The Road to Paradise

Monday, May 5, 2008
Rudyard Kipling once called Milford Sound the eighth wonder of the world. He was right.

This day has been filled with so many stolen wonders, I don’t even know where to start. But let me give you just a few highlights.

Fiords. Venison pie. A sheep crossing. Seeing the real life Milky Way constellation so close in the sky you could eat it. Lakes that look like mirrors. Kayaking. Standing under a waterfall. Crossing the exact point halfway between the equator and the South Pole. A chasm. Watching a school of dolphins rise up from the waters.

And, of course, a seal attack on Shalini.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

We get picked up at 8:45 this morning at our hotel by the coach bus for Real Journeys, the travel company through which we have booked our overnight trip to Milford Sound. Skip, our driver and guide, greets us warmly. We are the last in the group to be picked up, and the drive to Milford will take us most of the day. At around 3:30, we will climb aboard the Milford Mariner, a boat that accommodates 60 people, and enjoy the night on the waters.

Our bus is FREEZING the entire way. This will set the pace for what it will be like at the Sound. Skip, who wears shorts and a short-sleeved t-shirt and fleece vest, is completely unphased by the cold. Everyone in New Zealand seems this way. Hardy people, those Kiwis.

We quickly nickname Skip “the Grim Reaper” because he seems to be obsessed with two things: animal slaughter and different ways you can die. His elaborate, microphoned commentary on the road to Milford is littered with tales of deer being hunted by New Zealand pioneers, Maori legends (the Kiwi native peoples—kind of like Australia’s Aborigines) and copious road kill. Also, he loves to tell us how many an ignorant tourist has met his/her demise along the road to Milford Sound over the years. But he is really knowledgeable about nature and Kiwi history. We actually learn a lot on the drive. The drive, of course, takes us through more incredible countryside. I can’t even go into how beautiful it is. After about 30 minutes, we are lucky enough to see a sheep crossing in the road. A snow truck with a sheep icon on its massive shovel scurries along the road, chasing the sheep into dutiful formation. It is such a treat to watch. I want to take one home with me.





We stop for lunch in Te Anau, a popular summer resort town on the lake. I insist that we have to try one of the pies from Miles’ Pies, a shop famous for its gourmet venison and steak pies. I try the venison, but quickly recoil from my choice after a few bites. Not that it’s not edible, but seeing pasture upon pasture of quietly grazing deer on the road has made me queasy about being a carnivore for the first time in my life. I can’t take another bite of Bambi. I’m overcome with shame. Shalini was smart to get the chicken pie. I feel like I’ve eaten Soylet Green.

One of the highlights on the road to Milford is the Chasm--a forest-cloaked paradise filled with moss-covered boulders and trees, engorged waterfalls and rocks that create a deep chasm and a natural rock bridge. We stop the bus and get off to walk fifteen minutes to get to the Chasm. It is well worth the detour traveling through the bridge-littered forest. When we get to the Chasm, a look down reveals gaping black holes in the rocks that look like monster faces. This is Skip’s cue for the macabre. Danger lurks. Skip, breath of sunshine that he is, recounts the story of a Canadian who just last year crawled under the prohibitive fencing on the chasm and tried to get a little too close to get the right camera shot. She lost her footing and slipped into the chasm. It took a rescue team 3 hours to get her out. But she was lucky…the person who fell in before her actually died.

The Chasm



We finally arrive at the Homer Tunnel, which was built through the mountain to reach the Sound. We travel in darkness for about five minutes. It’s very dramatic. What awaits us on the other side is a treasure trove of greatness: the cove of Milford Sound.

The dock is crowded with about five or six ships. Ours is the prettiest one, and probably the most expensive. Our twin cabin is actually quite comfortable, complete with a private bath and shower. Worth every penny. This is probably our most expensive excursion on the trip, setting us back about $300 American. But the overnight cruise includes all meals and magnificent views of the Sound. Also, this is a really good time to go, since it’s off-season and not nearly as crowded. They say in the summer months of January and February, Milford Sound’s unforgettable cove can get crowded with as many as 30 or so cruise liners. But we’re the only one tonight!









