The day my parents arrived, we went out on the Otago Peninsula near Dunedin to see the ocean and look for albatrosses. Miraculously, the albatrosses showed up–several of them. They were pretty stunning, gliding all over the sky without ever flapping their wings, only fluttering them every once in a while. The next day we drove south to the Catlins coast, where we saw some amazing rock formations, huge waves, and seals at Nugget Point before driving to Queenstown for the night. The following morning, Wednesday, we took a bus from Queenstown to Te Anau, a town in the southwest on the edge of Fiordlands National Park. That afternoon, we watched Obama’s glorious victory come in as snow fell on the town. Unseasonable weather indeed, and a bad omen for our first major expedition: sea kayaking on Doubtful Sound.

Doubtful Sound is a quite isolated fjord, and it took two van rides with a boat ride in between to get there with our guided group. It was no longer snowing, but it was still quite cold, and our wetsuits were somewhat less than comfortable. But the scenery was spectacular, with huge cliffs and mountains all around us, made even more spectacular by the previous day’s snow. We spent one night at a campsite on the fjord before returning. But on our way back, we saw not only dolphins, but also a couple of crested penguins. Very cool. I couldn’t take my camera though, because it would have gotten wet, so we only have pictures from a waterproof disposable camera. When we got back to dry land, we agreed that it was a worthwhile adventure, but we couldn’t have done it for more than one night. We prefer hiking to kayaking.

Our next excursion was the 3-day, 2-night Routeburn Track, a popular tramping route through the Southern Alps just east of the Fiordlands. Our first day was blessed with excellent weather, and some pretty good views as well:

But the second day was one long, miserable irony. It was supposed to be the best day: almost all above the treeline, stunning vistas everywhere, not to mention the waterfalls and lakes. But it was pouring down rain when we woke up, and it never stopped. Our supposedly waterproof boots were soaked though in about an hour, and we couldn’t see a hundred meters in front of us. And did I mention the howling winds? Even the waterfalls were wasted, because we were too wet and cold to stop and appreciate them. Fortunately, the weather cleared up again on the third day, and we had a nice hike out (though I don’t have any pictures of that either).

The next day was spent driving past the Southern Lakes around Wanaka and Queenstown…here’s Lake Wanaka…

…and up through Haast Pass to the West Coast, ending at Fox Glacier about halfway up the island. Along the way, we stopped at various waterfalls, overlooks, and other attractions near the road. Here’s a view from an overlook of the Tasman Sea (I forget the name of the spot, though):

The next day we took a guided hike on Fox Glacier itself, which was marvelous. The terrain on the glacier was much more jagged than I expected, and our guides spent the day carving out steps with their pickaxes for the rest of us to walk on. This is us on one of the flatter sections:

At this point, we had three full days left to travel, and we decided we didn’t have time to make it up to Abel Tasman National Park in the northwest of the island, which I had intended to visit before I left. We would have faced a 12-hour drive back to Dunedin on Sunday, and nobody wanted that. Guess I’ll have to go back someday, hopefully soon. Instead, we went to Arthur’s Pass National Park and took what was probably the best hike of the trip: Avalanche Peak. The trail went straight up the mountain, quickly reaching the treeline and giving us amazing views of the valley. Here’s one such view, with a kea (mischievous alpine parrot) in the foreground:

At some point, the trail narrowed, became more rocky, and an unlucky fall could deposit you in a ravine. My mom decided she couldn’t go on, and my dad stayed behind with her. I forged on alone, and made it to the summit ridge. Here, the views took my breath away. (This does not do it justice)

But even I couldn’t make it to the summit itself. The trail was too sketchy, and I decided this was not a good day to die.

The next day we drove down to Mt. Cook, the tallest mountain in New Zealand, and hiked to Sealy Tarns, a couple of small lakes with views of Mt. Cook and the valleys around. This hike also went straight up the mountain, although it didn’t go as high up as Avalanche Peak. It was still a great afternoon, though. (In the first pic, Mt. Cook is the big mountain in the middle)

On our last day away from Dunedin, we decided to take it easy a bit. We hiked up a small mountain near Lake Tekapo, a beautiful blue-green lake not far from Mt. Cook. We got more than we bargained for, though, as a fierce wind came upon us near the summit that made it impossible to walk straight. I don’t think I’ve ever been in wind like that. Luckily, though, it was still warm and sunny, and the lake certainly was pretty.

