Just after 5 PM on that first day, Russell came home from work. I was in another room when he arrived, so after hearing him, I went to join everyone in the kitchen for introductions. Oddly, I thought, Russell didn't actually look at me when I walked into the room. He and Biddy were having some sort of quiet discussion about something involving sheep. After a few minutes of standing around awkwardly, he nodded toward our general direction and walked out the back door. We followed.
Russell, Russell, Russell.
He walked us into the "garage" - basically a shed off the back of the house that is full of more of Biddy's spinning supplies, as well as the usual tools and random junk. I was wearing my Chaco's at the time (sandals, like Tevas), having no idea what we were going to do (I had been told nothing), and he looked at my feet, frowning, and asked me if I didn't have any proper shoes. Um, I have tennis shoes? Here, he said, just put on these boots, and threw both Bjorn and I a pair of tall black gum boots. Appropriately geared up for whatever we were about to do, we exited the garage, at which time I decided I really ought to introduce myself. The man, after all, had not yet asked my name, or even really acknowledged that he'd never met me before.
"I'm Ellen, by the way," I said in a friendly tone. He again nodded in my general direction, said, "Yep" and continued walking. Well, okay then, I thought. Wow, this guy might be a real asshole.
We followed him down a side driveway, to yet another shed, this one open on one side and housing a huge bunch of hay (200-something bales he later told us proudly), Biddy's car, more miscellaneous farming tools, and a little four-wheel motorbike.
"You know how to drive one of these?" he asked Bjorn gruffly (and may I point out that he directly asked the male member of our party?). Bjorn strode eagerly forward - driving a motorbike is fun! - and Russell showed him how to start the engine. He ably hitched a large trailer onto the back of the bike and took a seat on one edge of it, apparently waiting for Bjorn to drive off somewhere. "Should I sit here?" I asked, motioning toward the opposite edge of the trailer. "Sit wherever you like," he said, and I quickly took a seat and held on for dear life as Bjorn pulled us recklessly through the 30 acre farm.
Russell seemed to enjoy watching me act like a nervous girl, clinging to the trailer, and he finally made eye contact with me, cracked a smile, and made some comment about Bjorn's driving. We drove through several paddocks (little fenced off areas of farm - this is how they separate certain groups of sheep from others), pausing briefly to open and close gates on our way, and made our way to the far back paddock, the last one on their property, bordered on one side by a little creek. We were, it was finally revealed, going to move a temporary fence that had been set up back there. Someone was supposed to come the following day to bale the hay laying around the paddocks, and the fence was in the way.
Out on the farm, Russell was a different person. He pointed out different groups of sheep, talked about the property lines, explained what we were doing and why. His quiet bruqueness from before had disappeared.
By the time that we sat down for evening tea (this is what they call dinner, in an irritating British fashion), however, the old Russell was back. Biddy yapped on and on about something, and Russell kept his head down til he was finished eating, when he scooted back his chair, took his plate and cutlery from the table, placed them in the sink, and then retired to an easy chair in the back of the room, while the rest of us sat around the table, finishing our meals. He didn't make one attempt at small talk or getting-to-know-you-conversation during the meal (though to be honest, he probably didn't have a chance against Biddy's prattling). It was so bizarre, I thought. Such completely incorrect behavior. Surely this was not how it was going to be for two weeks!
The next day, as we headed down the driveway for our day's task of clearing out an overgrown garden by the mailbox, I asked Bjorn what he thought about all of this. Opposites attract, he said. Ha. He didn't seem particularly bothered by Russell's behavior or think that it was unusual really, but I couldn't let go of it that easily. People were supposed to like me. This man was going to like me, damnit!
That evening, as we milled around before dinner, I noticed that Biddy was having a glass of wine while she cooked. There were wine glasses and wine bottles hanging on racks around the main room, so I assumed they were drinkers, but had yet to see either of them drink (and I mean, drink ANYTHING, for that matter. One of the strangest things about Russell and Biddy is that they sit down for their meals without even a glass of water and never offered us one either! Russell, Biddy later told me, doesn't drink water. "Would never think of drinking the stuff. Hates it," she said. Can you imagine?! A grown man who won't drink water?) Russell abstained from the alcohol for the evening, though. Maybe we need to buy some alcohol and share it with them, I told Bjorn. That would be a good ice breaker, I think.
So the next day, after we had completed our five hours of work, we went into the local liquor store, and bought some wine and beer. We cooled down the beer when we got home, and when Russell arrived home from work, offered him one. He seemed pleased by the gesture and sat out on the front patio with us for a while, drinking his beer and engaging in pleasant conversation (or maybe I should say pleasantly listening while Biddy talked). Over dinner, I made a point to asked Russell some direct questions about the sheep, forcing him, I hoped, to talk. He did say a few things, though Biddy, of course, jumped on an opportunity to talk and sort of took over. But, I thought, we were making progress.
We fell into a nice routine during that first week. We were expected to be up and eating breakfast by 8 AM, after Russell had left for work. We were given some task or other - mostly involving tidying up the gardens - which we were expected to do for five hours. Sometimes Biddy invited us in around 10:30 AM for a cup of coffee and biscuit (cookie), and lunch always started just after noon, when Russell's little white car pulled into the driveway. We'd eat, Russell would sit on the couch quietly eating an apple for dessert, and then he'd nod, and take his leave, heading back to work. We'd go back out to our task, laboring on until Biddy came out around 3 PM, notifying us that it was quitting time, and the rest of the day was ours.
Every Friday afternoon, Biddy drives herself to Queenstown, where she has a stall at the Saturday morning craft fair. She then drives to Wanaka on Sunday morning, for their craft fair, and returns to Gore on Sunday evening, in time to get Russell's dinner on the table. When our first Friday afternoon rolled around, Bjorn and I were both thrilled to get a break from Biddy's non-stop yammering.
Apparently, Russell was, too. He was in a grand mood when he got home from work, talkative and full of interesting things to say. He went out to the garage and brought in 6 beers, offering to share with us. We, of course, obliged, and sat with him in the living room for a couple hours, watching some big horse race in Auckland that was on TV. Russell is big into horse racing. His father raced horses, his brother races horses on the old family farm, and Russell has also raced horses from time to time. Though neither Bjorn nor I have any real interest in this, we were delighted to have Russell opening up to us a bit, getting him onto a subject he was interested in.
Later that night, I told Bjorn that it was the victory of my life getting Russell to like us. He laughed, and told me I shouldn't jump to any conclusions before Russell was able to evaluate my farming skills. He would be taking us out to work with the SHEEP the next morning.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Biddy
We pulled into the drive at 111 Racecourse Road just after lunch on Tuesday, the third. The gravel road was narrow and lined on both sides with bushy agapanthas, red hot pokers, daisies, and the shade of taller trees guarded us from the sun as we drove the short distance toward the house.
I was excited. I was anxious to meet my hostess for the next two weeks - Biddy. I had conjured up an exact image of her in my mind. She would be grandmotherly. She'd have long greying hair, tied back in an artistic knot of some sort, have beautiful skin, a sweet smile, and we'd probably find her in the back yard, sitting under a tree at her spinning wheel, whiling the afternoon away plying wool. She'd be the perfect knitting tutor for me. Kind and instructive, encouraging, inspiring. And she'd probably have some sort of baked good in the oven, ready to pull out at the exact moment of our arrival.