Unfortunately, the Milford Mariner is not the Love Boat for us. We’ve had to take the Mariner instead of the Milford Wanderer like we had originally planned because the Wanderer’s season ends in April (we didn’t know that). The Mariner is: A) more expensive than the Wanderer; and B) caters to a much older crowd. Lots of old people and couples. In fact, Shalini and I are two of only a handful of “younger” people (mid-30s) on the boat. Everyone kind of keeps to themselves for the most part. I had hoped the boat would be a rollicking mess of fun people getting drunk and carrying on, but it’s pretty staid. Not that everyone isn’t pleasant. It’s just a different kind of vibe than I had hoped it would be.

But big deal, we’re at Milford Sound! The Mariner starts moving, and the air is filled with excitement. It’s also filled with extremely frigid winds. There’s a huge difference when the boat, she’s a moving, and when we just sit calmly on the waters. But everyone is eager to get in all the photo opps they can. We cruise the sound and everyone is simply awestruck. Nobody can speak in the midst of this mind-boggling grandeur.

A quick history lesson: Milford Sound is actually a series of fiords that form a private cove set off (actually, virtually hidden) from the open waters of the Tasman Sea. Fiords are ice-carved valleys that have been flooded by the sea after glaciers have retreated and advanced over and over through the years. Back in the ice ages, the Sound was filled with ice. But as the weather changed, the glaciers retreated and advanced, carving out more of the land each time. You can actually see fractures in the steep mountains of the Sound where the glaciers have moved back and forth. The result is quite spectacular and it leaves you with true awe for the amazing force that is nature. There are also countless huge waterfalls that mark the Sound. When it rains in this area, which is about 50% of the time, the rain creates raging torrents of temporary waterfalls that descend down the fiords like crooked fingers. Milford gets an average of 6m of rain per year (record has been 12m!), but today it is picture-perfect sunny. This makes it great for the soaring views, but the downside is no eerie mist and crooked fingers. In fact, it hasn’t rained for about five days—virtually unheard of in the Sound. It’s reaching drought conditions in these parts! Still, we can hardly complain. The rough waters of the Tasman Sea have poured into the Sound into stillness and unmatched beauty. The spectacular 1692 meter high Mitre Peak (the most photographed mountain in New Zealand, apparently) rises in the distance.











We’re on the water for about 20 minutes when they announce that a family of dolphins has been sighted. Everyone crowds over to one side of the boat to get as close as possible. Cameras are out. Mouths are open and dry. Nobody blinks, for fear of missing something. Dolphin sightings are fairly rare in the Sound. So this is our lucky day!. The boat quickly chugs over to an area close to the shoreline against the rocks. It’s actually a rather large school of dolphin gracefully moving through the surface in elegant formation. They rise and fall so effortlessly and gracefully. I am torn between trying to get a shot of them and putting my camera down and just enjoying this wondrous moment. Coming to this corner of the world is worth anything you must do to make it happen. Beg, borrow or steal. The beauty of Milford Sound will haunt you forever.

Dolphins in the water (look closely)



It’s around 4:30 now, and it’s time to go kayaking. A team of deckhands prepare the oars and kayak boats for any takers who want to kayak out onto the waters for a spell. Shalini has never kayaked before and is nervous about it, but I assure her that she will be a pro. We hesitate for a second in these frigid temps, but it actually feels warmer once we get on the bottom deck to get outfitted in life jackets. She and I are the last ones to get in line, so we have to wait a little bit to get our kayaks. As we’re waiting, one of the passengers strips to his Speedo and jumps in the water. I’m not kidding. Everyone moans that he must have a little mad cow disease, but he calls out from the waters that it feels “exhilarating” and keeps swimming. We are all non-plussed by his bravery. It’s fucking freezing in that water.





Just to give you an idea of the temperature, the water is about 18 degrees. What is unique about the Sound is that the extensive rains form a superficial layer of fresh water that only partially mixes with the regular Tasman Sea salt water. It’s a 2-3 meter band of “top” water that is stained the color of weak tea (it’s this color because the water has collected debris and such before spilling out into the Sound). Because it’s darker water, it filters out the sun, allowing marine life that usually lives much closer to the ocean floor to live about 40 meters below or closer to the surface of the water. Cool, right? We have learned so much cool stuff today.

