A Southern Send-Off
With a tear in my eye, it’s my last post from New Zealand! Good thing I got some powdery turns to help me get over it.
These Snowy Alps
It's here ladies and gentlemen. The end is nigh. Meredith and I are officially clinging to the last threads of our yearlong visas and plotting our next moves. So we'll be packing up our lives here in Wellington in just a few weeks and jetting off for a summer in the true down under, Tasmania. But before then I had to get out on one last, epic trip to ski some snowy southern mountains.
While I by no means moved to New Zealand for the skiing I've been sniffing out the most promising areas down south all year, and my travesty of a time skiing on the North Island had to be redeemed. Fortunately, I had a string of friends down on the South Island ready to play host and help me put together a whirlwind ski vacation. I loaded up what few pieces of ski gear I've lugged along with me and took my first flight- in almost a year!- to Queenstown.
Things got off to a buttery smooth start as I jetted down to QT and was fueling up with a local staple, Fergburger, when who walked in but (my host) the one and only Preston Gene Penny, cut early from a day's work. Preston was living over in Australia and has decided to extend his southern adventure and is now living in Queenstown with a gaggle of Aussie flatmates in a house that reminds me so much of my friends' places in Vail it's cracks me up. Ski bum accomodation is the same the world over. It was great to have a warm welcome and get to know a crew properly living the southern winter dream. To cap off a great start: a sunset stroll looking across Lake Wakatipu up towards my destination for the next day, The Remarkables.
“The Remarkables solidified my general opinion of NZ ski fields: they’re all basically A Basin.”
The Remarks (as they call it) is one of two local fields outside Queenie and sits up in the iconic Remarkables mountain range just north of town. With all New Zealand ski fields, you start your drive off in a verdant valley below and turn off onto a purpose built road that climbs dramatically up to the snow line above. It's a foreign concept for a Colorado boy who's accustomed to skiing right out of town, but driving up those windy roads is a hoot nonetheless. Each one I hit seemed crazier than the last, but little did I know what I was in store for down the line. After my trip to Turoa, The Remarkables solidified my general opinion of NZ ski fields: they're all basically A Basin. Above tree line, wide open, laid back, and begging to be explored. Fortunately this first day gave me basically peak A Bay, clear blue skies, incredible views in every direction, and some soft turns still to be found in the surrounding hike-to terrain. I especially appreciate that The Remarks has dispensed with all illusions of a mid-Mountain lodge. Instead in their main bowl you'll find a packed down picnic area with some guys flipping burgers, beers flowing, and tunes pumping. Not a bad way to get my legs under me.
From there it was straight up and over the Crown Range and into my favorite NZ ski town, Wanaka, to see an old friend. Kevin Fleuger has been a friend for years, and I've long known him to be an ambitious skier. He's living a dreamy ski bum life moving from Aspen to Jackson and now chasing the endless winter down in Wanaka. It's funny that we never actually hit the hill together in Colorado, but no matter he had some epic terrain he wanted to show me at his local hill, Treble Cone.
“With no trees anywhere you get the fully blind skiing experience of Vail’s back on a stormy day everywhere you go.”
My first day at TC did bode a bit on the ominous side, rain in town and a socked in hill up the valley. But what of it? I'm a well accustomed storm skier, and if anything I was hyped for some freshies. In keeping with the increasingly crazy ski field road theme, TC did not let me down. This one's wholly unpaved and on my first day they wouldn't even let me attempt it in my little rental, so we jumped on the bus with some other rambunctious skiers and drove up into the clouds as Lake Wanaka faded away into the distance below. We arrived to a nearly empty ski field (despite some great snow) and it soon became evident why. Kiwis don't storm ski. And with (arguably) good reason, with no trees anywhere you get the fully blind skiing experience of Vail's back on a stormy day everywhere you go. Fortunately the clouds were blowing in and out and we had some patches of good visibility as we warmed things up skiing hot laps on the front side, which- with its rolling, open terrain- felt a lot like hitting Ricky's Ridge at Vail over and over. Not too shabby.
We eventually moved on to the rowdier back side for some fun little cliff lines and untouched turns. The real treat came the next day, however, when the snow gods gave us a solid 6-8" overnight and clear skies in the morning. This brought out the masses for sure, but we had a plan: head straight back to the easily accessible Motatapu chutes in the TC side country. Back in the chutes things are fully pinned. Steep slopes, soft spines, and cliffs abound. We hit it just right sneaking in some killer laps on some untouched southern pow, even getting a few cheeky face shots before the clouds came back in and had us running for more central slopes.
