Pack Travel Part IV

(This is part 4 of the holiday season South Island camping trip. For continuity, it will probably make much more sense for you to read parts 1, 2, and 3 before reading this...or not, do whatever you want.)

"He's still writing about something that happened almost two months ago?!" Yes. Yes I am. And just to spite you (reader that I adore for taking the time to peruse my adventure blog) this will be a very long and photo-filled post. I won't let your negativity affect me. Water off the duck's back:

And what a happy duck.

Following our one night beach-side camping excursion, we headed northwest up the coast of the South Island. This part of the country is known as Southland, and it's pretty big. The population density is a mere 2.8 people/km^2. That's small; for reference, Madison, WI is 1172.6. It makes sense as you drive through Southland because it contains Fiordlands National Park (FNP), which is really just a bunch of uninhabitable mountains and fjords and lakes and ohmygodthisisamazing scenery.

Before we started this portion of our trip however, we first had to celebrate New Year's Eve in Te Anau. This tiny town (pop. 2000) is at the southern edge of FNP. For this reason, it's relatively touristy and has a number of nice little shops and even a few bars. So for NYE we went to town and somehow stumbled upon this large bonfire in the town's main park:

Joe and Michael play a game of who can get closer.

The rest of the night consisted of watching 50,000 NZD worth of fireworks (people thought this was a lot of money for a fireworks display, scoff), going to every single (3 in total) bar in Te Anau, and taking over a dance floor that just would not play Hotline Bling for me. 

After nursing hangovers and watching a pitiful MSU football performance, we headed north into FNP along the Milford Road. This is a truly breathtaking drive, and we had our sights set on a truly breathtaking campground for the next two nights:

Sometimes you have to stop along the highway and lie in fields of Lupins.

Lee, Michael and Keegan prepare a meal around our communal hole. Our site was nestled in a dense forest, perfect for late night Sasquatch calling. 

Joe and I look on expectantly. 

Deer Flat Campsite. Just wow.

After a gin-soaked sleep in the tent, we drove into the mountains, stopping for a hike to Lake Marian. This was a pretty strenuous 90 minute climb past cascading rapids and twisting up a narrow track.

Okay so a boardwalk stroll along a babbling stream doesn't look strenuous, but like just after this picture it got tough.

At the top, soaring peaks surround an extremely calm lake. So calm that the mountains mirror across the pristine and silky water. This was maybe my my most zen place I've been to in New Zealand.

Lee captures the scene. Slight ripples let us know we are, in fact, in a dream.

"A man is but the product of his thoughts..." -Gandhi
"Shit this is pretty." -Eric

Another hour or so hike along the Routeburn Track brought us to Key Summit. This strangely flat terrain on top of a mountain provided 360 degree views of the surrounding region.

Atop Key Summit and Joe is holding an unidentified object up to his fa...oh right a camera.

Finally, after packing up camp, driving back into Te Anau for a rainy day/night of drinking and playing cards and eating frozen pizza and showering, we were set for the cherry (and whipped cream and drizzled chocolate sauce) on top of our South Island sojourn:  a kayaking trip in Milford Sound.

The day began very early - dark and dreary amidst a cold morning fog. Our guide, Andrew, picked us up from Te Anau's Event Centre parking lot and drove us in the waxing light of dawn the two hours up to Milford Sound. We had been there briefly a few nights before, and captured a quick appetizer of what our day on the water would bring us:

My version of Milford Sound.

Michael's.

Lee and Keegan's (the morning of kayaking). They got a sunny shot.

Joe's. No matter how you spin it, it's beautiful. But Joe wins.

So, yeah, we were pretty excited about getting to kayak. The day was just right - sunny yet cool, relatively calm waters, and just the right amount of sandflies to remind you that not even paradise is perfect. After suiting up in like 20 layers of awesome looking thermals and sun/water protective gear, and getting the appropriate paddling safety lessons, we set out. Because there were 5 of us, I got to team up with some random guy from Greensboro, North Carolina named Justin. Ex-army, no kayaking experience ("I got this Justin"), and a really talkative and interesting person - definitely a good kayaking companion. 

The next 4 hours is kind of a blur: light to heavy gusts of wind, Justin "accidentally" flicking salty sea-spray into my face over and over, the sun beating down on my neck, nearly smacking one of these little guys with my paddle as he chased a school of fish, aching arms and back, the approach to a ferocious waterfall, teaming up with other kayakers for a makeshift raft and sailing across the Sound, a barrel-rolling seal (apparently trying to digest his food), a seaplane landing on the serene water just beside us...the list goes on and on. I'll shut up and show some photos.

