Pack Travel Part II

Much of the area known as Canterbury near Christchurch is flat. Like straight-as-an-arrow highway bracketed by miles and miles of roaming sheep. For us, travelling in a rented 2005 Silver Nissan Wingroad, it's all we saw heading west from Christchurch for a solid hour. But then a transformation occurs. It's gradual at first:  a cloud-touching outline of a distant jagged peak, a steadily more windy road now meandering through rolling hills.

By the time we reached Lakes Tekapo and Pukaki right in the center of the South Island, we were lulled into the seemingly steady and irresistible pull of the mountains now suddenly drawn so near. A slight curve over a rise and we immediately snapped out of our pacified state. Carved from ancient glaciers and made larger by the human installment of local dams, these lakes provide utterly stunning foreground for the nearby mountains. 

This type of water, which we encountered several times that day, always turns heads. It's color is magnificently blue, the type of blue I want people to think my eyes look. But up close, the water is clear, crystal clear, and frigid to the touch. After a night of camping amid sandflies and dust, the cold water is a brutally effective way to both wake up and feel remarkably cleaner.

Unperturbed and stretching into the distance. Incidentally, great rock skipping locale.

Joe approves.

That night we spent in the wonderfully named Twizel at a holiday park with showers! The lakes above sit just to the south of Mount Cook, New Zealand's highest peak. And the next night, that was our destination. From Twizel it was a beautiful and pleasant drive up past Lake Pukaki, into the valley below the mountain range:

What could he possibly have made us stop for in this desolate valley...

Oh, that.

After settling Keegan in to his camping spot for the night, we started on our overnight track. The goal for the day/night was a 3-3.5 hour hike directly up the side of a mountain across from Mount Cook, gaining roughly 1000 meters during the climb. This would be accomplished with heavy overnight packs, the destination being a hut at the summit where we bunk down for the night. The first 1.5 hours of the hike consisted of just going up stairs, roughly 2200 of them - great butt workout. The next hour was a scramble up a very crudely marked path consisting of clambering and scrabbling and drabbling (okay now I'm just making up words) over alpine tuft/rock mixtures, boulder fields, and even some patches of snow. And then we got to do it all again (though downwards) on the descent the next day. 

I like to think I take pictures with a story in mind, a classic 5 act structure providing an intro, crescendo, climax, decrescendo, and resolution. Here are my pictures to tell this story:

Intro. Three smiling fools before their bodies turn to hardened and sweat-soaked machines.

Crescendo or rising action (see what I did there?). Lee and Joe lag on the last snow/ice field. C'mon guys we're so close!

Climax or summit. See we actually went there.

I'll pause here to describe the view from the hut, since pictures will not do it justice. Or maybe Joe's pictures will, but I don't have access to those yet. Sitting on the deck of Mueller Hut, the view in a solid 270 degree arc spanning west to east consists of mountains, all over 2000 meters in height. It's...well, spectacular. The hut view made me feel both big and small: because of their immensity, the mountains seem extremely close, as if one could reach out and dust off some hanging snow drift. Yet every 20 to 30 minutes a deep rumbling, almost thunderous, sound from one of the plethora of peaks would sweep down to the hut. These were avalanches, a result of the summer New Zealand sun beating down on these lofty peaks. Small though they were, they imbued me with a feeling of insignificance that only mountains and a clear night sky can create. Not a lot of words were exchanged during these long sits.

The only way to show you what I was looking at and that I was there. #reverseselfie

Early the next morning I scampered up nearby Mt. Ollivier to get the hut and a tiny full moon together. Fog makes image blurry. Good morning world!

Decrescendo or falling action (but no actual falling). Same snow field as day before, 8 am start. Cold and dewy. 

Resolution? We didn't get injured (too badly, Lee fell through some snow) or die. As we like to say at the end of a hike, 'Alive!'

Cheers!

Bonus:  This wild man and his wild hair gained some water weight on the descent from Mueller Hut:

Is he that photogenic or do I just really like pictures of him? Both.

Pack Travel Part I

Hello readers (mostly just me and my dad)! It's been about a month since my last post. Rest assured, I did some travelling over the holidays. This time I even changed islands, from the North Island to the South Island of New Zealand. The next couple of posts will chronicle the highlights from two weeks of camping, hiking, driving, drinking/partying, and community meals. We were a group of 5 determined travelling companions...a fellowship if you will - two long time and great friends, Dr. Michael Spoelstra and Joseph A. Katarsky, and my wonderful sister Lee and her husband-to-be, Keegan Peters.

*  *  *

One thing becomes immediately apparent when traveling in a group - everything takes a little bit longer. This probably is pretty obvious. For me flying alone, I have no patience for the minor setbacks in an airport that I'm causing:  a mistyped booking reference number, a belt that was forgotten to be removed, a checked bag that is half a pound over weight. 

So now imagine me traveling in a pack, albeit a group with quite a bit of travel experience. And now add that one of those group members is very recently physically disabled, and that he's (normally) the most helpful, mobile, and punctual member of the travel team. This is the scenario I faced on our way down to the South Island. Keegan, not more than 26 hours earlier, had learned that his right foot was broken - a result of a lost Kung Fu battle in Macau ("But you should have seen the other guy"), a 16 ton pagoda crumbling down onto his foot in Hong Kong, or...just falling off a narrow street curb. Whichever you want to believe. In any case it was a bummer and presented us with a number of relative difficulties. The most nagging of these being that we all felt bad for him on several levels, and because there was a collective guilt circulating related to being able to properly experience the trip versus his crippled lifestyle, only able to look on forlornly. He's a champ, and my experience is that the group wants what's best for everyone. In this case it meant Keegan hopping along as best he could while we experienced the trip we had all originally planned and wanted.

Luggage cart used as a walker. Action shot!

Four of us began the trip:  me, Lee, Keegan, and Joe; Michael would fly in and meet us 4 days in. The trip began with a Christmas Day flight into Christchurch.

Obligatory airplane sunset picture.

After navigating our way to the hostel in Christchurch late at night, we all slept very well because 1) it was Christmas Day evening, meaning nothing was happening in Christchurch, 2) it's Christchurch, which is known mostly for its earthquakes and not much else, and 3) we all knew that we'd be sleeping in tents and on hard ground for the next ~10 nights, so hostel bunk beds seemed pretty cushy. 

The next morning began with me having to go back to the airport to pick up our rental car, and then we immediately hightailed it out of town. Perhaps I'm being a little too harsh with Christchurch, but it did feel pretty sad and desolate save for the random street art (children avert your eyes):

Side of a dilapidated building.

We drove northwest toward Arthur's Pass, which was nice. But the highlight of the day was undoubtedly Castle Hill, or as I like to call it, my ideal playground. I'll let the next several pictures do the talking:

Enter the Labyrinth. RIP Bowie.

Prepare yourself for at least 20 more of these 'Joe is staring into the distance' or 'Joe is really into photography' pictures in coming posts.

Photos do not capture the scale and vastness, but you get the idea.

Oh, there he is again. Wonder what he's thinking...

"This is my house now. I live here."

Surprise!

A climbing paradise, for all ages and skill levels.

One more for good measure.

That night we camped out for the first time in a Department of Conservation free campsite by beautiful Lake Pearson. As I slapped the first sandfly from leg, enjoyed my first propane-fueled community pot meal of pasta and tomatoes and sundry vegetables, and laid down to my first night of sleep on hard ground, I knew that many more feelings of being uncomfortable, awestruck, dirty, relaxed, and just generally in good company were to come.

Cheers!