We parked in the middle of the drive, next to the house. The front yard was small and enclosed by yet more flowering plants and trees. A brick patio off the front of the house was covered in clutter - a picnic table, potted plants, garden art, a grill. We heard the sliding glass front door before we reached it, and there was Biddy. Ah, Biddy.
Biddy is a sixty year old woman, born and raised and married and mothered and grandmothered, all in a 20 mile radius of Gore. She stands about 5’4” and the bulk of her 300 odd pounds is carried in her lower half, so her body see-saws from one leg to another as she lumbers about the house. She has pixie-cut white hair, wears glasses that turn brown in the sun, and has at least one tooth missing from her lowers, so that when she talks, her slight lisp makes her tongue peak out through the missing holes.
I was able to observe her physical features in such close detail due to the amount of time that I spent, staring into her face, hoping to appear interested, as she talked. Perhaps yapped is a better word. Or went on and on. Or rambled. I’m not sure I’ve ever encountered such a talker in my life. She seamlessly moves from one subject I’m not now or ever will be interested in to yet another subject of the same genre. Even stories that have potential to be interesting turn sour, taken over by superfluous details.
Within our first hour there, we were introduced to the dog - "This is Lottie. She's called Lottie for lotsa reasons. She's lotsa things. She's got Jack Russel, shnauzer, etcetera, etcetera." (This would be the first of about 5 times we heard her say this.) We were also given an extensive lesson about her family. She told us the names, ages, and occupations of her three daughters, their husbands, and their children. One of her son-in-laws, she made a point to say, was really her "sin-in-law" "cause they never got married, never will". We also heard that line several more times before we left.
After a whirlwind introduction to her life, she finally turned to us. "So, what do you two do?" Uhhhh... As I told Bjorn later that day, I'd never felt so embarrassed at my lack of occupation. Even though she'd just told me that her sin-in-law worked at the local freezing works (an enormous factory where they slaughter and freeze the lambs), I felt totally uncomfortable under her gaze. Saying I was certified to teach but hadn't really gotten around to it yet and was just travelling a little bit - it just didn't feel good enough.
We stammered out a few excuses for our current joblessness, and she immediately turned the subject back to herself. That was the last time she asked us about ourselves for several more days.
She showed us our room, which felt like the guestroom in your grandparents' house - full of family stuff, but not inhabited by any particular person. About five dressers lined the walls of the room, surrounding the bed on all sides. One of them was empty and avaialble for our use. The other dressers were draped with handmade lace coverings, and sitting atop were old, black and white photos of previous generations, sternly looking at the camera, and family history scrolls rolled up into little wooden cases.
She led us around the one-story, three-bedroom house, pointing out the only bathroom, just off the main hall, as well as the shower, which was tucked into a corner of the laundry room. It was a cozy, lived in house, and we were so thrilled at the prospect of having a place to be for two weeks, having a place to put our things, having a real bed to sleep in, having a daily shower and cooked meals!
We weren't quite sure what to do with ourselves that first day, and that never really changed as the two weeks went by. Biddy would start talking, walk off in a direction, and we'd look at each other, wondering if that was supposed to be a cue to follow her. We followed her out to a shed in the back yard where she keeps all her wool dyes and watched in amazement as she dyed several hanks of wool she had spun herself, all the time yammering on about something or other. After following her around like lost lambs for a while, we asked her if there was anything she wanted us to do for her today, and she directed us to the vegetable garden, where we could pull out all of the beans, as they were done for the season, as well as do some general weeding, and oh, why don't you fill this bucket up with beets while you're at it? We'll have those for tea tonight.
As we sat out in the vegetable garden, working away in the afternoon heat, we talked a bit about first impressions. At the time, neither of us said anything about Biddy's tendency to...talk. She was quite a character, we both admitted, but this was all going to be great. Working with our hands, learning about gardening and farming - it would be an amazing experience, to be sure.
I was excited. I was anxious to meet my hostess for the next two weeks - Biddy. I had conjured up an exact image of her in my mind. She would be grandmotherly. She'd have long greying hair, tied back in an artistic knot of some sort, have beautiful skin, a sweet smile, and we'd probably find her in the back yard, sitting under a tree at her spinning wheel, whiling the afternoon away plying wool. She'd be the perfect knitting tutor for me. Kind and instructive, encouraging, inspiring. And she'd probably have some sort of baked good in the oven, ready to pull out at the exact moment of our arrival.
We parked in the middle of the drive, next to the house. The front yard was small and enclosed by yet more flowering plants and trees. A brick patio off the front of the house was covered in clutter - a picnic table, potted plants, garden art, a grill. We heard the sliding glass front door before we reached it, and there was Biddy. Ah, Biddy.
Biddy is a sixty year old woman, born and raised and married and mothered and grandmothered, all in a 20 mile radius of Gore. She stands about 5’4” and the bulk of her 300 odd pounds is carried in her lower half, so her body see-saws from one leg to another as she lumbers about the house. She has pixie-cut white hair, wears glasses that turn brown in the sun, and has at least one tooth missing from her lowers, so that when she talks, her slight lisp makes her tongue peak out through the missing holes.
I was able to observe her physical features in such close detail due to the amount of time that I spent, staring into her face, hoping to appear interested, as she talked. Perhaps yapped is a better word. Or went on and on. Or rambled. I’m not sure I’ve ever encountered such a talker in my life. She seamlessly moves from one subject I’m not now or ever will be interested in to yet another subject of the same genre. Even stories that have potential to be interesting turn sour, taken over by superfluous details.
Within our first hour there, we were introduced to the dog - "This is Lottie. She's called Lottie for lotsa reasons. She's lotsa things. She's got Jack Russel, shnauzer, etcetera, etcetera." (This would be the first of about 5 times we heard her say this.) We were also given an extensive lesson about her family. She told us the names, ages, and occupations of her three daughters, their husbands, and their children. One of her son-in-laws, she made a point to say, was really her "sin-in-law" "cause they never got married, never will". We also heard that line several more times before we left.
After a whirlwind introduction to her life, she finally turned to us. "So, what do you two do?" Uhhhh... As I told Bjorn later that day, I'd never felt so embarrassed at my lack of occupation. Even though she'd just told me that her sin-in-law worked at the local freezing works (an enormous factory where they slaughter and freeze the lambs), I felt totally uncomfortable under her gaze. Saying I was certified to teach but hadn't really gotten around to it yet and was just travelling a little bit - it just didn't feel good enough.
We stammered out a few excuses for our current joblessness, and she immediately turned the subject back to herself. That was the last time she asked us about ourselves for several more days.
She showed us our room, which felt like the guestroom in your grandparents' house - full of family stuff, but not inhabited by any particular person. About five dressers lined the walls of the room, surrounding the bed on all sides. One of them was empty and avaialble for our use. The other dressers were draped with handmade lace coverings, and sitting atop were old, black and white photos of previous generations, sternly looking at the camera, and family history scrolls rolled up into little wooden cases.