But back to the kayaking. We finally get our boats and slip into the kayaks and start roaming the Sound. Shalini catches on quickly. We try to circle the shore lines against the mountains. I am obsessed with the different moss and lichen that cling to the rocks like frost. It is so peaceful and still. The sun is setting over the fiords. I try to remember a world where petty office politics bother me, but can’t even seem to remember what it is I do for work in the States. I look behind me. Shalini is off in her own world, as well. It’s glorious.



Next up: When good seals go bad
I return back to the ship before Shalini and stand on the platform deck and wait for her to paddle back to the boat. As I’m waiting, I watch the other returning passengers try to inelegantly maneuver out of their kayaks back onto the boat. There is a deck hand waiting on a flat stretch of deck that is level with the water so the kayaks can easily butt up flush against the end of the boat and people can just step out into their kayaks. But a lot of people are fucking this up. I’m enjoying watching it. I can’t lie. But something even more riveting soon catches my attention. Suddenly, in between more kayaks approaching, a shadowy figure rising up out of the water by the takeoff deck. It’s a seal! As if by magic, the seal suddenly jumps out of the water and lands right on the deck in one jump. If I blink it will be over. He is so cute and frolicsome, with his little whiskers and wet, velvety slick skin. According to the crew, seals will sometimes jump on the back of the boat to sleep at night because it is warmer for them. So cute! Before I can grab him to take home with me, one of the deck hands shoes the seal back into the water. But he’s not finished with us yet. Shalini approaches in her kayak just as the seal jumps back in. He dives straight for her kayak. Now he looks just like a little predator in the water and he keeps circling her kayak a few time.

I call out to her that a seal is coming her way, but she doesn’t believe me. Good thing, too, because when it finally sinks in that there is something in the water near her, Shalini looks like Jaws has come for her. She can’t get back on the boat fast enough. It’s hilarious. She doesn’t think it’s as funny. But once she is back on dry deck, she loves it. We make a pact to tell people back in Chicago that the seal stalked her for at least 20 minutes and took one of her fingers.

At dinner, we are the last to arrive. We slip into a booth with two Kiwi men from Christchurch who have just finished hiking the world-famous Milford Track for three days, where you can only stay in huts. It’s impressive because our new friends have to be at least in their mid-50s. They look like sun-scorched fishermen. Real men’s men. They ask us lots of questions about Chicago and the States. At first they are shy, but then we get them talking about New Zealand and traveling. They tell us how they’ve slept in huts on the Track for the last few days tramping through the heavily forested trails. But then one of them starts getting a little sloshed and talks about his love for all songs by Glen Campbell. He rambles on a little too long. Shalini is wearing her “this man is a lune” face, but a good time is had by all.

The buffet is surprisingly good, with lots of variety---carved meals, Greek dolmas, seafood salad, stuffed chicken, steamed mussels. I hoard all the mussels in the seafood salad. Then I pile on some lamb with mint jelly.

A word about the food here: it’s been kind of disappointing in general. Most meals have been mediocre at best, with a few stand-outs, but nothing to write home about. The seafood has probably been the best part. Shalini and I could eat seafood forever. Bluff oysters and mussels rule.

After dinner, everyone wanders around the deck. It is pitch black at night. I’ve never seen such darkness—certainly not anywhere close to Chicago. When we first walk out on deck, we can’t see a thing. It is the creepiest feeling in the world. But also so cool. After a couple of minutes, our eyes adjust to a whole new wondrous world. The silhouettes of the mountains snuggle up to each other like sleeping giants against the starry night. The sky is filled with the most stars I’ve ever seen. Then, as if in slow motion, we spot the Milky Way in all its glory. It leaves me completely breathless and gasping for air. I cannot stand it. I’m in a real-life planetarium. God, I never knew the world was so starry. Is this for real? It is CRAZY. It’s a star bonanza. This Milky Way is creamy and emblazoned with light. I feel like it’s so close I can reach up and touch it. It’s really the Milky Way! And it’s so vivid I want to cry. Shalini and I lie on our backs on the flat benches and look up at the stars. If it weren’t so freezing outside, I would stay out here forever. I kind of wish Shalini were a dude right now so we could make out. I mean, the setting couldn’t be more romantic.

