It's raining. We're in a little cabin beneath some snow capped peaks. It's called Gunn's place and it's in Hollyford about 40 km from Milford Sound. We'd planned to camp, but the rain doesn't look like it's going to let up any time soon. We'll try again tomorrow night. My dad would appreciate this place. It has a quirky sense of humor. Gunn had a horse named Jane who lived to be 38. On one side of the horse, Gunn painted "horse". Visitors would ask why and he'd tell them with so many hunters around he didn't want Jane getting shot. The visitors would ask, "Why does the other side say 'cow'?"
"I need the milk," was Gunn's answer.
The shower water was heated by wood burning and there's a generator running the camp's electricity. Even through the rain the drive here was gorgeous. I am running out of adjectives for New Zealand.
This morning we packed in a few thrills on a canyoning adventure. Dressed in wet suits and climbing harnesses, we took to the woods near Queenstown. We walked up for about five minutes, spent some time criss-crossing a stream on ziplines and then abseiled/rappelled down to the stream. I enjoyed the rappelling and started to get a reputation as the group daredevil (not at all like a real daredevil) with a big kick off the wall for the photo they'd try to sell me later. Then I was eager to volunteer for a seven meter slide down a falls. I almost lost a shoe. The five meter and eight meter jumps were right up my alley too. The skydiving really knocked some of my fears away. I still had a slight hesitation at eight meters, but not much. Splish Splash!
C wasn't able to make the climb up for the jumps, but even after slipping and falling she remained in good spirits. I seemed more rattled by it than she was. Over the same pool as the jumps, we also took a zip line out over it (11m), belayed ourselves down and then released into the water. I couldn't get my knot undone, so required help from the guide, but it was still a hoot. We went through a narrow channel of water, belly-flopped into a pool and abseiled once more. It was a good time. Expensive for what it was, but not something easily recreated at home.
I accidently put our shoes and shirts in the wrong van which caused some more excitement to close out the adventure, but we eventually set things right and headed to Fergburger. It was underwhelming all ways but size. We were probably hungry, so a big burger was a win. Dinner was supermarket fare. Had we known we weren't going to camp we could have bought hot food, but the salami, Edam, and kiwi fruits were winners again. C wasn't feeling well and let me to shop for the next three meals. If we survive, I will have succeeded. I think I'm a little disappointed we aren't heading out on a bigger hike, but right now I'm not really prepared materially for a bigger hike and we don't really have time for one.
I'm still more hiker in my mind than reality. Someday I may acquire the right supplies, mindset, and time all at once. Until then 10 sleeps* until Christmas.
Other note: For some reason New Zealand has reminded me of college- perhaps the freedom, perhaps I just miss my friends a bit, but I've got a postcard off to the Smiths. Australia immediately reminded me of MS's time there. the silver fern looks like Jif's tattoo. We've heard music by S by iPod.
Not college, but I'm also reminded of MP's stories from South Africa. Maybe I do miss my friends a bit. There are many nice people on trips here. Maybe it's that common experience of holiday replacing college. Maybe it's all the talk of drinking. "Don't drink and fry." It's definitely been a good trip for a long one- not having the language barrier has been a huge relief.
(*Unless you happen to be flying back to the US and gaining a sleep.)
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Monday, December 17, 2012
12/13/11- From lodge to Mt. Cook
I'm a day behind writing (and more than a year behind in transcribing), but I'll try to get caught back up. We opted for a cold breakfast only forcing our chef to slice carrots, oranges, and ginger for a morning smoothie rather than cooking a complete breakfast. We then got a very interesting garden tour from the head gardener. It felt strange to have our car brought up to us and our bags brought down, but our lifestyles of the faux-rich and pretend-famous were coming to a close.
We headed toward Mt. Cook, stopped for lunch in a shopping center where I had a delicious savory pie, and then rolled on. As the gardner had promised the first hour of the drive wasn't that pretty, but soon the vistas improved. When we hit the brilliant blue of Lake Tekapo we had to pull over to take pictures. Sediment disturbance caused by glaciers when they formed the lake gave it a bright blue coloring. It was gorgeous. Mt. Cook became visible an hour later in front of a bright blue lake as well. Our DOC campground was in the shadow of a glacier and hill a hill in the shadow of Mt. Cook. We set up camp and walked 45 minutes until we could see Mt. Cook clearly. We had dinner at a ski lodge, I had Sir Edmund Hillary's Pork Sausages. It was the most expensive meal (we've paid for). We went to bed while it was still light out and awoke to a light rain and awoke to a light-ish rain, and awoke to rain.