She led us around the one-story, three-bedroom house, pointing out the only bathroom, just off the main hall, as well as the shower, which was tucked into a corner of the laundry room. It was a cozy, lived in house, and we were so thrilled at the prospect of having a place to be for two weeks, having a place to put our things, having a real bed to sleep in, having a daily shower and cooked meals!
We weren't quite sure what to do with ourselves that first day, and that never really changed as the two weeks went by. Biddy would start talking, walk off in a direction, and we'd look at each other, wondering if that was supposed to be a cue to follow her. We followed her out to a shed in the back yard where she keeps all her wool dyes and watched in amazement as she dyed several hanks of wool she had spun herself, all the time yammering on about something or other. After following her around like lost lambs for a while, we asked her if there was anything she wanted us to do for her today, and she directed us to the vegetable garden, where we could pull out all of the beans, as they were done for the season, as well as do some general weeding, and oh, why don't you fill this bucket up with beets while you're at it? We'll have those for tea tonight.
As we sat out in the vegetable garden, working away in the afternoon heat, we talked a bit about first impressions. At the time, neither of us said anything about Biddy's tendency to...talk. She was quite a character, we both admitted, but this was all going to be great. Working with our hands, learning about gardening and farming - it would be an amazing experience, to be sure.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
The Kepler
A few excerpts from our daily log -
Feb. 20, 2009 - Friday
Te Anau to Luxmore Hut, Kepler Track
It was raining when we woke this morning, but that didn't dampen our spirits! Oh, no! We put on all our raingear and headed bravely onto the Kepler Track around 10 AM. Six hours later, we arrived at the Luxmore Hut, soaked, and having seen nothing on our hike due to the low cloud cover. Our spirits (and our clothes) were slightly dampened. On the bright side, the forecast is predicting "periods of rain" for the next three days!
Soooo. Big fun we are having. But at least everything in our bags stayed dry, so we did have warm, dry clothes to change into and a warm sleeping bag to sleep in.
We shall see what tomorrow will bring. Perhaps we will bail out a day early if the weather stays like this. On one hand, it sucks to give up, but on the other, what's the point in trekking in the rain for three days if all you can say at the end is, "I did it?".
PS - Bjorn is the master champion of the YES 5 dice game, aka Yahtzee.
Feb. 21, 2009 - Saturday
Luxmore Hut to Iris Burn Campsite
Feb. 22, 2009 - Sunday
Iris Burn Campsite to Shallow Bay Hut
Yesterday was plain awful. You can say that again! Yesterday was plain awful! Not enjoyable. We were thinking about hiking back down to Te Anau, but decided to go forward - we wouldn't have anything to do in rainy Te Anau anyway. We had booked a campsite for last night but were fairly sure we could upgrade to the hut if we wanted (though that would cost us $60).
We waited at the Luxmore Hut til about noon, trying to decrease our potential time sitting at the rainy campsite later on. We had to put on all of our cold and wet clothes from the day before - brrrr! And miserable! We stepped out into the clouds and rain. The wind had picked up quite a bit, too, so the wind was coming in sideways, stinging our cold faces and hands. We trekked for three miserable hours across the ridge in the alpine area. We could tell we were on a ridge because of the steep slant of the ground on either side of us, but we had ZERO visibility. Spectacular scenery, we walked through, we're certain, but we didn't see any of it.
When we finally got down to the treeline, we were soaked and cold. Luckily, we had gotten out of the wind and under the cover of the forest, so our spirits brightened a bit on the last hour's walk.
We deliberated quite a bit but somehow decided to stick it out with the camping. There was a decent shelter, at least, where we could leave our wet things and cook a quick meal before fleeing into the tent. We were in the tent around 7 PM - not too much time to have to kill (and well killed with reading and cookie eating!).
Tent stayed reasonably dry, but we did have to stick to the very center of it to avoid the puddles forming at the sides. Neither of us slept very well, but we did manage to stay warm and dry all night.
We woke this morning to a light drizzle, which was an improvement! By the time we finished breakfast, there was just a thick fog/mist and big drops falling from the trees. Colder, wetter clothes on again, we were on the trail by 8:45 AM. At that time, we were planning to exit the trek a day earlier than planned at Rainbow Reach (where you can catch a shuttle bus back to Te Anau). But, the day progressed without much rainfall, and our clothes slowly dried on our bodies. The sun even peaked out once or twice!
So, we decided to pursue tthe original plan and sleep at the $5 backcountry hut at Shallow Bay (just 30 minutes down from MOtorau Hut - $45 per person, crowded, etc.). The hut only sleeps six, so we were a bit nervous about our chances of getting a bed (first come, first serve!), but when we arrived, there was no one else here! And by some miracle, we are STILL the only people here (though there were several passers-by and a warden around earlier).
The hut is awesome. It has three bunk beds, a tiny cooking area, and a huge fireplace. It also has lots of handy lines and hooks for hanging wet clothes. We have been here since 1:30 PM and have been sitting next to our cozy little fire since about 3:30 PM. The hut is situated right on Lake Manapouri - just gorgeous! We've never found a more secluded spot on one of these treks and can't imagine why this hut isn't used mroe often!
The rain started up again two hours ago, but who cares? We have a fire! And a roof over our heads! And a hot cup of tea and a good book and good company! What more could you ask for?
Ellen would like to ask that it NOT RAIN tomorrow. All her clothes are finally dry.
Feb. 23, 2009 - Monday
Shallow Bay Hut to Te Anau
Well, our magical hut kinda turned into a hell hole overnight. After the fire went out, LOADS of mosquitoes (called "mozzies" here) crept down the chimney into the hut. We spent the entire night smacking ourselves in the face and neck. There was NO escaping those little shits. Hunkering all the way down in the sleeping bag was no good because it was WAY too hot...not to mention they still found a way to get in.
Between the mosquitoes constant neeeeeeeeeee in our ears, the heat, the thirst, the loud rain banging down on the roof (and Ellen was also plagued with a good bit of FEAR of the serial killer certain to be lurking outside), we got very little sleep. Maybe three hours.
We were out of there early and think we must have killed at least 60 mozzies between us. Now we know why no one uses this hut!
The walk back to Te Anau took us a bit over four hours. It was pretty flat walking and it didn't rain on us one bit, so it was a nice and easy day.
We are settled into a cozy little house now for the night. The hostel we stayed at before was booked, but the lady said one of her friends ran a "hostel", too. It's really more of a homestay, though. But that's fine. We've had an amazing shower and a gigantic pig-out - chips, pizza, beer, and ice cream. WE DESERVE IT!
Onto Queenstown tomorrow. Considering the Rees-Dart track in a few days. Are we crazy? Somehow the misery of the last few days has faded already - funny how that happens!
***
So here we are - Thursday. We've been in Queenstown for two nights now. We are scheduled to show up at our WWOOF placement on Tuesday, so we've got just a few days to kill before that. There's a 50% chance we will go out on the Rees-Dart track tomorrow, which is about 80 km of walking through Mount Aspiring National Park. We just visited the DOC office, though, and they said the trek was "significantly harder" than the Kepler, with several river crossings. I am feeling interested, but a little nervous. We'll see. Going to give it a few hours to mull it over.
