Another crazy trip through NZ: zoof zoof, sombrero, go back to Gore!

Shortly before Christmas, Thomas, his brother Andre and his wife Johanna, and me obviously, set off on an epic journey through New Zealand’s majestic landscapes. The sturdy Subaru (“Subi”) was filled to maximum capacity with hiking boots, muesli bars and backpacks. The sun was shining and as more commercially oriented people were plundering the mall, we left civilization for the coming 9 days.

Subi made a new friend, a curious kea

However, not before we had stopped at Oamaru for a new bottle of NZ whiskey. Then we had a look at the art gallery in an old Victorian style building that Oamaru is so famous for. There Thomas received a text message from our neighbour that there had been quite a shake in Chch but that our house still looked fine. So, unworried, we looked at art. Then all the art started swaying simultaneously and the old building started creaking and I got slightly nauseous from all this movement. The art gallery ladies came rushing out and told us, ever so reassuringly, that the building was in no way earthquake proof and that they were closing the gallery and we should stay away from stone buildings.

In old Victorian style, not to be put off by some quakes, we had a lovely coffee and then drove on.

We stayed in a lovely organic backpackers. But the real highlight: we had dinner at Fleur’s. To me it seems as if this is the most famous restaurant in NZ. Fleur is an elderly lady who loves cooking with fresh ingredients, and her restaurant is right at the beach, so you get lovely fresh fish. We had a supreme overload of fish there and a wonderful sunset. Totally worth it.

This on is for Sandra and Marlies! We have not forgotten you, nor the penguins...

The next day we had a quick look at the Moeraki boulders that never fail to inspire, and drove on to Queenstown. There we picked up our hut tickets for the tramp and had another exquisite dinner. It was now almost Christmas (24th) and Q-town was booming and bustling more than ever.

For our next tramping adventure we had to once again arrange interesting logistical matters. The Routeburn track starts “near” Queenstown, and ends “near” Milford sound. The track itself is some 30 km’s, but by road the beginning and end are 350 km’s apart. The best alternative seemed to be “trackhopper”, motto: “You walk, we run”. This means, you drive to the beginning of the track, park your car and start walking the track. The trackhopper people then drive to your car, drive your car to the other side of the track (your end point) and run back over the track to their own car. This comes down to 4 hours driving for them, and some 4 hours running. So, really only an 8 hour work day, but wow, how different from my average work day! We met them 3 times (every day) running the track. Pretty amazing. And they still had time to point out lots of special flowers to us. If you ever walk the Routeburn you should totally use this service, they are amazing.

Anyway, we were by no means running the track. One valuable lesson learned from the Milford track is that you want to spend as little time as possible in the huts, and as much as possible on the track. We walked very slow, made lots of bird-watching stops and admired the forest and the views. At the first hut we had our Christmas dinner (couscous with veges and salami) and enjoyed the view from the hut.

The second day we went up over the treeline and had pretty spectacular views the whole day. The weather was stunning too. And we kept encountering “sombrero”, a guy with a huge sombrero that was a natural downhill runner. Around lunchtime we climbed a side track up a mountain top, and sombrero came literally sprinting, jumping and sliding down the steep track. He kept popping up like that the following days and I’m sure we still all feel “haunted” by the large sombrero…

Never mind summer, we still had a white christmas!

When we had arrived at the hut and were digging through our packs for edibles, the hut ranger came around and asked us where we were going the next day. Upon our answer he said “ah, the track is closed that direction.” I said “ah”. Thomas asked “landslide?” Ranger said “hmm, rockfall”. We said “ok” and kept on digging for food as the ranger went on to the next people. Somehow, the way he had so casually mentioned the fact of the closed track, made me think it was a joke. He was probably surprised by our cool behaviour and lack of panic. The rumour went through the hut during dinner but nobody knew anything for sure, so we awaited hut-talk. After a lot of historic info on the track, the ranger finally told us that indeed the track was closed for now because some large rocks had fallen pretty much directly on the track. They would fly in a geologist the next day and then decide how to proceed.
Well, such is life in NZ, things shake or fall off cliffs all the time, so we just had our dinner, played some card games and crawled in our sleeping bags.
The next day at breakfast the helicopter with the geologist landed just in front of the hut and everybody got really excited. After a while we got the all clear but had to leave once again as a group. At the rockfall site, which was pretty obvious, we had to all go over separately and “keep checking for falling rocks”. It was only a really small area, but seeing the big chunks of rock that had come down it was a bit scary nevertheless. Never a dull moment in NZ.

