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.
Familiar Faces In Faraway Places
Things have been an absolute whirlwind as we wrap up our time on the South Island. In this edition: solo tramping, a visit from Mere's family, and one rainy trip with our friend Matt.
The Tussockland Tussle
With the impending arrival of the Tousignant family, Mere and I were very excited to have our first visitors down south. As a bonus the action got started a little early when Mere's mother, Lisa, came down ahead of time to do a luxury tramp on the Milford Track that had us all very jealous. She was down for a few days to acclimatize, so I decided to leave them alone for a little mother/daughter time and I headed out to tackle the Motatapu Track.
This 3-day tramp traverses the rugged, tussock-covered high country between Wanaka and Queenstown. It's much less popular and much less built up than many of the hikes we have done thus far. It falls into the category of a "marked route" which means they don't so much build a trail as put up orange markers and let you figure out your own way. This route was particularly tough as it was 3 days of constant vertical change. The trail eschewed the valleys below and wound it's way around barren peaks, down to beech laden canyons, and back up over windswept ridges. Up and down, up and down the route went through some of the toughest country New Zealand has to offer.
Suffice to say, I'm glad I didn't drag Meredith along with me on this one. The constant up and down was grueling enough but the lack of a real trail made this hike one of the most challenging I've tackled to date. That said, it's difficulty drives away the masses handily so those who soldier on through it are rewarded with trails and valleys and mountainsides all to themselves.
If I thought this was tough, some Brits I bet along the way really put things in perspective for me. They were hiking the Te Araroa trail that links up trails from the tippity top of the North Island all the way to Bluff down at the bottom of the South Island. Motatapu was just a blip on their radar as they crushed one of the world's great trails. They had been walking since early October...I met them late January, with another quarter of their journey left to go. Neither of them looked to be in stunningly great shape, but none the less they both kicked my ass up and over the next pass on the third morning without breaking a sweat. It just goes to show you, hiking's about the love of the game not about one particular physique.
At the end of the tramp, wound up getting a bit more than I bargained for as well, after battling the passes and stomping my way for kilometers down a river to the ghost town of Macetown (where I planned to meet Meredith) I learned that the road was unpassable for our little RAV. So I had a little lunch, laced back up and sloshed my way through the river the extra 15k to Arrowtown, to find Meredith and Lisa drinking coffee, playing cards, and waiting for my dusty ass. There's my lesson hard learned for poo-pooing 4WD advisories.
The Coolest Thing I've Ever Done
After sending Lisa on her way to her epic trek, we headed out on likely the coolest experience either of us have ever been a part of. A helicopter tour around Mt. Aspiring. Pictures will utterly fail to do the experience justice, and my words probably won't do much better, but here goes.
With some generous Christmas contributions to the NZ fun fund from my parents, a heli-tour started looking like a real possibility, and I knew just where I wanted to go, Mt. Aspiring. Known as the "Matterhorn of the Southern Alps" Aspiring may not be particularly tall, but it is undoubtedly one of the most dramatic peaks on the planet. I mean they literally used it in the goddamned lighting of the beacons scene in LOTR. It was a natural place to want to zoom around in a helicopter.
With a no-fuss pickup at the Wanaka airport, Meredith and I were off on the fastest, most expensive, most jaw-dropping, most worthwhile ride of our lives. We cruised over the low fields to pick up another group at the top of a nearby hill (how did I miss that option?) before soaring over the town and the cobalt blue of Lake Wanaka. Within seconds we were at a better vantage point than I had achieved in hours of hiking on our last trip to the area. Our first stop dropped us atop a craggy outcropping right next to the lake to look back over the waters and dramatic peaks off to the east. It was all just a taster for what came next.
We loaded up and shot back into the air and over the next ridge to enter the domain of Mt. Aspiring proper. While it tops out at only 9,950 ft. the mountain is still the highest by a good margin in the area, and it was immediately awe-inspiring rising knife-life in the distance above the glaciers that carved its upper reaches. We swooped down into the glaciated valley that climbs the peak's western side. As we edged closer to the mountain the sky disappeared behind the blades of the heli leaving us to try and fathom the true scale of the glacier that carved it's way inexorably down the mountainside to the warmer climes below.
