Wanaka and Central Otago

I was blessed with another crystal clear day, so I used it wisely by indulging a special need programmed into every man: scoping out the tallest thing in sight, then climbing it. In this case, the tallest nearby thing was Roy's Peak, right outside of Wanaka. It isn't an excessively tall mountain, only but it is in a convenient location and makes a decent day hike, especially since climbing it does not require crampons and an iceaxe.

After living in the world's flattest continent for nearly a year, I was definitely feeling the altitude. The hike was a constant steep grade. I climbed higher and higher, but the top seemed no closer. This is the sad true of hiking up mountains: they are always taller than they look. I started chanting a mantra, trying to push myself to the top. I kept getting this weird feeling of being watched, I looked around and realized that the sheep were staring at me. Even the mountains of New Zealand are sheep paddock. Finally, after a three hour uphill march, I reached the top. It was well worth the near heart attack. On one side, there was the spectacular views of Lake Wanaka below. The other side had a clear sight of Mt. Aspiring, second highest mountain in Australiasia. This gave me the adrenaline rush to make it back down. I collapsed at the car.

Since I chose a longer hike than planned, it was to be my only one for the day. Queenstown, one of the most popular tourist towns in the country was crossed off my list. It is dubbed as the adrenaline capital of the world. Bungee jumping was invented here, I even drove over the famous bridge where it all started. I think it's called "That bridge everyone jumps off of" or something like taht. Queenstown also offers hang gliding, sky diving, jet boating, whitewater rafting, skiing, heliskiing (jumping out of a helicopter with skis), zorbing, canyoning, base jumping, and binge drinking. It is a tourist wasteland, created to suck every dollar. It sounded like my own personal hell, so I wasn't too sad about missing it. On my way through town though, I stopped for quick photo. Despite being soulless, it is also beautiful, one of the prettiest towns I've ever seen actually. I'm glad I could simply leave it with that image.

Haast Pass

A vast mountain range runs down the entire middle of the South Island. Any excursions from the narrow west coast to the rolling hills of the East must include taking a mountain pass. I was heading from Haast to Wanaka, so my route was through the Haast Pass.

It was a lovely road that wasn't too steep at all. I was expecting it to be a bit more treacherous since it had been closed for the last week due to excessive snow and ice. It was completely clear for my drive. The pass has many little walks to various waterfalls and lookouts, so the short 100km drive can easily fill a whole day.

I kept bumping into these two Aussie women on the trails. At some point, we decided that we should just form a little hiking group. As the afternoon set in, so did the clouds. We were on a steep uphill trail to a pointless cloudy lookout. We gave up after a point and instead decided to make snow angels and a snowman. The Aussies were quite impressed by the proficiency for both activities. "Wow, your snow angel actually looks like an angel!" I had to teach them the ways of the snow. It was a fun day.

Continuing down the West Coast

The West Coast of the South Island is famous for three things, the pancake rocks, the mountain views along the ocean, and its two glaciers, the Franz-Josef and Fox. The day I had to see both were very rainy. The Southern Alps were just clouds. I pulled into Franz-Josef village, but I couldn't see the glacier. I was disappointed, but I drove to the park anyway; I had a whole day to kill after all. After hiking for twenty minutes though, the rain stopped and the clouds broke, revealing the glacier in all of its glory. I hiked to the terminal face and was about to get about 5o meters away. It was incredible to get that close the glacier. Now, I know what some of you are thinking, "Hey Aaron, you were inside of glacier in 1997 in the actual alps." Yes, I fully realize this, but that was my childhood and it is getting increasingly hazy. I'm going to cling to these new memories instead.

The Fox Glacier, though typically more spectacular, was a bit disappointing. The rain picked up again and recent icefalls and falling boulders kept the trail to the terminal face closed. They were worried about people dying in the dangerous conditions! Pish posh, let us risk our lives if we want New Zealand Department of Conservation! I heeded the warnings and took an alternate hike around the area.

What makes these two glaciers unique is their proximity to the ocean. Nowhere on Earth can you see a glacier making its way through a rainforest. It really is a special sight to see a glacier surrounded by ferns.

Further down the coast, near Haast, one of my stopping points, I took an hour walk through a rainforest to the secluded Monro Beach for a chance to see the Fiordland Crested Penguin. Sadly, I did not get a glimpse of these shy, cute birds, but I did however watch an incredible sunset over the Tasman Sea. I was so sucked into the sunset, I completely forgot that sunsets are often (always in fact) followed by darkness and I had to walk back one hour through the rainforest in the dark. I'm so glad I had the foresight to bring a torch. Thank you boy scouts for teaching me to always be prepared.

The next morning, I headed to Jackson Bay, the southern end of the west coast highway. On the way is an area of iron ore tinted red mountains. The lookout was 15km down a rural dirt road through a bunch of farmland. It skirted a river valley with the alps towering above. The red hills were actually a bit disappointing, but the drive there was fantastic.

Jackson Bay had some amazing views of the mountains towering the sleepy fishing village. It was well worth detour.

