The City of Sails...and Islands

From Auckland '06

I spent most of my five days in Auckland wondering why I just wasn’t ‘feeling it’. Auckland is a nice enough city with a lively waterfront area, numerous well-manicured parks and a collection of easily walkable eclectic neighborhoods. It even boasts the highest building in the Southern Hemisphere, Sky Tower, which dominates the city skyline and provides excellent 360 views of the city (and sunsets if you’re lucky. as I was). But, two weeks of exploring the natural environs of the South Island seemed to have temporarily rendered the attractions of a city lacking for their usual appeal. So it wasn’t until my final day there that I finally found a part of Auckland that ’clicked’, but for that I had to take a 30 minute ferry ride from downtown to Waiheke Island off Auckland’s eastern shore.

Waiheke Island is Auckland’s version of Martha’s Vineyard with a historically artistic community that’s seen an influx of upwardly mobile residents in recent years. It maintains an easy going lifestyle where visitors are welcomed and everyone relishes the idea of being a haven for anyone and everyone to escape the outside world without traveling too far. There are plenty of excellent beaches and walking trails to keep you busy and even a few vineyards sprinkled along the island‘s interior.

As usual, my favorite places on Waiheke were the beaches. I spent nearly the entire day exploring a couple of the picture perfect beaches using the walking trails that connect them. While it’s a bit of an exercise in futility to pick a favorite, Palm Beach topped my list. The beach is surrounded on three sides by picturesque sandstone cliffs and grassy hills, not too mention sprinkled with palm trees (hence the name perhaps). Add to that azure blue waters in a bay that’s surrounded by the same cliffs and it seems like a location that you’d find a few thousand miles north on a tropical South Pacific island. Although a quick dip in those turquoise waters reminded me that I was still a bit south of the tropics.

Palm Beach also provided some unexpected entertainment for my visit to Waiheke Island. The beach is separated into two halves, north and south, by a rocky outcrop. On the trail above the beach, I chose to approach on the northern end with the intention of walking to the south end along the beach. Once I arrived on the beach, I found it in the ideal state I described. But, I also found a little more to the view than I’d expected. As I looked around, I discovered that I was currently the only one remotely clothed on this end of the long beach. To boot, I was also the only one south of 70 by about 40 years. For some reason, I can never manage to stumble onto the supermodel nude beach, I have to find the septuagenarian nude beach. Hoping to avoid no lasting images of sun burnt naked retirees, I made my way down the beach and across the rocks to the clothed section of the beach where I spent the rest of the day soaking up the sunshine, scenery and solitude.

Despite not being fully entranced by Auckland, due more to my adventures leading up to my arrival than to any lacking of the city itself, a relaxing day exploring nearby Waiheke Island seemed to be the just the right thing to reinforce the strong affinity I’d found for New Zealand during this, my first visit to the country. While I’d like to spend a little more time someday exploring the North Island beyond the borders of Auckland, a return visit to New Zealand just won’t be complete without some quality time on the South Island.

AUCKLAND PHOTOS: http://picasaweb.google.com/gscottie/Auckland06

33.5

It's been just over a month since I hiked the Milford Track. As a testament to the experience, it remains the highlight of my travels thus far. Luckily, I still find it remarkably easy to recall each stage of the trek which has hopefully allowed me to detail the adventure appropriately here, despite the considerable time that's elapsed.
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On December 7th, I showed up at the New Zealand Department of Conservation office in Te Anau slightly uneasy about what I'd signed up to do. I barely pass for a day hiker, let alone someone who was about to trek 33.5 miles into New Zealand hinterland on the fabled Milford Track. It didn't help that I'd only just found out that the trail was 33.5 miles on the bus ride that morning - considerably longer than the 20 miles I'd calculated in my head with a rough kilometers-to-miles conversion weeks before (math is not my strong point). My hesitation was compounded when I pulled my $5.99 budget rain suit from my pack (the smallest pack of the group by far - a failed attempt to not arrive looking like a rookie) to ready myself for a rain-filled four day trek that is the norm for the Milford Track, only to have the pants split down the side within a few minutes of donning them.

From Milford Track...

Despite all indications that perhaps I should return with the ferry, I proceeded to disembark with the other 38 hikers in my group after an hour-long trip across New Zealand's second largest lake, Lake Te Anau, to the trail head on the fringe of the Fjordlands National Park.