The scale is was truly gets you on a trip like this. Each crevasse in the glacier is large enough to swallow you, no swallow the whole helicopter, without thinking twice and as we soared over the glacier we passed them by the dozen like so many cracks in a loaf of bread. The cliffs. The cliffs towered so high that literally, you couldn't see the sky. Only the countless waterfalls provided any true sense of scale on these edifices of rock as they gushed millions of gallons of water down to the valley below. Meanwhile, the pilot grinned and swooped as our whole group was struck absolutely speechless.
We encircled the mountain by heli, shooting up over ridges and back down to the glaciers below, each new valley offering a more staggering view than the one before. Then we cruised across a high hanging valley to a lower glacier that looked back on the mountain. This was our second stop. The group piled out onto the snow of Isabell Glacier in our shorts and t-shirts hooting and hollering like maniacs at the beauty of it all. This is what you come to New Zealand for, unspoiled mountains glacier-carved in their beauty wrapping around you in every direction as far as the eye can see.
After tossing a few snowballs, and taking pictures of every single angle we could think of, it was time to load back up for our bittersweet flight back. The mountain faded away like a memory behind us as paragliders swooped off of the peaks below (there was a competition on, who knew that was a thing?) and we tried to soak up every last vista we could on the way back to Wanaka. In true heli fashion, our pilot nonchalantly set us down back at the airport on a trailer barely big enough for the skids like it was nothing. Talk about a dream job.
The Tousignants On Tour
After soaring through the peaks it was time to boogie on back to Queenstown to unite with the rest of the Tousignant clan as they came into town. Michael (Mere's dad) and Lisa were in from Colorado, while sister Davis and main squeeze Jason were visiting from Brisbane. Let's just get this out of the way off the bat: spending a week in Queenstown as a proper tourist was a whole other ball game.
Michael generously put us all up in a stellar condo looking over Lake Wakatipu with mountains wrapping 360 degrees around. We were situated just a short walk into town which was a huge upgrade from our first QT experience. So take note, if you're ever in QT know that you need to ditch your car as soon as possible so you can explore the town as a relaxed tourist and not a stressed-out driver. We shopped, we ate, we made merry, and just enjoyed the hell out of every last minute. Each day started with a mountain bike ride on the world-famous trails of the area, moved on to a casual lunch, worked in some touristy activities (but not too much, you don't want to be stressed out on your holiday from holiday for god's sake), included a solid nap, and closed with some great dinners around town.
The highlight had to be the vineyard tour Mere and Davis took us on. A decked out Sprinter bus picked us up at 11 am sharp and took us on a whirlwind tour of the finest vineyards Central Otago has to offer. At each cellar door (the kiwi wine version of a tap room) our helpful guide walked us through a diverse tasting making sure to highlight the wines that set the vineyard apart. We cruised down the Gibbston Valley to our new favorite little farm town of Cromwell and got a solid earful about why Otago is such a great region for Pinot Noir and walked through how each vineyard brought their own twist to the varietal.
Taking a yearlong vacation is just exhausting work, so it's always nice to have a holiday from your holiday. But not quite as nice as finally seeing some familiar faces way down south.
Tackling The Tempest
Speaking of familiar faces in our land, right after the Tousignant's took off we had another visitor. Matt Cohen, congratulations you officially win the prize for being the first friend to find your way to New Zealand and visit us!
Now Matt was going to be visiting a part of the country we'd visited briefly (even considered moving to) but definitely wanted to spend more time in, Nelson. Specifically we wanted to tackle a highly recommended tramp in the national park just north of town, Abel Tasman. Now this whole region is known as the sunshine capital of New Zealand for it's relative lack of precipitation and mild, mediterranean climate. That is not the story I have to tell you today however.
Abel Tasman National Park takes those sunny days and makes the most of them with a string of pearlescent white-sand beaches flanked by aquamarine waters and towering green jungles up it's length. Due it's beachy nature many visitors tackle this tramp not by foot but by kayak, an option it took us all of two seconds to jump on. So we signed up for a two day kayak one day hike through the park camping on the beach along the way.
