Road Trippin New Zealand: Chapter 2

I hit the gas and immediately felt the frail Super Windy wallow in the squishing gravel beneath my tyres. I pressed the reluctant Toyota further, correcting and recorrecting while bearing even harder on the gas pedal. The car bucked and heaved as we progressed, groaning under the pressure until finally popping up and over the far shoal. Shocked at my progress and proud of the mighty Windy, I retraced the previously laid tire ruts back to my original path where I resumed the road less traveled. Mt Hutt was waiting and the rain was near once again.
...

Pinning my hopes on the advise of the already gone hippie roadmates, I took a steady deep breath and began to chart my forthcoming uncharted territory ahead. The landscape rose around me to my sides creating a broad but steep sided valley covered from head to toe in tussocks or grass... which is where the name for this preserve came from "National Tussock Preserve". Convenient. The Super Windy and I carried on the gravel road with a leisurely pace which i had privately hoped would spare me any further flat tyres. Emptiness soon saturated the hills and valleys with which i quietly traversed. There were no others in this far away place and the silence felt total and complete. Sans the usual ringing in my ears (thank you late 90's Metallica concert). I had no idea exactly how long this road would go or how bad it would get, but these feelings were slowly washed away by the overwhelming beauty before me and a quiet sense of rightful place. Inside I knew that this was my place and my time to see it. I was designed to be there at that time in history.

Miles and miles clocked away as i moved from one tussock coated valley to the next. It wasn't too long however until the wildlands began to fade and humanity's influence once again seeped its way into my consciousness. The gravel road was replaced with pavement as i passed well kept grazing pastures. These passed onto a remote homesite which marked the end of that road's length. I took the left turn my map told me to take and I carried on to Mt. Hutt.

I picked up my pace as nightfall would be coming soon. The extra speed and smooth roads allowed me to dig deep in the Super Windy's bounty of power ;-) threading my way through forested glens at full stride. Up until i came across a bridge crossing. The twilight was dimly passing by i knew i wanted a quick break before i searched for a proper place to rest. The bridge itself was typical for NZ, single lane, wooden and painted white to contrast against the world it soared above. The water below it was typical NZ as well, deep silvery turquoise showcasing it's silty glacial sediment caught in rolling suspension. The river was broad and fast moving. It looked absolutely great for kayaking. But without a kayak and without much light, i gathered myself and carried on for the town of Methven.

Methven is Mt Hutt's "resort community" located an incredibly convenient 45 minutes away from the ski area it professed its love towards. I found the town quietly shutting down for the evening as I scanned its businesses for a modest home. The only place I found was an overpriced (but comfortable and friendly) hotel which came complete with a communal kitchen... located across the street shrouded in complete darkness. The lone kitchen served me well though, as it allowed me to cook a decent meal which I quickly consumed. I made my way to my room and fell fast asleep amidst thoughts of the lofty snow covered peaks of Canterbury. Mt. Hutt was only 8 hours away.

From the Bog: an Irish pub in New Zealand

***Note, this entry is written in arrears as I'm now currently in McMurdo Station, Antarctica.***

With Irish folk music coming through the speakers this late wintry New Zealand morning, I sit here at the bar inside The BOG and eagerly anticipate the morning's breakfast which will come complete with a pint of world famous KilKenny Irish Ale alongside my bangers-n-mash. The Bog is an orthodox Irish Pub that also happens to serve a damn good breakfast. Unlike Americanized Irish taverns, there isn't a singe television installed blaring the ball game to distract its visitor from their pint of Guinness (or even better, KilKenny) and the music never strays from the acoustic Gaelic variety. So, suffice it to say, a visit to The BOG is well worth the 14 hour flight and 1800.00 in plane tickets.

Some pictures of the journey Southward.

Inside the Cantebury Cathedral


Looking out the bell tower of the Cathedral.


Looking up at the Cathedral.


Waterfront at Sumner, New Zealand

Southbound, on my way to Antarctica

In Aukland's Domestic terminal waiting on our last leg of this journey to begin and I'm beginning to feel the drowsy side-effects of last night's 14 hour flight. Overall however, it feels absolutely refreshing to be back in New Zealand. I couldn't say enough about the culture and environment here, i also just don't know where to begin. for starters, its a refreshing place to travel, that cannot be said of too many places I've been in comparison. The air is clean, the people are incredibly polite (complete with proper English) and happy, and the earth is freshly cleansed from the regular rainfalls that wash the landscape here of dirt and grime. It's just squeaky clean. And speaking of landscape, aside from Colorado or Alaska perhaps, New Zealand's island borders contain a very large array of environments to tramp around in and experience. It ranges from sublimely green fern forests to the staggering 18,000' Mt. Cook. Mix in tropical beaches and you are just scratching the surface here. I am truly looking forward to spending some time here again.

How NOT to get to the southernmost reaches of the America's

Earlier this year, I was lucky enough to have been volunteered to complete some sweet netowrk upgrades in beautiful Punta Arenas, Chile again. It constituted my second South American trip in the past year, and I was looking forward to the change in culture and landscape. I split the trip into two parts, the first week was all bidness with 12-16 hour days straight through, and the second week was destined for rambling travels. I've excerpted below, some of the trials of our trip south... it was so much fun, i thought i would share the story. enjoi!

"... On thursday, the flight we ticketed for was delayed about 3-4 times until finally being cancelled due to massively inclement weather in Dallas. Like we should be afraid of tornados or something (right Blaine?). Jonathon managed to scam a flight to LAX which was to depart some 45 minutes later (cause he was shamelssly flirting with the ticketer agent, what a man-whore) and was soon off. Rob chose to follow suit the next day and flew to LAX on Friday meeting up with Jonathon and hitherto resuming their southbound travel from there. Unfortunately for me, Rob took the last seat on Friday's LAX flight and Kim and I were forced to head east to Miami via Chicago (of all places). We also absorbed Jonathon's luggage making for a checked bag sum of 2 silver trunks and 3 large backpacks. Kim and I spent the night at a Hotel in A-town on the Airport's graisously offered dime.

Our flight to Chicago was uneventful and we easily caught the Miami flight as well. Our luck turned again in Miami however. Once Kim and I got the LANChile gate to catch our Santiago flight, the ticketer informed us that they could not honor the ticket as the agent in Denver who booked us on that flight had no jurisdiction over their flight… or something like that. Furious and panicked, Kim and I ran back to the ticketing counter which was already in a state of chaos. Apparantly, Miami is a American Airlines hub. After several attempts and with the clock ticking (and panic increasing), we finally found the correct ticketing counter… where the line was huge. We learned while standing in line that the chaos and plentiful lines were the product of a nationwide Brazillian air traffic controller strike. The effect of their strike had massive repercussions as Brazil’s entire airspace was sealed off which meant that nobody could fly to Brazil OR Argentina (cause getting to Argentina requires the plan to fly over Brazil). Hordes of people were stranded and upset. Kim and I were extremely lucky in dealing with our travel issue early enough to get one of the few remaining Miami hotel rooms still available. Getting our travel plans finally squared away however took some 5 hours at several ticketing counters. It was a near disaster but finally found resolution after arguing with ticketers and negotiating with supervisors. Kim and I were set to travel again at 9:15 PM Saturday night.

Exhausted, we made it to the hotel and spent the following day recovering and relaxing (and shopping for clothes). The rest of the trip was much less eventful and we finally pulled into PA on Sunday at noon."