With the first step, it was like walking onto another planet. New Zealand's fjordlands compete as one of the globe's wettest spots, receiving significant amounts of precipitation annually, something that was not lacking the day of our arrival. All that moisture created an unique mixture of thick rain forest and wetlands nestled between misty, snow-capped mountains. Green and brown moss covered everything on the valley floor and up the trunks of the surrounding trees which created a tight canopy overhead, often blocking the views above so that you could only concentrate on the otherworldly surroundings immediately about you.







As the trail weaved its way through this engaging terrain, glimpses of the Clinton River poked through gaps in the forest. The Milford Track follows the Clinton River for the first half of the track to the river's source some 12 miles ahead where the pass rises up and takes leave of that river to climb over the 3,500ft McKinnon Pass and join another one, the Arthur River, on the other side. The Clinton, exactly like it's sister Arthur River in the next valley, is the stuff of purified water commercials with crystal clear, amazingly pure waters flowing through a picturesque, nearly untouched landscape.



After just over an hour's hike, deceivingly short for the coming days, I arrived at the hut complex that served as the first night's stop. The complex was a collection of three simple 40' x 40' huts with two serving as sleeping quarters, accomodating 20 each in bunks, and one as a combined kitchen (i.e. burners for your freeze-dried food), dining room, and social area. It's here that I discovered the part of the journey that's not mentioned in the brochure.







Any recounting of a trek on the Milford Track would be only half complete, and half as interesting, if it didn't include mention of the fellow hikers on the trip. Each day a group of 40 strangers sets out on the Milford Track with only a reservation date in common. While each day's hike on the track is a main focus, as much time, if not more, is spent commingling with your fellow hikers in the huts recuperating from a long day's hike. Without the disruption of telephones, televisions, work, computers or similar distractions, your left to get to know your fellow travelers in a way more personal and natural way than you might otherwise.







I was fortunate enough to be hiking the track with an incredibly amiable and entertaining group that hailed from all corners of the globe as far reaching as Holland, Japan, Australia, Israel, the United Kingdom, the Czech Republic, Denmark, Germany and even the United States. Post-hike evenings were spent playing games, comparing freeze-dried delicacies, determining who was snoring the previous night, comparing sandfly bites (and avoidance tactics), discussing the trail ahead as well as the one behind and learning a little bit more about other corners of the globe and the people that live there. Those interpersonal experiences are as much a part of hiking the Milford Track as the trek itself.

After a night of round-robin getting to know each other, we awoke early the next day - thanks to the one up, all up feature of a bunk house - and tackled our first of three long hikes in as many days to come. The previous day's rain forest became more sporadic, ceasing altogether for long stretches and giving way to an open valley floor. This brought about some of the most memorable sights on the trail. As it's spring in New Zealand, the fjordland mountain snow caps had begun melting which induced a spectacular array of waterfalls flowing down the mountain sides in every direction. The scene repeated itself each time we exited a stretch of forest over the 11.5 mile day's journey.







The first nine or so miles went by without much pause for thought of the rigors being undertaken by the body. That changed in the last two miles as the trail turned uphill to begin climbing the approach section of McKinnon Pass leading to our hut for the night. Each mile on the trail - originally established in miles and still following that system today - is marked by a green post in the ground. My final two miles that day were spent looking for a marker around every new bend to indicate I could finally rest my aching, chilled body....a dream finally realized a few hours later.

While the first night in the huts was spent in the who's who and from where phase of getting to know each other, the second night was spent simply enjoying each other's company. As we waited for our clothes to dry and the sun to set, indicating to was time to turn in, we played card games, chatted about the world and each other, and told stories and jokes. The hut was chilly due to a higher elevation and attempts by no less than a dozen of us - myself included - failed to light the cast iron stove, our only source of heat. Finally, one dedicated Aussie spent an hour fanning the flames, literally, to become the day's hero as pants, shirts, shoes, underwear and bodies (dressed) quickly filled the space around the suddenly hot stove.