Now, weather forecasts were swirling in the week leading up to our trip, but as we headed up the island one thing became clear: with out a doubt we were going to get pissed on. Specifically, the tail end of a cyclone was expected to dump rain on the region for the entirely of our second day. When we showed up for our kayak safety briefing the guides could only shake their heads and chuckle at our misfortune. In spite of the forecasted rain, the seas were supposed to be fairly calm and wind was supposed to be a non-factor, the two things that will make them cancel trips. So, we were on as planned.
We loaded up the kayaks (Mere and I in a two man, Matt going solo) with way more provisions than we could have conceivably fit into our packs at the outset, and shoved off. With a wave so long from our safety instructor we were free to go forth and explore the park. Now despite the forthcoming onslaught, weather the first day was actually pretty great. It was solidly cloudy but there was not a breath of wind and the sea looked like a sheet of jade glass. We cruised easily across to have a spot of lunch on a nearby island before heading around to go check out the local seal colony. With the lack of wind and beating sun we redefined "leisurely kayaking"; we'd take a few strokes then relax, splash each other, go check out some blue penguins bobbing along in the water, then maybe paddle a few more strokes.
After a couple hours of lolling along we pulled into our first campsite, Te Pukatea, which even on a cloudy day was as pretty as could be. It was a tiny crescent shaped beach flanked by jungly headlands, crystalline ocean filled the basin to complete the scene. There aren't a ton of palm trees in that part of the world, but that aside it was every inch of tropical paradise. So, we made camp alongside a select few fellow kayakers, had a leisurely dinner, and generally thought about how splendidly our trip was going.
And then the rain began.
Just as we were headed to bed the skies opened up, and continued with no abatement all night long. In the morning we were still all reasonably dry, but knew that from the second we got out of our tents we were going to be drenched for the foreseeable future. Nonetheless, the ocean looked reasonably calm, the wind was down, so we soldiered on out, packed the kayaks, and shoved out to sea.
At first things still looked pretty bright. We were wet, sure, but we were making good time seeing some wildlife and even waved hello to the only other kayakers foolish enough to head out on that day. Then the squalls came in. Bands of thick cloud passed overhead taking us from wet to more drenched than we'd ever been. The seas began to rise, and visibility faded in and out with the rain as we muscled our way northward. Before we knew it we were out beyond a very exposed headland as the seas continued to swell. We would lose sight of young Matthew in the channels between the waves, and to make matters worse our navigational point faded in and out of visibility off in the distance. With our bums tightly clenched and arms beginning to tire we had no choice but to paddle like hell in hopes of finding calmer seas in a bay to the north.
After what seemed like an eternity of taking on the full brunt of the tempest we finally, mercifully, made our way around the final headland and into the calmer waters towards our destination: Onetahuti. Total time paddling, two hours...sure seems like a lot more when you're in the thick of it. Now this beach is truly a marvel of nature. It's white sand crescent extends for miles, with great waters for snorkeling and swimming, and just the perfect number of trees for shade. But on this particular day nothing looked so sweet as what we first saw, a kitchen shelter.
Not all campsites have them (Te Pukatea sure didn't) so we were elated to see that despite the fact that all our things would continue to be drenched and we had virtually no chance of sleeping very dry, we could at least huddle out of the onslaught in the meager shelter during the day. We set up our tents as quickly as we could and headed to the shelter for one of the most serendipitous afternoons of our lives. Naturally, everyone hiking or kayaking wanted a piece of shelter as they came by. So we packed under the modest roof, traded tall tales, taught (and learned) new card games, marveled at the weather (nobody had seen rain even remotely like that), and thanked our lucky stars that we'd hauled some whiskey along to warm us up.
All told it's estimated that 120 millimeters of rain fell on Abel Tasman park that day. For you Colorado folk that would convert to about 5 feet of snow. Every time we thought it was raining as hard as it could mother nature took it as a challenge to hose it down even harder. Mercifully, right around the time we headed to our damp beds the rain abated, and the next morning we were treated to one of the most magnificent (and rewarding) sunrises I've ever seen.
