To see his photos jump to the permanent webpage in Rick’s photo archive.
To see annotated photos jump to the permanent webpage in Rick’s photo archive.
March 23, 2003
Kiwis have a great affection for lakes. But it would take one filled with beer to much interest a Canadian.
For me the unreported yet pre-eminent highlight of New Zealand are the many varied and fantastic waterfalls. These are the long drops of which I speak — though long drop is also Kiwi slang for a toilet in the wilderness.
Pride of place goes to Sutherland Falls, near Milford, the highest and most hyped waterfall in New Zealand. The water pounds down with unbelievable force. I tried to walk behind the watery curtain but was driven back by the wind generated by the Falls.
Sutherland was a Scot, the first white man to settle permanently in remote, wet Milford Sound. Alone but for his dog Groatie; he was known as The Hermit of Milford. He discovered and named the falls asserting they were the world’s highest — 5000 feet. Tourists began to flock to Milford the following year though the falls were eventually measured to be only 1904 feet over 3 leaps.
Scots like Sutherland were bred to migrate to the cold, wet, dark extremes of the world. They had the wrathful Hellfire of a vengeful Presbyterian God to keep them warm.
The south of the south island in New Zealand is Scotish. Reminders of Scottish heritage are everywhere though the only whiskey distiller recently went bust.
The largest southern city is Dunedin, Celtic for Edinburgh. A statue of Robbie Burns welcomes sons of Scotland to the town centre.
I, gone south to hike the southern alps, lucked into a spot on the coveted Milford Track — the finest walk in the world, as it is called. This sobriquet is much mocked by hikers, each listing better Tracks. (The West Coast Trail, for example.)
The controversy began in 1908 when a London Spectator editor changed the title of an article on the New Zealand track from the author’s A Notable Walk to The Finest Walk in the World. The appellation stuck.
Yet, as one hiker rationalized, Travelling New Zealand and missing the Milford Track would be like travelling to Paris and missing the Eiffel Tower.
Fact is the Milford is a fantastic hike unfairly diminished by detractors most of whom have not hiked it. It is particularly fantastic in good weather — I had perfect weather. Endless highs, man.
The highlight of the trip for me was the stunning Mackinnon Pass. Vistas in every direction. I scrambled part way up a peak adjacent to the alpine saddle.
My friend RC contends I hike mainly so I can dangle my feet off cliff ledges. He’s right. I was told it would take me about 12 seconds to reach the hut 800m below this sign on Mackinnon Pass.
Huge blunder on the Milford; I forgot my long pants in the van. There are two spots called Sandfly Point in New Zealand — you pass both on the Milford Track! Fjordland and the West Coast are notorious for these sneaky, blood-sucking vampire bugs.
Most National Parks are places where you cannot step off the trail lest you bruise lichen — but where fish can be hooked, suffocated, bludgeoned and devoured. Such are the inconsistencies in a world where Tequila is legal, Peyote not.
Milford is different. All mammals (except bats and hikers) are fair game. If you have a license you can shoot anything you want — but at least 1 km. off the track please.
For many years I went slackjawed at photos of Milford Sound and dreamed of visiting. It is a classic Fijord with vertical walls. The famous photo is The Mitre, reputed to be the second highest mountain (after Hawaii) that rises directly from the sea.
I signed on for a kayak tour with Rosco’s, a great outfit with a bit of a scandalous reputation. The comic guides paddle and entertain every day of the year from the wettest settlement in New Zealand. (9m of rain in 1988)
I am not sure the guides are actually paid — as the main remuneration seemed to be picking-up tourist chicks.
No doubt that Queenstown resort in the Remarkables is the four-season adventure capital of the world. What other destination might be a contender? Chamonix?
Bungie jumping was first popularized in Queenstown and the world’s highest tourist jump is here; a 134m platform suspended by cables over the Nevis River.
Queenstown is the draw but ET prefers Wanaka, the mellower, secondary adventure capital. My favourite activity in Wanaka, actually, was taking in a film in the retro theatre there now called Cinema Paradiso. It is filled with old sofas, pillows, even a Morris Minor. Patrons lounge where they like. At intermission you are offered fresh cookies, coffee, or can pre-order dinner to enjoy during the second half of the movie. Brilliant.