We look out onto the water. It is so still. Then something kind of scares us. It’s a whiter-than-white seagull that is circling the ship. We soon surmise that it is using the light from the ship to hunt the waters below for food. Shalini takes some amazing photos of the bird in flight. Its white wings are such a stark contrast against the black night. This is going to make an incredible series of photographs for her back home. She captures the bird with the stealth of a professional photographer. The seagull nosedives into the water a few times, but seems to come up empty. On many occasions, he comes flying directly at us with such intensity we feel like Tippi Hendren.

As we’re transfixed by the bird, we suddenly hear another noise in the water. It sounds like a shuddering exhale. Like an exhilarated, playful snore. The water against the boat stirs in frothy bubbles. Shalini whispers, “It’s the seal coming to get me.” We laugh for a moment, but she is half right! It’s actually a beautiful, magical dolphin coming up for air. He jumps out of the water and we grab onto each other in delight. For the next hour, Shalini is devoted to capturing the dolphin on camera. I egg her on. He rises and falls in the water, making a sound we have never heard in person in our lives. He breathes out and spurts up water. He is playful and majestic. Just like the seals, the dolphins swarm the boat for light and warmth. Damn, that water must be so cold for him. They say that this is the southernmost region that these dolphins can survive. They’ve adapted to these cold temperatures, but this is where the buck stops. If the water were any colder, they wouldn’t be able to survive.

We finally return back to the main inside deck, which has cleared out quite a bit. Shalin and Ii start playing a raging game of cards and talk trash while a few of the other passengers sip their wine. The cash bar has closed at 10pm, so there is nothing left for people to do but go to bed. We retire to our room some time around 11. It’s been an unbelievable feast of a day.

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On the next episode of “I Shouldn’t Be Alive”:
Shalini and Nadine make it back to Queenstown from Milford in one piece and enjoy an afternoon of shopping before stumbling upon a seafood hut on the water that offers a dozen Bluff oysters for $25—a steal in these parts. Shalini orders the scallops and amazing mussels and I order a dozen oysters for myself. I can’t believe I’m having them again. I am in heaven. I can’t come home.

Drunk and stupid

We did wine country today. Fabulous. Shalini is so happy she doesn't have to drink and drive.

We wake up to a warmer, perfectly sunny Sunday morning. Blue skies, all is right with the world. We go to breakfast at Joe's Garage again. The owner seems pleased that we've come back. I have a bacon and avocado sandwich (delicious) and Shalini gets yummy pancakes. We stroll the cute shops of Queenstown afterwards. So many adorable places. And lots of fleece and wool items. Everything is made of fleece. God, this city is so beautiful. One of my favorite cities ever. It might trump San Francisco in some ways for me. The views definitely have San Fran beat.

But enough drueling. We have to hurry back to our hotel soon. We've booked a wine tour of five wineries from 12:30 to five, and they will pick us up at the hotel. We love that.

Our wine tour group is small, since this is the off-season. It's just six of us. Me and Shalini. Then an older couple from Australia who have never left the country until now. They are so cute. Finally, there's a young couple from London who are getting married next year. Everyone gets along really well and we have a wonderful afternoon. I kind of have a crush on our guide, who is hot in that snowboarder kind of way (but don't worry, he's my age for a change). He mentions that he has a partner in casual conversation and all my hopes are dashed. But he is still cool. He kind of dabbles in everything: he's done location scouting for several films that have been made here, including LOTR, Narnia and the most recent X-Men movie. He is also a commercial landscape photographer. He even shot the most recent Summer 2008 REI catalog! Very cool.

Bungee jumping at its finest (not us)



Lots of delicious wines sipped today. The Central OTago region where we are is known for its award-winning Pinot Noirs. Because the climate here is so conducive for them---warm days and cold nights. We see where the first bungy jumping bridge was created and watch a couple do a tandem dive together. The day is really so much fun. And a nice and relaxing contrast from yesterday's action-packed madness.