Our final day on the tramp was an absolute stunner. What visiting Abel Tasman is all about. The sun shone down turning the ocean a jaw dropping aquamarine inviting you to step in for a dip at every turn. With about 5 minutes of southern sunshine we were able to dry our stuff more than we had all of the previous day. So we swam, ate a slow breakfast and set off down the beach by foot. This is what every day of hiking would've been like if we'd opted not to kayak. Down along a huge sandy beach, up over a jungly headland, and on to the next beach. It really is a trip like no other that I would highly, highly recommend to prospective NZ travelers, we just didn't get an ideal experience. But we gained an unforgettable experience with one of our best friends. Thanks for making it look easy Matt!
Our Route:
South Island Select
Time goes on down south and so do the adventures. Recently we've taken off to check out Wanaka and Nelson!
I Wanaka, Do You Wanaka?
It's tough to believe that we're already creeping up on the 1/4 mark of our yearlong visas here in New Zealand, and the traveling (aka. perma-vacation) schedule hasn't abated yet. For just a couple of small islands tossed out in the South Pacific there sure is an overwhelming amount to see. With that in mind, it was never our intention to spend the whole year in Dunedin, so our city shopping continues as we aim to head to our next town at the end of January. The natural next stop? Wanaka.
Wanaka always comes up in discussions of New Zealand's best towns, and for good reason. Like it's bigger, and more hectic, sister Queenstown it sits beside a large mountain lake amongst the Southern Alps. It offers much the same access to mountain biking, hiking, skiing, and other adventurous activities a junkie like me just can't get enough of. But that's where the similarities with Queenstown end. Wanaka is far more chilled out and is truly built to support a thriving local community. Needless to say, we loved it.
The core of town is situated on an esplanade along the lakefront looking west to the mountains; we pulled right in, strolled around, grabbed a stellar breakfast, and headed out on the lake via kayak. Now Lake Wanaka is huge so we only explored a tiny portion but that was enough to head out to the very picnic-friendly Ruby Island (they have grills gassed up and ready to go out there, what's not to love?!) there we slipped under the ether with a vineyard rolling down to the shores on our left as the peaks of Mt. Aspiring Park rose in front of us. It's a tough place not to love. Side note: with the proximity to Mt. Aspiring tons of businesses were named Aspiring ______, which led to some hilarious names like Aspiring Avalanche Dogs (one day they hope to be avalanche dogs, but for now you'd better get the trained professionals).
After a rosy day one, we snuck over to the stellar campground in neighboring Albert Town for the night. We pitched the tent right along the Clutha River (which drains Lake Wanaka) in between a rope swing and a trailhead to some of Wanaka's best mountain biking trails. Clearly, I was in hog heaven.
The riding in Wanaka was one of the key selling points for me. They have several connected trail systems right outside of town that after riding for several days I just began to touch. It's not quite so lift-haul and gravity-centric as much of the riding in Queenstown, and due to the town's position in western Otago is quite dry. Much of it actually felt a lot like the smooth-sailing trails of Eagle!
In the name of doing a little area exploration, we packed up the next morning and drove north. First stop: a hike up Isthmus Peak. Well at least for me, Meredith had the much more enlightened agenda of swimming and relaxing lakeside rather than toiling under the Otago sun. And toil I did. The mountains down here may not be very tall for the most part, but man, are they steep. The view from the top paid big dividends though, with vistas over both Lakes Wanaka and Hawea as the snow-capped Southern Alps formed nearly a full circle around the shorter peak. It's important to note at NZ mountains are frequently so close together you really do have to hike to get the best views!
We finished off our sightseeing with a trip up the famous Haast Pass, the most southerly of the three major Alps-crossing passes. The road winds its way up the river that feeds Lake Wanaka as it rises up to a low, but scenic pass. Along the way are the famous "blue pools" sections of the river with white stony bottoms and utterly still waters attract every campervan within 50 miles. I'll go ahead and say it, the pools are overhyped; with so many of NZ's rivers having that iconic grey stony bottom and clear water you can get plenty of beautiful river to yourself in other places.