We packed our wetness in a hurry just before 7 AM, skipped the hike we'd planned and pointed toward Queenstown. We had breakfast in Twizel in a park with food courtesy of an open Four Square supermarket. Driving on to Queenstown, we stopped to admire Merino wool and possibly the home of Shrek the most famous sheep (blinded by his 25 kilogram coat). I'm not clear on the fame or Shrek's life story. Traffic picked up as we entered Queenstown, so did lodges and perhaps intensity. C compared Queenstown to Gatlinburg, it's apt, but it's also like an amped up ski town or college town where adventure activity is the university. Almost every third store on the main drag was able to book some type of adventure for an interested traveler. We go canyoning tomorrow.
We had lunch at a kebab place and then decided to separate for the afternoon. C went to Arrowtown and I rented a mountain bike and rode around the peninsula. The scenery was great, but getting my heart pumping and getting a taste for what a mountain bike could really do were even better. It was mostly flat stretches, but there were some wiggles through trees and over rocks. I returned to town the same way I'd come pumping hard to get back. It took about two hours and then I spent 45 minutes more trying to climb some of the ridiculously steep streets around. I don't know if I've ever climbed anything so steep for so long. I had to stop because my legs were burning. It was great in an odd sort of way. Tonight we're up on the roof deck of our hostel the Laughing Southerner after pizza at Winne's (and a Monteith Black- yum) and some ginger dark fudge. The view from here is once again spectacular as clouds have just released the tall peak to the North (?). If it weren't for the 500 or so resort-style homes and hotels in my view I could believe I was in Middle Earth looking to unload the ring.
We headed toward Mt. Cook, stopped for lunch in a shopping center where I had a delicious savory pie, and then rolled on. As the gardner had promised the first hour of the drive wasn't that pretty, but soon the vistas improved. When we hit the brilliant blue of Lake Tekapo we had to pull over to take pictures. Sediment disturbance caused by glaciers when they formed the lake gave it a bright blue coloring. It was gorgeous. Mt. Cook became visible an hour later in front of a bright blue lake as well. Our DOC campground was in the shadow of a glacier and hill a hill in the shadow of Mt. Cook. We set up camp and walked 45 minutes until we could see Mt. Cook clearly. We had dinner at a ski lodge, I had Sir Edmund Hillary's Pork Sausages. It was the most expensive meal (we've paid for). We went to bed while it was still light out and awoke to a light rain and awoke to a light-ish rain, and awoke to rain.
We packed our wetness in a hurry just before 7 AM, skipped the hike we'd planned and pointed toward Queenstown. We had breakfast in Twizel in a park with food courtesy of an open Four Square supermarket. Driving on to Queenstown, we stopped to admire Merino wool and possibly the home of Shrek the most famous sheep (blinded by his 25 kilogram coat). I'm not clear on the fame or Shrek's life story. Traffic picked up as we entered Queenstown, so did lodges and perhaps intensity. C compared Queenstown to Gatlinburg, it's apt, but it's also like an amped up ski town or college town where adventure activity is the university. Almost every third store on the main drag was able to book some type of adventure for an interested traveler. We go canyoning tomorrow.
We had lunch at a kebab place and then decided to separate for the afternoon. C went to Arrowtown and I rented a mountain bike and rode around the peninsula. The scenery was great, but getting my heart pumping and getting a taste for what a mountain bike could really do were even better. It was mostly flat stretches, but there were some wiggles through trees and over rocks. I returned to town the same way I'd come pumping hard to get back. It took about two hours and then I spent 45 minutes more trying to climb some of the ridiculously steep streets around. I don't know if I've ever climbed anything so steep for so long. I had to stop because my legs were burning. It was great in an odd sort of way. Tonight we're up on the roof deck of our hostel the Laughing Southerner after pizza at Winne's (and a Monteith Black- yum) and some ginger dark fudge. The view from here is once again spectacular as clouds have just released the tall peak to the North (?). If it weren't for the 500 or so resort-style homes and hotels in my view I could believe I was in Middle Earth looking to unload the ring.
12/12/11- Otahuna Lodge
Fancy dinner. Fancy hotel. More to come.
Continued the next morning.
If jumping out of a plane was a strange sensation it's hard to describe what staying at Otahuna Lodge is like. It lacks the adrenaline rush of skydiving, but it's novel or mor accurately makes me feel like I'm in a novel (or perhaps a movie). A lovely Queen Anne home part way up a hill, surrounded by countryside, it's where the very rich come to stay. The per night prices hover in the area of our monthly rent. Our room with verandah hovers in the same square footage as well. We were almost so comfortable, it was uncomfortable. If we hadn't felt out of place, our every whim appeared to be just a wink and a nod away. Hooray for this perk from C's job.
At 6:30 last night we went down for drinks. I had a Glenmorangie neat. The scotch selection was not that impressive, but otherwise I'm awed. We talked with Ben the butler until the other two guests Aussies Victoria and Olivia arrived. After socializing a while and learning that Olivia had been to the Kentucky Derby for her birthday, we settled down for a five course meal. I don't usually like wine, but I found out that wine (well-paired) with gourmet dishes made mostly from local (as in on the property) items can be delicious. By the time the port came with dessert, I had drank enough. Ben recommended we stroll around the grounds once more while the sun set in the pink sky. We giggled through a walk before retiring to our elegant room. It's all almost too much. Is this how Pretty Woman felt?