We're off to Milford Sound tomorrow. We're going to take an overnight boat cruise on the Milford Wanderer. Milford Sound is supposed to be the #1 travel destination--some believe in all of the world. We can't wait to be inspired by its beauty. I may not be able to post for a couple of days. We return back to Queenstown on Tuesday afternoon. Hopefully, We'll be stuffed with good stories and tales of jaw-dropping scenery. See you then...

The honeymoon period is clearly over

Can you tell from Shalini's face that she wants to divorce me?



Greetings from Queenstown!

When do we get to rest? When we’re dead. You heard me.

We get up Friday morning and have a long six-hour drive ahead of us to Queenstown. The day is brisk but sunny. Those heli-bastards will probably be going up to the glacier in the copters today, no problem. But we don’t care. We’ve gotten our glacier fix and are eager to move on to the next adventure.

The drive from Franz Josef to Queenstown is an embarrassment of riches. The views in the South Island just keep hurting our feelings. It hurts to look! It burns! We see so many postcard views of mountains and more glaciers upon glaciers that we feel like we will drive ourselves into a ditch. Each turn yields more and more awe-inspiring views. The land covers all different terrain within a five-minute drive: beaches with huge swells, rainforests, mountains with lush vegetation, mountains with cascading waterfalls. We have to pull over every ten minutes to take pictures. After about four hours of this, Shalini and I start to bicker and argue. We are finally getting on each other’s nerves, after more than a week straight of spending 24 hours/day together non-stop. We’re right on schedule, I guess. I start getting annoyed that Shalini has to take a photograph every five minutes, and she starts getting annoyed with my know-it-all attitude. But it’s too stupid to stay mad when you have such insane surroundings. Our bogus little car fights are dwarfed by the mountainous majesty. The weather changes as fast as our moods. It is bright and sunny one minute, then we drive through misty valleys and then raging downpours and then back again to joyous sun. It’s the most schizophrenic weather ever. We see endless pastures of grazing sheep and deer. Simply incredible.





But we kind of hate each other by hour five. Poor Shalini is driving the entire time (by choice, she loves to drive) and she’s got to be feeling pretty knackered. Is it possible that we are finally jaded by the glorious alpine scenery? The impossible mountains that clamor endlessly up to the sky? We drive in silence for most of the last hour. Finally, in the darkness, we make it into amazing Queenstown. It is absolutely one incredible town. Built on the hills, with modern homes and apartment littering the mountainous swells—all circling the still waters of Lake Wakatipu. The mesmerizing Remarkables and Eyre mountains flank you at every turn. It’s fake! It’s not real!

In case you didn’t know it, Queenstown is the adventure capital of the world. Bungee jumping was invented here, and the city knows no rest from adrenaline-surging activity. You can skydive, paraglide and freefall--all in a day’s work. We have come here to die, or at least to luge down the mountain. We check into our hotel, dog-tired and haggard, but exhilarated by this exciting new city. But we’re still kind of mad at each other.

The first thing we notice when we walk out of our hotel to dinner is that it is cold as shit. The temperature has definitely dropped about 20 degrees from our time in Franz Josef. It’s about 30 degrees outside. The second thing we notice is that fall’s colors are really raging here. Queenstown is by far one of the most exciting and beautiful cities I’ve ever seen in my travels. The streets are teaming with cute shops and restaurants. It feels very cosmopolitan and progressive. Such a cool town.

The people here are different, too. EVERYONE is friendly and this time it feels genuine. This is how we pictured the Kiwis to be: they are full of life and zest and so nice and fun. Good energy radiates from this town. It’s a buzz you can’t help but absorb. We go to dinner at a popular hangout called Winnie’s. It’s got a warm fire and is crowded and bustling with hot New Zealand men who all look like rugby players. What’s not to love?

