14-19 February, Akaroa through Christchurch

14-19 February, Akaroa to Christchurch

Banks Peninsula is an ancient volcanic cinder cone system. The cinders have had time to compress into a sandstone type rock. A few of the calderas weathered, collapsed and opened to the sea. This produced long narrow inlets combined with arid hills and valleys reminiscent of the eastern Washington and Oregon Cascades, the northern central California Sierra foothills or even the San Jose area; Dry arid hills sculpted by some ancient rains is the picture I’m trying to paint here. Before Europeans denuded the region it was forested by a variety of drought tolerant trees and shrubs. The Maori mostly had fishing settlements along the coastline.

French settlers entered the most seaward inlet and founded the village of Akaroa near the inner end. The inlet is about 20 kilometers long and maybe two to three kilometers wide. The shoreline is irregular and accessible. Nowadays the area is primarily a get-away community for Christchurch. Lots of tramps, bike trails, cafés, marinas, and very little fresh water…

We found an amazing little butcher shop in the village. JD threw together a nice little Valentines dinner: Minced lamb skewers with lightly spiced peanut sauce and garlic-venison-cherry sausages accompanied by garlic roasted veggies along with our last bottle of TeAwa pinotage. Roughing it is really not so bad… The real joy is that since tomorrow will be today in the states, we get to have Valentines again!

Had we mentioned the deer farms? There are numerous Red Deer farms throughout the country. Sometimes they share pasture with sheep and/or cattle, oftentimes they are in their own pasture. You can always tell the deer pasture by the really high fencing… domesticated venison is surprisingly delicate in texture and flavor. There is no similarity to wild venison “gaminess” or dryness. These deer don’t forage erratically or spend a lot of time running from predators.

Before dinner we worked up an appetite tramping out the Owena peninsula (JD thinks it is more of a hilly spit), which put us into Akaroa harbour. The hike brought us to a hillock with a stunning 360-degree view around the harbour. You need to time the hike to avoid high tide; otherwise you get to hang out for an extra hour or so waiting for the trail to reappear.

Less than 90 kilometers puts us into Christchurch. “The” city on the south island, Christchurch has a user-friendly layout, and a decent public transport system, and a bit of history and flavor. Our hostel is located just across from the botanical gardens and a large park. The botanical gardens have been incredible. You do have to give the British credit when it comes to long-term vision for gardens. Trees are planted with how they will look in the next century kept in mind. Kilometers of walking paths, sitting areas, monuments, and huge open spaces for picnics and events.

Kimberly has been plagued by a strong reaction to the sand fly bites of last week. Large angry itchy vesicles that make her somewhat insane and prevent her from sleeping have erupted across her hands and arms. She spoke to a local naturopath as well as researching a bit on line to confirm it was just a strong reaction. Topical itch lotions and a tea-tree oil relative to prevent infection if a vesicle opens up is all she can do until they go away. It can take two to four weeks. She is really not keen on sand flies at the moment… Most locals just say “Been on the west coast have you?” and nod knowingly.

We drive to Port Hills to check out the local climbing action. The climbing is on a group of outcrops on a ridge high above the city, yet only twenty minutes out. We left some mostly fine weather and drove up into a misty, howling 40mph wind and ambient 50 degree F nastiness. The rock has potential, grippy and solid, but the conditions really bite… We admire the view, quickly, and take a scenic drive back around to the city. We catch a movie, the cheap matinee was only $14.50 each, “Music & Lyrics”. Cute and funny to anyone over 35 who actually lived through the eighties.

Saturday is the first fine day we have had in weeks! A casual stroll through the botanical gardens, a quick jaunt in the museum, and a moment to watch some of the buskers performing. While catching up on local news and enjoying a mocha, two stories of tourist stupidity stand out:

Story one: over at the Franz Joseph glacier two tourists, an Aussie and New Caledonian, decided to cross three separate, well marked and large barriers, along with passing no less than twelve “Absolutely Do Not Enter, Death May Occur” signs to explore an ice cave at the base of the glacier terminus. Not surprisingly, part of the cave roof collapsed, partially crushing the one genius, and breaking the leg of the other. The broken legged Einstein managed to drag his buddy to the cave entrance. Certified guides on the “safer” trail along the glacier heard the cries for help and risked their own lives to rappel down and pull these idiots away from the cave entrance. The same cave entrance that continues to randomly drop assorted lethally sized ice chunks 24/7. The guides all agreed that none of them would have actually entered the cave to save these guys. No rescue service would have either. At least they weren’t Yanks…

The next story, while less dramatic, still makes you wonder what short circuits exist in certain brains. Remember our description of the tramps around Doubtful and Milford Sounds? Considered the most challenging and advanced tramps in a country that prides itself on the diversity and quantity of its hiking system. The shear inaccessibility of the trailheads alone prevents most trampers from even attempting these routes.