That brings me to the end of the trip. My journey home went swimmingly, although it seemed like it would never end–about 28 hours in total.

It’s good to be home, I’ll certainly miss New Zealand. I’ll definitely go back when I get the chance–there’s so many more places to see, and friends to catch up with. Thank you all for reading!

Fast forward a few hours, and we were leaving for Blenheim. Luckily, neither I nor Jake (who had also stuck it out until the end of the show) had to drive first. So a well-rested Jack took the helm, and the 5 of us set off in Anna’s small Nissan Micra. We arrived in Kaikoura (amazingly beautiful coastal drive in that area, by the way) around dusk and decided to go ahead and make it all the way to Blenheim. So we arrived at Anna’s house after dark, exhausted but happy. The next day was spent relaxing–exploring the town, hanging out in various parks, enjoying the summer sun. It was significantly warmer up there, and I was walking around in shorts, sometimes a t-shirt, and bare feet. That’s one of the great things about New Zealand: you aren’t expected to wear shoes in public. It’s totally socially acceptable to go around in bare feet almost anywhere: the street, shops, grocery stores, etc. So with the warmer weather, we took full advantage of this custom.

I mentioned that Blenheim is well-known for its wine. There are countless wineries in the area, and vineyards totally dominate the landscape. Well, Tuesday was our day to explore that front. We were planning on renting bikes from a local bike shop, but it turned out that Anna’s family and friends had enough for us to borrow, and we ended up not having to pay to rent at all. So Anna’s dad drove us out to near Renwick, where the last of the two bikes were, and we set off. Here’s the 5 of us just before departure–from left, Jake, myself, Jack, Scott, Anna. (We couldn’t stop laughing at how ridiculous Jack and Scott look together in this picture.)

Our first stop was Highfield Estate, which features a tower that overlooks the wine country. Here’s the view:

Before the day was done, we visited 8 wineries altogether (don’t worry, they were spaced out enough so that we were only marginally tipsy at any point). At one place, we enjoyed a gourmet lunch in which Scott and I shared a platter of breads, cheeses, fancy meats, olives, and the like. Yeah, I could get used to this place. The Sauvignon Blanc is particularly famous in this region, but I was actually more impressed with their varieties of Chardonnay and Riesling. However, the 2006 Pinot Noir at Cloudy Bay winery took home my personal grand prize. We biked back to Blenheim at then end of the day triumphant, albeit exhausted.

On Wednesday Jake surprised us by announcing his intention to go on a hitchhiking adventure. He told us he would meet us in Kaikoura on the way home, if not all the way back in Dunedin. Jake has a well-known propensity towards random adventures, but we were nevertheless disappointed by his sudden departure. The rest of us continued living the good life, though, and we went camping on the beach at Rarangi on Wednesday night. This is a particularly violent beach (as in, you can’t go swimming) at the very top of the South Island with dark gray sand and some very cool rock formations. Jack, Scott, and I climbed on top of one interesting ridge and found some beautiful views of nearby coves, the coastline, and even the North Island way off in the distance. Here’s a sample:

We had a fun time hanging out on the beach in the evening, but in the middle of the night the wind picked up, it started raining, and the rainfly on our tent nearly blew away. The gusts were so strong that they blew the walls of the tent all the way down on our faces, and we were worried the poles would break. We struggled to hold everything together for over an hour, and Scott (bless his soul) went outside to try and secure the tent and rainfly, but it was to no avail. We finally gave up, dragged the tent (with all our stuff in it) to the nearby bathroom/shelter, and slept in the car.

Thursday we were obviously very tired. We spent the morning walking on the beach, and had a very laid-back afternoon at Anna’s house, although the weather was a bit cloudier and colder so laying outside wasn’t quite as nice. Friday morning I made another cheesecake–white chocolate this time. In the afternoon we went to another park near Blenheim were we attempted to play soccer, and then to Anna’s old elementary school so we could attempt to play tennis (and eventually fail and revisit childhood by playing on their formidable playground). On our way out, we were accosted and nearly attacked by some very foul-mouthed young children. Scott attempted to placate them by serenading them…

…but this only turned them even more against us. These kids were much more well-versed in the obscenities of the English language than I was at that age. Laughing, we retreated and escaped. It was a hilarious, surreal experience. That night, we ate cheesecake and drank Scott’s dessert wine, an exquisite 2004 Noble Riesling from Framingham winery. Here’s a shot of the four of us at dinner: Scott (AKA Socks McGavin, AKA Shoes McGavin, AKA No Shoes McGavin, AKA Poncho McGavin, AKA Babyface McGavin), Jack (AKA Jandals McGarrity), Anna (uh… just Anna, I guess), and me (AKA Cheesecake McGovern).