After another side trip up a hill top we arrived at our car. Very convenient! We drove on to Milford sound, checked into the backpackers there and had a nice shower. I had taken a dip in a glacial lake the day before, but nevertheless after 3 days tamping a shower is quite nice.
After blissfull sleep we then boarded a cruise on Milford sound. This time we spotted a lot of dolphins (and no sombrero).

After this adventure we drove the long way to Wanaka. We encountered some lovely curvy roads and naturally some insane driving. Wanaka was nice and warm, and as we had dinner in the local pub we learned some very valuable lessons in Kiwi culture.
Nest to us sat a group of local men, in various states of intoxication. Wanaka is pretty small, and so if you happen to have an American old-timer and you want to cruise around town, it can so happen that you cruise around the pub 8 times in half an hour. If your car is filled with girls, this may eventually attract the attention of the local men. However, after the third time, the local men get bored. We learned that to insult somebody in NZ it suffices to assume and tell them they’re from the town Gore. Gore lies in the middle of boring dairy country and little tourists will ever venture that way. Gore smells of coal burning. Gore tries to boost its image by crowning itself as the “home of country music in NZ”, which is at best a doubtful nomination. So the guys started yelling to the girls in the car “Go back to Gore! Go back to Gore with your ugly car and your horrible music! Gorons!”. When one of the lesser intoxicated men noticed we were laughing about this, he turned to us and said “When people come here and play bad music loudly from their car, we assume they’re from Gore. But I should probably tell you that it is not a fair representation of that community. We call them Gorons”. I was delighted to now have an accepted Kiwi slang-phrase to use in everyday driving when somebody is behaving badly. I’ll just yell at them “Go back to Gore, Gorons!”.

Next day we set off towards the West Coast over Haast pass. The “Go back to Gore” was appropriate many times, although it was mostly tourist vans that were behaving stupid. A favourite of many tourists is stopping on or near a one-lane bridge and then walking on the bridge taking photos, while we have to drive over the bridge too, and a one-lane bridge being what it is, this can be a bit tricky. It seems to me that many tourists don’t take the time to actually walk some tracks in the forest where they would see much more beautiful trees, waterfalls and vistas than on one-lane bridges, but well, one obviously wants to see all of NZ in 3 weeks so no time for walks in the forest. Go back to Gore or wherever you came from …



After all this driving we finally had some more activities the next day, when we did a guided glacier walk on Fox glacier. This was pretty spectacular once more, the crevasses, the holes where meltwater rushed into, the whole glacial valley.

We then drove on along the Westcoast, me pointing out some fieldwork sites, and stopping a few times to do beach/forest walks, being eaten alive by the sandflies.
Our final stay was at Greymouth, where we spent as little time as possible. On the last day we viewed the pancake rocks at Punakaiki and drove back through Arthur’s pass. After some quick noodles at home and some relaxing on the couch we celebrated the year’s end at Hagley park where a small fireworks show was held along with a questionable band playing.

The first days of the New Year were spent around Chch, and 2 series of sharp and long earthquakes one night made sure that Andre and Johanna had the complete NZ-Chch experience. It was lovely to spend so much time together and to experience all adventures together. It was also very insightful to have some “women” chats with Johanna about Thomas and Andre, which revealed that many questionable habits from both of them are just genetically predestined. All in all, joking aside, it was a wonderful time!