Franz Josef to Queenstown (South Island Day 3)

We had parked overnight about halfway between Franz Josef and Queenstown, in a place called Haast. While it would've been nice to check out the beach here we had to get to Queenstown by 2:00, as my other fellow adventures had bungy jumping scheduled at that time. We hit the road relatively early because I didn't want to deliver them to their appointment late. The drive, like always, was awesome. It seems like you can't go anywhere in New Zealand without being impressed by the scenery- not that I'm complaining or anything.About an hour and a half from Queenstown, near a town call Wanaka, we came upon a very large obstacle in the road. In fact, it brought us to a complete stop at and I was dumbfounded on how to get around this furry, moving herd of sheep. The shepherd kind of just waved at us to drive through, but the herd literally took up the road from side to side for at least 100 meters. Luckily, someone in an SUV (who I assume has encountered a herd of sheep before) drove past me and took the lead. All I did was crawl behind at a slow pace. So slow that Timm was able to jump out the side door, run up and hug one of the sheep before it scrambled off. Finally after following the SUV that was moving the the sheep like it was Moses parting the Red Sea, we got back up to speed.We cruised into Queenstown at about 1:15pm- a good 45-minutes before they had to be at the bungy place. They jump they were doing is the second highest commercial jump in the world at 134 meter (somewhere around 440ft I think). Why you ask didn't I do this jump? Well besides being a scaredy cat, $220 was a little steep to pay to poop my pants. Unfortunately, Timm had forgotten to make reservations, so he was stuck with me hanging around Queenstown.Queenstown was definitely a very nice town. It's also blatantly obvious it caters to tourism and thus very commercial, but I felt it was done tactfully which gave it a small town feel. It sits right on the edge of a large lake that was magnificent as the late afternoon sun hit it. So while everyone was off being adrenaline junkies and Timm was busy emailing a professor some work, I took a stroll around town with my camera and snapped a bunch of beautiful shots.
We all met up later on once they all returned and grabbed dinner at "Fergburger." Supposedly New Zealands largest burger. While it was big, I don't know if it is actually NZ's biggest burger. But I will say this, it was one of the best I've had yet, and most of my mates would agree.

Fools Gold

This is actually a story I wrote a long time ago but never posted it, so here it is. Also thanks to Cailtlin for some of the photos.

It was our last day of a three-day trip to the Coromandel Peninsula. After amazingly getting everyone out of bed and checked out of the hostel with 3 minutes to spare, we tried to decide what was on the agenda for the day. Yeah, college students are capable of thinking a day ahead and maybe even two. But this was our third day and we hit all the “must-sees.” So I wanted to check out the “not-so-much-seen.”

I grabbed my friends Lonely Planet: New Zealand travel book and started searching. I stumbled upon the Broken Hills gold-mine workings. Feeling like I had possibly saved the day, I began to suggest the ideas to others. Much to my dismay, it was received with a mediocre response by most of the group. Everyone seemed to be spent from the two previous days on the Coromandel Peninsula. While I couldn’t really blame them, we were in New Zealand for goodness sake! I personally think it’s going to be awhile before I get back here. There seemed to be growing consensus just to head back to Auckland. But I wanted GOLD! And who doesn’t?

Well most didn’t, although the actual probability of finding gold in an abandoned gold mine was non-existent. But it’s the idea that counts, right? Either way, I was able to get the interest of five fellow prospectors. They saw what I saw in it: adventure, excitement, and profit. We managed to steal one of the three cars and set out search for that glorious New Zealand gold.

We traveled south on the peninsula about halfway until we came to the town of Pauanui. A quick stop in the visitor center revealed we were not far from striking it big. We turned off of the main motor way onto a rural road that quickly went from asphalt to stone. The car snaked through the forest on the road that was built to accommodate one and a half cars. The trees above made a canopy that only allowed part of the sun’s ray through, creating an eerie twilight. I felt like Marlow in Joseph Conrad’s, Heart of Darkness, venturing deep into the jungle in search of its spoils. Others in the car began to guess who’d be the first killed, as if we were suddenly part of a B-rate horror film in which one of us was luring the rest in to the remote forest as if to repay the rest for some past wrong doings. I suggested such morbid talks should be end, and they did, with everyone concluding it was I who had evil intentions.