I also golfed in Wanaka. Leave it to Kiwis to cross golf with rugby, creating a football-shaped golf ball. No putting — instead you birdie by landing the ball in a net target.
Still some of my best moments have been driving narrow (one way) winding scenic minor highways. Paradise, near Glenorchy, lived up to its name.
I had hoped to sell my beloved van for close to what I paid for it — unfortunately I had to sell at half the purchase price. That was the biggest downer of my Kiwi travels by far.
Only about 20,000 people live on the magnificent west coast of the south island. Why? Rain and sandflies drive normal people insane. Westcoasters pride themselves on being rogues and outsiders.
West coast precipitation (similar to S.E. Alaska and Patagonia) heaps snow in massive quantities on coastal mountains. Gravity pushes the resulting glaciers towards the sea while warm (tourist!) temperatures at lower altitudes melt them.
I hiked atop Fox Glacier with guide Shells (she had seashells in her dreadlocks) enjoying a most entertaining day. Finally, after many attempts, I saw the oft-clouded top of Mt. Cook and equally impressive Mt. Tasman.
Delightfully unpretentious, the Wildfoods Festival in west coast Hokitoka was a hoot. A crapulous block party with 22,000 drinkers, wild food is also available; westcargots (snails), beer-flavoured ice cream, wallaby, horse, wild goat, offal, mountain oysters, chamois, grasshoppper, meal worm, salmon with sandfly sauce, seagull, scorpion, eel and more. I stayed away from the bull penis sausage but sampled bambi burger, paua pattie, ostrich pie and managed a swallow of chocolate hoohoo grub, a West Coast favourite.
The primo west coast feed is whitebait and locally brewed Monteith’s beer. White bait is fish, each less than 2 cm long, caught by hand net and usually fried into a patty. Mmmm.
The entertainment is gleefully bad. (ie Elvis impersonators, men dressed as naughty nuns, droll British colonial administrators giving folks stick, etc.)
My last day of travel started with Wild Foods and finished at Castle Hill in the alps, scrambling limestone boulders and sloshing an hour through an underground river. A superb and appropriate last day.
New Zealand is magic. Photos do not do it justice — excepting those of Ted Scott, the Kiwi photo laureate.
I remember once asking an American hiker the weather forecast;
Endless highs, man, endless highs.
A camper van in New Zealand in their summer? What could be grander?
depart when you want
make decisions on-the-go depending on whim and weather
stop at every amazing waterfall
exit to a beach when you get a tad warm
scramble any interesting roadside boulder
sleep where and when you want
Yet after ET shouted seafood dinner at Mission Bay her last night in New Zealand, I strangely felt uneasy travelling the north island on my own. Perhaps I got civilized working with people 7 days a week in a busy gym this year. Maybe I grew used to the domestic chaos of travelling with a family in a van for a month. Odd.
It helped that I was hosted in Auckland by Kiwi Dave Phillips, 2000 Olympian gymnast who had trained in Saskatoon for a season. Dave is now a busy personal fitness trainer and seriously into outdoor pursuits. He organized some friends, ET and myself to kayak the harbour in heavy swells. Great fun though scary at times. Waiting for me as I struggled to keep up, Dave was the only one to dump (as he experimented with a bracing manoeuvre). The highlight of the trip was that ET and I were able to assist in his rescue.
Later I checked the surf south of Raglan, at Manu Bay, famous from the 1966 surf classic Endless Summer; purported the world’s longest left hand break.
I was also hosted in Auckland by Canuck Jeff Thompson and family. We explored beaches and a few of the 48 volcanic hills which make up this pretty and energetic city. Thompsons and I took in the Edmund Hillary 50th anniversary of Everest exhibit — the first time Ed has displayed his tent, clothing and such.
