(To my Mom and sister and other non-hunters out there, apologies for the killing of animals described in the next few paragraphs)
After some aimless wandering and rainy days in the Southern tip of New Zealand, we headed for the Hakataramea valley. With snowy mountains, flat farm land, and braided rivers, we suddenly felt like we were in a familiar place: Montana. Dan’s fly fishing boss back home connected him with Gerald Hayman, a man who owns a Sheep station in the valley and plays host to fly-fisherman and hunters who come to stay on his farm and experience the gorgeous mountains and rivers abound in the area. We arrived at the Hayman family home and piled out of the van trying to look as respectable as possible. This was Easter Weekend after all and we were not exactly family.
After a few firm handshakes from the farm-grown rugby-playing sons, introductions to the girlfriends, and the mom, Bridget, the self-proclaimed cook (certainly perked us up), and we were off with Gerald touring the farm. Another few hours and the boys took us on a speedy jet boat ride up and down the Waitaki river. Then it was a sit-down dinner with wine I wouldn’t know a thing about, a gourmet main course, and dessert. This little side trip was starting to seem like one of our better ideas.
The next day we went hunting for Wallaby which is pretty much a smaller version of a kangaroo. New Zealanders view nearly all mammals as pests so a lot of times, the only hunting rule is to not have rules. Shoot away. The only native mammals were bats so the introduced animals usually wreak havoc on the native ecosystem and wallabies are a huge detriment to sheep grazing land. What I’m trying to say is, there was a reason we were out there crawling up mountainous farmland in a flatbed, us Americans in the back armed with a .22 magnum, a shotgun, 7mm-.08. The buggers are speedy though and Jonathan was got one early on, but that was our only luck.
That night the grandparents arrived and we were still apparently in good graces with our hosts, so we ate another delicious dinner with the family.
We planned a day of fishing on the small river next to our cottage for the next day, but Gerald, always a planner, came barging into our rooms early next morning with grand plans of driving to a river 11/2 hours away and getting dropped off by jetboat for some fishing. There were no objections. We spent an unsuccessful day fly fishing in the strong wind in which I only succeeded in hooking myself. And just for reference, both these days out, we were given homemade picnic lunches consisting of mutton sandwiches, a sort of flaky pie with bacon and egg, and cookies or cake. We were just getting spoiled at this point.
On Easter Sunday, Dan and I did some more fishing and at one point I was musing about Jonathan being bored back in the cottage. Dan replied, “Oh he probably weaseled his way into some turkey hunt or something.” Sure enough, we got back to an empty house and before long, Gerald and Jonathan pulled up with two turkeys in the back of the truck. We had another dinner with the family and as we sat there digesting the meal, Gerald decided that he would take us on a night shoot. This once again had us driving around on the back of a truck, armed with spotlight and gun, this time shooting hares and rabbits that jampacked the fields, trying to put a detriment in the quickly-reproducing “pests.” (I remind you that this was Easter and we were shooting rabbits)
We left the farm the next day with full bellies, two turkeys in tow, and grateful for another experience of kiwi hospitality. For Jonathan and Dan, hunting had been checked off the New Zealand checklist. And for me, a non-hunter, in these two days I got quite an introduction to hunting and in many ways that would be highly illegal in the states. When in New Zealand, do like the Kiwis do, I guess.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Monday, April 13, 2009
Gone Missing
Besides the obvious fact that we are having too much fun over here, a prominent reason we seem to have gone missing for large periods of time is because well, we have been. We have been missing in a good way, missing from civilization, but certainly not missing out on the mountains and rivers. In the month of March, we were on the trails for twenty days. Rest days were few and far in between, usually with time spent eating, sleeping, showering, and drinking a few beverages.
After Nelson Lakes, we scrambled up to Avalanche peak with still sore legs, literally climbing up some parts of the "trail." At the top we looked out up hanging glaciers and jagged peaks and valleys stretching into the distance. From here we spent a day sightseeing the massive Fox and Franz Josef glaciers but knowing Queenstown was ahead, we saved our money and bypassed the guided hikes. Then it was time for a hike to Welcome Flat Hot Springs. What isn't relaxing about a hot spring, right? Thats what we thought too.