During the day yesterday, we biked a bit in Christchurch. We saw some earthquake damage and had coffee and scones at C in the Re:Start shipping container mall. It was quite chic. We heard there were other shipping container malls, but none were being used post-disaster like this. It reminded us of the tin city we'd learned about in Napier, post-disaster there. It made me want a shipping container home. I do enjoy the re-purposed building/container.
Continued the next morning.
If jumping out of a plane was a strange sensation it's hard to describe what staying at Otahuna Lodge is like. It lacks the adrenaline rush of skydiving, but it's novel or mor accurately makes me feel like I'm in a novel (or perhaps a movie). A lovely Queen Anne home part way up a hill, surrounded by countryside, it's where the very rich come to stay. The per night prices hover in the area of our monthly rent. Our room with verandah hovers in the same square footage as well. We were almost so comfortable, it was uncomfortable. If we hadn't felt out of place, our every whim appeared to be just a wink and a nod away. Hooray for this perk from C's job.
At 6:30 last night we went down for drinks. I had a Glenmorangie neat. The scotch selection was not that impressive, but otherwise I'm awed. We talked with Ben the butler until the other two guests Aussies Victoria and Olivia arrived. After socializing a while and learning that Olivia had been to the Kentucky Derby for her birthday, we settled down for a five course meal. I don't usually like wine, but I found out that wine (well-paired) with gourmet dishes made mostly from local (as in on the property) items can be delicious. By the time the port came with dessert, I had drank enough. Ben recommended we stroll around the grounds once more while the sun set in the pink sky. We giggled through a walk before retiring to our elegant room. It's all almost too much. Is this how Pretty Woman felt?
During the day yesterday, we biked a bit in Christchurch. We saw some earthquake damage and had coffee and scones at C in the Re:Start shipping container mall. It was quite chic. We heard there were other shipping container malls, but none were being used post-disaster like this. It reminded us of the tin city we'd learned about in Napier, post-disaster there. It made me want a shipping container home. I do enjoy the re-purposed building/container.
On pause
I sit at the desk with poor posture as my back crushes itself. Those muscles that hold me up grow lazy and weak from lack of use. My writing muscles follow the same regime. I sometimes ride to work and sometimes rally my pen there too, but neither are enough exercise to grow strong, just enough to stop from putting on much weight.
I've straightened my back and I'm searching for the rhythm on the computer keyboard. The tap-tap-tappity-tap of a confident writer. I gaze into that space between glasses and screen, the space that blocks out the world and where creativity might float by. I've strapped on my headphones and turned up Hem to drown out the sounds of TV. The light bulbs of our Christmas tree dance in my peripheral vision and reflect in the corner of my iMac.
If questioned, I'd still call Hem my favorite band. Sure, Carley Rae Jepsen's Call Me Maybe and PSY's Gangnam Style make me want to sing along and dance respectively, but no body of work moves me like Hem's. There are rumors that new music is coming and I look on with interest. I can't say exactly what it is about Hem that's allowed them to not only claim the title of my favorite band, but to remain there, virtually unchallenged. There's something so beautiful (and perhaps timeless) about the music, the lyrics, and the singing. I find each song filled with emotion. The songs manage to be inspirational, sad, and uplifting all at the same time. As I listen and write I wonder why I haven't listened more recently.
I could use some of that inspiration to propel me through more blog posts. Perhaps I needed to slow down enough to appreciate the nuance of sad and uplifting. Maybe I just need more exercise.
I've straightened my back and I'm searching for the rhythm on the computer keyboard. The tap-tap-tappity-tap of a confident writer. I gaze into that space between glasses and screen, the space that blocks out the world and where creativity might float by. I've strapped on my headphones and turned up Hem to drown out the sounds of TV. The light bulbs of our Christmas tree dance in my peripheral vision and reflect in the corner of my iMac.
If questioned, I'd still call Hem my favorite band. Sure, Carley Rae Jepsen's Call Me Maybe and PSY's Gangnam Style make me want to sing along and dance respectively, but no body of work moves me like Hem's. There are rumors that new music is coming and I look on with interest. I can't say exactly what it is about Hem that's allowed them to not only claim the title of my favorite band, but to remain there, virtually unchallenged. There's something so beautiful (and perhaps timeless) about the music, the lyrics, and the singing. I find each song filled with emotion. The songs manage to be inspirational, sad, and uplifting all at the same time. As I listen and write I wonder why I haven't listened more recently.
I could use some of that inspiration to propel me through more blog posts. Perhaps I needed to slow down enough to appreciate the nuance of sad and uplifting. Maybe I just need more exercise.
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