Jeff took me wall climbing and inspired a trip down to the climbing Mecca of South Wharepapa not yet discovered by backpackers. My first morning I flipped a mountain bike playing on the BSX (Bicycle Super Cross) course. I assumed I was incompetent until I learned that at least 2 others crashed at that same spot that day! Safety standards here are not nearly what they are in Canada — the charm of New Zealand is just how undeveloped and unregulated things are. O.S.H. (Occupational Safety and Health) is a government department much reviled by Kiwis.
Eventually I started to enjoy solo travel again. In fact, by the time I did a 5-day solo kayak journey down the Whanganui River gorge it was with a twinge of regret when I saw other (inevitably German or Israeli) paddlers on the water. I normally had the campgrounds to myself and was happy sharing the river only with wild goats and water birds.
A failed attempt at farming and developing the Whanganui River wilderness.
I went back to climb Mount Doom (Ngauruhoe). After an epic backsliding scramble up scoria, I finally reached the smoking summit. This classic volcano is almost extinct by New Zealand standards — it only erupts every 5-8 years. (Mount St. Helen’s blasts every 700 years, by comparison.)
Fantastic vistas in every direction. A perfect day. Endless highs.
Oh no! Atop Mount Doom and I had forgotten The Ring!
What would you do in this situation?
Suddenly it struck me. I did have The Ring! The One Ring which binds the Suunto compass/thermometer to the pack! It joined many other rings in the cone.
We celebrated Waitangi Day here — the National holiday commemorating the anniversary some of the Maori chiefs signed over the country to the Brits. Needless to say, the celebration is controversial. The chiefs only agreed because they feared the French might take over instead. The British were clearly the lesser of evils.
I quite like the Maori people though I cannot say I got to know any as well as I would of liked. Many around the world will learn of the culture through the touching film The Whale Rider, a People’s Choice winner. The book and movie are set in (the author’s home town) the tiny settlement of Whangara. When I toured the neglected, mellow, mostly Maori East Cape the look and feel of that movie rang true.
Sunrise at East Cape lighthouse, the most easterly point, was a highlight.
Did you hear about the cowardly Terrorist Attack in New Zealand? Is no place safe?
Bombers posing as tourists in a van picked up explosives delivered by submarine to the remote north. They drove to Auckland and blew up a ship killing one man.
The terrorists were agents of a foreign government known to have weapons of mass destruction and nuclear weapons. This nation has a history of talking tough but collapsing quickly when it comes to battle.
Two of the saboteurs were caught, others never brought to justice.
More farce than justice, the guilty bombers were detained on a gorgeous French Pacific island — and returned home 2 years later (far sooner than their sentence) to a hero’s welcome in Paris.
The French, the French,
They are a curious race …
The skeletal remains of the ship, The Greenpeace Rainbow Warrior were moved and sunk as a scuba diving attraction.
The future of backpacking adventure tourism?
New Zealand I think leads the way in the evolution of travel.
competition for the backpacker dollar will increase
e.g. ratings systems to compare hostels
quality of accommodation will continue to improve
packaged fun, convenient tourist experiences will continue to be invented
zorb (roll down a hill in a clear plastic bubble)
fly-by-wire (fly a jet attached by tether cable)
THE ROCK in the Bay of Islands is terrific example. ET and I felt we got great value paying about C$100 each for a 24 hour ship cruise; visiting 4 islands, 2 great meals, kayaking, fishing, hiking, snorkeling, target shooting off the back of the boat, eating Kina / Sea Hedgehog (sea urchin), and more.
Non-stop action on a floating bar with pool table, great music. Marketed to backpacking young people, the brochure sold me stating, no demanding upmarket suitcase tourists.
– Kiwi Rick
P.S. Perfect tourist weather (i.e. drought) continued. No pesky ozone to filter the healthful rays! Melanoma scars and leathery skin are a small price to pay for a fleeting glow.
Next episode; south island, Wild Food Festival, perfect weather on the Milford Track.
To see his photos jump to the permanent webpage in Rick’s photo archive.
To see a few of Greg’s photos jump to the permanent webpage in Rick’s photo archive.
To see the photos jump to the permanent webpage in Rick’s photo archive.