We finally came to a small car park at the trail head, unloaded the car, loaded up our bags, and set out. About five minutes into the hike we were suddenly climbing up through the forest, but excitement soon became exhaustion when the up part didn’t stop. With legs burning and lungs gasping, I soon wondered if those who decided not to come had made the right decision. Of course they didn’t. I knew once we struck gold they’d come running to us like lost cousins when you’ve won the lottery.

We continued to trudge up the mountain on the natural steps that were provided by surfaced tree roots. At one point we passed a group of elderly trampers who were easily in their seventies and thought to myself, “Geez, I’m here sucking wind while these old folks are taking it like was a stroll in the park.” We tried to act calm and collected as we moved by them, but I think they saw through our façade. Old people have special powers you know.

After a good forty-five minutes going uphill we made it to a look out point that peered over the valley. It was a humid day and you could see the moisture wrap around the hills in the distant. The crickets chirping reminded me of summers back home. We drank some water and ate a small snack as we admired the forest’s serenity.

Refreshed and ready to go, we continued on, but this timed downhill. Going down proved to be similarly tricky because the mud made for shoddy footing. A few of my companions found themselves with dirt covered derrieres. At the bottom (well really the middle of the mountain) we came to a five-hundred meter long mining tunnel.

The tunnel, meant to be one of the highlights of the trail, was used about one-hundred years ago to send ore through the mountain when gold mining was still prominent in the area; this was of course easier than sending it over the mountain. We had brought our flashlights (what Kiwis refer to as torches) and were ready to venture into the unknown.

The floor was a muddy mess and forced us to walk on the thin rails on which carts of ore use to run upon. Any slip and I was guaranteed to have my clean hiking boots painted in a reddish brown from top to bottom. The walls too, were oozing with a slimy brown, not to mention the giant cave crickets almost the size of my palm. And when we turned off our flashlights you could see the tiny blue glow worms that made it seem like you were suddenly outside looking at the night sky. I managed to make it down the cool and damp tunnel and appear on the other side with only a few bumps on my head from the ceiling.

The rest of the trail was equally as exciting as the first, with a few other smaller tunnels, mud pits, and waterfalls along the way. All the while, I had been trying to spot some glittery gold and at one point knelt down in a stream, grabbed a handful of dirt and sifted for flakes. Needless to say, I came up empty handed. We’d forgotten to pick up our surveyor pans in town, although actual panning is prohibited in the park.

We twisted around the side of mountain and came upon a copper-colored river down below. While watching the river snake from above, I heard someone behind me say, “Who wants to go swimming?” I, much less anyone else, hadn't come prepared to swim, but sometimes peer pressure get the best of you. We forged our own path to the river, stripped down to our boxers and slowly waded in. The water was frigid and I had one of those “This was a dumb idea” moments. But why not? We were in New Zealand for goodness sake! At least that’s what I keep on telling my self.

A quick attempt at drying off and short walk back to the car we were ready to head back to Auckland. All the while something had been stirring in my head, somewhat of a revelation, if you will. I began to think about all the others who decided for one reason or another not to come and how much they had missed out. No photos or words would really be able to describe our adventure.

That little description in that tiny travel book just didn’t seem to be adequate to convince the rest of the gold mine’s greatness. It didn’t have any giant billboards advertising it, it didn’t have and pictures showing it, and it must’ve seemed to some that it was nothing more than a hike on the side of the road.

Yet this is what I’ve come to realize- that there doesn’t need to be all that stuff in order to have a great time. All one needs to have is a small sense of adventure and exploration. Why follow the billboards and signs in life if they’re just going to take you where everyone else goes? Of course all those places are great and dandy. And they’ll likely provide a great experience- but I doubt they’ll provide an original experience.

So maybe we didn’t strike gold and aren’t bound to cruise around in Lamborghinis. But we did make a profit; we got to conquer merciless hills, go through a mountain, swim half naked in river, and share a sense of accomplishment with five fellow gold-miners. Gold mining may not be my calling, but I’m no fool when to recognizing a good time.