Smiles on top mask growing frustration with faulty steering mechanism... 

Justin and I display perfectly synchronized paddling technique.

And then I slack off a bit. I gotta get a hold of Justin's GoPro footage.

Just two peas in a pod.

Ungh.

And that was basically it for the trip, or at least I can confidently say it was the highlight. We headed back to Queenstown that night, ate some good food, partied (Michael and I) a bit, and slept in actual beds for the first time in nearly 11 days. Some of us got a little tuckered out before we even made it back to Queenstown:

Making memories is exhausting.

Cheers!

Bonus:  my next post will likely be a supplement to this series in which I just show all of the best of Joe's diligently taken photos from our very hectic and tiring and amazing trip. 

Thanks for sticking through it with me!

"Oh my God is that a kiwi?" No, just a Weka. Dammit. 

Pack Travel Part III

(This is part 3 of my holiday season South Island camping trip. For continuity, it will probably make much more sense for you to read parts 1 and 2 before reading this...or not, do whatever you want.)

As we descended from the heights of Mueller Hut, a chapter of our trip came to a close. It was palpable. Within 24 hours, we would be picking up (Dr. Dirty) Michael from the Queenstown airport. Our 4 member group to that point had a kind of equilibrium to it - Joe took pictures, Lee was the forward thinker, Keegan ever optimistic and knowledgeable of walks/hikes he wouldn't be able to go on...and I drove or something. I'm sure the others didn't think about it, but I wondered what the addition of a fifth person would do to the group dynamic - especially when that person is already pretty damn dynamic. I mean, I had just gotten used to sleeping on the ground in a small tent next to Joe and his hairy skull, and now I had to add another dude to my cramped sleeping quarters?

But before all that, we had yet another picturesque drive south to Queenstown, stopping for a much needed and delicious burrito in the town of Wanaka. The locale is also known for its large and eponymous lake, where people in the area go to get away. This was a bit confusing. For those of you who don't know, Queenstown is where everyone in NZ goes to get away. So I guess that makes Wanaka a vacation spot from tourists for locals. Anyway it's a small oasis tucked into the mountains. After a brief trot around town made mostly for digestive purposes, we went to Lake Wanaka, with it's elongated beach line, plethora of bikini-clad denizens of all ages, a random painted van or two, and a tree sitting out in the lake.

Kids will do anything for a high nowadays.

It's not just some normal tree. It's out there, like 100 meters into shallow water, just kind of growing and being a perfect foreground to the sharp background peaks. It's name is the Lone Tree, and it's the 'most photographed tree in New Zealand.' I'm not sure who monitors those statistics. Probably Google.

Joe taking picture of Lone Tree:  "Lone Man and Tree" -E Schrauben 2015, asking price $12,375

After a brief stay in Queenstown, which I'll write more about later, we picked up Michael from the airport and drove south. This was the 'free-form' portion of our trip in which we knew we wanted to see Milford Sound, but that it wouldn't happen for a few days. 

We meandered toward New Zealand's South Coast, stopping on the way to see a free glowworm cave. Clifden Caves are naturally carved into private property limestone, a (you guessed it) sheep farm, but are totally free to the public and really easy to access. Glowworms are awesome (like a truly unique sight), twinkling in seemingly uninhabitable places. In the depths of these caves, they provided an astral setting when the headlamps were switched off. Unfortunately the lack of light for proper visualizing of glowworms also means that good pictures are hard to come by, especially with a phone's camera.

Cool Beans.

Silk hanging from glowing butts. Anyway you'll have to take my word for it that they're really cool.

The road from there was unplanned; we didn't even have a place to crash for the night. Luckily for us, I'd gotten some good advice on an app that lists all of the camping spots on a map in New Zealand, with pictures and descriptions and prices and facilities. Very helpful. We settled on a free beach side camp spot. It was way way down south (46° S!) near Pahia. It's mostly meaningless, but that was definitely the most south (the southest?) we had all ever been.

The campsite itself was just a patch of grass, somewhat guarded from the ocean winds. We settled right in and made a big community pot of chili and hot dogs. We all really enjoyed eating out of the community pot together:

How quickly humans can become feral. You might not be able to see all of Michael since he's in his jungle camouflage sleep roll. 

An actual campsite fire? So rare in New Zealand. And despite the best efforts of the wind and wet wood, we were able to make a nice burn. I was clearly unimpressed.

So south and right around the longest day of the year that the sun didn't set until ~9:45 pm. You get a lot of serious thinking done over the course of an hour long sunset.

The sheen of receding tide and light.

Cheers!

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!