We decided not to go home on Saturday, instead opting for a day trip to the Marlborough Sounds. We drove up past Picton and went down to a rocky beach were we lounged, and Scott and I explored the rock formations (once again).

Then we had a picnic on the Waterfront in Picton and explored/shopped around in town (which didn’t take long). Saturday night we cooked one last dinner together and finished off the cheesecake. Sunday we reluctantly drove home–Jake had hitchhiked all the way back to Dunedin, so I’m actually still waiting on his story.

Now begins the gauntlet–about 2 weeks of solid studying: history, then neurobiology, then linguistics. Then again, I haven’t had to work hard often this semester, so I guess I had it coming. I don’t know if I’ll have anything to post in the next couple of weeks (or if I’ll have time), but I’ll definitely give an update when it’s all over.

PS: Thanks to Jack C. for his inspirations and recommendations regarding this trip, and throughout the semester.

I suppose it’s been awhile since my last post. I’ll try to recall what’s happened since then. Our show at Backstage went swimmingly–we were scrambling to get the drumset and all the other gear to the venue by the time we were supposed to soundcheck (ah, a familiar scene), but we made it, and our show was very well-received. JVK III (“the worst freestyle rapper in the world”, if you recall) made another appearance, and we were solid on all our real songs. I don’t have any pictures from the event, but I daresay I looked quite dashing in my tweed coat, white oxford shirt, and skinny brown tie. Tomorrow is Boo’s last ride, as we’re playing again at Backstage as one of four bands in a “Save the Jeweled Gecko” (really) benefit. It’s gonna be epic.

Last Saturday I went camping on Long Beach, this time with my band-friends–Rory, Talin, Jake, Phil, Anna, and Mhairi.  When we got there, there was a massive party in the main cave (as we approached within hearing distance, Rory exclaimed, “Do I hear bass?! That’s not right!”), so we put our gear in one of the adjacent smaller caves. The party left by dusk, but we decided we liked our cave better anyway. We had a lovely evening around the campfire roasting potatoes and marshmallows (not at the same time) and playing music. Then in the morning, Jake, Phil, and I went exploring around the rocky point next to the beach, finding some excellent partially-underwater caves and a smaller beach with a very lost sheep. Our friends Tegan and Rebecca came to bring us cinnamon rolls, and we returned home.

This week has been dominated by finishing my 3000-word essay on the African influences of Latin American music, but it’s all turned in now, so that class is completely finished. And that pretty much brings everything up to date. I’ll post again when I return from Blenheim, hopefully with pictures. Until then…

I’ve slightly adjusted my philosophy from the first couple of months here. Before, I was focused on traveling as much as possible, being in nature and discovering amazing and unique places. Now, I’m still keen to travel but I’m much more focused on spending time with the people I care about. The last couple of weeks have taught me that being in Dunedin with my close friends (usually, my band and related friends) is more fun and more fulfilling than being somewhere else more beautiful with people I don’t really know. I’ve got one more trip I’m taking in October (with these friends, mind you) plus two weeks of traveling with my parents in November, but if that’s all the traveling I do between now and the time I leave, that’s fine with me.

One more exciting bit of news: due to a cancellation, my band is playing in the feature slot at open mic night tomorrow! So we get a 30 minute set, and we’re borrowing our friend’s drum kit for me to use. Not that playing a 30 minute set at a bar is anything new for me, but it’s been awhile, and it’s always a good time. And besides, most of my band members have never played a real gig before, so we’re pretty pumped.