So there we were, staring across a muddy and flooded river 10 miles into the wilderness. Due to the six inches of rain that decided to grace our hike with its presence, I was so wet I couldve jumped right into the river and not have noticed the difference. The trail we had come in on had literally turned into a flooded stream bed. Twenty minutes from a hot spring after a ten mile hike in torrential rain and we were stumped. Earlier in the hike we had crossed countless other flooded streams, many of which were bridged. Here was the worst crossing of all and the Kiwis apparently decided no bridge was necessary. There was nothing to do but turn around in utter misery and tramp three or so miles back to the sign we had seen for Architect Hut. This is when the rain decided to turn off and show some blue skies purely to mock us. A little while later I trudged into the tiny hut behind Jonathan and Dan who quickly noticed the number of bunks/mattresses (two) and quickly I was without a bed. After a relatively nice evening, hot spring not included, we settled into bed and in my case, onto as many articles of clothing we could muster for padding. This was about the time when 50,000 mosquitoes and sandflies filtered into our hut through some sort of hole. So we spent a night slapping our faces and tensely waiting for another one to come slowly buzzing by our ears. The next morning we tramped out in foul moods.
From here we headed to the already described Queenstown which is surrounded by some of the best wilderness and mountains in the world.
The Rees- Dart
Day one had us hiking up the Rees valley through boggy river flats and through beech forest to our intended hut. Once we arrived though, we decided to continue on and make the two days of hiking into one. This turned out to be one of our best decisions on the trip. So with already tired legs we set out and climbed over Rees Saddle and made the long painful descent to Dart Hut.
Day two- A day hike through a wide, glaciated, and rocky river valley draped with glaciers with a steep climb up to Cascade Saddle. This saddle has some of the most beautiful views in New Zealand which is saying something. We had beautiful blue skies and overlooked the gigantic Dart Glacier the churned down the mountainsides into the the river flats. Rumblings of rock and snow slides echoed from the mountainsides regularly. On the other side of the saddle we looked out to Mt. Aspiring, a gorgeous pyramid shaped peak covered in snow and windswept clouds. We sat on the sheer cliff edge and ate our well-deserved pita sandwiches in the most beautiful spot I have ever been to. If we had taken the usual two days to get to Dart Hut, we would not have seen any of this because the weather moved in the next day.
Another rain-soaked day and we hiked out. Jonathan caught the bus out and came rumbling down the road in our 4wd van, splashing through the ten or so stream crossings. On the way out we engaged in an easter egg hunt for Big Jolly's hubcaps which apparently decided to fall off one by one on the rocky and wet road. So we drove the 10 miles searching the landscape until somebody yelled "theres one!" and jumped out to retrieve it. We are now down to two which we have strategically placed on the left side so when we pass backpacker vans with girls in them, we can still look slightly classy.
We concluded our backpacking with the Routeburn Track combined with the Greenstone Track. The Routeburn is a Great Walk so we stayed in gigantic huts that resembled hotels with all of the people milling around. A day above bushline, some swimming in the frigid Mackenzie lake, and we entered the Greenstone valley, which is famous for its trout fishing. With Dan drooling at the fishing possibilities, we spent two days backpacking with rod in hand stopping to fish the green pools and riffles. The fish were big and stubborn. I got a big rainbow on land only to see it snap my line and wriggle back into the water as I sprinted after it. Dan, who had been stumped the day before, finally got some luck and pulled four sizeable fish out of the water before we headed out.
This completed our backpacking section of the trip. With some beautiful mountains, glaciated valleys, long calf-burning climbs, frigid rivers, and friendly hutmates seared into our memories, we set out to be van gypsies once again.
After Nelson Lakes, we scrambled up to Avalanche peak with still sore legs, literally climbing up some parts of the "trail." At the top we looked out up hanging glaciers and jagged peaks and valleys stretching into the distance. From here we spent a day sightseeing the massive Fox and Franz Josef glaciers but knowing Queenstown was ahead, we saved our money and bypassed the guided hikes. Then it was time for a hike to Welcome Flat Hot Springs. What isn't relaxing about a hot spring, right? Thats what we thought too.