Oh! I almost forgot to mention. Plans! We have plane tickets out now! We are flying out of Auckland on May 8 to Bangkok, where we'll stay for three weeks (though hopefully not actually in Bangkok). Then we're onto SWEDEN on May 29. Time for me to meet the Anderssons. Eek!
Love to you all - sorry for the long entry. New photos! I can't take credit for them all - many are from Bjorn's camera. Enjoy! http://picasaweb.google.com/ellen.bucy
Feb. 20, 2009 - Friday
Te Anau to Luxmore Hut, Kepler Track
It was raining when we woke this morning, but that didn't dampen our spirits! Oh, no! We put on all our raingear and headed bravely onto the Kepler Track around 10 AM. Six hours later, we arrived at the Luxmore Hut, soaked, and having seen nothing on our hike due to the low cloud cover. Our spirits (and our clothes) were slightly dampened. On the bright side, the forecast is predicting "periods of rain" for the next three days!
Soooo. Big fun we are having. But at least everything in our bags stayed dry, so we did have warm, dry clothes to change into and a warm sleeping bag to sleep in.
We shall see what tomorrow will bring. Perhaps we will bail out a day early if the weather stays like this. On one hand, it sucks to give up, but on the other, what's the point in trekking in the rain for three days if all you can say at the end is, "I did it?".
PS - Bjorn is the master champion of the YES 5 dice game, aka Yahtzee.
Feb. 21, 2009 - Saturday
Luxmore Hut to Iris Burn Campsite
Feb. 22, 2009 - Sunday
Iris Burn Campsite to Shallow Bay Hut
Yesterday was plain awful. You can say that again! Yesterday was plain awful! Not enjoyable. We were thinking about hiking back down to Te Anau, but decided to go forward - we wouldn't have anything to do in rainy Te Anau anyway. We had booked a campsite for last night but were fairly sure we could upgrade to the hut if we wanted (though that would cost us $60).
We waited at the Luxmore Hut til about noon, trying to decrease our potential time sitting at the rainy campsite later on. We had to put on all of our cold and wet clothes from the day before - brrrr! And miserable! We stepped out into the clouds and rain. The wind had picked up quite a bit, too, so the wind was coming in sideways, stinging our cold faces and hands. We trekked for three miserable hours across the ridge in the alpine area. We could tell we were on a ridge because of the steep slant of the ground on either side of us, but we had ZERO visibility. Spectacular scenery, we walked through, we're certain, but we didn't see any of it.
When we finally got down to the treeline, we were soaked and cold. Luckily, we had gotten out of the wind and under the cover of the forest, so our spirits brightened a bit on the last hour's walk.
We deliberated quite a bit but somehow decided to stick it out with the camping. There was a decent shelter, at least, where we could leave our wet things and cook a quick meal before fleeing into the tent. We were in the tent around 7 PM - not too much time to have to kill (and well killed with reading and cookie eating!).
Tent stayed reasonably dry, but we did have to stick to the very center of it to avoid the puddles forming at the sides. Neither of us slept very well, but we did manage to stay warm and dry all night.
We woke this morning to a light drizzle, which was an improvement! By the time we finished breakfast, there was just a thick fog/mist and big drops falling from the trees. Colder, wetter clothes on again, we were on the trail by 8:45 AM. At that time, we were planning to exit the trek a day earlier than planned at Rainbow Reach (where you can catch a shuttle bus back to Te Anau). But, the day progressed without much rainfall, and our clothes slowly dried on our bodies. The sun even peaked out once or twice!
So, we decided to pursue tthe original plan and sleep at the $5 backcountry hut at Shallow Bay (just 30 minutes down from MOtorau Hut - $45 per person, crowded, etc.). The hut only sleeps six, so we were a bit nervous about our chances of getting a bed (first come, first serve!), but when we arrived, there was no one else here! And by some miracle, we are STILL the only people here (though there were several passers-by and a warden around earlier).
The hut is awesome. It has three bunk beds, a tiny cooking area, and a huge fireplace. It also has lots of handy lines and hooks for hanging wet clothes. We have been here since 1:30 PM and have been sitting next to our cozy little fire since about 3:30 PM. The hut is situated right on Lake Manapouri - just gorgeous! We've never found a more secluded spot on one of these treks and can't imagine why this hut isn't used mroe often!
The rain started up again two hours ago, but who cares? We have a fire! And a roof over our heads! And a hot cup of tea and a good book and good company! What more could you ask for?
Ellen would like to ask that it NOT RAIN tomorrow. All her clothes are finally dry.
Feb. 23, 2009 - Monday
Shallow Bay Hut to Te Anau
Well, our magical hut kinda turned into a hell hole overnight. After the fire went out, LOADS of mosquitoes (called "mozzies" here) crept down the chimney into the hut. We spent the entire night smacking ourselves in the face and neck. There was NO escaping those little shits. Hunkering all the way down in the sleeping bag was no good because it was WAY too hot...not to mention they still found a way to get in.
Between the mosquitoes constant neeeeeeeeeee in our ears, the heat, the thirst, the loud rain banging down on the roof (and Ellen was also plagued with a good bit of FEAR of the serial killer certain to be lurking outside), we got very little sleep. Maybe three hours.
We were out of there early and think we must have killed at least 60 mozzies between us. Now we know why no one uses this hut!
The walk back to Te Anau took us a bit over four hours. It was pretty flat walking and it didn't rain on us one bit, so it was a nice and easy day.
We are settled into a cozy little house now for the night. The hostel we stayed at before was booked, but the lady said one of her friends ran a "hostel", too. It's really more of a homestay, though. But that's fine. We've had an amazing shower and a gigantic pig-out - chips, pizza, beer, and ice cream. WE DESERVE IT!
Onto Queenstown tomorrow. Considering the Rees-Dart track in a few days. Are we crazy? Somehow the misery of the last few days has faded already - funny how that happens!
***
So here we are - Thursday. We've been in Queenstown for two nights now. We are scheduled to show up at our WWOOF placement on Tuesday, so we've got just a few days to kill before that. There's a 50% chance we will go out on the Rees-Dart track tomorrow, which is about 80 km of walking through Mount Aspiring National Park. We just visited the DOC office, though, and they said the trek was "significantly harder" than the Kepler, with several river crossings. I am feeling interested, but a little nervous. We'll see. Going to give it a few hours to mull it over.
Oh! I almost forgot to mention. Plans! We have plane tickets out now! We are flying out of Auckland on May 8 to Bangkok, where we'll stay for three weeks (though hopefully not actually in Bangkok). Then we're onto SWEDEN on May 29. Time for me to meet the Anderssons. Eek!
Love to you all - sorry for the long entry. New photos! I can't take credit for them all - many are from Bjorn's camera. Enjoy! http://picasaweb.google.com/ellen.bucy
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Just A Quick Hi
Hello, hello!
