A South Island Tramp

We are back in Palmerston North enjoying a low-key day, after a very full three weeks on the South Island.  A few highlights and lowlights of our adventures in the South, in no particular order:

Penguins. We saw nearly a hundred penguins in Oamaru, a small town that is home to two penguin species, the yellow-eyed penguin and the blue penguin. The penguins swim all day and come back at night to feed their chicks and get some rest. Here is a picture of two yellow-eyed penguins meeting after a long day at sea:

Aww.

Dunedin. New Zealand’s biggest college town, and also home to a bunch of birds. On our walk from our hotel to the downtown through the city’s botanical garden, we stumbled upon the aviary. Hundreds of gorgeous birds, and our favorite was the kaka. Kaka – just saying it aloud makes you smile in a slightly naughty I’m-five-years-old kind of way. They are native parrots of New Zealand, and very curious and playful birds. They like to nibble on fingers. Yum.

Accommodations. Some hostels, some small hotels, a B&B on occasion. Hostels are the cheapest, and we always try to get a private room. Hostels can be scary, but most are pretty nice here. No dorm rooms for us. The magic word at a hostel is “ensuite”, which means you get your own private toilet and shower (we haven’t had many ensuites). We brought a tent and spent two nights in it, but it turns out that campsites are expensive here (typically $30-$40 for a night) and hostels are relatively inexpensive ($60-$80), so we’re happy to spring an extra $30 kiwi for a real bed, sink, and shower.

Queenstown. Known worldwide as adrenaline junkie heaven, for us it served as the launch point for our 4-day backpack of the Routeburn Track. We arrived and started looking for a room, only to discover there was a Credence Clearwater Revival concert in town AND it was the weekend – the perfect recipe for a completely sold-out town. We spent half a day trying to find a place to stay, rejecting the in-town campground because its campsites could be most likened to a Costco parking lot, with about as much grass and trees and space between the lines. Queenstown struck us as having been a victim of its own success – too many people, too many stores, and too damn expensive. We couldn’t wait to leave, and no, we didn’t bungy jump.

New Zenglish. Kiwis use funny words for things, like “tramp”. A tramp is something you can take your mom on, not something you worry about bringing home to mom. And a “shag” is a sea bird, not something to do with a hot chick.

The Southern Sky. Mark geeked out at stars and constellations he had never seen before. The Southern Cross. The Magellanic Clouds, two of the closest galaxies to our own. Alpha Centauri, the closest star system to our own. And familiar Orion, except he is upside down, along with the rest of the constellations.

The backcountry. Kiwis know how to do backcountry right. You can bring a tent and do it all yourself if you want to, OR you can enjoy some comforts of civilization and sleep in their “huts”. Huts are sturdy, clean buildings with kitchens and bunkrooms (and mattresses!) that sleep 20-50. It’s like 6^th grade science camp for adults, without any counselors asking you to dissect owl poop. Plus, no communal showers (well, any showers).

Bugs. While New Zealand apparently has none of the nasty critters whose existence can lead to the end of your own (as does neighboring Australia), I got stung by a wasp the first night on the Routeburn Track. My left hand swelled until it looked like I was wearing a large red mitten. Luckily, we learned that I am not severely allergic to wasp stings. A future in beekeeping has not been ruled out!

The Routeburn Track & Milford Sound. Our first big tramp was the Routeburn Track, one of New Zealand’s Great Walks. We spent three nights on the trail and leisurely covered 32 km. We began in lush forest, climbed into alpine territory (enjoying views of several glaciers), then finally descended down the west side of the Southern Alps.

The hike was spectacular, and we both got in better shape lugging around our 30+ and 40+ pound backpacks. We were very lucky in that we had rain-free weather, a rarity in an area that gets more than 200 days of rain each year. A highlight on the track was the evening warden talk. Clive at McKenzie Hut was hilarious. Here’s a joke:

How can you tell if there are a bunch of British on a plane?  When the pilots turn the engines off, you can still hear the whining.

Well-tramped and unshowered for four days, we were picked up at the end of our tramp by a tour bus on its way to Milford Sound. Joining us on our 1.5 hour scenic cruise was a bus filled with clean, sharply dressed day trippers, who as we boarded looked as if they were watching yetis stumble on, and who parted like the Red Sea and averted their eyes as we sauntered toward the back of the bus. Unfortunately, all that fine weather we enjoyed on our tramp made for an underwhelming experience on the sound. No rain = few waterfalls.

Where’s our car? Back in Queenstown that night, an unpleasant surprise. We get off the bus and head to our car. As we turn the corner, our parking place comes into view – but the view of the car is replaced with a view of a ripped up street and orange cones. Crap! Where’s our car?!? Still unshowered after four days on the trail AND lugging our backpacks, we’re REALLY looking forward to a hot bath at our hotel (which is not within walking distance), clean clothes, and a good night’s sleep.

We walk into a fish & chips shop and ask directions to the the police station, with thoughts of towing fees and tickets looming large. A friendly officer tells us our car was probably towed to a safe spot, and she’ll make some calls. It’s dark, almost 9 pm. A half hour later, we’re told where our car was towed to, and make our way there. The car simply has been moved to a local city parking lot – not a tow lot – and we find it and all our stuff, along with a nice note from the construction manager asking us to contact her if our car received any tickets so she could arrange payment. Wow! Nice. No fees, no tickets, and only an hour of inconvenience. Imagine that happening in San Francisco!