“Each turn felt laden with memories.”
After two killer days in Wanaka I left on high for a bittersweet drive across the island to my next destination, Christchurch. It's a considerable haul over some high mountain passes and through some of the island's most beautiful country. I got a bit misty as I cruised past the beautiful high mountain lakes Ohau, Pukaki, and Tekapo on a dramatic afternoon as a storm moved over the mountains. Each turn felt laden with memories of all the adventures Meredith and I had over the summer on this stunning island. But as I drove on the rains set in earnest, boding for great things ahead.
In Christchurch, I met up with some friends from Dunedin: Harriet and Charlie. The report looked great, so we were up early and sunrise found us, pedal to the metal, heading for the central Canterbury ski fields. Now, if you do research on skiing in New Zealand you'll likely come across all the mountains I've described to you thus far, maybe even Turoa up north if you're really looking. Which makes sense, they're the biggest hills with the biggest budgets. But the best terrain may pass right underneath your nose. That's because central Canterbury is home to some of the most prominent mountains in the Southern Alps; indeed, visiting the area gives the truth to that name, these crowded snowy mountains are nothing if not truly alps.
“The most lovable, renegade ski area I’ll ever visit.”
The hills in this area- lovingly called 'club fields' as they're all run and supported by registered club members (but are still public access)- are ragged operations with not a single chairlift between them. They all serve to provide a home base and basic access to extended areas of side country surrounding their respective peaks. Based off the near foot of fresh that fell overnight we headed about two hours inland from Christchruch, way up Arthur's Pass, to Temple Basin. In keeping with the crazy ski field road trend, this one wasn't even a road. Instead, you pull off the highway and toss all your gear onto a sketchy goods lift that carts all your shit up the hill as you hit a hiking trail. Half an hour of huffing and puffing up from the valley floor gets you to snowline, and probably the most lovable, renegade ski area I'll ever visit.
A couple huts provide rooms, food, and shelter for what have to be some of New Zealand's most ambitious skiers. You can really cut the chaff with a hike to the base of a mountain. We piled into the lodge and geared up for an epic day as the sun crested the peaks in a cobalt sky. With no chairlifts you're conveyed up the hill on two rope tows at Temple Basin, but not tows like I've ever seen them.
“It’s so cheap, it’s so minimal, it’s so contrarian to so much of what the world of skiing has come to stand for.”
I'd been well forewarned of "having to learn to use a nutcracker" but the reality was so much rowdier than I'd expected, it cracked me up. No handles or pomas on these tows, that's much too fancy. Instead, you ski up (usually completely alone) to a speeding rope and grab on. Once up to speed you take a two-piece metal device -the "nutcracker" (attached to a harness around your waist)- flick it artfully around the rope and clamp down on it with your free hand. All this has to be done before you hit the first pulley tower though, or you risk losing a finger. It's so cheap, it's so minimal, it's so contrarian to so much of what the world of skiing has come to stand for. I loved every second of it.
Once up on the hill, Harriet and I positively redefined hot laps all morning in Temple Basin's main bowl. With sunny skies, deep snow, and thinning crowds (as they headed to the hike-to terrain) we crushed an epic morning. I'd be curious to know the speed of one of these rope tows vs a quad, they are not slow. With no lines at the bottom, and no rest at all on the full throttle ride back up, skiing at club fields is not for the faint of heart or weary of leg.
“I didn’t move to New Zealand for full-throttle side country lines, but I will always jump at the chance.”
After a lunch overlooking some of the world's most dramatic mountains, I headed off for the afternoon to explore some of TB's side country with Charlie and his big mountain fiending friends. A boot pack up a knife ridge brings you to the summit of Mt. Temple proper, from there stable snowpack and tasty chutes call your name in every direction. Out back here though it was all self-serviced getting back up, so hiking all out I was able to get in three killer big mountain lines off various aspects of the mountain before sundown. I didn't move to New Zealand for full-throttle side country lines, but I will always jump at the chance.
Night at the club fields is almost as fun as the day of epic skiing. With the hike in most people are loathe to schlep down mid-weekend, so everyone crams in for the night. Two huts positively packed with frothing skiers, including the rowdy ski club from a college in Christchurch; spirits were high as we sank some beers, and laid a plan for the next day.
“With sights set on a real beast, Mt. Phipps.”
