Kiwi Adventures

Classes ended. Exams were coming up the next week, exams that counted for 50% of the semester grade. So, clearly the only logical choice was to jump on a plane, rent a campervan (sadly not Jucy this time) and explore New Zealand for a week. Being the rational person that I am, that’s exactly what I did.

On Sunday morning, I flew in to post-earthquake Christchurch, the largest city on the South Island, to meet up with my traveling companions: Johan, Alex, and Victoria. It was sad to see what you could tell was such a vibrant city reduced to cracked walls, leaning buildings, piles of rubble, and condemned buildings. Without wasting much time, we drove south heading for Lake Tekapo where we spent our first night. It was refreshing to feel the cooler Kiwi breeze after being in the hot summer air in Sydney. With fond memories of our Jucy experience, we settled in for a good night’s sleep with the gorgeous New Zealand backdrop. We cooked our first of many gourmet campervan meals (mostly consisting of sausages, lots of sausages).

We got an early start the next morning with our sights set on Milford Sound, a breathtaking body of water that opens New Zealand to the Tasman Sea. Alex, Victoria, Johan, and I explored the sound, walking out on to the largest peninsula that reaches into the water. The huge green covered mountains plummet into the water, creating the appearance of a meandering maze that leads out to the open water. We sat and had a picnic, imagining Orcs and Elves on the mountaintops as we felt like we were in the middle of a Lord of the Rings movie. We slept that night in an old campground outside the town of Te Ano that Alex had been to many years before. I slept out in Alex’s two-man tent, listening to the sounds of New Zealand nature as I fell asleep.

The next morning we were excited to get out to Queenstown, the adventure capital of the southern hemisphere. One problem: our car didn’t start. After failing to start the engine and realizing that our car had no jumper cables and a really old battery, we made our way from the campground back into Te Ano. Thankfully, we found a friendly Kiwi mechanic who lent us a pair of jumper cables and got us on our way. A few hours later, we saw Lake Wakatipu approaching and we knew we were in Queenstown. Despite the fact that none of my companions were as brave as I was, I was set on jumping off a 43m high bridge. The Kawarau Bridge in Queenstown was the site of the first commercial bungee operation, created by AJ Hackett himself, the man who created the adventure sport. The sun came out as I walked onto the bridge, confident and ready to jump off. I put on a harness and was tied in by the staff, still feeling fine. It wasn’t until I had to stand up and walk up to the edge that I asked myself, “why in the world am I jumping off a bridge?” I waddled closer to the edge, ankles bound. The operator urged me farther forward, until my toes were hanging off the edge. Here is where the butterflies really started doing a number on my stomach. There was no backing down and the only way to feel better was to jump off.

Next stop: the west coast. We drove through the quaint town of Arrowtown, and stopped for an early dinner in Wanaka, sitting on yet another spectacular body of water, Lake Wanaka. Ready to make a long haul all the way from Wanaka to the next town with cell phone reception, not to mention gasoline, we stopped at the BP to fill up our tank. Refueled and ready to go, we started our engine. Well, we tried to start our engine. Once again, our battery had died, this time only after turning the car off for five minutes. We called AA (New Zealand’s version of AAA) who was able to jump our car but couldn’t replace our sadly decrepit battery. The mechanic urged us to stay in Wanaka for the night but having big plans to see the entire South Island in 9 days, we continued on to the town of Fox Glacier. We stopped for groceries and viewpoints along the way, getting strange looks from people not understanding why we left the engine running, but we didn’t dare turn the car off until we made it to our destination. We drove on into the sunset, approaching the Southern Alps (actually bigger in area than the Alps in Europe) that run all along the west coast. After finally reaching Fox Glacier late in the night, we parked our campervan right in front of the only mechanic in the town, ready for our car not to start in the morning.