Quick background info: If you rent a locator beacon, similar to an avalanche beacon but with a longer range, you are “insured” for rescue should something unexpected happen. Fall into a crevasse or break a limb, get really lost, or whatever, press your “I’ve fallen and can’t get up” button and a helicopter with rescue team will be dispatched to pull your ass out of the fire. Cost is about $35-40 NZ.

OK, time for story #2: A woman of unknown nationality had been “rescued” from deep in the fiordland on the Milford Track with a blown knee. She and her companion both had beacons. Insurance doing its job, right? Nope- insurance abuse at its finest. Turns out the woman had just had major reconstructive knee surgery three weeks prior to this hike. Her doctors all told her no strenuous activity during rehab. I don’t know about anyone else, however I would consider attempting what is agreed to be the HARDEST HIKE IN THE ENTIRE COUNTRY a strenuous activity… While the rescue team was saving this person from herself, there could have easily been a real emergency that needed addressed. Heli’s are not cheap, nor are rescue professionals. Any time you are flying nap of the earth in a steep mountainous environment there is a measurable probability of something untoward happening.

We decided to check out the local nightlife for our last Saturday in country. Perusing a live music guide we found an indoor/outdoor pub with acoustic rock. There was a stag party in progress when we arrived. The groom-to-be was a fit twenty something whose mates dressed him up as “Borat”, with a mesh wife-beater T-shirt, short-short denim shorts, and one of those neon Japanese over-shoulder thong Mankini’s… He was having a very good time. A small group of Asian tourists came in and lost their minds when they saw him. The girls all surrounded this guy for photo ops with video, camera and camera phones. The party was highly entertaining, and JD was bummed that the one time his camera was not attached to his arm was the one time he really needed it… bummer mates, no pics of this evening. The next pub was another one of those surreal moments: Irish bar called Sullivan’s with an early Grunge looking band playing Johnny Cash covers.

Sunday we returned the rental car. No speed photos to date, nor any new dings or dents. Next to the airport is the International Antarctic Exhibition. They have a minus 25 C wind chill tunnel, a penguin rescue, and a number of informative and interactive Antarctic exhibits. Christchurch is the staging, support, and departure point for almost all of the Antarctic science and exploration teams from all nations.

One full day left and then we wind down our New Zealand trip. We have an O’dark thirty departure for Sydney on Tuesday morning.

More Photos: East Coast South Island

Trivial Tidbits and Impressions:

Kilometers Driven: 5,230
Photos Taken: 1,860
Hostels slept in: 20
TipTops eaten: 60 (30 each)
Longest drive: 420 kilometers
Sand Flies squashed: 10’s of thousands
Average gas price: $1.43NZ/liter ($5.43NZ/gallon, $4.07 US)
Populations of NZ: 4 million people, 40+ million sheep, 21 million cows
Average UV index: 11 (on a 0-12 scale)
Average air temp: North island: 25C (77F) South island: 18C (64F)
Days in country: 32


New Zealand is indeed a beautiful country. The people are friendly. It is called the land of the long white cloud for a reason. Here, as in Oz, the price you see is the price you pay. The exorbitant GST is built in automatically. Taxes are significant. All meat products are free range. Lots and lots of lush verdant grazing land. Produce has as much, if not more, chemistry on and in it as in the states. We had a blast, however it is time to move on to Oz.

09-13 February: Dunedin to Methvin

09-13 Feb Dunedin to Methvin

We are indeed feeling the post-kayak muscle awareness. JD has a few blisters on his thumbs, and KK is very aware of her traps. Clearly we are seriously buff specimens of humanity. Some of the archival fly bites are really starting to itch. They also form a hard and touch sensitive measle-like bump. Attractive. KK took first turn at he wheel for the drive to Dunedin. She really likes these southern roads. All gentle rolling hill farm country. They are “wide” (there is actually a 2 foot shoulder on each side of the road…) and have minimal traffic. Of course, there are also minimal towns, minimal toilets, and lots of mileage between TipTop ice-cream stands. The maps have little dots with names. These little dots do not always have a physical counterpart in the life-size world. We kept thinking the next village would have a toilet stop. (Almost all have a small public toilet somewhere along their main drag). Unfortunately there never were any next little villages. Farm communities everywhere have a similar profile. This patch of earth will be called Wendon, or Mable Bush, or Cragie Glen, just for a reference point to figure out how far the sheep wandered that day. “Oi!, Katy, the flock has spread all the way to Wee Darby. It’ll take a day to put ‘em back together! I’ll ring up Mick and have him run the dogs and his truck by Clinker Hill…” No real places, just marker points for the locals. (Similar to “make a left just before where Old Man Burns’ barn burned down in ’42)

We rolled into Dunedin around 2pm. A short easy 4 hour drive today. Dunedin was the original Scottish settlement on the South Island. It is built into the hillsides, is mostly cloudy and damp, and everything is made of stone. Ah, we feel at home. The city center is a double octagon, and all directions use The Octagon as a reference point. It is really quite lovely. It is also home to the Speight’s Brewery, and Cadbury Chocolate.