By this point, my legs were moving on towards fully cooked and I knew I only had one real hike left in me, so we figured why not send it off in style. I met up with a crew in the hut common area that the morning with sights set on a real beast, Mt. Phipps. It sits towering just west of Mt. Temple and with no real tow access up it, we were looking to be the first group to ski it for the season.
Naturally, the pictures have a tough time doing the climb justice as we moved from open powdery bowls to steep chutes to knife ridges over the course of a nearly 5-hour hike up the imposing mountain. I've done some backcountry skiing in my life, but never true ski mountaineering. Indeed, it was the track of a couple of climbers that had us thinking Phipps in the first place. Boy, was it a whole different ball game. I'd never climbed with an ice ax before but was sure glad to have it as we worked our way steadily up the steep face of the mountain. Only the stable snowpack and the sunny skies kept us fueled on the long trudge up. Once at the top things hit a crescendo as we were faced with a harrowing traverse along the sharp upper ridge to access our scouted chute.
Having finally conquered the beast there wasn't much to do but build a little drop in platform and steel ourselves to send it into a chute that took us almost halfway down the mountain in one go. It all looked so simple from the lodge. Dig a couple pits, get through that throat, then up that ridge, and you'll be skiing this epic chute. Well, it proved more challenging at every turn and the descent kept pace. I pushed off the platform second in line and held on. The extreme pitch of the chute only just balanced out by the encouraging, soft, marine snow. I worked my way down the chute one jump turn at a time with the Southern Alps stretched out all around me. Easily one of the most challenging, beautiful lines I've ever skied.
“The stoke was high as we rolled back in sweaty, exhausted, and victorious first descenders of Mt. Phipps for the year.”
Once we'd all conquered the line from the top we were in for more of a treat as the mountain opened up wide powder fields below in steadily improving snow. By the time we worked our way to the bottom we were ripping fast turns through plenty of fresh with grins from ear to ear. Throughout the whole expedition we were watched by folks at the hut- on "TB TV" as they say- so the stoke was high all around as we rolled back in sweaty, exhausted, and victorious first descenders of Mt. Phipps for the year.
Not a bad way to send off my final New Zealand adventure.
On One Year In New Zealand
As I sit here on a rainy day in Wellington closing in swiftly on the end of my year down south it seems as good a chance as any to wax poetic on my time here on these incredible islands, adrift in the southern ocean.
“I doubt if there’s anywhere else in the world I’d have rather gone.”
If I'm being totally honest I didn't really know what I was signing up for when I booked my tickets to the other side of the world. Sure, we all know some stuff about New Zealand: there's mountains, there's sheep, they've shot some ok films down there, they know how to play a game of rugby. But I was far from an expert on the place. A driving desire to get out and explore the world, and an easy visa, guided my hand. Looking back though, I doubt if there's anywhere else in the world I'd have rather gone.
“All that, and there are still 20 places I’d love to visit that we won’t get the chance to hit.”
This time last year I was enjoying a family trip out in Maine just before departing, and while on one hand this year feels like it's flown by on the other that vacation seems impossibly far in the past. And it's no wonder. I stagger a bit thinking about what this one year has held, I've: hiked world famous trails, surfed with dolphins, canoed through misty jungles, flown around the Matterhorn of the South, fallen asleep to glaciers rumbling down a mountain, drifted through glowworm-filled caves, skied fresh southern pow, kayaked through a tempest, snorkeled golden beaches, ridden more sweet trails than I can count, gazed in awe some of the world's greatest natural wonders, I've been able to call two of the coolest towns on the face of the planet home, and I've made some incredible friends along the way. It is truly hard to believe I've done all that and so much more on a couple of islands which together are smaller than my home state. All that, and there are still 20 places I'd love to visit that we won't get the chance to hit.
As you can imagine, times have not always been as breezy as my posts may make it seem. There have been breakdowns and tight budgets, rain ravaged camps and frozen hikes. We've always known that we're out here making the most of our time but have been haunted by the thought that somehow real life is out there passing us by. Living abroad can be stressful, and at times outright unpleasant, but somehow around every corner New Zealand left us a silver lining to make things more than worth it. Having a steadfast partner in Meredith, with whom to weather the tough days (frequently tough weather!), and to share in the splendor has made the journey all the sweeter.
“I’ll be a proud Coloradoan first and foremost, and when I’m away I’ll miss my people there every day.”