Franz Josef Glacier (South Island Day 2)

Although our RV was freezing, we managed to come out from under our covers at 8:45 to get ready for our glacier walk/hike. So we got to the main building where we paid and got hooked up with some boots, socks, rain jacket, and crampons (the metal spikes that let you walk on ice). We were then herded into a bus like cattle and driven to the national park where we would then hike to the base of the glacier.
Our guide for the day was Carl (guy with the big pick ax) who would lead us up the icy wall. I like Carl mostly because he didn't like standing around too much, ans also I suppose because he wasn't going to let and giant ice boulder things fall on our heads. He would also cut "steps" with the ax to give us foot placements on difficult terrain.
The crampons were pretty awesome. The metal spike were about an inch and a half long (seen in one of these pictures). Essentially, if I accidentally stepped on my other foot, it would look like swiss cheese. The did make me feel cool when I was walking up super steep ice like it was nothing.

The hike up the glacier about 6 km and had an awesome views. The Franz Josef is one of only three glaciers in the world that descends down into a rain forest. One of the others is about 20km down the road, and the other is in South America. So one might think we'd be all bundle up, but shorts and a jacket was enough to keep us warm. Which also explains why we could almost always hear rushing water from the melting ice.




The hike lasted around 7 hours. We got back into town, filled up on gas and left right as the sun was setting. I drove another 2 hours, about halfway to Queenstown (our next stop) and pulled into a camper park where we could plug in. I reckon we were all pretty exhausted from the glacier.

Christchurch to Franz Josef (South Island Day 1)

We flew into Christchurch which is on the east coast of the South Island, kind of in the middle there. This is where we would begin our eight day journey. From here we picked up our six person RV (although we had seven people) and after a quick stop to pick up groceries (mostly sausages, pasta, juice and beer) we headed for the west coast. I happened to be the only one who could drive manual, so I got the job of chauffeuring everyone 2100km around the South Island- yippie!
Only about 2 hours out of Christchurch we came upon these giant limestone boulders along the side of the road and decided to pull over. Our inner child(ren?) came out, as the often would during this trip, and we began climbing all of the boulders to the top of the hill. The view of course was magnificent.
We still had about 5 hours left to drive and the sun was moving quickly, so we said goodbye to our beloved rocks and moved on. The next 3 hours of driving were utterly terrifying. It was my first day driving in New Zealand (so other side of the road), not too mention it being a cumbersome camper van that crawled up hill so slow I swore I saw a snail passing us at one point. We were headed for Arthur's pass which goes directly through the alps. And while the drive was very scenic with giant mountain flanking us on each side, the road was very narrow, windy, and steep, which made for a nerve racking drive. My main goal at hand was to avoid wrecking the RV, especially because the rental place took an imprint of my Mastercard and could charge up to $2500 in damage if we returned it busted.

Amazingly we made it through the pass and to the west coast just as the sun was setting over the ocean. It was about two hours from here to Franz Josef and the glacier. The drive went relatively well although once again there were many windy parts where the going got extremely slow, especially because it was dark out. But we made it there, bounced around the quaint little town and then found a parking lot to settle in for the night. The next day was our glacier hike.

I'm Baaack & Hello There Isaiah

Well sorry, its been slow the last two weeks. I was traversing the South Island for a week or so and when we got back we had to immediately go on another one to the Taupo/Rotorua area. Both were GREAT times and the second trip was all expenses paid by Loyola- can't beat that.

This post of course is not going to cover those expeditions, they'll come later on. Instead I'd like to brag about MY NEW NEPHEW!! My sister-in-law Kristin and brother Nathaniel (congratulations) said howdy to him in person on April 15th. His name is Isaiah and I reckon he'll grow up to be a ladies man. You can already tell from the pictures below they'll be swooning over him in no time.
Oh yes, I'm sure you've noticed the stagnant poll. I'll try to make a new one. But congratulations to the 4 who new Aotearoa meant "Land of the long white cloud." However, I have little doubt that its just my friends that are over here with me that voted for it. Cheaters.

So like I said, I'll be posting some of my travels from the South Island shortly. Since my travel journalism class is now over they'll probably be more pictures and less writing. I might also try to make a slide show and just narrate it. We'll see how this goes....