After a day of stressful sightseeing, we figured we deserved a treat, in the form of a trip to the vineyard we had seen from our kayak the day before. Turns out the vineyard is called Rippon, and while the tastings may be free (side note: how do I get a job hosting wine tastings?) any visit won't be complete without buying a couple bottles for later. We fell in love with their ostiner picnic wine.
Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was dinner served up from a food cart lot (or the breakfast crepe cart the next morning), maybe it was the locals coming out to play beer-league cricket in the evening, but Wanaka really felt like the kind of place we could lead a happy life. That said it is still very much a resort town with expensive rents and competitive job markets to match. All in though if the stars align we won't hesitate to move to Wanaka.
The Full Nelson
In our city-shopping mode, naturally, we asked just about every kiwi we could find which towns we should be checking out. One that consistently pops up, despite never previously being on our radar, is the small coastal city of Nelson. The phrase "If I could live anywhere else in New Zealand, it'd be Nelson" is not uncommon amongst the natives and it's hard to fault them. Nelson is situated on almost the exact opposite side of the South Island it enjoys a balmy climate (perplexingly as it's just south across the Cook Straight from the notoriously rough weather of Wellington) and is encircled by endless towering mountains and national parks (including the famed Abel Tasman park). Oh, and did I mention it's an absolute mountain biking mecca? Naturally, we had to investigate.
Now Nelson is a loooong way from Dunedin (10+ hours going the fast way) but it presented a good opportunity to check out some crucial parts of the country we haven't seen yet, namely the West Coast. We loaded up and took off right after work on a Saturday (had to make the most of my rugged 2 days on 5 days off schedule) and beelined basically right back the way we came in our last trip through Wanaka and over Haast Pass...We may be getting a little too familiar with all the routes through central Otago.
We made camp just over the top of the pass and at the beginning of the country's most scenic drives: the West Coast. It's 5 hours of New Zealand's most rugged and remote landscapes along this stretch from Haast Pass to Greymouth (the only thing resembling a city in the entire region), and it surpassed the hype. All along the West Coast, the Southern Alps descend from their highest points directly down to the Tasman Sea providing ceaseless, staggering panoramas around every bend. A highlight, as many people will tell you are the two main glaciers in the area that descend from the Mt. Cook highland areas. We took a little detour to check out the view up to Fox Glacier, it was particularly striking because the flora is quite tropical on the West Coast with palms and ferns in abundance, but you look across a valley and there is a gargantuan pile of shifting ice carving it's way thousands of meters down the mountain. That's New Zealand for you tropical and alpine all in one view.
After hours cutesy townships, remote parks, and secluded tropical beaches (enough to have us ready to come back and spend some more substantial time on the West Coast) we wound our way through the mountains to one of New Zealand's best-kept secrets: Nelson. If Dunedin's like Boulder then Nelson is like Golden. It may not rightly be called a "city" but it's a big enough town to have everything you need and then some. Indeed, while we immediately enjoyed the warm tropical breezes, light humidity, warm ocean waters (holy cow, how can the ocean be so much warmer up there?!), and mountain views the town had us seriously impressed. Walking around downtown had us debating if Nelson (at less than half the population) has a better food scene than the mighty Dunedin. It felt as though every little alley we walked down had a restaurant we wanted to try out, a key city selling point for a couple of gluttonous yanks like ourselves.
Being known as one of the country's top mountain biking destinations you can bet that I was going to line up some good rides while I was there. As my coworker from Nelson says of his hometown trails "It's all good, and there's a lot of it." Simple words that describe a simply great trail system. That said, I also encountered something I'd never seen before on these trails, "Forest Access Permits" for trail users. In practice, it means that the local mountain bike club has money to have a full-time digger for trail building and maintenance. But that also mean's that they're much more likely to carve up a whole mountainside to build a bermed out track. It runs pretty counter to my preferred system of grassroots trail development and view of cyclists as conservationists. That said there were still miles upon miles of handbuilt trails to satiate myself with, and I had only scratched the surface.