Our group of 9 left Dunedin on Friday morning and drove 6-7 hours to Arthur’s Pass, a divide in the Southern Alps northwest of Christchurch (for those of you who are into maps). We parked near the highway, then loaded all our gear and skis into a big basket-lift that would take our stuff up to the lodge. Then we hiked up the valley to the lodge. It was a pretty intense hike, though it only took about an hour, and we had some amazing views of the valley and surrounding mountains as we ascended (sorry, my camera was in my backpack on the aforementioned lift). The lodge was situated just above the snow line, where we picked up our stuff and carried it the last hundred meters or so. We met the Temple Basin staff and settled into our hostel-style rooms before eating a delicious steak dinner. Friday night was spent socializing, playing ping pong, and anticipating the skiing the next day.

I awoke on Saturday morning with this view out my window:

Yeah.

We weren’t really in a hurry to get out on the mountain, though, because the staff told us the conditions wouldn’t be goo until later in the day. This late in the season, daytime temperatures are significantly above freezing, so the snow gets soft during the day, then freezes at night. Therefore, the snow in the morning is very icy and generally not a good time. But we still set out at about 10AM so we could learn the rope-tow system.

Temple Basin is a club-run ski field, not a commerical resort, so it doesn’t have any fancy chairlifts or even T-bar lifts. Instead, they have rope-tows, which are certainly a character-building experience. You wear a wide belt attached to a metal “nutcracker” (looks like a giant, well, nutcracker) as well as a leather glove protector so the rope won’t tear through your gloves. You hold your hand around the fast-moving rope, then gradually tighten your grip (so it doesn’t jerk your arm out of its socket) until it’s pulling you along. Then you loop the nutcracker over the rope and clamp down on it with your free hand. You sit back and let the rope pull you by your waist, but you must hold the nutcracker in place the whole time. At the top of the lift, you release the nutcracker, which frees you from the rope. You fall the first couple of times you try this system, but by the end of the day it’s no big deal.

Once we figured out the lifts, we discovered that most of the mountain was, in fact, un-skiable due to ice. To get to the good part, we had to take one rope-tow up, then hike around the side of the mountain to get to a bowl in the back that faced the sun, then take another rope-tow up the side of the bowl. We spent the rest of this morning in the bowl, which was soft enough to ski. But it’s still not like real winter snow–it’s more like a Sno-Cone, and it can be very difficult to get an edge at high speeds. Once again, it took some getting used to, be it was lots of fun after that. It was also really warm outside, such that for much of the day I was only wearing my snow pants and 2 thermal tops, with no jacket.

For lunch, we had to get back to the lodge, and I decided to risk traversing the bowl to get to the “main chute” on the front side of the mountain, hoping that it was soft enough to ski. This decision proved to be foolhardy. Soon I found myself on a steep slope of almost solid ice, surrounded on both sides by huge rocks. The only thing I could do was slide down sideways on my inside edges at a snail’s pace so I wouldn’t lose control. But I made it down, and I supppose that harrowing little episode made lunch taste that much better.

After lunch, we went back to the bowl and stayed there until they closed the lifts. I didn’t want to risk another icy chute like the one I tried before lunch. I got some great runs in, but I couldn’t help but think that the trip would have been much better had we gone earlier in the year, when the whole mountain would have been skiable. The one bowl got a little old by the end of the day, and there was a lot of good-looking terrain elsewhere that we missed out on. Oh well. I had my camera on me in the morning–here’s some shots.

The view from outside the lodge:

The frontside of the moutain and the first rope tow:

View down the mountain from the top of the first rope tow:

All around us were mountains like these:

The view just before an especially steep run (around to the left of the rocks in the foreground):

A pretty good view of the back bowl where we did our skiing:

Sunday we woke up to high winds and rain. No fun for skiing. And besides, there wasn’t a whole lot more we could have done with that one bowl. So we walked back down the mountain and headed back to Dunedin, arriving much earlier than we had planned, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Overall, it was a fun trip, and I’m definitely glad I went. But we definitely didn’t see Temple Basin at its best–after all, it’s spring. To quote Mark Knopfler, “It was just that the time was wrong.”

Having finished that crisis, I made it to the beach and enjoyed an excellent evening of roasting hot dogs and s’mores over the campfire, hanging out on the beach, and sleeping in the huge cave that borders it. Here’s the cave, and the view from the beach:

I relaxed most of Saturday, but in the evening I went on a short hike with my friends Emily and Diana to Nichol’s Falls near Dunedin. The waterfall was beautiful but difficult to see once it got dark…

…but afterwards, we took a little side trail that led us to a hillside covered in glow-worms, which were pretty amazing (but impossible to photograph).