I am sitting on my little bunk bed in a hostel in Te Anau tonight. I am (somewhat) guiltily peering over my laptop, watching this woman packing her backpack for the Kepler Track, which she is starting tomorrow morning. She has rented out all of her gear and whatnot and is frantically trying to figure out what to take. She has a HUGE loaf of gourmet "naturally baked" bread laying out on the floor. "Is this good?" she asked me a few minutes ago. Um...sure. If you like squished bread! Do I take shampoo? she just asked. Oy! Sorry, lady. You have signed up for four days of no showers. I don't think she has a clue what she's gotten into.
Of course, instead of helping her pack, as I ought to be doing, I am sitting here on my bunk bed, writing about it. Ellen, Ellen...
Luckily, Bjorn and I are starting the very same hike tomorrow morning, so I am sure we'll see a good bit of her over the next few days. (And Bjorn, good soul that he is, has just stepped in to help her out. Does his goodness count for me, too?)
We have spent the last few days sitting on our hands. We had a big budget spend at the beginning of the week and were therefore forced into retreating off into the woods somewhere, to a free campsite, for a little time killing.
We had a great time, though. We picked up two hitch-hikers at the hostel in Invercargill and carried them with us, for two nights of free camping at Lake Monowai, and then onto Te Anau yesterday morning. Our hitchers were Matt and Jessica, newlyweds from Boston. They married in August and are taking an 8 month honeymoon - traveling for two months around the States, WWOOFing in Hawaii, driving around Australia, and now New Zealand! How fun! They were super nice, and I hope we run into them again somewhere down the road. I have a feeling we will...it's a small country.
We will be back from the Kepler Track on Monday, and our tentative plan from then is to run up to Queenstown, do another 4 day trek around there (the Rees-Dart Track), and then get ourselves to a little town called Gore by March 3rd for two weeks of WWOOFing! We have found the perfect little placement. It's an older couple, living on a huge sheep farm. She spins, dyes, and knits wool straight off her own sheep, and then sells her goodies in nearby cities. He breeds racing horses. They have a million sheep, an organic vegetable garden, and they live right on the Motuara River, which is apparently the reason Gore is the Trout Fishing Capital of the World (though I don't know if that is just a self-proclamation)! How fun! So we are about 95% sure that is going to work out. And we'll spend two weeks living with these folks, learning a bit about what they do, helping them with their gardening, taking knitting lessons, and on and on! Fun!
Okay. I have lots of walking in my future so I ought to get onto bed now. If this lady doesn't keep me up all night packing, that is. Hehe.
Love to you all!
I am sitting on my little bunk bed in a hostel in Te Anau tonight. I am (somewhat) guiltily peering over my laptop, watching this woman packing her backpack for the Kepler Track, which she is starting tomorrow morning. She has rented out all of her gear and whatnot and is frantically trying to figure out what to take. She has a HUGE loaf of gourmet "naturally baked" bread laying out on the floor. "Is this good?" she asked me a few minutes ago. Um...sure. If you like squished bread! Do I take shampoo? she just asked. Oy! Sorry, lady. You have signed up for four days of no showers. I don't think she has a clue what she's gotten into.
Of course, instead of helping her pack, as I ought to be doing, I am sitting here on my bunk bed, writing about it. Ellen, Ellen...
Luckily, Bjorn and I are starting the very same hike tomorrow morning, so I am sure we'll see a good bit of her over the next few days. (And Bjorn, good soul that he is, has just stepped in to help her out. Does his goodness count for me, too?)
We have spent the last few days sitting on our hands. We had a big budget spend at the beginning of the week and were therefore forced into retreating off into the woods somewhere, to a free campsite, for a little time killing.
We had a great time, though. We picked up two hitch-hikers at the hostel in Invercargill and carried them with us, for two nights of free camping at Lake Monowai, and then onto Te Anau yesterday morning. Our hitchers were Matt and Jessica, newlyweds from Boston. They married in August and are taking an 8 month honeymoon - traveling for two months around the States, WWOOFing in Hawaii, driving around Australia, and now New Zealand! How fun! They were super nice, and I hope we run into them again somewhere down the road. I have a feeling we will...it's a small country.
We will be back from the Kepler Track on Monday, and our tentative plan from then is to run up to Queenstown, do another 4 day trek around there (the Rees-Dart Track), and then get ourselves to a little town called Gore by March 3rd for two weeks of WWOOFing! We have found the perfect little placement. It's an older couple, living on a huge sheep farm. She spins, dyes, and knits wool straight off her own sheep, and then sells her goodies in nearby cities. He breeds racing horses. They have a million sheep, an organic vegetable garden, and they live right on the Motuara River, which is apparently the reason Gore is the Trout Fishing Capital of the World (though I don't know if that is just a self-proclamation)! How fun! So we are about 95% sure that is going to work out. And we'll spend two weeks living with these folks, learning a bit about what they do, helping them with their gardening, taking knitting lessons, and on and on! Fun!
Okay. I have lots of walking in my future so I ought to get onto bed now. If this lady doesn't keep me up all night packing, that is. Hehe.
Love to you all!
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Muttonbird Scrub
Muttonbird Scrub is the name of my favorite New Zealand tree/plant. I called it Matisse's Leaf before I learned its actual name because its leaf looks like one that Matisse would paint - round and thick, flat green with white around the edges.
We're gradually learning the names of many of the local trees - Lancewood, Crown Fern, Miro, Rata, Rimu, Kanuka - as well as the birds - Bellbird, Fantail, Kaka, Weka, Kiwi, Tomtit. I've been trying to learn some of the names of Tennessee trees for several years now, and they just do not stick for some reason. But here, they're sticking, probably because each species is so distinctive - the leaves and bark are just so different from each other (and so different from anything I've seen).
We have had many chances to educate ourselves on New Zealand wildlife in the last week, spending the last four days over on Stewart Island. This particular island is a special place because it is 85% native New Zealand rainforest. The fact that the island is covered with native rainforest wouldn't necessarily mean much, though, if you didn't know that ALL of New Zealand used to be covered in rainforest, before humans arrived, that is. The first New Zealanders, the Maoris, burned down a good bit of the forest, and then the colonists finished the job, clearing mass amounts of forest for farms and timber. Driving around New Zealand today, you would NEVER guess that its original landscape was rainforest because it seems to be entirely farmland.
Kiwis are incredibly sensitive about this fact now (at least those in the environmental community are), and are actively trying to get New Zealand - parts of it - back to its original state. And so Stewart Island was saved! Parts of the island were used as milling centers in the 1800s, but in the last century, the majority of the island has been made into National Reserve land.
The forest is truly remarkable. Walking through it feels somehow like walking through the set for Jurassic Park or something. The leaves just look un-real somehow, impossible, part of something lost long ago. Ferns of various colors, shapes, and sizes cover the forest floor, filling in the spaces left between the towering totaras and rimus. Larger ferms fan you from above, elegant and imposing and tropical. The air is cool and moist and there are birds everywhere, singing down at you.
We finished a three day trek through some of this original rainforest yesterday. Upon returning, we took a short ferry ride over to Ulva Island, another reserve area which has been slowly and methodically rid of ALL predators - rats, possums, deer, etc. - that put the birdlife at risk. The island, therefore, has become a bird sanctuary,and we spent about four hours yesterday, standing in the forest with our heads cocked backwards and our mouths open, trying to spot those darned birds as they twittered away above. The birds were totally unafraid (and uninterested) in us, and many of them came quite close. One little New Zealand robin, in particular, kept hopping right up to our feet or swooping down to a branch right in front of our faces and blasting us with his song. (Apparently these robins do this in hope that you'll uncover some hiding worm or yummy morsel in dirt under your shoes!)
