it was off to Timaru where I needed to decide whether to spend the night or head up to Cheech to visit with Clark. I couldn’t get in touch with him but through someone else I knew he’d be expecting me so I booked an extra night at Charlie B’s and headed into town.

BACK IN CHEECH

Later in the evening I met up with Clark and we had dinner at a Thai restaurant and caught up on news and BS’d up all sorts of stuff to include recent market gyrations. I’ve come to believe that whereas most of the time I may be blessed with good weather on my vacation it is not advisable for me to be invested in the markets while away from home. Seems like whenever I am away the market goes in the shitter.. But then again, if it gets really bad and I am near high cliffs, I could always jump! Ha ha

After dinner we wandered over to the Coyote Café for some coffee and dessert, BS’d some more and said our good-byes.

The next three days were not what I’d call leisure days as there was not a lot of leisure stuff going on but I did accomplish a few things and managed to do a lot of walking in the process.

I couldn’t have asked for better weather. All around city center Japanese tourists walk around flashing their little "V" signs for their obligatory photo in front of something, anything. It was too funny to watch this little ritual take place as frequently as it did.

The Cathedral Square was packed with workers, tourists and people taking their leisure; bars and restaurants were packed; gallons of beer poured down thirsty throats; kids running to and fro; merchants hawking their wares. Jazz could be heard coming from several restaurants, the idyllic River Avon passing through serenely conveying ducks, terns, and tourists up and down its waterways.

The Wizard could be heard pontificating on anything and everything with others also on their soapboxes railing against the government or carrying on about some sort of philosophical sticking point. Way too many blowhards in such a small space as far as I was concerned but it helped pass the time to see how locals and tourists joined in the fray.

In all these goings on I finally decided that what I’d been told by the Immigration Office was bullshit and went back to get my visa extended. I’d asked quite a few folks and none had heard what I’d been told by the moron behind the counter. I also got rid of the car. What a relief.

I even did some impulse shopping and got myself a new backpack. The old one had served me well for many years but was ripped beyond repair. The new one is larger and only cost me $17 US.

The last week on the Ice was pretty exciting according to Clark. He told me about a C-130 that took off in sketchy weather only to have to land about 150 miles away due to conditions. I can only assume it was an inbound as an outbound would have just kept going. The crew slept in the airplane for the night and the next day another C-130 met it and did an aircraft to aircraft refuel on the ground. Fuel was low an account of having to leave an engine running all night to stay warm.

As for the weather, the wind howled so bad that waves crashed over the ice pier and larger waves got very close to Clark’s building forcing the molting Adelie penguins to move very close to town.

The biggest story, though, dealt with the South Pole doctor. Apparently he’d injured his hip a few months back and thought it had repaired itself. Except when he got to the Pole it began to act up. He balked at staying and wanted to leave. NSF panicked as this would require finding another doctor very quickly--something they were not prepared for.

They could not do so and were forced at looking at the possibility of having to evacuate all personnel from the Pole with the result being that all projects scheduled for work would be delayed almost a year. Plus, the logistics of having to evacuate everyone. What a pain in the ass that would be!

Compounding their problems was the fact that the weather was worsening and already too cold for flights with the only hope being to hang around Mac Town with several aircraft waiting for the one good day to arrive, make a mad dash for the Pole, pack everyone up and abandon station.

At the last minute the good doctor realized what his selfishness would cause and changed his mind. 

THINGS KIWI

KIWI FRUIT                          KEAS                MILFORD

BOIL THE BILLIE                 FIORDLAND    HAKAS

ALL BLACKS                         AOTEAROA      BACH

TRAMPING                            DB DRAUGHT DAIRIES

MAORI                                    SHEEP                 BACKPACKERS

NO TIPPING                         CHEAP BEER

OTHER IMPRESSIONS: Prices were fairly standard regardless of where you were in the country

BEST PLACES: Lake Matheson; Milford, West Coast Drive

Best Accommodations: on board the Wanderer

Next stop:  FIJI!