Sunday, I hiked Diana and another friend, Bob, up to Mt. Cargill–the tallest mountain in Dunedin’s immediate vicinity. There’s a radio tower up top, plus excellent views of the city…

…and the Otago Peninsula:

We found a large boulder near the top and sat on it for awhile, enjoying the sun and the spring warmth. Then we took another side trail to the Organ Pipes, a bizarre rock formation made of vertical hexagonal prisms stacked next to each other in such a way that they can be climbed easily. Here’s Bob scrambling up the rocks at the base of the pipes:

And here’s Bob looking over the edge at the top of the formation:

Here’s me sitting on top, with the sun just beginning to set:

We made it back down just as darkness fell, and reflected on our full and satisfying weekend.

Not a whole lot happened this week… the band played a few acoustic songs at a party at Phil’s brother’s flat on Tuesday instead of playing at Backstage, but we’ll resume the open mic night thing next week (when, hopefully, they’ll have a drum kit and a guitar amp again). Tomorrow I leave on a trip with the ski club to Temple Basin, a privately owned mountain in a fairly remote corner of the Southern Alps. Yes, it’s spring, but there’s still plenty of snow up there, and there will be no crowds. It’s gonna be a great trip–I’ll write about it next week.

The little white sign on the far left of this last pic is the sign for Mei Wah, my favorite fish and chips shop.

Here’s the inside of the union and the inside of the library–the two are in the same building, right next to each other.

Ok.

Yesterday, my band (inexplicably named “Boo”) played open mic night again. We had an excellent band dinner beforehand, then rolled on over to Backstage (sorry, the lighting was tricky on this one)…

Backstage has a front room, with an open fire, some couches, and a bar…

and a back room with more couches and tables, as well as the stage (this picture was taken beside the stage, looking back towards the rest of the venue):

Usually, open mic night starts out with a few solo performers, then the “feature band” plays a 30-40 minute set, followed by a few more solo performers and whoever else signed up. The feature band is usually fairly laid-back, and only sometimes has drums, which determines whether I play a drumkit or on a hand drum. We are not a feature band–we just sign up every time, and they usually put us either just before or just after the feature. This time we played just after. But first, as an introduction, our saxophonist, Jake, did a freestyle rap act. He cannot rap, at all, and his title is “JVK III, The Worst Freestyle Rapper in the World”. Rhythm guitarist Rory introduced him and asked the audience to give him a topic (“giraffes”, if you’re curious), and then Jake took the mic and shouted a bunch of phrases that rhymed with the topic, using some words and some gibberish. This was one of the funniest things I have seen in a long time, made funnier by watching the rest of the audience’s half-amused, half-confused reactions. So that was a good introduction for the band. Here’s Rory introducing Jake:

Then the band got up and played our 2 songs–this week, it was one original plus “The Thrill is Gone” by B.B. King. I got to play on a drumkit, too, which was a pleasant surprise. We sounded pretty good, and we were definitely tighter than we have been in the past, although I’m sure it’s still apparent that we’re just up there to have fun. Here’s us:

From left to right:

1. Me

2. Dylan, keyboards. Also plays bass sometimes, and is the best singer in the band, with an excellent bluesy growl. He’s from New Zealand.

3. Rory, the previously mentioned rhythm guitarist. He also makes an attempt at singing from time to time. We eat band dinners at his house. He’s from Vancouver, though he’s enrolled full time at Otago (as in, he’s not just studying abroad, he’s actually going to college here).

4. Scott, lead guitar. Probably the most talented musician in the band, and definitely the driest sense of humor (which tends to be a good thing). Wears lots of argyle sweaters. He’s from New Zealand.

5. Jake, the previously mentioned saxophonist. Goofy character, if you haven’t picked that up already. He’s from Portland, Maine, though he’s also studying full-time at Otago.

6. Phil, harmonica. The intelligent, quiet, composed one. Has an excellent knowledge of wine. He’s either from New Zealand or England–I’m not sure which.

Not pictured are Jack, the Lead Groupie, who hangs out with us a lot, as well as two girls–Anna (a Kiwi) and Talin (a Canadian who came over with Rory), who play the guitar and sing at open mic night as well. Here’s another close-up of Scott, Jake, and Phil:

So that’s my band, and that’s who I like to hang out with when I’m not traveling.