Anyway, it's been a really nice few days, relaxing, walking, taking it in. We are in Invercargill for the night now and will be generally making our way up to Te Anau this week. We're starting the four day Kepler Track from Te Anau on Friday. Woooohoooo!
Hope everyone's well...if anybody is out there, that is...
Much love.
We're gradually learning the names of many of the local trees - Lancewood, Crown Fern, Miro, Rata, Rimu, Kanuka - as well as the birds - Bellbird, Fantail, Kaka, Weka, Kiwi, Tomtit. I've been trying to learn some of the names of Tennessee trees for several years now, and they just do not stick for some reason. But here, they're sticking, probably because each species is so distinctive - the leaves and bark are just so different from each other (and so different from anything I've seen).
We have had many chances to educate ourselves on New Zealand wildlife in the last week, spending the last four days over on Stewart Island. This particular island is a special place because it is 85% native New Zealand rainforest. The fact that the island is covered with native rainforest wouldn't necessarily mean much, though, if you didn't know that ALL of New Zealand used to be covered in rainforest, before humans arrived, that is. The first New Zealanders, the Maoris, burned down a good bit of the forest, and then the colonists finished the job, clearing mass amounts of forest for farms and timber. Driving around New Zealand today, you would NEVER guess that its original landscape was rainforest because it seems to be entirely farmland.
Kiwis are incredibly sensitive about this fact now (at least those in the environmental community are), and are actively trying to get New Zealand - parts of it - back to its original state. And so Stewart Island was saved! Parts of the island were used as milling centers in the 1800s, but in the last century, the majority of the island has been made into National Reserve land.
The forest is truly remarkable. Walking through it feels somehow like walking through the set for Jurassic Park or something. The leaves just look un-real somehow, impossible, part of something lost long ago. Ferns of various colors, shapes, and sizes cover the forest floor, filling in the spaces left between the towering totaras and rimus. Larger ferms fan you from above, elegant and imposing and tropical. The air is cool and moist and there are birds everywhere, singing down at you.
We finished a three day trek through some of this original rainforest yesterday. Upon returning, we took a short ferry ride over to Ulva Island, another reserve area which has been slowly and methodically rid of ALL predators - rats, possums, deer, etc. - that put the birdlife at risk. The island, therefore, has become a bird sanctuary,and we spent about four hours yesterday, standing in the forest with our heads cocked backwards and our mouths open, trying to spot those darned birds as they twittered away above. The birds were totally unafraid (and uninterested) in us, and many of them came quite close. One little New Zealand robin, in particular, kept hopping right up to our feet or swooping down to a branch right in front of our faces and blasting us with his song. (Apparently these robins do this in hope that you'll uncover some hiding worm or yummy morsel in dirt under your shoes!)
Anyway, it's been a really nice few days, relaxing, walking, taking it in. We are in Invercargill for the night now and will be generally making our way up to Te Anau this week. We're starting the four day Kepler Track from Te Anau on Friday. Woooohoooo!
Hope everyone's well...if anybody is out there, that is...
Much love.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Fish Heaven
We spent the last three nights at a really cool campsite right on the beach on the Purakaunui Falls Scenic Reserve. When we arrived on Friday evening, the campsite was crawling with weekend partygoers, which was pretty amazing considering the spot was in the middle of nowhere, and accessed by a long dirt road.
It’s interesting to see how people live in different parts of the world and what a huge part the land a person grows up in plays in who that person becomes, what they are interested in. Most of the people at the campsite with us were college-aged, I’d say. Maybe a bit older. It was clear that this was what they did for fun when they had some time off – pack up the car with the surf boards and wetsuits and tents and head to the beach for a few days. Growing up in New Zealand, being outdoorsy just seems to be part of your heritage. I can’t imagine how a person could make it to adulthood here without learning to appreciate nature.
As campsites go, this place was tops. The beach was closed in by gorgeous white cliffs on one side, with crazy volcanic rock forms extending around the bay on the other side. The first night there, we walked a ways out on the rocks, seeing where they led. It was as if lava, pouring down toward the water, had suddenly been smothered by a huge wave, and all the bubbles in the lava had frozen immediately. The rock remaining was rough and porous, and in some places lay in huge squares, like a chessboard. In spots, water had pooled up in the rocks and little miniature aquariums had formed, full of strings of yellow pearl algae and green shrubbery, all perfectly visible through the clear water. I can’t really describe it, but it was gorgeous. After we’d walked out around the bay a bit, we found the perfect fishing spot, and…
Bjorn has been in fish heaven the last few days. We spent Saturday pretty lazily, taking in the Purakauni Falls in the morning (nothing spectacular) and spending the entirety of the afternoon fishing. Or rather, Bjorn fished, perched on a craggy rock above the ocean, and I sat just a few feet behind him in my comfy camping chair, listening to my Swedish lessons on my ipod. (Jag ar Amerikan!)
He caught about 10 fish that day – blue cod, red cod, parrot fish - all which went back into the water except for one beautiful, fat blue cod. The cod was perfectly sized for cutting into two fillets (which Bjorn expertly did later that afternoon) and for cooking up on our little frying pan over our camping stove (which we also did later). DELISH!
The following day, we went out on a little day walk down the Catlins River, and Bjorn again, just had to try his luck. Trout for dinner last night! Nutritious AND a budget saver.
After catching a really ewy eel a couple months ago back in Akaroa, Viv, a chef at the restaurant remarked, “Bjorn’s just a hunter-gatherer, isn’t he? He just can’t help himself, can he?” And it’s so true. He really cannot help himself. He can content himself for hours on end with casting the line out, reeling it back in, casting the line out, reeling it back in. I have never been into fishing; in fact, I might have said before it was something of a redneck pastime. And I’m not going to say I LOVE it now or anything, but I do get it now. And I think it’s really admirable to get such pleasure out of such a simple, natural act.
Anyway. A storm was a-brewing yesterday when we got back to the campsite, so we packed our little tent away and re-organized the car to fit our sleeping bags and bodies and whiled the evening away listening to some radio podcasts (what a brilliant invention) and reading (we have just started to read Twilight together).
It’s poured down rain all day today. We made the silly mistake of going to see some “spectacular” Cathedral Caves and spent $10 getting soaked from head to toe. We fled the caves and headed to the nearest town to find some shelter, and here we are at the Dolphin Lodge Backpackers at Curio Bay. We’re still in the Catlins and will probably be here for another couple of days. Our next real destination is Stewart Island, a little island south of here, famous for its bird wildlife. We’ll do a three day trek there (and pray it doesn’t pour on us the whole time), and then head back to the mainland and start gradually making our way up the west coast of the South Island.
Okay. I need to get back to being incredibly lazy at the hostel now. I almost appreciate the rain for giving me the excuse…
Love to you all!
