Banks Peninsula

Aboard the Fox II

The unforgiving grass claims many lives

I may have been taking too many pictures

!!

After two weeks ill with a feverish respiratory thing, and many days of rain, we needed a pick up. We drove north to Akaroa, a historic French settlement on the Banks Peninsula. Akaroa is a beautiful harbor vacation town, full of bed and breakfasts, French restaurants, cheeseries, and jewelry shops. The weather cleared on cue and we took a three hour sailing tour of the sound (really an ocean inlet forced through a giant exploded volcano). We saw many New Zealand fur seals, albatrosses, and shags on our way out to the Pacific, culminating in a visit by a pod of Hector's dolphins. They popped up beside the boat in bursts to say hello. We even saw a mama and her calf swimming in tandem.

Soon after, we embarked on the Banks Peninsula Track, New Zealand's first private track. Marketed in the 80s as "four nights, four days, four beaches, four bays," the track passes through Banks Peninsula farmland, which is absurdly pretty. Here are the grassy hills, blue skies, sharp cliffs, strange land formations, and clear waters that you might close your eyes to imagine while trapped in an elevator waiting for the fire department rescue. And aside from two steep climbs, it was a relaxed walk with short days, allowing us time to savor the scenery. Better still was the near total lack of sandflies. When we rested, especially at dusk, their absence became a powerful feature of the walk itself. It is hard to describe just how terrible they were farther south. It was often hard to stop and enjoy a viewpoint.

And we were the only people walking! This meant we were alone not only on the track but in the luxurious farm lodges. At each lodge we had a full kitchen, shop, shower, and real bed waiting for us. Not to mention the extremely fun extras such as a wood fire-heated bath under the stars, giant rope swing, sea kayaking trip to visit a seal colony, bocce, boogie boarding, and so on. Rather than simply a place to recover before the next day's hike, the farm huts became a high point of the trip. I'll remember sitting by the fire reading out-loud from It Must Have Been Something I Ate as clearly as I'll remember the red cliffs and dramatic coastal islands.

Oh! And of course I will remember helping to release an injured blue penguin, the smallest penguin species in the world, back into the wild. Our second farm was also a blue penguin sanctuary, and we were privileged to help feed and release one (but not before it nipped my leg). They are seriously tiny and full of personality. Adorable. The track, a fairly last minute undertaking, was perfect.

In unrelated news (it can't all be good), men wear rattails here. I don't want to make a spectacle of unfashionable people like those wretched blogs, but the tails appear very common. I've seen meaty rattails, dual rattails, and multiple tails spread down the neck like a fan. Was that a tattoo of a rattail I saw? Why is this happening? I thought I left them behind for good in the third grade, along with the taste of boogers. Am I being culturally insensitive? Is it rooted in Maori culture, like a Kiwi Mohawk? Or is it another invasive species, like the stoat, rat, or possum, here to destroy the natural beauty of this country?

Time passed quickly and last night I was surprised to read that The Pale King was released. My heart is speeding up as I write. Eep.

Southland & Arthur's Pass

Riding the bicycle at Slope Point

Climbing Hump Ridge

South Coast at dawn

Arthur's Pass

Avalanche Peak

We've been moving quickly, travelling from Te Anau to Invercargill, through the Catlins and all the way north up the east coast to Arthur's Pass. We enjoyed our first WWOOF (Willing Workers on Organic Farms) experience on a Southland sheep farm. Our host family was a Welsh woman named Sheila, her half-Maori, ex-professional rugby playing husband Rata, and their three small children. We fed the pigs and chickens and watered the garden, though most of our work was in the kitchen cooking for the family, which suited us well enough. Unfortunately I don't have any photos of our stay, and after four short nights we moved on to the Tuatapere Hump Ridge Track. The Hump Ridge is an interesting track run by a Tuatapere citizen trust, and it travels through public, private, and Maori land. In addition to the coastal scenery and many humps and ridges, it is full of history, passing through the relics of a failed logging town. The days were painfully long though, over nine hours each, and we were both broken down by the time we reached our car's trunk-full of cookies.

"If the mountain defeats you, will you risk a more dangerous path?"  -Saruman the White

The mountain did defeat me, and there was no more dangerous path. Avalanche Peak in Arthur's Pass was a walk I had circled in my mind since the flight here. It is a day walk, only about 6-8 hours return, though it climbs very steeply to the 1800m summit which promises one of the finest views in the country. I didn't make it there, though it wasn't a matter of physical fitness (we were ten to fifteen minutes from the summit). Instead I was worn down by a frightening climb hand and foot over narrow ridges and loose, crumbly rocks, with cliffs on either side. It may not have been as dangerous as it appeared, but I didn't feel safe, and after about an hour of climbing an increasingly steep route while silently running through worst-case scenarios in my mind (and the words "deathtrap in the wrong conditions" from my NZ tramping guide!), I had a minor emotional breakdown and I decided I couldn't continue. It felt silly as soon as we began our descent, but it was a tortuous state to be in. I immediately had trouble fitting it together in my mind - this was the first thing I couldn't do, and it was because I wasn't mentally tough enough, as they say in the sports world. I've considered that the fear I felt was more powerful than anything I would have found at the top, but the whole thing sits poorly with me.

Arthur's Pass still allowed us plenty of inexpensive rest, and I made it to the top of the Bealey Spur mountain route, which delivered an awesome view of the Southern Alps and the Waimakariri River.

Wildlife update: We were charged by a sea lion at Curio Bay. In Arthur's Pass we also met plenty of kea, New Zealand's giant green and red alpine parrot. Kea stories abound in New Zealand: they are fiercely intelligent and are capable of opening buckles, locks, backpacks, and car doors with their strong, manipulative beaks. They appear to consider humans a form of free food and cheap entertainment. Kea have been known to break into vehicles only to tear out the ignition wiring, to lock people inside buildings, steal and destroy tents and clothing, and so on. More frightening, the un-mated males search for food and fun in "street gangs" (the scientific term!) of up to 15 parrots. Returning from a short walk we encountered a group of kea, one of whom aggressively approached (or "attacked" as she would tell you) Christina. It was then that Christina, the animal lover's animal lover, defended herself with a handful of rocks. We lived to tell the tale.

We are now in Dunedin, a student-dominated city in Otago. We will soon head back north for more farm work and, weather permitting, two leisurely tramps. Baseball season has begun, and it sure makes me miss home. The Mariners, not so much.