We are staying in an old rectory that was the Bishops residence in the early 1900’s. It is still surrounded by religious schools. It is called Hogwartz… With the innate ability to ignore the drizzle, we walk down the hill to explore the city center. We each only have one pair of long pants, and light spring jackets. It’s about 58 F. Brrrr. It seems like a perfect time to tour the Cadbury chocolate factory… Cadbury has been in Dunedin since the early thirties. The tour was aromatic and informative. They have three constant shifts. It takes 6 months to produce the New Zealand supply of Easter candy, which is consumed in less than a week. We got to wear hair coverings, and JD got to have a “snood” for his facial hair. Stunning. We ended up with a bag of free yummies, as well as a trip through the company store.

We shuffled over to the Speight’s brewery. It was surprisingly expensive, two beers $15.60 NZ! Tasty, but not that tasty… We then wandered into the Octagon to try another lively looking pub. This one had vodka, so KK ordered a Feijoa (Fu-joe-ah, or fee-joe-ah) flavored, shaken and up. We had the alien gibberish deer-in-the-headlight look from the bar gal. KK assumed she couldn’t be heard (there was some loud R&R on) so she repeated it loudly and slowly. The bar maid smiled vacuously and asked “so would you like that on ice?” JD, ever the international diplomat and interpreter, realized the international incident this communication disaster was about to unleash. (Coffee ordering we could get, heck people from Montana can’t necessarily order a coffee in Washington… but cocktails are shaken and served up in every western country that has distilled spirits!) Using advanced mime skills, pictograms (not unlike the ones pasted to the outside of Voyager 1) and single syllable words, made the unsuspecting bar gal understand a brand new method of serving a cocktail…

Anyway, Feijoa is a New Zealand fruit that is in season two to three weeks per year, can only be harvested when ripe, and lasts about 24 hours off the tree. Many people on the north island have a feijoa tree. A mature tree can produce over a thousand fruits with ease. By the end of “ripe” month you can’t pay someone to take your excess feijoa. The local papers have lists of feijoa recipes: cake, preserves, breads, stews, kebobs, face cream, enemas (ok, no fruit enemas…though I am sure it would work in southern California…), and hundreds of other things to do with your ripe feijoa. As a vodka flavor it is vaguely reminiscent of teaberry. The actual fruit, which we had as a preserve at Chris & Tina’s, is more citrus than teaberry, and had a slight buttery texture. It was quite delicious. A neighbor with a feijoa tree is like a neighbor who has planted too many squash and zucchini. They are happy to give away as much as you can carry.

Saturday we awake to a gray mist, and it’s not from morning breath. We are in Scotland! We haven’t yet seen Nearly Headless Nick, or Dumbledore, but we are looking… It’s cold and drizzly. Today we are off to watch a 15-band pipe & drum competition being held in the octagon. We also found a great internet café, with reasonably priced coffee and wireless. JD catches up on photo labeling, but can’t seem to get the blog interface working. It is a problem on Blogger’s end… It worked well enough to post, add photos, etc, it just wouldn’t save the work. An hour of WiFi time pissed away…

We have both finished our latest books and have been in search of replacements. The hostel book exchanges have not been fruitful here on the south island (More action junkies here, rather than the laid-back introspectors of the north island…). A newer paperback will set you back $25-$40 NZ… Yep up to $30 US for a paperback. We are, luckily enough, in a college town (30,000 students at Otanga University) so 2nd hand bookstores are all about.

We found a “discount” bookseller as well. KK decided since we are staying at Hogwartz, and the final book is out in July, to reread book 6 of Harry Potter. On sale it was only $19.90NZ.

Sunday had a weather shift: It was misty and gray, rather than gray ad misty… We spent the morning catching up on writing, staring at the walls, and otherwise being non-productive. We offered to take a couple of other wanderers out the Otanga peninsula to find some penguins.

Angelina was a young teacher from North Carolina; Simon was getting ready for grad school in Ohio. She had been a third grade teacher for a few years back in the states, and was now looking for a Kiwi to marry… She absolutely loved this country and really was not planning to leave. He starts school in March, and was getting his last sights in before he was off to Ohio. Angelina was one of those eternally happy people. She was so excited with our little jaunt, regularly exclaiming how this was “the best day ever!”. You could tell she meant it. We both think she approaches life with this attitude every single day. Not a bad way to view things at all. We have decided to have many more best days ever.