It’s interesting to see how people live in different parts of the world and what a huge part the land a person grows up in plays in who that person becomes, what they are interested in. Most of the people at the campsite with us were college-aged, I’d say. Maybe a bit older. It was clear that this was what they did for fun when they had some time off – pack up the car with the surf boards and wetsuits and tents and head to the beach for a few days. Growing up in New Zealand, being outdoorsy just seems to be part of your heritage. I can’t imagine how a person could make it to adulthood here without learning to appreciate nature.
As campsites go, this place was tops. The beach was closed in by gorgeous white cliffs on one side, with crazy volcanic rock forms extending around the bay on the other side. The first night there, we walked a ways out on the rocks, seeing where they led. It was as if lava, pouring down toward the water, had suddenly been smothered by a huge wave, and all the bubbles in the lava had frozen immediately. The rock remaining was rough and porous, and in some places lay in huge squares, like a chessboard. In spots, water had pooled up in the rocks and little miniature aquariums had formed, full of strings of yellow pearl algae and green shrubbery, all perfectly visible through the clear water. I can’t really describe it, but it was gorgeous. After we’d walked out around the bay a bit, we found the perfect fishing spot, and…
Bjorn has been in fish heaven the last few days. We spent Saturday pretty lazily, taking in the Purakauni Falls in the morning (nothing spectacular) and spending the entirety of the afternoon fishing. Or rather, Bjorn fished, perched on a craggy rock above the ocean, and I sat just a few feet behind him in my comfy camping chair, listening to my Swedish lessons on my ipod. (Jag ar Amerikan!)
He caught about 10 fish that day – blue cod, red cod, parrot fish - all which went back into the water except for one beautiful, fat blue cod. The cod was perfectly sized for cutting into two fillets (which Bjorn expertly did later that afternoon) and for cooking up on our little frying pan over our camping stove (which we also did later). DELISH!
The following day, we went out on a little day walk down the Catlins River, and Bjorn again, just had to try his luck. Trout for dinner last night! Nutritious AND a budget saver.
After catching a really ewy eel a couple months ago back in Akaroa, Viv, a chef at the restaurant remarked, “Bjorn’s just a hunter-gatherer, isn’t he? He just can’t help himself, can he?” And it’s so true. He really cannot help himself. He can content himself for hours on end with casting the line out, reeling it back in, casting the line out, reeling it back in. I have never been into fishing; in fact, I might have said before it was something of a redneck pastime. And I’m not going to say I LOVE it now or anything, but I do get it now. And I think it’s really admirable to get such pleasure out of such a simple, natural act.
Anyway. A storm was a-brewing yesterday when we got back to the campsite, so we packed our little tent away and re-organized the car to fit our sleeping bags and bodies and whiled the evening away listening to some radio podcasts (what a brilliant invention) and reading (we have just started to read Twilight together).
It’s poured down rain all day today. We made the silly mistake of going to see some “spectacular” Cathedral Caves and spent $10 getting soaked from head to toe. We fled the caves and headed to the nearest town to find some shelter, and here we are at the Dolphin Lodge Backpackers at Curio Bay. We’re still in the Catlins and will probably be here for another couple of days. Our next real destination is Stewart Island, a little island south of here, famous for its bird wildlife. We’ll do a three day trek there (and pray it doesn’t pour on us the whole time), and then head back to the mainland and start gradually making our way up the west coast of the South Island.
Okay. I need to get back to being incredibly lazy at the hostel now. I almost appreciate the rain for giving me the excuse…
Love to you all!
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Penguins, Mountains, and Tents
Hello, hello! Here we are in Dunedin, a little city on the east coast of the South Island. We are in the city for a business day - interneting, shopping, having a nice lunch out somewhere.
We have had quite a few days! The trek up to the Mueller Hut at Mount Cook was spectacular. We left mid-morning on Monday, with blue skies, light winds, sunshine, and about 70 degrees - perfect for an uphill climb! The hike that day was a little over three hours of straight up (about 1800 meters), with some steep stairs, a little rock climbing, and some crumbly rocks that went sliding under you as you stepped on them. Definitely a little intimidating at first and a decently hard climb, but well worth it.
We stopped at the top of the ridge for lunch with awesome views of Mount Cook and Mount Sefton in the background. Mount Sefton was directly across from our little perch across the deep gorge below, and it was covered with spectacular icy blue, white, and gray glaciers, pouring down its sides. Every few minutes you'd hear a deep, thunder-like rumble, and know ice was falling somewhere, but you could rarely catch it with your eyes!
The Mueller Hut was superbly positioned for amazing views of the mountains, as well as the lakes and village below. It's an adorable little place, with two bunk rooms, sleeping about 28 in total. The bunks are not individual, though - more like one HUGE bunk bed, with 7 mattresses across each. So we were sleeping very close to our compadres! Of course, everyone was so exhausted by bedtime that nobody thought twice of it. Plus, I think you just get used to a total lack of privacy once you've visited a hut or two.
The hut was equipped with a kitchen with gas stoves, a wraparound porch, and a little potty, a bit off from the hut. In other words, we weren't roughing it, exactly.
We mostly relaxed that afternoon, though we did do one little side trek up to Mount Olliver, another 100 meters up. From up there, we could see all the way to Lake Pukaki! Pretty amazing.
The next morning we headed back down the mountain, and I was very thankful for the trekking poles I had rented for the trek. (I'll have to eat all those ugly words I ever said to my father, making fun of his trekking poles - they were quite handy.)Once back down, we had a quick shower and then said our goodbyes to Mount Cook.
We drove ourselves down to Oamaru that day, another little city on the east coast. Oamaru is mostly worth a visit for its beaches, which boast several blue penguin and yellow-eyed penguin colonies. We paid a whopping $20 to go to a 9 PM viewing of the blue penguins, which was really cool (though I still don't understand exactly how a place can capitalize on such a thing). The NZ Department of Conservation has set up a little penguin nesting ground, basically to protect the penguins from the tourists, who were getting too close, taking flash photos that scared the penguins, and all other matter of annoying tourist things. So now, if you pay $20, you can go sit in a little viewing area, right on the beach, and you can watch the penguins swim in, after a hard day's fishing, climb up onto the beach, and waddle their way back to their nests, where their babies are waiting for them...and HUNGRY!
The blue penguins are the smallest species of penguin in the world at about 20 cm. We were fairly close to them, but after staring at their black and white shapes for a while, they started to look like little turtles to me, or oversized roaches! They were really cute, though. I most enjoyed watching the activity over on nesting side of things, where the babies emerged from the nests and literally attacked their parents the moment they came through the door. FEED ME!
We spent that night in a little holiday park outside of the city. "Holiday parks" are these little areas of land where you can pay to bring in your camper van or motor home or tent and spend the night. They are usually fairly nice and equipped with flush toilets, showers, kitchens, etc. In terms of camping, it's a pretty easy way to go. They do cost between $16 and $28 per night per site, so while it is economical, it's not necessarily the cheapest way, considering there are free camp sites run by the Department of Conservation. Bjorn tends to prefer the free camp sites (which have basically no amenities at all); I tend to prefer the holiday parks, at least every other day.