At around 7am the next morning, I was in the last third that set out to tackle McKinnon Pass and start our descent down to the Milford Sound. The path up the pass rises about 1,800ft up a long stretch of switchbacks. Halfway up the trail, the switchbacks climbed out of the shelter of the treeline and I donned thermals, a wool hat and winter gloves for the rest of the chilly ascent. Although only at an elevation of 3,500ft, the pass is decidedly alpine with bitter winds and snow flurries to prove it. For about two hours I felt like I was somewhere in Colorado in mid-January. At the top, our bittersweet reward was spectacular views of the valleys on each side of the pass, bitter only because of the biting wind and snow that accompanied the view.







The second half of the third day felt like a separate day altogether. After spending the first portion of the day tackling McKinnon pass, the climate changed significantly while descending down the other side to discover the incredible Arthur River valley. The path down (finally down!) into the new valley began at the Arthur River's origins as a series of remarkable waterfalls and mountain steams that gather and grow to become the Arthur River a couple thousand feet below. While down was considerably more enjoyable than going up, the path down is twice as long and just as steep as the path up the other side and I eventually found my quads and calves barking to stop. Thankfully, once the trail found the valley floor, there was a rest stop a few miles before the hut for that night.





After half an hour of relief at the rest shelter, I set out with a couple of my fellow hikers on a short side trip to the impressive Sutherland Falls. Falling over 1,900ft down a sheer mountain face, Sutherland Falls is the tallest waterfall in New Zealand and one of the tallest in the world. It's also one that can be felt about 50ft away from it's cascade as the sheer height if its descent sends water spraying in every direction. It was here that the first streaks of sun we'd seen in last two days began to break through the clouds, a welcome event that made for some breathtaking views of the landscape around us and an enjoyable last few miles of hiking for the day. An hour or so past Sutherland falls, we found ourselves turning into the hut for our final night on the track.







While there was no overt moment to mark a celebration that last night, the mood of the group was certainly jubilant at having conquered the toughest portion of track. So much so that conversation often turned to talk of getting a shower, a hot meal and a normal bathroom without recognition of the nine miles that still lay ahead of us the next day. As jubilation gave way to exhaustion most turned in earlier than usual to rest up for the last leg.







If the previous day was the pinnacle of the trek, then we were justly rewarded the next morning with bright blue skies and warm sunshine to accompany us for the last day. With weary bodies aching for a solid meal and warm shower, most everyone pushed abnormally fast along the last nine miles. But, the landscape frequently arrested the pace with unending sights to take in along the way. A mostly flat path, plenty of sunshine and continuing scenic highlights kept everyone in the group motivated through the final stretch of the track.







The last two miles rushed past as the last milepost was eagerly sought out. Finally, a hanging sign designating the 33.5 mile mark emerged at one end of the trail, drew nearer and then served to commemorate the completion of 'the greatest walk in the world.' A smattering of congratulations were dolled out by some, but mostly just knowing looks as we passed one another on the way to pass out in the shelter and await the ferry.





The epilogue to the journey was the 20 minute ferry ride from Sandfly Point across Milford Sound to the bus station. For most of the 33.5 miles, I wondered what made the initial trailblazers of the Milford Track pick this inlet of water - out of so many that cut into the fjordlands - as the end game for this hike (although the original trampers made the return journey as well). Making our way across the Milford Sound, it was instantly clear. The Milford Sound is a scenic gem with two majestic looking mountains standing guard on either side of a watery path that leads out to the vast Pacific. You can reach it in a few quick hours from a myriad of directions via bus or car, but hiking 33.5 miles over four days with 38 new friends from around the globe makes it immensely more rewarding.



Milford Track Photo Album: http://picasaweb.google.com/gscottie/MilfordTrack06

Just Don't Tell My Mother...Or My Doctor

I guess you can't be in the reputed adrenaline capital of the world for four days without eventually giving in to the urge to test your mortality. So, just five months removed from a herniated disc, I decided to pay someone for the privilege of jumping off a perfectly good canyon wall while attached to a suspiciously thin cable.

Surprisingly, I even volunteered to be the first to go. Unsurprisingly, I didn't really have any challengers when I stepped to the front of the line. As the jump crew fitted me into my harness and attached the cables we chit-chatted about where I was from as if we were in a bar and not standing on the edge of a deep canyon. Then one of the guys said 'Go!' and I did. It was nearly a reflex action. I didn't think about it, I just did it. I just took one big step into the empty air, then my other leg followed the first off the terra firma. A split second later I was hurtling through the air with arms and legs flailing as the canyon walls sped past and the canyon floor sped up. I let out a scream from deep in my belly, but when I opened my mouth no sound came out. A single thought went through my mind, "I hope he attached the cable before he said Go!"