So there we were, staring across a muddy and flooded river 10 miles into the wilderness. Due to the six inches of rain that decided to grace our hike with its presence, I was so wet I couldve jumped right into the river and not have noticed the difference. The trail we had come in on had literally turned into a flooded stream bed. Twenty minutes from a hot spring after a ten mile hike in torrential rain and we were stumped. Earlier in the hike we had crossed countless other flooded streams, many of which were bridged. Here was the worst crossing of all and the Kiwis apparently decided no bridge was necessary. There was nothing to do but turn around in utter misery and tramp three or so miles back to the sign we had seen for Architect Hut. This is when the rain decided to turn off and show some blue skies purely to mock us. A little while later I trudged into the tiny hut behind Jonathan and Dan who quickly noticed the number of bunks/mattresses (two) and quickly I was without a bed. After a relatively nice evening, hot spring not included, we settled into bed and in my case, onto as many articles of clothing we could muster for padding. This was about the time when 50,000 mosquitoes and sandflies filtered into our hut through some sort of hole. So we spent a night slapping our faces and tensely waiting for another one to come slowly buzzing by our ears. The next morning we tramped out in foul moods.
From here we headed to the already described Queenstown which is surrounded by some of the best wilderness and mountains in the world.
The Rees- Dart
Day one had us hiking up the Rees valley through boggy river flats and through beech forest to our intended hut. Once we arrived though, we decided to continue on and make the two days of hiking into one. This turned out to be one of our best decisions on the trip. So with already tired legs we set out and climbed over Rees Saddle and made the long painful descent to Dart Hut.
Day two- A day hike through a wide, glaciated, and rocky river valley draped with glaciers with a steep climb up to Cascade Saddle. This saddle has some of the most beautiful views in New Zealand which is saying something. We had beautiful blue skies and overlooked the gigantic Dart Glacier the churned down the mountainsides into the the river flats. Rumblings of rock and snow slides echoed from the mountainsides regularly. On the other side of the saddle we looked out to Mt. Aspiring, a gorgeous pyramid shaped peak covered in snow and windswept clouds. We sat on the sheer cliff edge and ate our well-deserved pita sandwiches in the most beautiful spot I have ever been to. If we had taken the usual two days to get to Dart Hut, we would not have seen any of this because the weather moved in the next day.
Another rain-soaked day and we hiked out. Jonathan caught the bus out and came rumbling down the road in our 4wd van, splashing through the ten or so stream crossings. On the way out we engaged in an easter egg hunt for Big Jolly's hubcaps which apparently decided to fall off one by one on the rocky and wet road. So we drove the 10 miles searching the landscape until somebody yelled "theres one!" and jumped out to retrieve it. We are now down to two which we have strategically placed on the left side so when we pass backpacker vans with girls in them, we can still look slightly classy.
We concluded our backpacking with the Routeburn Track combined with the Greenstone Track. The Routeburn is a Great Walk so we stayed in gigantic huts that resembled hotels with all of the people milling around. A day above bushline, some swimming in the frigid Mackenzie lake, and we entered the Greenstone valley, which is famous for its trout fishing. With Dan drooling at the fishing possibilities, we spent two days backpacking with rod in hand stopping to fish the green pools and riffles. The fish were big and stubborn. I got a big rainbow on land only to see it snap my line and wriggle back into the water as I sprinted after it. Dan, who had been stumped the day before, finally got some luck and pulled four sizeable fish out of the water before we headed out.
This completed our backpacking section of the trip. With some beautiful mountains, glaciated valleys, long calf-burning climbs, frigid rivers, and friendly hutmates seared into our memories, we set out to be van gypsies once again.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
GO BIG or Go Home
69 kilograms. This number is scrawled in red on my left hand as I shuffle forward with bound feet. Hopefully they got this contraption dialed in for my weight I mutter to myself as I head towards the so-called "meat platform," a 10 inch metal diving board hovering 440 feet above the canyon. The huge metal structure sways swightly as I look towards the far mountain side. Pick a target. Don't look down. Well, maybe just one peek. Nondescript techno music blares in the background, but from what I remember, I don't even hear it anymore. I scoot forward, toes on the edge. "Okay wacko jacko, big leap and look out there. 3, 2, 1..." At this point its fight or flight. I choose fight which also means I am now in flight. The people above now only see a speck as I hurtle at 80 some miles per hour from the perfectly good platform dangling at the center of Nevis Canyon. This one had us chattering excitedly for days afterwards.