There's not just experiences here, but lessons as well. I've learned the value of friends. You don't really live somewhere until you've made some friends there. In the end it's the people that make the place. It's the perennial traveller's woe, you may choose to stay but many others will choose to move on. It's in keeping your friendships that you keep a place, at a time, alive. After all, you need some folks to trade tall tales with. I've learned a whole new lesson about work. It's too easy to feel untethered in life if you don't create some value in the world. I guess there's a reason why it's called a "Work and Holiday" visa, you need a balance to make them both more valuable. Hell, I've learned lessons about politics. That when you're looking after 5 million people problems become so much more manageable, rather than hoping to solve the problems of 350 million people in one fell swoop. I've learned just how unnecessarily difficult it is to actually live and work in another country, guess that's why only 3% of the world's population live away from home. I've learned the value of stripping back, of how much you really need to call a house, home...it's not much. I've learned about home in a more abstract sense too. Home will always be Colorado, no matter where I journey or where I hang my hat I'll be a proud Coloradoan first and foremost, and when I'm away I'll miss my people there every day.
“I think that’s what counts in life, how much of the world we’re able to soak up in our time on it.”
Most importantly though, I've learned about seeking adventure. It's funny what having such a fixed timeframe on your time in a place does to your priorities. Every day counts. It's driven me out to blunder through frozen mountains, and driven Meredith insane. But still there's an important lesson to be learned here: you can always seek adventure out. Even if it you can't journey far there is always a new way to go, something new to see, a new experience to be had. And in the end I think that's what counts in life, how much of the world we're able to soak up in our time on it.
So, what's next? Mere and I are getting the boot from NZ in just a couple of days, and we've decided to keep the traveling dream alive while we can. In two weeks, we'll be heading to Tasmania to make a new home, make some new friends, and make a whole heap of memories. Word on the street is that Tassie is like New Zealand part 2, so we're excited to get out and explore this new island and our new hometown (we'll be shacking up in Hobart for at least 6 months). From there, who knows? Melbourne seems appealing, and I'm sure we'll get wind of all sorts of must see things around Australia that we won't be able to resist.
That's where we'll be, so if you've never had an excuse to visit Tasmania now you do, and the next post you'll read will be from the true down under!
My Route:
Tips For NZ Travelers:
- If you're looking at skiing near Wanaka you may come across the "Ski4Free" promotion from Jucy for tickets at Treble Cone. This is totally legit, and got your boy two free days on the hill at TC. Do it!
- Seriously, ski field roads can get pretty hairy in adverse conditions, and if you're renting it's probably worth upgrading to proper a 4wd.
- Arguably the best burrito on the island is done out of a food truck in Wanaka...or maybe my discerning taste for Mexican food is just disappearing.
- Christchurch gets a lot of shit, but it's a totally legit base if you like to ski, surf, or mountain bike. Don't discount it.
- Don't skip the Canterbury ski fields. Seriously best value for money on the planet!
- The locals say Temple Basin for side country access, Mt. Olympus for rope tow serviced terrain.
So Long South Island!
To mark the halfway point of our first year we packed our bags and moved north, not before saying so long to the South Island in style!
The Hump Ridge Hustle
It's pretty staggering that we've already surpassed the 6 month mark here way down south. It truly, as expected, has flown by. Now we knew at about this half way point of our visas we'd be heading north and saying so long to Dunedin, so naturally we wanted to send it off in style with some killer trips. Enter the Hump Ridge Track.
“We wanted a little taste of that Gucci tramping action.”
Hump Ridge is a 3 day backpacking track that clings to the very southern edge of Fiordland National Park. It's famous for the quality of the trails, the incredible views, the crushing elevation gain, the time spent in beech forest, and for the fact that despite its quality it's not a "great walk". The whole operation is run by a private trust which means crowd levels stay low and the lodges along the way are next level. After hearing about the blast Mere's mom had on her Ultimate Hike to Milford we wanted a little taste of that gucci tramping action. So, we booked up, packed our bags, and hit the trail.
Now here's the key with Hump Ridge, these private lodges ain't no stinking DOC huts. They're incredibly well serviced and for a couple extra bucks you can book a private room with linens and hot showers provided. That means, for three days our packs were basically just food (with which we went big and did up some really proper tramping meals) and a couple changes of clothes. Talk about living in the lap of luxury.