The next day, Wednesday, we headed on to the Otago Peninsula, just outside of Dunedin. We had booked a super deluxe hostel for the evening, so when we got in that afternoon, we basically sat on the couch, enjoying the view, and relaxing. When you are living out of your car, you start to realize how much you take down time for granted. If you want to have a little break and just sit around and do nothing for a bit, you either have to sit in the stuffy car or outside in your camping chair. You have no real place to BE. So the last week, we have avoided downtime altogether, except for around mealtimes.
We spent all day yesterday exploring the Otago Peninsula, which looks eerily similar to the Banks Peninsula, our former home. We had another nice night at a holiday park last night, and that brings us to now, sitting in this little cyber cafe at a McDonald's in Dunedin. Ha!
We're having a grand time, though we are beginning to feel the pains of the budget which we have set for ourselves - $100/day (and that's for both of us, not $100 each). It sounds like quite a lot when you think about it, but once you factor in accommodation and food and gas, it goes quickly. And, of course, there's the fact that you ARE travelling, and you DO want to enjoy yourself and see the sights and immerse yourself. So everything becomes a choice - is it worth it? Should we spend $19 apiece to go through the Cadbury Factory? (That's a choice that's ahead of us today...and it's tempting.) And EVERYTHING is expensive. Every activity costs money, outside of trekking, and even that can be expensive, with hut costs and whatnot. But it's a good experience for me, and, unlike budgets I've put myself on before, I REALLY want to stick to this one. I really want it to work. So I think it will. And that damned money I earned from Vangioni's is precious.
Okay, onward! After our big city day, we are heading down to The Catlins, a little reserve area at the very southeastern end of the island. We're exploring the possibility of trying to WWOOF down there for a week or so (work for a few hours a day in exchange for accommodation and meals), but we'll probably play it by ear.
More soon! Photos for you! http://picasaweb.google.com/ellen.bucy
We have had quite a few days! The trek up to the Mueller Hut at Mount Cook was spectacular. We left mid-morning on Monday, with blue skies, light winds, sunshine, and about 70 degrees - perfect for an uphill climb! The hike that day was a little over three hours of straight up (about 1800 meters), with some steep stairs, a little rock climbing, and some crumbly rocks that went sliding under you as you stepped on them. Definitely a little intimidating at first and a decently hard climb, but well worth it.
We stopped at the top of the ridge for lunch with awesome views of Mount Cook and Mount Sefton in the background. Mount Sefton was directly across from our little perch across the deep gorge below, and it was covered with spectacular icy blue, white, and gray glaciers, pouring down its sides. Every few minutes you'd hear a deep, thunder-like rumble, and know ice was falling somewhere, but you could rarely catch it with your eyes!
The Mueller Hut was superbly positioned for amazing views of the mountains, as well as the lakes and village below. It's an adorable little place, with two bunk rooms, sleeping about 28 in total. The bunks are not individual, though - more like one HUGE bunk bed, with 7 mattresses across each. So we were sleeping very close to our compadres! Of course, everyone was so exhausted by bedtime that nobody thought twice of it. Plus, I think you just get used to a total lack of privacy once you've visited a hut or two.
The hut was equipped with a kitchen with gas stoves, a wraparound porch, and a little potty, a bit off from the hut. In other words, we weren't roughing it, exactly.
We mostly relaxed that afternoon, though we did do one little side trek up to Mount Olliver, another 100 meters up. From up there, we could see all the way to Lake Pukaki! Pretty amazing.
The next morning we headed back down the mountain, and I was very thankful for the trekking poles I had rented for the trek. (I'll have to eat all those ugly words I ever said to my father, making fun of his trekking poles - they were quite handy.)Once back down, we had a quick shower and then said our goodbyes to Mount Cook.
We drove ourselves down to Oamaru that day, another little city on the east coast. Oamaru is mostly worth a visit for its beaches, which boast several blue penguin and yellow-eyed penguin colonies. We paid a whopping $20 to go to a 9 PM viewing of the blue penguins, which was really cool (though I still don't understand exactly how a place can capitalize on such a thing). The NZ Department of Conservation has set up a little penguin nesting ground, basically to protect the penguins from the tourists, who were getting too close, taking flash photos that scared the penguins, and all other matter of annoying tourist things. So now, if you pay $20, you can go sit in a little viewing area, right on the beach, and you can watch the penguins swim in, after a hard day's fishing, climb up onto the beach, and waddle their way back to their nests, where their babies are waiting for them...and HUNGRY!
The blue penguins are the smallest species of penguin in the world at about 20 cm. We were fairly close to them, but after staring at their black and white shapes for a while, they started to look like little turtles to me, or oversized roaches! They were really cute, though. I most enjoyed watching the activity over on nesting side of things, where the babies emerged from the nests and literally attacked their parents the moment they came through the door. FEED ME!
We spent that night in a little holiday park outside of the city. "Holiday parks" are these little areas of land where you can pay to bring in your camper van or motor home or tent and spend the night. They are usually fairly nice and equipped with flush toilets, showers, kitchens, etc. In terms of camping, it's a pretty easy way to go. They do cost between $16 and $28 per night per site, so while it is economical, it's not necessarily the cheapest way, considering there are free camp sites run by the Department of Conservation. Bjorn tends to prefer the free camp sites (which have basically no amenities at all); I tend to prefer the holiday parks, at least every other day.
The next day, Wednesday, we headed on to the Otago Peninsula, just outside of Dunedin. We had booked a super deluxe hostel for the evening, so when we got in that afternoon, we basically sat on the couch, enjoying the view, and relaxing. When you are living out of your car, you start to realize how much you take down time for granted. If you want to have a little break and just sit around and do nothing for a bit, you either have to sit in the stuffy car or outside in your camping chair. You have no real place to BE. So the last week, we have avoided downtime altogether, except for around mealtimes.
We spent all day yesterday exploring the Otago Peninsula, which looks eerily similar to the Banks Peninsula, our former home. We had another nice night at a holiday park last night, and that brings us to now, sitting in this little cyber cafe at a McDonald's in Dunedin. Ha!
We're having a grand time, though we are beginning to feel the pains of the budget which we have set for ourselves - $100/day (and that's for both of us, not $100 each). It sounds like quite a lot when you think about it, but once you factor in accommodation and food and gas, it goes quickly. And, of course, there's the fact that you ARE travelling, and you DO want to enjoy yourself and see the sights and immerse yourself. So everything becomes a choice - is it worth it? Should we spend $19 apiece to go through the Cadbury Factory? (That's a choice that's ahead of us today...and it's tempting.) And EVERYTHING is expensive. Every activity costs money, outside of trekking, and even that can be expensive, with hut costs and whatnot. But it's a good experience for me, and, unlike budgets I've put myself on before, I REALLY want to stick to this one. I really want it to work. So I think it will. And that damned money I earned from Vangioni's is precious.
Okay, onward! After our big city day, we are heading down to The Catlins, a little reserve area at the very southeastern end of the island. We're exploring the possibility of trying to WWOOF down there for a week or so (work for a few hours a day in exchange for accommodation and meals), but we'll probably play it by ear.
More soon! Photos for you! http://picasaweb.google.com/ellen.bucy
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