After a good couple days of camping around town, laying on the beach, hiking, riding, and debating where we were going to eat next, Nelson was looking pretty rosy as a place to hang our hats. Another key feature of this seaside town, it's cheap. All in, rents are low and jobs appear plentiful which means, unlike Wanaka, we won't need to have quite so many stars align to make the move to Nelson. The debate continues but I expect we'll head out to one of these two towns at the end of January.
In true road trip spirit you know we wouldn't just take the most direct route back home, right? Having previously knocked out Lewis Pass on our way down we figured we'd complete our tour of Trans-Alp passes and take the route over Arthur's Pass. Let me tell you, if you can only take one drive through the Southern Alps it should probably be the one over Arthur's. Much like Lewis and Haast passes the road winds up a river valley that tightens as you climb. But with Arthur's the valley closes in much tighter and you rise above treeline at the top; at one point a waterfall cascades down the roadside cliff hits a duct that then has it dump over the highway, pretty epic! It all culminates when you hit the viaduct at the top that is a serious feat of engineering swooping above scree fields as you clear the top of the pass. Oh, and once you're over it you'll enjoy a casual drive through the Craigieburn Forest whose lofty peaks are home to many of New Zealand's ski areas.
After a day of epic driving, we made camp at Rakia gorge which pretty much proves my point about the Blue Pools being overrated. The campsite sits in the gorge of a large, braided river with brilliant blue waters running over grey stones. No tourist trap needed! This spot also had the key selling point of being near a critical landmark: Edoras.
Now if you're like me, you believe that the most iconic scenes from Lord Of The Rings were the ones of Gandalf & Co galloping through Rohan over tussock covered landscapes with towering mountains shining in the background. So of course, I was excited to see the center of it all, the filming location for the capital, Edoras.
Be warned, if you go seeking this filming location it is in the middle of goddamned nowhere, but man is it worth the trip. We'd been driving up backcountry dirt roads for nearly an hour when we came over a rise and into the valley that overlooked the set. The set for the city itself was built on a small hill, called Mt. Sunday, in the middle of a wide plain surrounded on three sides by towering peaks. It immediately took the top spot for "most recognizable shooting location". We were glad to learn that LOTR fans are more than welcome to drive right on out there and climb to the top of Mt. Sunday to soak in the views from Theoden's (former) palace. On the whole, we were really impressed that they were able to build something resembling a city on that little hill, not only is it far from anywhere that could supply materials, but it was also incredibly steep. Just goes to show you the chutzpah of that went into making those films.
So here we are. Having city shopped probably as much as we will before our next move, changing to a week on week off traveling schedule, and enjoying the ever improving weather (and life) down in Dunedin. It's amazing that we're already three months in, time really does fly. That said, I'm pretty convinced it's just the summery weather down here that is saving us from real holiday homesickness. Somehow, seeing Santa decorations along the palm-lined beach doesn't beckon "home for the holidays" in quite the same way. Thanks for reading, hopefully that good god Ullr decides to hook you Coloradoans up with some good snow here soon!
Our Route:
Tips For Prospective NZ Travelers:
- The West Coast is known as a stellar drive, but it's an even better place to explore. Leave plenty of time to camp, hike, maybe even helicopter while you're there.
- Arthur's Pass is without a doubt the most scenic pass over the Southern Alps. If you can only do one, do that. Plus the drive down through Craigieburn is insane.
- Rakia Gorge campground is a fine example of what all private campgrounds should aim for. If you're in the area, stay there.
- If you're riding in Nelson you will want to get a forest access permit, and you may not see signs till you're well out on your ride. Love the system or hate it, it'll be best to snag a permit from a local shop right when you get to town.
- Ride the Dun Mountain Trail counter-clockwise (starting at The Brook and ending at the Maitai Reservoir)...I learned this one the hard way.
- The Brook campground is the better site in Nelson for mountain biking, the Maitai site is good but not quite as well located.
- Don't trust New Zealand Mexican food ever...We're pretty much ready to swear it off at this point.
- The Running Duck in Geraldine. It's in the middle of nowhere, and it has New Zealand's best burger. The gauntlet. has. been. thrown. down!