The Otanga peninsula runs about 45 kilometers out from Dunedin. The tip is home to the only mainland based giant albatross rookery in the world. It is also home to the largest wild population of the endangered yellow-eyed penguin, as well as recently re-established (returned after a 50-70 year absence…) Hooker sea lion breeding beaches. We enjoyed a scenic ride out, with the sun making cameo appearances. We left Dunedid in the late afternoon. The penguin’s return to the nesting grounds 2 hours or so before nightfall, currently around 7:45-8:00. The yellow-eyed are a skittish species, and the DOC (Seemingly the most powerful individual government department, the Department of Conservation, controls, directs and is responsible for over one third of the whole country…) has special tracks (trails) and blinds to watch the penguins from. If the returning birds see any movement on or near the beach, they won’t come out of the water. The blind is set up about 100 meters (Football field or so) from the nesting area, midway up on the side of a hill. Flash photography is discouraged because it freaks the birds out, and may cause them to abandon their nest(s). Non-professional flashes are not really useful past 10-15 feet, though easily seen for hundreds. The sun had been becoming less and less afraid, with a persisting wind hanging on at 25-35mph, and it was cold. Really cold. Almost snotsickle cold. Brrrrr. We patiently waited for over two hours, and did see three or four of the beasties. One of which was actually already hanging out on the hillside when we arrived. He hung out in the same spot. Every so often he would move his head to scratch his armpit (wingpit?). After an hour and a half, he “oozed” onto his belly. After a brief rest, he stood back up. Slow deliberate reps, the secret of physical fitness… Activity is additive.

JD missed having a really long lens on his camera (A mounted 1,000mm or 1600mm would have been perfect… Birthday hint?), and is depending on the file density to be able to find the birds in his photos. You be the judge…

We are able to slow down a bit now. A short drive, 120k, brought us to Omaru, a small seaside farming community. We stayed on a working hobby farm. Sheep and alpaca. Sheep were primarily for food, alpaca for fiber.

We learned that specific breeds of sheep drop hair naturally, while others need to be shorn. The hair droppers are meat sheep, while wool sheep get trimmed every nine months or so. Rams are almost always meat, as you only need one to “service” a large number of ewes. Kimberly wondered about the apparent “maleness” of the rams visually. No neuticals here… Baseballs maybe. JD felt that since a ram had lots to do during the fertile time it would need a larger supply depot… What Would Ira Say? (Ira is an east coast veterinarian friend whom we enjoy calling late at night with all sorts of critter questions…)

I don’t think I had mentioned the one real negative to our mouse powered muscle car: The radio is Japanese. Made in Japan is not the issue. It is set for Japanese frequencies… Here, as well as in Oz and North America, FM band reception covers from the mid 80’s to around 107.9. It utilizes the odd numbers 96.5, 98.3, 102.5, etc. This radio covers 70.0 to 90.0, in one step increments. Unless a station is at the “bottom” of the dial, we get nothing…

This being said, we have found New Zealand talk radio! It is funny shit. There is a different level of censoring, and as long as you’re not dropping the F-bomb you can pretty much say what you want. We got to listen to a few topics mostly dealing with local Kiwi issues. What we really loved was the “white trash story of the week”: A local farmhand was feeling a bit randy. He called up a hooker for take-away (prostitution is legal here). A younger, twenty-something, lass made the house-call to his caravan, situated on the farm he was working at the time. After the “job”, he wouldn’t pay. He claimed he had no money. Here is where it gets entertaining; She went home and told her mum she had been “stiffed”. Her mum (age 40) called a couple of mates and off they all went to the farmhand’s caravan. She calmly explained the concept of capitalism to the young man, and he reasonably discussed the theory of customer satisfaction and when to cut your losses. Quite the economic summit… No, this is not how it went… Remember the riots in Seattle a few years ago during the big WTO summit? The people smashing the windows and burning the cars had absolutely no direct connection with the economics being discussed. Imagine if they did… After Mumsy couldn’t get blood from the stone, (Farmboy stuck with his “gots no money” story) she and her mates pulled out a couple of baseball bats and beat the crap out of Farmboy’s car. (You thought it was going somewhere else, didn’t you… this is a civilized country after all…LOL). Farmboy then fired up a nearby tractor and played Monster Truck Challenge on Mumsy’s car. Farmboy then called the cops. Everyone was arrested. Farmboy had a least five counts brought against him, including: “Incurring debt by deception”, intent to defraud, vandalism, and burglary. Mumsy was charged with vandalism, assault, and setting a bad example (ok, I made the last one up…) He is doing some jail time, Mumsy had to pay for his car. The hooker never did collect.