Five long seconds and 200 feet below where I started, the cables went taught and sent me flying, horizontally this time, toward the other side of the canyon. I did something called the Canyon Swing. It has all the same elements of bungee, but ends a little differently. When you reach the end of the free fall, you swing across the canyon on a cable like a pendulum instead of bouncing back up and down a few times as you do in bungee. It makes for a smoother ride, or at least I told myself that in a semi-delusional state as I signed up for it.


Swinging back and forth just above the canyon floor, I found my voice again and let out a series of loud 'whoo-hoos!!' in excitement. It was exhilarating. An euphoric feeling. Once I was reeled back up to the top, my adrenaline spiked and a wide grin found its way from ear to ear. Then, I did it again. This time, backwards.


PS - the back is just fine.

Queenstown

I seem to be using words like amazing, fantastic, picturesque, unbelievable, etc. rather frequently in my posts. I'm not trying for hyperbole, but just doing my best to accurately describe what I've been lucky enough to see and experience along the way.

It seems I've found yet another place that fits a similar description. Queenstown, New Zealand, is located on the southern island of NZ in the Southern Alps and on the shore of Lake Wakatipu, the second largest lake in NZ. It's kind of like walking into one of those pictures on vacation brochures. The sky is as blue as I've ever seen it. The combo of mountains, lake and quaint alpine town is just what you'd want that brochure photo to be when you get there. The mountain peaks are covered in a powdered sugar sprinkle of snow and its 70 in town. The waves from the lake lap the town square, the center of a small and easily walkable town that's very modern without thinking too much of itself. It promotes itself as the adrenaline center of NZ, but I haven't felt the need to be 'extreme' (or Xtreme) to enjoy the place...a little something for everyone. Seems like a really liveable town.

I've been here for just 24 hours so I'll have a lot more to report, plus photos, after I've spent more time here. After a few days here, I head west to do some hiking. I'm going to spend four days hiking the Milford Track which is the most famous hiking trail in NZ and wanders through the Southern Alps for 35-40 miles eventually coming out at Milford Sound. Not sure what I've gotten myself into, but I'm looking forward to it. I'll post pictures and an update once I get back. In the mean time, I'm heading to the lake.

Two Tickets To New Zealand Please

The morning of my flight from Australia to New Zealand, I climbed on the train headed for the Sydney airport. About halfway to the airport, I had a small panic attack when I thought I’d left my plane ticket in my hostel room. I’d used points to get the free ticket which forced me to have a paper ticket that I had to remind myself to keep track of as I traveled after being so used to e-tickets for years. I’d managed to hang on to the ticket for the 10,000+ mile trip across the Pacific and I feared I’d just lost it on the home stretch. After digging through my bag for a few frantic moments, I found the ticket right where I put it in my pack that morning and pulled it out just to make sure.

A few minutes later, walking up to the Air New Zealand check-in counter, I had another panic attack when I realized that in my elation minutes earlier over not having left the ticket in my hostel, I’d managed to leave it on the train. It was now making a lonely trip south of the airport on the seat where I’d put it when I pulled it out of my bag. The situation didn’t seem to get any better when the Air New Zealand ticket agent advised that she couldn’t reissue the ticket because it came from Virgin. Not an auspicious start in the first few days my travels.

The Air New Zealand ticket agent thankfully made a quick call to the Virgin office in the airport who said they could reissue the ticket. But, I only had one minute to get to the office as it was closing so the staff could meet an incoming flight. So, I sprinted across the airport with my 40lb bag in tow, ran up an unusually long escalator and dashed down a long hallway into the Virgin office just as the last couple staffers were heading out. Luckily, the person who took the call stayed behind. I'm not sure if it was the wheezing or the sweating that motivated her, but within a few quick minutes I had a replacement ticket firmly in my grasp and made my way back to the Air New Zealand counter.

But, averting the first crisis of my trip came with a cost - literally. The fee to reissue the ticket, combined with the rush fee and taxes for the initial ticket, ended up making the total out-of-pocket spent on my 'free flight' equal to the prevailing paid fare for the trip. But, after spending a fantastic two weeks in New Zealand, I’d gladly have paid double.