Until next time…

A few random cultural differences between the U.S. and NZ:

- In the supermarket, the eggs aren’t refrigerated. Apparently that’s ok.

- Mullets are socially acceptable. They’re especially popular among athletes. I think it’s a derivation of a traditional Pacific Islander or Maori haircut.

- Fast food and take-out restaurants are both called “takeaways.”

- In the U.S., we say there’s “lots” or “tons” of something, or any number of interchangeable terms. In NZ, they ALWAYS say there’s “heaps” of something.

- If you get invited to a dinner, you’re expected to bring some food or drink (though it isn’t a huge deal if you don’t).

…there are plenty more, but that’s all that comes to mind right now. I’ll write more another time–and hopefully I’ll have some more pictures then.

My friend Polly, her visiting brother Jim, and I left on Wednesday morning, driving down to Bluff before taking a one-hour ferry ride to Oban, the only town on Stewart Island. The seas were very choppy and the ferry ride was less than enjoyable, but we made it just fine. The town was extremely small to begin with, but it seemed even more diminished than usual because most of the shops were closed for the season–apparently, the island is only a popular tourist destination in summer. Still, it was pretty, with a nice harbor view…

…and I had an excellent steak at one of the two open restaurants in town. We had a relaxing evening at our hostel, went to bed early and woke up the next morning ready to hit the trail. We had elected, for obvious reasons, to hike the 3-day Rakiura Track rather than the 10-12 day Northwest Circuit. The first hour or so was along the road, but it was still beautiful, with lots of beaches and views of smaller islands.

The trail after the road ended was even better. It undulated up and down through the woods and occasionally emerged out onto the beach–a really pretty hike, and like nothing I’ve ever done before (like so many of the places I’ve been here…).

Due to Jim’s lightning pace, we made it to the hut by about 3 in the afternoon. The hut was nice–newly renovated, spacey, clean.

We hung out and threw the frisbee on the beach, and soon met the other group that would be staying at the hut: 3 more Americans, Jesse, AJ, and Ben, who were studying abroad at other universities in NZ. They were very earthy and lots of fun to hang out with. After dinner, three local Kiwi fishermen showed up at the hut, having parked their boat near the dock that was about 100 meters from the hut. After they settled in and everyone made their introductions, they asked us if we’d ever had “paua”, a large shellfish, cousin of the abalone. We said no, and they explained that their specialty was to dive for paua, and they had just gathered a big load, so they would cook us some. Of course, we couldn’t say no, and didn’t want to. They left for a few minutes and returned with a frying pan full of huge white things with dark edges, along with some sausage and onions. They chopped up the paua (with an ax, mind you) and sauteed the whole thing for awhile, then told us to dig in. It tasted quite good–less rubbery and more substantial than most shellfish, but still definitely seafood-y. After our feast, we sat around and talked and played cards (one of the fishermen knew an excellent magic trick) until the fishermen went to bed, at which point we sat on the beach and reflected on how great the night (and day, for that matter) had been.

The next day we turned away from the beach and hiked inland towards the next hut. The hiking was completely different–still very up-and-down, but it was all forest, and the forest was like a jungle. I’m noticing a common theme between Stewart Island and the West Coast: They look tropical, but they aren’t. Everything is ridiculously green, there are ferns and moss everywhere, and the land looks as if it’s threatening to become swamp if it gets too much rain or foot-traffic. But it’s cold.

Still, it was very cool scenery, made cooler by the fact that more than half the trail was covered by thin wooden boardwalks to keep us out of the mud. This trail also featured a short but steep climb to a tower overlook of the northeast corner of Stewart island:

We arrived at the hut early again, which was also nice–not as new, but with a homey character.

We reunited with the other Americans and followed a trail from the hut down to a beach (although we were next to an inlet, not the ocean). This beach wasn’t sandy, but instead it was covered with sea grasses and barnacle-covered rocks.

Under a lot of these rocks were mussels, so we decided to gather some. 244 mussels later (Polly counted), we returned to the hut and steamed them. They were pretty small, but still delicious.