Callers had a field day with this story. One fellow brought up if you are dissatisfied with a contractors work, you are not obligated to pay… Others brought up fee for time, no guarantees implied. KK felt if the farmboy “finished”, he was satisfied… JD sided with the magistrate: If you call out a service person, any profession, with the intent to not pay, your personal satisfaction with the job is a moot point. Pay the fine, and do the time.

We then meandered to Methvin, a ski town near four of the south islands ski destinations. Ski towns are great places to go off-season. As long as there are some summer activities, biking, hiking, etc, the local businesses stay open. Rates are always better, people very laid back, and certainly less crowded. All was mellow in the little off-season ski town. We met a German couple who where just finishing a six-month stint that had included Central America, and a young Swedish couple who had just finished 6 weeks in Thailand and were just starting 5 weeks here, with a passage through NYC on their way home in a couple of months. From here we are off to the Banks Peninsula, an old volcanic cone just east of Christchurch. We have six days left before we’re off to Oz.

More Photos: South Island East Coast

02-08 February 2007, Picton to Doubtful Sound

02 Feb-08 Feb, Picton to Manapouri (Doubtful Sound)

The Interislander ferry is similar to Canadian ferries. Posh, carpeted, tons of amenities: coffee, lounge, restaurant, movie theater, sun decks, atriums with tables, reclining lounge-style seating. It can hold about a thousand vehicles, depending on the volume of semi’s, and another 1600 passengers. It has 8 serviceable decks, with vehicles parked on 5. A complicated arrangement of ramps and movable plates allow for two levels of vehicles per deck. It is quit the system. They can completely load the vessel in less than an hour, and disembark in even less time than that. It is a comfortable 3.5-hour cruise across the straight. It can be quite the adventure in windy weather. Yesterday would not have been a pleasant day, winds up to 40 knots and westerly swells… I am sure green was the color of the day. We grabbed a couple of tall blacks and relaxed in the aft atrium on deck 8. The movie was Happy Feet, and we had already seen it before we left the states.

Wait a minute you say- Tall Blacks? - Welcome to coffee down under. We finally have a limited grasp of ordering coffee in Oceana. Short black, tall black, short white, tall white, with one, with two, cap, machiatto, mocha… Being from Seattle we should have all coffee lingo hardwired. Nope. A single straight shot is a short. White is cream or creamer type powder. Tall is americano. With refers to how many sugars. All coffee is in 8 ounce cups, or 10 depending upon café. Drip is “filter” coffee, and the stigma is so great it is almost impossible to find. Decaf is another rare and elusive breed. Most decaf is instant, which is not too bad in general. Virtually all coffee, short or tall, black or white, with or without, is $3-4 NZ. Add 50 cents for decaf, and if a mocha, add another 50 cents for soymilk… The look JD got the first time he asked for a decaf grande soy mocha… Green swamp creatures receive more comprehension. We have adapted.

Some other observations/interpretations of Kiwiana:

“Taking the Piss”: Good-natured ribbing, you are expected to receive as good as you give.
“Good on ya”: multi purpose phrase, similar to “No Worries”, Aussie in origin, generally means “no problem”, ‘It’s ok”, “No Bother”, etc.
“Cheers”: Thanks, buh-bye, no worries, you’re welcome.

Rugby- Top of the national focus, followed in descending order by family, God, drink. The national all-pro team is called the All Blacks. If they lose at the international level, the NZ stock market will actually dip a significant percentage. The worst possible loss is to Australia.

Speed cameras: Randomly placed, concealed cameras that take a picture of any vehicle exceeding the posted speed limit. You don’t know you have a ticket until it shows up in the mail… We don’t now if there is a 10kph grace or not… Hopefully we won’t need to find out.

We head to the northwest corner of the South Island. It is an area with one road in, same road out. Sixty some-odd kilometers of steep twisty uphill, then downhill. The region is called Golden Bay. This is where all the Woodstock ex-pats and wannabe’s have set up shop. Very laid back. We started in Takaka, which was getting ready to have a Saturday Mardi Gras. We had a pub dinner and got to watch the US get creamed by Fiji in sevens. (37-0). (For you non-ruggers, sevens is a 22 minute, 2 minute half, seven on seven game. Same contact, same scoring, same blood on the grass, no scrum, no time outs.)

We started the day off with a visit to the local rock (climbing) shop, Hangdog (www.homepages.paradise.net.nz/hangdog.camp). A guy from New Paltz (NY) was behind the counter. He hooked us up with the local guide book, and was able to really make clear the translation of the Yosemite ratings to Aussie/Kiwi ratings. We then hit the rock right over the bay. Admiring the view was spectacular (At the top of a climb, you must always take a moment and “admire the view”). We ran four different routes, finishing on a 26 meter 16+ (5.8+) with a bell at the top. The rock was a layered crenellated limestone, complete with fossils. It was a climb up the geological history of the island. Full pressed limestone, followed by gravel conglomerate, the sandstone, more limestone and topped by conglomerate. (Ocean, ice age, ocean, ice age, ocean, volcanic uplift, ice age…) Our fingers were tender by the end of the afternoon. The insects on this island are actually turned on by our bug juice. We had a few bites, applied the spritz, then had a small swarm of mozzies (No malaria or west Nile here yet…). Disturbing.