All that said, Hump Ridge is not for the faint of heart. Each day lays 20k of fresh trail before you, with a climb from the beach up to the bush line and back down thrown in for fun. Day one lured us into a real false sense of security as we meandered down kilometers of wide open beach with nothing but the great southern ocean for company. After about 10k of that lackadaisical nonsense the trail took a hard right turn off the beach and into the beech. Beech trees are likely NZ's second most famous plant (right behind the silver fern of course) they have a rough gray bark and small, round leaves that give any forest a distinct Middle-Earthy feel. They used to cover much of the South Island before people arrived, and now only hold their claim in the most remote regions.
“Without a doubt, we were about as remote as you can get in New Zealand...”
The rest of the day was spent clambering up the side of the epynonymous Hump Ridge. It was quite the scramble over slick roots and craggy outcrops, but rewarded the effort with stunning views overlooking miles of untouched beach stretching away to the horizon. Without a doubt we were about as remote as you can get in New Zealand, being high up on the ridge looking into the wild distance drove this pointedly home.
At the top, our home for the night, Okaka Lodge awaited. The sprawling complex is truly a testament to human ingenuity as it clings inside of a steep hanging valley poking just above bush line to afford maximal views. Here we thanked our stars that we had opted for the private room option as we were greeted with a made up king size bed, fresh towels for the showers, and hot water bottles to keep our tootsies warm in the cold mountain night. We chef'd up our high-brow camping fare and settled down to have a chat with our fellow hikers as the sun set and clouds swirled around the valley below.
“This is New Zealand wood at it’s finest, nothing but silver beech, silver fern, and bird song.”
Day two on Hump Ridge is the flagship stretch to be sure. Having knocked out nearly all of your vertical gain on day one there's nothing left to do but walk all the way back down the ridge to the sea. I'm told the views are stunning with desolate southern coast stretching away on either side. However due to some classic kiwi cloud cover we were treated to a more misty experience. That said, the hike was incredible. If there's one other famous aspect of the track it's definitely the boardwalks on day two. Kilometers on kilometers of wooden bridges make the trail most of the way down the ridge to help protect the fragile soils. It makes for incredibly cruise-y hiking and allows for maximal enjoyment of the untouched, stunted beech forest that covers the lower ridge. This is New Zealand wood at it's finest, nothing but silver beech, silver fern, and bird song. A world of misty grays and deep, ponderous greens.
We wrapped the day with a breezy walk along an old logging tram line to the cosy Port Craig Lodge where we were treated to a nearly identical experience as at Okaka. We could get dangerously used to camping like this. After a little dolphin chasing at the nearby bay, sore legs and tired bodies had us following the sun right to bed.
Hump Ridge ends with a breezy, dreamlike 20k jaunt along the southern coast through more unspoiled beech forest and ragged coast. We were left sore, gassed, and blissfully smiling at one of the finest hikes we may ever do. It's not a hike for the unfit, or the faint of heart, but if you're looking for a step back in time to see what New Zealand was like untouched by man you can't skip Hump Ridge.
South Island Send-Off
Following our unforgettable experience on Hump Ridge there wasn't much left to do in the far southern reaches other than pack our things and bid a fond, fond farewell to our lives in Dunedin. It may have only been six months but it we're certain the friends we made in our brief time there will last a lifetime. Many folks may poo-poo Dunedin, they may tell you to skip it for more popular tourist destinations, but I'm telling you now much of what makes New Zealand such an amazing country is writ small in this tiny city clinging to the edge of the world.
“So we shoved all of our worldly possessions into the ol’ RAV and hit the road.”
Nevertheless, the agenda drove us on. So we shoved all of our worldly possessions into the ol' RAV (which anymore is just about as much as she can physically fit) and hit the road. First stop, visiting some friends in Christchurch. As NZ's 3rd largest city Christchurch certainly is a sprawling affair, with arguably the least sensible urban design on the planet, but for all that it still is a lovely town. With the huge volcanic hills of the Banks Peninsula just south and the beginning of what I'm convinced is the world's longest black sand beach heading north, you'd be hard pressed to find another town with such easy access to such a diversity of terrain. We spent some time wandering the steep hills overlooking the ocean, and appreciating the fine things a larger town can provide (good gardens, museums, and restaurants among them). That said, it is still very much a town in recovery. Large earthquakes in 2011 left much of downtown in piles of rubble and rebuilding efforts are still heavily underway, but as our local friends point out that just means all the new buildings will be modern and nice, a bit of a rarity for NZ.