The rain and snow of New Zealand's winter

My first day was greeted with rain. Countless books have already commented that Christchurch is about as a close to England as a person can get outside of England, so I figured it was all a part of the effect. The countryside looked like England, the city looked like England, the sheep looked like England, so it seemed only fitting that the weather should as well.

It turns out that the entire country was getting doused in rain and as night descended, this rain became snow, piles of snow that closed every single internal route in the whole South Island. My original plan had me going to Mt. Cook the next day, but this was quickly derailed. I headed north instead, basically flipping my plan and doing my route more or less backwards.

The next day was beautiful and the most northern mountain pass, the Lewis Pass, had opened. I drove to Golden Bay at the top of the island through never-ending breathtaking scenery. I almost died a few times as I stared at a mountain too long or whipped out my camera for a quick, over-the-steering-wheel shot, only to find myself heading towards the edge of cliff. The drive took all day, but never once got boring. I slept that night in Takaka.

I awoke to another lovely, clear day. I was only an hour drive at Takaka from Farewell Spit at the northern tip, so I headed out early and started driving. Golden Bay was incredible, with turquoise blue waters surrounded by mountains. By the time I reached Farewell Spit, it was pouring rain; fog kept me from seeing even a few meters in front of me. I took a photo of the fog at the northern tip, then headed to the visitor's center to see what it was supposed to look like; it was closed.

The rain never let up as I drove south. I stopped for the single ugliest photograph of the Pupu Springs in Takaka (this was confirmed by the residents). Normally, it has the bluest waters imaginable; my photo looked more like it was a Poo Poo spring. The water was still clear and it was nice to see the Southern Hemisphere's largest freshwater spring.
Originally, I was going to hike at the postcard beach and coastline scenery of Abel Tasman national park, but skipped it for a lunch with John and Carolyne instead. Foggy, cloudy conditions kill much of the beauty of coastlines.

I drove straight through to the West Coast along the pretty Buller Gorge. I made a wrong turn and was having trouble finding finding the Stratford's place. In the dark and rain, I did something I haven't done in 11 months: drove on the right side of the road! Thankfully, enough people flashed their lights at me before I could die tragically.

The next day, I drove to Karamea, a mere 100km north of Westport. The drive was actually 300km round trip; New Zealand is strange like that. 20km into the hills is the Oparara Basin in Kahurangi National Park, home of some curious limestone formations. It contains some really big arches and some neat little caves. I took a couple hikes through the rainforest and looked at the various sights before flying down the coast to see another of the South Island's famous limestone sculptures, the pancake rocks. They don't look like pancakes, but these coastal rocks are piles of layered limestones that leave geologists puzzled over their origins.

The next day was rainy and foggy as well, which was a shame. The West Coast views of the mountains are supposedly fantastic. Though the West Coast does have rain eight days out of seven (New Zealand is also magic like that as well!), so not seeing the mountains was nothing abnormal. On principle, I took a photo of Mt. Cook, or what I think was Mt. Cook. It may have just been some clouds.
I was quite a bit disappointed at this point. No visibility. Being in the country for five days and only have one that was clear. A sign at the hilariously fun Bushman's Museum in Pukekura cheered me up for about five minutes:

Before you bother us with questions about the rain, please consider these points:
You are in a rainforest, which requires rain, no matter how much this may inconvenience you. If you want unending sunshine, consider a visit to the Sahara. This is just winter in New Zealand, don't complain, you are the one who planned your holiday, not us. To those of you who come from England, please appreciate the trouble we have taken to make you feel at home. Refrain from asking us if the weather will change. We can't predict it and frankly, we are too busy working to help you. For weather forecasts, please consult the local newspaper. Thank you.

It was easy to get down about the rain. I didn't have time to wait for things to clear up, I just had to deal with it and move on to the next place. Every once in a while though, the rain did stop, the fog did clear and that momentary glimpse of this incredible country's beauty made all the previous hours of rain worth it.

The kindness of Kiwis

It quickly became evident that the kiwis are some of the nicest people in the world. My trip to New Zealand was only a month long, not nearly enough time to digest the culture. To compensate, I decided to do a bit of couch surfing, whch is a great program for travelers who would rather meet locals and hear first hand what a country has to offer, instead of staying in a hostel. As a bonus, most people allow you to crash on their couch or spare bed in exchange for some company, homecooked dinner, or a bottle of wine. When a couch surfer is not traveling, they likewise offer their couch or spare bed to travelers. A genius idea really. It is quite safe as well. Bad things have happened, but it is quite rare.

I had a host lined up in Christchurch a week before I showed up, but work obligations left me with no place to stay only 36 hours before flying out. Thankfully, a young musician named Sophie agreed to host me on short notice. She even agreed to pick me up at the airport for my 10PM arrival. Only, there was delay. I had a first hand view for this little doosie. The airline loaded some frieght that they were not authorized to carry. Of course, this unauthorized frieght was the first thing to get loaded onto the plane, so they had to unload the entire cargo bay of the plane, then reload. My flight was delayed by 90 minutes, arrived at the same time as another flight, clogging up customs. By the time I popped through the doors, it was just after midnight. Sophie was still there, smiling. She didn't complain once, even though she worked the next day at seven in morning.