The Nevis bungy jump was the finale of our adrenaline extravaganza because like good tourists, we fell for the package deal because three bungy jumps must be better than one. We started out on the Kawarau bridge, the first commercial bungy site in the world. I stepped onto the platform peered over the edge at the green water below and thought to myself, "there is no way," When you look down from something you are supposed to jump off of, you suddenly realize that such a distance is very, very far. At this point your mind tells you that you can't do it. But you step out to the platform, the carefree man behind you counts down as a crowd of 40 or so tourists stands on a viewing platform to your left, and without fully knowing what you are doing, you jump. I tensed my legs and went airborne. Dan and I both requested a water dunk up to our shoulders and Jonathan wanted just to get his hands wet. So luck would have it that Jonathan came up soaked to his shoulders while Dan and I had a few wet fingertips. Just for reference, the previously described Nevis Bungy is over three times higher than the Kawarau Bridge.
Later that evening, we proceeded to the next bungy. The Ledge. This one juts out over Queenstown and looks down on trees and rocks, which certainly is less comforting than a nice deep river. With a waist harness and a running start, squirrel dives, front and back flips, and any other shenanigans were possible. We took full advantage of this, as well as the unlimited jumps, and ended our day with 4-5 bungies under our belt. The next day was the Nevis, one of the highest bungy freefalls in the world, so in two days we descended, in a very fast and airborne fashion, around a 1000 vertical feet.
And why were we jumping on off of so many different platforms in the span of two days? Well, this was Queenstown after all, the promised land, and a place routinely called the adventure capital of the world. This mountain town sits next to lake Wakapitu, with outdoor stores, tourist traps (we were happy victims) offering any and all adrenaline pursuits in exchange for your money, and hostels packed with youthful hooligans such as ourselves. In addition to the pricier activities, Queenstown is a gateway into Fiordland and Mount Aspiring National Parks. We spent two weeks backpacking the surrounding wilderness as I will describe in the next post when I stop surfing facebook and begin writing some more. At least I'm honest.
The Nevis bungy jump was the finale of our adrenaline extravaganza because like good tourists, we fell for the package deal because three bungy jumps must be better than one. We started out on the Kawarau bridge, the first commercial bungy site in the world. I stepped onto the platform peered over the edge at the green water below and thought to myself, "there is no way," When you look down from something you are supposed to jump off of, you suddenly realize that such a distance is very, very far. At this point your mind tells you that you can't do it. But you step out to the platform, the carefree man behind you counts down as a crowd of 40 or so tourists stands on a viewing platform to your left, and without fully knowing what you are doing, you jump. I tensed my legs and went airborne. Dan and I both requested a water dunk up to our shoulders and Jonathan wanted just to get his hands wet. So luck would have it that Jonathan came up soaked to his shoulders while Dan and I had a few wet fingertips. Just for reference, the previously described Nevis Bungy is over three times higher than the Kawarau Bridge.
Later that evening, we proceeded to the next bungy. The Ledge. This one juts out over Queenstown and looks down on trees and rocks, which certainly is less comforting than a nice deep river. With a waist harness and a running start, squirrel dives, front and back flips, and any other shenanigans were possible. We took full advantage of this, as well as the unlimited jumps, and ended our day with 4-5 bungies under our belt. The next day was the Nevis, one of the highest bungy freefalls in the world, so in two days we descended, in a very fast and airborne fashion, around a 1000 vertical feet.
And why were we jumping on off of so many different platforms in the span of two days? Well, this was Queenstown after all, the promised land, and a place routinely called the adventure capital of the world. This mountain town sits next to lake Wakapitu, with outdoor stores, tourist traps (we were happy victims) offering any and all adrenaline pursuits in exchange for your money, and hostels packed with youthful hooligans such as ourselves. In addition to the pricier activities, Queenstown is a gateway into Fiordland and Mount Aspiring National Parks. We spent two weeks backpacking the surrounding wilderness as I will describe in the next post when I stop surfing facebook and begin writing some more. At least I'm honest.
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