The next morning we explored the town of Fox Glacier as another friendly mechanic replaced our battery, changed our oil, and replaced our burnt out headlight. Meanwhile, we decided to see what this whole glacier was about. So, we hiked up along the trails leading to the glacier. A hailstorm started to pick up and despite the fact that we had no crampons our proper equipment, we climbed up on to the gigantic piece of ice. It went on past where we could see, just layers and layers of cracked ice. Ready to make it out of the wintery mix, we ran back to our car, good as new (well, at least the engine started). We continued our venture up the west coast through the towns of Franz Josef Glacier and Hokitika. With quick stops at each and amazing snow capped mountainous scenery along the way, we made it to Arthur’s Pass, a small backpacker town only a few hours away from Christchurch. After a few nights cooking on the gas stove in the campervan, we splurged and went into a hostel to cook in a real kitchen. We enjoyed our gourmet meal with other travelers from Germany and Argentina, just passing through to go hiking and rock climbing.

The next morning we had intended to go climbing and repelling with some of the equipment Alex had borrowed from the our friends back at the University of Sydney Rockclimbing Club. To our dismay, it was again pouring down snow, sleet, and hail in the Arthur’s Pass area and our backup options were all too close to Christchurch and were therefore only piles of rubble because of the earthquake. Instead, we explored the botanic gardens of Christchurch, named the Garden City of the world. Sadly, Victoria had to get back to Sydney two days before Johan and I did so we bid her farewell at the pleasant hour of 4:30am. Alex also had plans to meet up with some of his friends from Antarctica who were passing through Christchurch so Johan and I had two days to make the most of our time in New Zealand.

And we did. We ventured to the small French town Akaroa on the banks peninsula, about an hour and a half south east of Christchurch. The town was perched on yet another (New Zealand seems to have a habit of these) picturesque lake, this one connecting to the Pacific Ocean. We explored the town, talked to the locals about rugby, and had free chocolate fudge. Ready for an adventure, we looked at our options for an overnight backpacking trip and decided to summit the highest peak on the peninsula. We drove out to the base of the trail with our goal set at sleeping in a cabin set in a saddle between two mountain peaks. 

After getting a little sidetracked (ok so maybe we wandered around for an hour unable to find the trail), we smelled the smoke from a wood fire set in the iron stove coming from our new home. Not expecting to have a lot of roommates, we were surprised to find six friendly strangers telling stories and laughing the night away. The all had camp stoves, pots and pans, utensils, well cooked meals, and a bottle of red wine. They had clearly done this before. Johan and I had a 22 pack of “value” sausages from the local supermarket, a loaf of bread, and a big bottle of Heinz Ketchup. Feeling incredibly embarrassed, we rummaged around outside looking for sticks to cook our sausages in the fire with. Thankfully, the backpackers were incredibly welcoming and friendly, not being as nearly judgmental about our “meal” as they should have been. After many successful sausages, we had learned that they were from Spain, Portugal, Holland, Canada, and even one from the US, just traveling around seeing the country for a few months. It was wonderful to hear their stories of the travels and I assured them that I actually did now what I was doing and that I didn’t usually hike in jeans but that the whole hiking expedition was a spontaneous thing. All of a sudden, fireworks started going off in the distance, apparently celebrating Guy Fawkes Day. Watching fireworks under the stars on a mountain in New Zealand with newfound friends, it doesn’t get much better than that.

We got an early start the next morning, trying to make it up to the summit of Mt. Herbert and back to the car in time to make it to the airport for our return to Sydney. We walked over ridges, through a forest, and through a lot of mud and thorns, but we made it! We ran into our cabin friends on the top of the mountain and I understand why; it was my favorite view from the whole trip and that’s saying something. The bays, the beaches, the ocean, and a small town were all right behind us and the day was so clear that you could see all the way out to the snowy Southern Alps on the west coast, mountains we had been at just days before. After soaking up some sun and taking in the view, we booked it back to the car.

We returned the car with moments to spare and were offered a free ride to the airport by a friendly shuttle driver where spent the night before our early morning flight. Johan and I took the time to reflect on all that had happened in our nine days in the beautiful country one last time before we headed back for exams. I know I used the word “friendly” quite often describing the people we met along the trip but that was no accident; Kiwi people are just nice and welcoming. Between the people, the landscapes, and the adventure, I strongly doubt that was my last trip to New Zealand.