All Great Days End With Karaoke

The day started the same way many days do here in Auckland. Wake up, realize its 9am, go back to bed. Wake up, notice it’s now 11:30am, contemplate getting out of bed, realize that such contemplation is futile, go back to bed. Wake up one last time, notice its 12:30pm, realize I’m a good for nothing bum, then roll out of bed.

Crusty eyed and woozy, I haphazardly make my way to the shower to cleanse myself of such sloth. I turn the shower on so it’s extra steamy while in my half-coma, I manage to undress. I step in to the water and am suddenly awake due to the third-degree burns I just received from the flowing water. I manage to find the shower knob and set it to a more temperate level. I give myself a quick wash with a bar of soap and my Kid’s 2in1 Happy Apple scented shampoo and conditioner.

Delighted to be smelling like a sour apple Blowpop, I scrounge around the kitchen for some food only to realize I have a box of cereal but no milk. It looks like I’ll be eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for breakfast- for the fifth day in a row. I begin to contemplate if I’m really eating breakfast, or if it’s lunch by this point. Through a series of complex calculations and theorems I decide it’s still breakfast- and a damn good one at that.

Somehow, I’m ready to go to my 2pm class. Well, ready in the physical sense. Psychologically, I’d rather be sleeping. But I grab my books and head to the elevator to ride down eighteen floors. I manage to make it to class in about fifteen minutes and find myself a seat. One page of notes and twenty-seven different stick figure sketches later, I am released from the prison that is known as class. My utter bliss suddenly turns to grief when I remember I have another class. ‘I DON’T WANNA GO TO CLASS!’ But I do anyway. I walk there like a moping child who hasn’t gotten his way.

Amazingly, my doodling skills improved over the last 2 hours and I’m suddenly sketching DaVinci’s “Mona Lisa” and VanGogh’s “Starry Night”. My friend turns to me, looks down at my paper, and asks “What’s all that crap you’ve got on your paper.” I softly begin to weep at his inability to recognize my drawing abilities. Some people just don’t know art when they see it. After another two hours of treachery I am free, for good this time.

I begin to wander back toward my apartment and on the way decide to stop in the convenience store for a steak and cheese meat pie. Since coming to New Zealand I had recently become addicted to these meat pies. They are like chicken pot pies back in the states, but with beef and without all those nasty vegetables. They’re cheap as well, I give the cashier $2.20 and am on my way. While walking I devour the pie so fast that I almost cannibalize myself by mistaking my hand for the delicious pastry.

It’s a little after 6pm now and I head back up eighteen floors to my room. I flick on the tele and sit down at my laptop to do some homework. But homework just seems so unappealing, so I spend the next 45 minutes checking my email and Facebook account in hope that someone has added me as their friend. Nothing. My eyes begin to water. Who needs dumb ol’ friends anyway?

The meat pie doesn’t seem to be holding me over so I decide to make some dinner. As I put the water on to boil, I try to decide on which kind of pasta to eat tonight; spaghetti, penne, or spirals. I pick the spirals because they are by far the coolest shaped, and thus taste better. The other way I’m able to tolerate eating pasta five times a week is change up the sauce. One night its “spicy pepper”, another “original tomato”, and another “extra garlic.” Combine these with the different pastas and the variations are endless. My culinary skills would make even Betty Crocker blush.

The evening begins to wear on and the friends that I do have begin to think of something to do tonight. After the rejection of my suggestion to watch BioDome, it becomes clear that we were going to do what college students do best: head to the pubs. I of course would never condone such actions (right Mom and Dad?), but I went nonetheless. After a short ten minute walk we were on the famous Queen Street in downtown Auckland.

We hit a few different pubs, getting a drink at each one. By this point we’re all getting a bit loosened up from the day’s trials and tribulations, and decide to head to one of our favorites, The Fiddler. We walk up the street toward the small Irish watering hole only to be met by blaring music and off key vocals. And then it hit me. It was karaoke night… it was heaven.

I walked on in and stared up at the giant words being highlighted across the screen like the Disney sing along videos I use to watch when I was little. Forget the bar, forget the booze. I was headed straight for the list of songs. This place had to get fired up and I knew just the song. I confirmed the choice with my closest companions who’d be singing along with me. It was going to be epic.