Yesterday morning we hiked back to Oban–not as interesting of a hike, but mainly because it wasn’t really anything new. A bit of jungle, some inlet views, but nothing really new except a greater abundance of mud. Still, it was fun, and it wasn’t very far, so we arrived in the town by lunchtime. The ferry ride back was much better than the first, however. As we were leaving the harbor, we noticed some dolphins jumping near us. The captain noticed as well, because we slowed the boat down and allowed us to watch for awhile. There were at least a dozen dolphins, some coming within a few meters of the boat, and they were incredible.

The rest of the ferry ride was smooth and sunny, so I stood out on the back deck and watched Stewart Island fade into the horizon.

I guess the only negative side of the trip was not seeing any Kiwis (endangered, flightless birds that NZ is famous for), which are most abundant on Stewart Island. But I may have had to do the 10-day track to have any real chance of that. I will put this trip in the victory column anyway.

Now I’m enjoying my last day of mid-semester break before classes start tomorrow. 6 more weeks of classes, then 4 weeks of exams before my parents come to visit and travel in November. By the way, I’ve received a number a requests for more pictures of my everyday life–my flat, the campus, the city of Dunedin, etc., as well as pictures of my band. I promise, those are coming, hopefully in the next week.

P.S. I just realized this post might be difficult to read because it is so broken up by pictures. I apologize for any inconvenience. But I figured having the pictures is better than having flowing paragraphs, so I’m not going to change it.

Our van left on Friday evening, driving 6 hours through small villages and curvy roads. We didn’t arrive at the trailhead until after 1 AM, so we set up camp and crashed pretty quickly. We rose a little while after sunup on Saturday morning, surveyed our surroundings…

…ate a quick breakfast, and set off for Welcome Flat Hut and the Copland (not Copeland) hot pools, 17.6km away. I quickly realized that the west side of the Southern Alps divide is a completely different animal. Instead of the tree-less mountains and beech/pine covered hills, I found myself in a forest dominated by gigantic ferns, palm-like trees, a few larger trees, and moss everywhere. It was like something out of Jurassic Park: it would not have been in the least surprising to see a velociraptor pop out of the bush. Even the birds sounded tropical, though I was unable to get a good picture of one.

We were following a beautiful turquoise-green river up the valley, and some sections of the trail were actually among the boulders along the riverbank.

Other sections winded through the forest, with frequent views through the trees…

…and crossings of the river’s tributaries. One of these crossings had a pretty epic bridge, on which only one person was allowed to cross at a time.

Sometime in the late afternoon, we arrived at the hut. Of the three huts I have been to, this was by far the biggest and most posh, featuring a large kitchen area with running water and an upstairs with small mattresses for over 30 people. Luckily, only the 10 of us plus 4 more people (also Otago students) were there.

We then decided to have a soak in the hot pools before dinner. There were 3 pools in total, two of which were not too hot to swim in. Here’s the shallower, slightly cooler one, where we spent most of our time:

After I took that picture I put my camera away so it wouldn’t get wet and/or muddy. We soaked for awhile, which was heavenly with the views of the mountains all around, then made dinner and sat around the coal-burning heater/fireplace. We went back to the hot pools one more time before bed, this time bringing wine and candles. The steam rising off the pools in the candlelight really completed the other-wordly aura of the whole place.

The next day we had a leisurely morning and hiked out. As always, the hike down was quicker than the hike up, and we were at the van by mid-afternoon. We decided to take a detour to Fox Glacier on the drive home–it’s about an hour hike to the actual glacier, but there’s a good overlook not far from the road.

Maybe I’ll go back someday and actually hike to the glacier. Even if I don’t, I definitely want to go back to the West Coast. As if I needed any more convincing, we passed a rest stop next to the ocean just as the sunset reached its full glory, so we stopped and admired.

This was the best trip I have been on so far. The landscapes around Otago are unique and impressive, but the West Coast is simply mind-blowing. The only drawback was the sand flies. They reminded me of the dreaded no-see-ums of the North Carolina coast: tiny, painful, and abundant. But they only came out during the day, they didn’t bother us when we were moving, and they didn’t like the hot pools, so they were only a problem during lunch and other stops. A small price to pay for an otherwise fantastic trip. Also, this trip seemed a bit warmer than the last few. Perhaps it was a random warm weekend, but maybe–just maybe–spring is coming. I won’t hold my breath.

On Wednesday I leave for Stewart Island, which is another highly recommended spot. I’ll post an account of that trip next week.