I always thought Mardi gras was the Tuesday before Lent, but with the time and date changes, maybe it was... Jerry Garcia is not dead. He was here playing with a drum group. Here’s a picture. We watched a bit of the pre-funk and headed further out the bay to our next nights lodging. (In our continuing gift of timing, we arrived in a tiny town during the same weekend as the Big Summer Party, Mardi gras, and the local school all-years reunion…) There was really not much going on at the end of the road (literally), but we did have our smallest scoop of TipTop ice cream for the largest price so far… The town library was only open an Tuesday and Saturday form 11am to 1pm. We did enjoy a nice bottle of shank with the sunset.

On our way back through Takaka we stopped off at a different climbing site and ran a few routes before the drive southward. Same yet different rock. Being a touch further inland it didn’t have quite the same erosion characteristics. Less “sticky”, but fun nonetheless.

During our drive we saw our first Weyerhaeuser NZ sign. We have seen lots of clear cuts from the southern North Island down, but this was the first to ID any particular company. There is a surprisingly lax replanting guideline for a “green” country. You can certainly tell were timber harvest has occurred and replanting has been done. The trees are in orderly cornrows up the side of a hill or mountain. At the same time there are many places where the total hillside is denuded. No bushes, stand trees, grasses, stumps, nothing. Every so often a slash pile was left. Its as if the “full sun regeneration” philosophy is hard at work. At least the Weyerhaeuser clearings had seedlings…

We stopped off in a random forest picnic area for a pee break and picnic. Upon exiting the car JD was immediately covered in nasty biting little black flies. It was like a bad seventies horror movie (Swarm IIX, the Black Cloud of Death) KK didn’t believe him, and thought he was exaggerating. (JD is usually exempt from bites; don’t know why…though KK has some personal green house theories) He wasn’t making it up; part of the cloud followed him back into the car. We spent the next ten kilometers killing these most persistent little critters. They don’t annoy. They land, they bite. They don’t circle, don’t walk around, or prospect for the juiciest bit. They land, and then they bite, period.

We stop off to see a seal colony near Westport. The seals have just finished the birthing season so there are lots of pups playing on the rocks. They have three distinct games: Chase, King of the Rock, and Follow the Leader. The flies discover us once more, time to hit the road.

Our nights’ lodging is a cabin in the seaside jungle. A short walk through the forest takes you to a washed pebble beach, replete with wind and wave carved formations, a sea cave or two, and a little waterfall. We are hoping to catch the sunset in an hour or so. We have coated ourselves in bug juice. It doesn’t have any effect whatsoever. We are human pincushions. We have learned the name of our nemesis. It is SANDFLY. They plague the entire west coast, and have since before the Maori arrived.

JD has a theory: Each time you crush a sandfly it releases a burst of pheromone that attracts any nearby flies to seek revenge. If you let it bite and go, it releases a burst of pheromones that attracts all nearby flies to get a free meal… We abort the sunset plan and head back to the cabin. We meet our roommates, Urs and Gabi form Switzerland. They have been bicycling around the South Island for a few weeks. They put on the long sleeves and go for the sunset. They make it, but not without a few battle scars around the face, wrists and ankles.

It turns out Urs teaches photography at a university, we never did find out what Gabi does. He and JD swapped camera trivia and photo manipulation tips. Both well in touch with their inner geeks. We hit the road to visit Pancake Rocks. Pancake Rocks is another limestone formation with a shelved erosion pattern. During hide tide and southwesterly swell it also has a rather energetic blowhole area. We passed through during low tide, and did not feel we could wait the 4 hours to the next high. They were an impressive formation, even without the blowhole going. A short walk also put us into a short cave system, which we explored for a bit as well (Always have headlamps and mini-mags, you just never know…). Had we mentioned KK started driving today? She was only a mildly nervous wreck. There is a learning curve to the opposite side. She just needs to get used to the oncoming traffic, especially trucks.