While we waited for our song to reach the top of the queue I begin to remember my complete and total distaste for karaoke and any living being who took part in it. But since I came to New Zealand I’ve had a revelation. You shouldn’t be ashamed of who you wish you were. Embrace the fact that it’s okay to pretend you’re a rock star. It’s okay of me to realize I’ll never be that cool.

After philosophically examining the ethics of karaoke for about ten minutes, I suddenly realize our names were being called out and our song was up next. I stand up, pull my shirt down tight, stretch my neck, do a few shoulder shrugs, and get ready to rock. My band members come and huddle close together around the microphone.

“Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality…” The bar suddenly became revitalized as its patrons heads lifted as if being awoken from a long and deep sleep. Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody.

I sang with all my heart, pumping my fists into the air and singing at the top of my lungs. Oh how a little bit of alcohol can send one’s sense of humility through the ceiling. It doesn’t matter; for the next six minutes I am Freddy Mercury rocking my guts out. The melodic guitar riffs and head banging drum beats pulse through the pub and all who occupy it. Anyone who wasn’t on their feet was either passed out or immune to being happy.

With the pub alive and well again, the song comes to its soft ending. The screams and cheers are coming at us from every angle. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you, Auckland! And goodnight!”

This was an assignment for class and slightly exaggerated, so don't worry Mom & Dad- I didn't really cry when my friend made fun on me.

On South Island

Ok so I managed to find some internet, but this isn't gonna be long. We got our RV Wednesday and drove to the Franz Josef Glacier for our hike on Thursday. Check out the pics.





We're in Queenstown for the day where some of the group are going bungy jumping (way too expensive for me to be terrified). We headed toward Milford Sound and the Catlins in the next day or two.

Gone Tripping

Well tomorrow I head to the South Island for a week. We're going to be cruising around in a campervan and since I'm the only one that know how to drive stick, I get to be the driver. So pray for me not to die:) This of course mean I won't get a chance to update the blog for the next week. I do have some stories already written though, so be sure to check back here. Peace & Love

Nick

Marching Through Mordor: Part 4 of 4

Day Four

With another early morning rise, English muffin breakfast, and a final packing, we jumped on the trail for our final tramp back to Whakapapa village. I was sore, tired and ready to sleep in a real bed; while visions of fast food danced in my head. But first we had a 5 ½ hour tramp across the southern side of Mt. Ngauruhoe. In reality there was nothing really to complain about, this leg of the four day tramp was just as scenic and diverse as the others.

Most of the hike was spent on gently rolling hills through the knee high shrubbery on a well marked and well traveled trail. There were only a few steep climbs to keep our robot-like legs on top of their game. We had met up with another group from the Uni the day before and decided to do the last leg together. In a line of about 10 people with large packs on our backs, I felt as if were a group of nomads searching for the Promised Land.
As a last treat near the end of the tramp we took a fork in the trail to the Traranaki Falls. There is no reason one shouldn’t take this side trip, it takes about an extra five minutes and is a good change of scenery from the continuing shrub land. There is one particular fall that if you climb down from the trail you can wade right into the icy cold pool that is at its base. Or if you so please, you can walk right behind the falls in the small cove behind it, just be careful, the algae makes the rocks very slippery and you’re guaranteed to get a little wet.


We continued on. With about 25 minutes left to walk and Whakapapa village in sight, we fastened our pace due to pure excitement that we were just about to complete a 51 km, four day tramp. The four of us joined back up with each other to share our triumph together. Of course in the last 30 feet two of them, in good 10-year old fashion, suddenly felt it was a race and sprinted to the end.


After completing the trek I felt I had a new found respect for Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee; the friendly hobbits who ventured through Mordor to Mt. Doom without the help of any Nikes, Merrells, Timberlands, or Columbias. And who would have thought that putting on a clean shirt, shorts, socks, and sitting down in a car would feel so good. We had lucked out with good weather and blue skies almost the whole time. This part of the New Zealand is known for it sudden changes in weather, so it’s important to come prepared. We hadn’t showered in four days and drove home with our windows down; smelling like a garbage truck is the price you pay for “roughin it”.

We made it! ...and smelled like poo!