The next day we kept up the northern trek and stopped off in the beach town of Kaikoura, which is where I developed my "longest black sand beach" hypothesis. The volcanic sands start in Christchurch and head north for hundreds of miles past Kaikoura up to the tip of the island. Record or not, it was a great place for a little beach camping with the waves crashing just over the dunes lulling us to sleep.
“There’s something very Kiwi about a major highway that barely clutches to the mountainsides”
We needed the rest too, because the next day held some of the most overwhelmingly epic driving we've done to date. We followed Highway 1 north, where the road is cut into the mountain slopes of the Kaikoura Range just before they plunge into the Pacific. It's hours of remote roadway with the waves never more than a couple meters away on one side and stark cliffs rising out of sight on the other. Driving the mountain passes into the central South Island are certainly an eyeful in their own way, but there's something very Kiwi about a major highway that barely clutches to the mountainsides above the waves.
Once we made our way up north Mere and I had a chat and decided that we didn't need to run around like maniacs for the last couple days on the island seeing every site that we could think of that we missed. Certainly, we did not hit it all, but we took a really solid cross section of what New Zealand has to offer. With that in mind, we took some incredible days to explore the Marlborough Sounds in depth. We hit them on our way south but had them mostly spoiled by weather, so it was good this tropical corner of the country in summer proper. Thus our penultimate days were spent driving windy, windy roads, relaxing beside aquamarine waters, and enjoying that southern sunshine.
We did leave one special treat set aside for our last day though. The northern tip of the South Island is world-famous for its vineyards, specifically for producing the world's finest Sauvignon Blanc. In the small town of Renwick one can visit something like 30 of these vineyards within 15 kilometers or so. This quality and proximity has naturally led the development of one of the most "Griffin" tourist attractions in the country. Biking wine tours.
“...and food (oh the food!)”
We pitched tent outside a friendly hostel in town, rented Mere a bike and hit the wine trail. While this all sounds very similar to my annual biking brewery tours what went down for us was a far, far classier affair. Each vineyard's tasting room, or "Cellar Door" in kiwi terminology, tries to outdo the last with incredible architecture, views over the vines, curated wine tastings, and food (oh the food!). So we cycled our happy asses through all the vines, sampled some of the world's most enlightened vintages, snacked, laughed, and generally basked in the glow of how glorious our final days on this glorious island were.
Come morning, we cruised up to Picton and caught the ferry north to our new hometown, Wellington. Welly sits, very conveniently, at the southern tip of the North Island, it is New Zealand's second largest (and capital) city, it is a harbor town known for its hills, its food, its wind, and its San Francisco-y vibe. When we visited on our way south we quickly fell in love. It's a highly walk, bike, and bus-able town with a truly bustling downtown and tons to offer us in the coming months, including the prospect of more serious (and potentially longer term) work. For now though, we've settled into a (miraculously) rented out family home about 10 minutes ride from the city center with a couple of roommates and a dog named Humphrey. I'll be plying my trade as a mechanic at the uber-hip commuter, and coffee centric shop Bicycle Junction right downtown, as we rest up and prepare for our first North Island adventures.
Our Route:
Tips For Prospective NZ Travelers:
- If you're doing the Hump Ridge, just go ahead and pony up for a private room right at the outset and you don't even have to bother bringing any sleeping or cooking gear.
- Buy frozen steaks from the store the morning before your big hike, they'll thaw perfectly in your pack for cooking on night 1. We learned this watching smart Canadians implement this trick as we ate our pasta.
- Don't drive anywhere in Christchurch during rush hour...better yet, don't ever drive in Christchurch.
- If you have the chance to drive Highway 1 down the coast from Blenheim, do it. Not as mountainous as the pass routes, but it is staggeringly stark in its own way.
- Picton is totally more than just a place to get off the interisland ferry, it's a cool little town to hang around and grab a meal or two in.
- When doing the cycling wine tour in Marlborough, a couple tips:
- Start early. Most tasting rooms are open 10-4.
- Consider just doing every winery on the "close in loop" you can be pedaling for a long time to get anywhere else.
- Just get a cutesy Airbnb that's all adorably set amongst the vines and whatnot, other lodging options in Renwick are grim.
- Seriously consider renting one of the two-seater pedal carts.
- If you can make it, finish at Moa Brewing. They're open past 4, and you'll feel right at home in the welcoming arms of a sweet ass brewery after an exhausting day of wine snobbery. - If you've got the weather for it don't spend any time in the ship on the interisland ferry.
- DO. NOT. SKIP. THE. SOUTH. ISLAND.