I toured Christchurch the next day, but constant rain maed me ditch my touring efforts. After I finished with all the art galleries I could find (I saw a great show on Rita Angus, a great New Zealand artist whose style I recognized from other galleries) , I decided to hunt down my car rental company, so I could learn its location a day early and confirm my reservation. After talking to the agent, he looked at me and said, "you just wanna take it now, bro?"

"How much extra would that be?"

"Well, nobody really needs it, so just take it for free."

So, I drove out of there in my car a day early. I headed to the coast for a lovely hike (it wasn't as rainy there). While hiking, I bumped into a man and had a chat. We talked until the hike's finish, then he offered to drive me a mile to an old WWII military unit. He gave me a tour, then offered to drive me back to my car, so I didn't have to walk in the rain. I accepted his offer; it was only a couple of miles anyway. The thing was though, it was a couple of miles by foot! The drive was over half an hour because of the layout of the roads through the hill. Again, no complaints, just smiles.

That was only day one. Snowstorms prevented me from sticking to my original plans of hitting Mt. Cook on day two, so I quickly ammended my plan, and at Sophie suggestion, I headed to the north tip of the island instead. Conveinently, her parents John and Carolyne lived there in Takaka. They took me in, gave me dinner, two desserts, breakfast the next morning, and even insisted I stop in for lunch on my way back through town. They also called some friends down the road in Westport and hooked me up with a bed for the next night.

So I found myself the next day in Westport, enjoying some beers and a lovely meal with Stratty and Debbie. I enjoyed a warm bed for the night in the house of people two degrees removed from a complete stranger I met online only three days earlier.

The next night, I stayed with Sophie's cousin Stephen in Greymouth. He lived in a college dormitory; I slept on a lounge couch. Still, it was a place to sleep! So, in my first five nights, I didn't pay for accomadation once, met many wonderful people, and really started getting a feel for Kiwi culture. So far, it is proving to be very similar to Australia, at least in the niceness, trust, and coolness departments.

Last Days In Australia

The eve of my time in Australia was uneventful. It seemed like a bit of anticlimax after my farewell to Jess. If my life was a book, that is where the story of the year actually ends. Much like literature, things always have more power when there is a symbolic connection. I didn't really say goodbye to Jess; I'll see her again. I said goodbye to that stage of our relationship, the idea of life in Australia, settling down, having children (at this moment anyway), basically everything I devoted my life to over the last two years. But, life is not a book though and I still had a week left in Broken Hill and I still had some more difficult goodbyes ahead.

Besides helping Les with a massive tiling project, I didn't find any work at my old jobs; I only had three weeks in town anyway, though the little extra New Zealand money would have been nice. Most of my time was spent on the net, facebooking, writing blogs (you saw how prolific I got in June!), and planning my month in New Zealand.

I returned to the sad truth that the few friends I made in Broken Hill had either moved or moved on in my six month absence. Most of my invitations for a last minute catch up session were either turned down or ignored. Not to say that the old friends I did see were cold, they were quite nice; they just had their own life and I had mine.

I was able to spend some quality time, however, with those I truly cared about, Les and Sharon and Joe and Diane. I shared a few dinners with them. On the Sunday before I left, Diane made homemade pasties for us and the lovely Aunty Avis. I shared a wonderful meal with Les and Sharon at the Musicians Club on my last night.

As can be expected, saying goodbye was not easy. The train whistle blew and I took my seat. Of course I left on a train; it is the most symbolic mode of transportation. The two minute wait was an hour long. I sat staring forward, trying to not to look out the window at Sharon crying, fightine tears myself. Finally, the train pulled away and waved farewell to Broken Hill and my Aussie family. Les and Sharon have always been there for me, giving me a place to stay, good meals in my belly, friendship, and most importantly, always providing support, even after Jess and I broke up, even when I wasn't showing my most positive side. I'll forever be grateful to them for this. The Eyles are some of the greatest people I've met in my life; their kindness is rare.

As the train rolled on down the line, (suddenly, this is becoming a blues song), the desolate outback was left behind me, a dust storm was brewing in my wake, just like on the day of my arrival. The blood red dirt of the empty outback faded, leaving my broken heart in Broken Hill. The land grew more and more green, more and more lively the further I got from town. I felt a bit cheated by the symbolism considering how sad I felt to leave such important people behind. Did this mean that life will flourish, be filled with new opportunity after some of the disappointments of my experiences in Australia? After studying literature and writing for so many years, I'd become programed to recognize the something in everything and the everything in nothing. Sometimes I forget that maybe a tree can just be a tree, that some things aren't good or bad, happy or sad. Some things are just what they are.

The End of Aaron Assonant Adventures in Australia