Our plan was to spend a few nights in Hokatiki, home of west-coast greenstone (NZ Jade). We wanted to take a carving class, make a neat piece of stone jewelry. Do you ever feel you never get the memo? Miss the news? Are out of the loop? We figured lodging on a Monday night would be no issue… As it turns out there is another national holiday this weekend. Waitangi Day (Remember the Maori-British treaty with two versions?). Tuesday is the actual holiday, giving everyone a four-day weekend… We are on the major recreational coast for the South Island during a glorious sunny weekend. NO Vacancy. Anywhere. For FOUR HUNDRED AND TWENTY KILOMETERS… It was supposed to be a short drive day. It wasn’t. We made the best of it, stopping to see the Fox Glacier and occasional scenic wonder. We rolled by a little backwoods, middle-of-nowhere, hunting/fishing motel around 8:45pm. They had a room. We took it. It had a very nice lake, only a few hundred sandflies, and it was quite. It was called Lake Paringa Resort: Five cabins, a few canoes, a boat ramp, and some seriously “rump-sprung” mattresses. Just like sleeping in an egg. Better than sleeping in the car.

We cruised on south to Queenstown, adventure capitol of NZ. Home of Bungee jumping, street luge, parasailing, paragliding, and any other outdoor activity that may or may not cause irreversible brain damage and possibly death. The trip down took us through high desert. Just like Eastern Oregon, Eastern Washington, and Southern Idaho. Rounded volcanic hills with dry scrub grasses. It was hot.

We stopped at Puzzle World, home of the first, and one of the longest, outdoor mazes. We worked the maze, and enjoyed the hall of illusion. They have a psychic challenge in place: Find the two hidden portions of a $100,000 promissory note. They are both within 100 meters of Puzzle World. Put up $1,000 NZ, spend thirty minutes asking the man who hid them questions (he will not speak his answers, only think them… and he is behind a screen.), then you have an hour to find the pieces. If you don’t, the $1,000 goes to charity. If you find them, you get $101,000. Six people have tried, none have succeeded. We decided to keep our psychic abilities to ourselves.

It’s a long way between places on the South Island. After a nice desert drive we arrive lakeside in the action resort mecca of Queenstown. Lodging is once again tight. We do find a decent place, a short walk into town. Today is the actual holiday. A number of establishments have a sign up mentioning a 15 or 20% surcharge on public holidays. We have seen this before. The publican at a watering hole fills us in on the details.

First, a little NZ financial background: The national minimum wage for anyone over 18 is $11.60 per hour (I have seen a couple of different sources, with different amounts, so I split the difference…) It is going up to $12.00/hour April 1. This minimum wage applies no matter the sector of your job. If you are scooping ice cream, digging ditches, or waiting tables this is the lowest you can make. (This is why it is so damn expensive to eat out…) Additionally, all employees will be granted 4 weeks vacation, minimum, per year, regardless of job position and experience.

On public holidays, every working employee must be paid time and a half. Many eateries and some retail will actually close. Most others charge the extra 15-20%, as well as eliminate happy hour and other specials in order to mitigate the extra payroll expense. A few places choose to suck up the surcharge, and do advertise the fact. Needless to say they end up being the only places with custom during the holiday.

We have learned to make arrangements ahead of time. Our kayak trip is booked for Thursday, and lodging is set up for both Wed and Thurs nights. Wednesday morning we are wandering Queenstown, enjoying the local flavor, and wander back to the car. It was time for lunch. Small resort towns everywhere (JD grew up in one…) make their money from tourists, all ways. A parking ticket was under the wiper. It was, according to the ticket, a short-term space. No signs. No way to fight (because you’re leaving town…). Our neon-signed rental car (we have mentioned the giant EZY RENTAL decal in the back window?) says: “Ticket me! I have to pay without an argument.”

JD moves the car to a marked thirty-minute space and grumbles off to the ticket pay station down the street. We skip lunch in town, and head to “Bungee Bridge”, home of the first bungee company. We watch a few jumpers, and then grab a nice pub lunch on the way to Manapouri, our next stop, and a gateway to Doubtful Sound.

Manapouri is a small farm/eco-tourist community on the southern shore of Lake Manapouri. 2nd deepest, 5th largest lake in the country. Its real claim to fame is its access to Doubtful Sound. Doubtful was named by good ‘ole Captain Cook in the 1700’s. He was “doubtful” there was enough wind inside to blow the ship back out, so he never went in.

This, along with 14 other “sounds” march along the southwest coast. (Nautically, he misnamed the sounds, they are all fiords, Glacially carved cutouts with steep sides, immediately filled with ocean upon glacier retreat… A sound is a broad river valley flooded by ocean, generally shallow- less than 80 meters). Anyway, until the 70’s the only way to the sound was by ocean (178 nautical miles to the nearest port through “lively” seas), or a multi-day tramp through some very imposing and rugged terrain. Doubtful gets 8 meters of rain a year (800 centimeters, 315 inches…). This rainfall occurs over an average of 206 days. There have been single days with 180cm (70 inches) and just last year, a six-hour period with 128cm (50 inches). That is wet. Even to a Seattleite.

The building of the Manapouri hydroelectric plant is what “opened” this area up. A 22k road was drilled into the wilderness (it took three years to find the pass over to the sound…) at a cost of $4.35 US per inch. The only way to bring the heavy equipment and material was to barge it into Doubtful sound, unload it onto crawlers, and haul it over to the lake. Sometimes the trip over the pass would take the crawlers two days. Then, as now, rains regularly washed the road out, causing delays while the road was repaired. The finished plant is as fine an example of eco-conscious construction as could be managed. It is literally built into the mountainside, minimally exposed concrete, natural flora replanted everywhere around it, and the water outflow is designed to mimic the natural rise and fall of the lake level during the seasons. The plant generates over 800MW. After construction, a few kayak and tour boat operators received permission to use the road, provided they contribute to maintenance. To get to the sound requires a 45-minute boat ride across the lake, a 45-minute bus ride across the pass, then onto another boat in the sound.

We arrive at the kayak place (www.fiordlandadventures.co.nz) at 7:35am… It is brisk and misty. We are in a group of 7 day trippers. A group of 6 overnighters is leaving with us as well. A short van ride to the docks and onto the lake boat. As we disembark by the power station the flies appear en mass. They are on everyone. We had picked up another bug juice, this one with all the plant extracts plus fatty acids and diatomaceous earth. Theoretically if the nasties do land, they can’t bite through the oils and particulate. It seems to work. The shuttle bus to the sound has little signs posted throughout asking you to not squash sandflies against the windows.

We also get a little insight to the origins of the little winged demons. Maori legend describes the formation of Fiordland as the work of a demi-god, Tu Te Raki Whanoa, who carved out the fiords with his adze and some help from the sea gods. He was quite proud of his work, and invited all to admire it. Humans were overstaying their welcome, and not leaving. He asked the guardian of Hell for some assistance and she released the sandflies. They are designed to teach humans respect for mortality and appreciate the mobility and dynamic nature of life. (“Keep moving and you won’t get eaten”) Now that we know the little spawns of hell are just doing their job, It’s all right… No it’s not. We will continue to crush them without remorse.

The new bug juice does really seem to be effective. We broke down and purchased a DEET product as a back-up (Nuclear option, hopefully will never be used…). We are squeezed into wetsuits and thermals, as well as a storm anorak. Only our heads and hands are exposed. We timed our journey well. Today’s conditions were as perfect as they can be this time of year. Cooler, mildly overcast, no rain, no wind, and just approaching low tide slack. It’s like paddling on a mirror. We spot a fur seal right off the bat, and a large pod of bottlenose dolphins are playing throughout the arms of the sound. We are two-up in a boat, and we don’t kill each other. It’s all good.

One of the indigenous species to be hit by imported mammalian is the mountain parrot. The Kea has survived ice ages, floods, volcanoes, and fire. It is naturally curious, and will try to eat anything. That is the secret of it’s adaptability, and it downfall. The stoat (a weasel like critter) was “introduced” to keep the mouse and rabbit populations under control. They also like eggs and baby birds. Keas had no predators like the stoat, so they had never developed a defense. Between logging and stoats the wild population was decimated. This area is one of the few were the Kea is strong. There are also thousands of wire stoat traps throughout the reserve. Teenage Kea’s are known for hanging around car parks vandalizing… Yep, they try to eat windshield wipers, shoes, boxes, coolers, hats, glasses, gloves, etc. Well meaning people throw them sugary snacks, which they gobble up. Just like any other kid on sugar they need to burn it off.

The fresh water that builds up from the rains, as well as the release from the hydro plant, leave a layer of fresh water 1 to 10 meters deep on top of the seawater. The volume of plant life that is constantly washed releases a significant volume of tannins (the same chemical that colors tea). This layer of “dark water” is a large sun filter. In this sound you find the same deep ocean life at 12 meters that would only live below 70 meters at sea. This makes researchers very happy. They can follow sport dive protocol and observe a wide variety of critters, without special dive equipment.

We paddle over 15 kilometers (10 miles or so). Oof. We are going feel this tomorrow. It was great. Bug juice was only starting to fail at the end (8 hours, not too shabby). We both slept on the bus and boat rides back to the marina. We headed to the little town of Te Anua to find some dinner. We saw a busy Chinese place (with lots of Chinese inside) and gave it a shot. Bad move. It was the worst quality food we have ever eaten. Apparently it was so busy because it caters to the tour buses that pass through. This particular bus was a Chinese tour group… No need to worry about repeat biz. We had to have some TipTop to get the taste out of our mouths.

Back to our cabin to wash our mouths out with some wine. Tomorrow we head to Dunedin (Done-ee-din). A Scottish settlement on the east coast. We’ll be staying in a hostel called Hogwartz.

More Photos: South Island Pt 1 as well as (again) North Island Pt 1 & North Island Pt 2