Saturday, May 3
This is our day to be local in New Zealand. Gotta go for the adrenaline buzz today. We start our morning with a delicious breakfast at Joe’s Garage, a local hangout that’s hard to find. You walk in and just feel like you’re among the peoples. Nobody is a tourist here. This makes us feel pretty awesome. We have a delicious breakfast and chat with the owner, who is just as nice as can be. We decide we will probably have breakfast here every day we’re in town.


Next, we have to return our rental car. This time we remember to get gas beforehand. The price of gas continues to astound us. We are hemorrhaging money here. Can’t think about that now, because it’s time to take a ride on the Shotover Jet--one of Queenstown’s most famous jet boat rides. It shoots you through rocky canyons down the Shotover River at breakneck speed, doing multiple 360 turns that spray enough water on you to make your teeth chatter in this freezing weather. We have to put on life jackets and cannot wear loose hats or sunglasses that will blow off. Shalini is primed and ready with her waterproof camera, god bless her. Everyone screams the entire ride like we’re on the most bad-ass rollercoaster ever. We laugh ourselves silly, getting sprayed in the face and enjoying the spectacular river views. Outstanding.

Conquering Shotover




When we de-boat, my back is soaking and Shalini’s hair is fairly wet, but otherwise we are pumped and eager for our next daredevil outing today: a skyline gondola ride up mountain where we enjoy soaring views of the mountains and lake. As we ascend, we see multiple paragliders coming down the mountain. Not on our itinerary today, but a “maybe” down the line. But we can’t consider this for long, because we do the luge down the mountain. We put on goofy-looking helmets and climb into little luge cars and declare that we will race each other to do the death! Actually, Shalini skirts ahead of me and finishes two seconds faster. I was robbed!




Is it really only 5:30pm now? We are starving from our day’s punishing activity, so we duck into a seafood place called Fishbone for dinner. They have the famous Bluff oysters in season. I have been anticipating these oysters since we left Chicago. By now, they are mythic to me. My sister, Sekita, has told me all about them. It makes my mouth water. I must have them. We order a half-dozen in the raw. I am so excited I have to get Shalini to take a picture of me and the oysters. The oysters are everything I had hoped they would be: big, juicy and briny as hell. Just my type. I can’t stand how good they are. When I eat the last one, I am sullen and forlorn.




But then we start drinking wine, and Shalini regales me with her fantastic recall of old Saturday Nigh Live skits. The girl has preternatural memory for this show. It’s uncanny. She makes me laugh so hard by imitating the old school casts of Eddie Murphy (C-I-L-L my landlord) et al. At times, I am doubled over in pain and tears, I am laughing so hard. The wine keeps flowing. We choose from great local vineyards such as Gibbston Valley and Chard Farm. Fantastic wines, all of them. Shalini gets me good and drunk and we talk into the night. Then we are ready for some action…we go back to Winnie’s to do more drinking and hopefully meet some fun dudes, but for some reason the bar tonight is dead. Where did all the cute boys go? Guess we’re going to have to meet them tomorrow on our wine tour.

We hiked a glacier today. No big deal

Thursday, May 1: Franz Josef


So yesterday we couldn’t take a helicopter (called a ”heli-hike”) up to the top of the Franz Josef glacier because visibility was crap. What am I talking about, you ask? Franz Josef is a town that has a glacier. Yes, it’s true. It is an uncharacteristic cascade of ice that has been able to form so close to the coastline because of all the rain they get here. Over thousands of years, fallen snow has fused into clear ice and surges down the valleys of the mountain. When you see the glacier in the distance for the first time, it feels like you are looking at some magical aberration.

Franz Josef is a tiny little town---the main drag runs about one city block and that’s it. You pretty much come here to see the glacier. It’s the main attraction. Everyone hangs out and waits for good weather conditions and then up you go. But since the weather sucked yesterday, we passed the day by having a lazy morning, then hiking to the bottom of the glacier ourselves and turning back. Rushing water from the rains kept us on our toes, but the hike was beautiful. The rocks themselves are amazing. They are heavily marbled and stratified. They would make the most amazing kitchen counters! Shalini and I filled our pockets with the most interesting ones we could find. I fantasize about bringing home a suitcase-full to landscape my garden.

Since yesterday’s hike was canceled, all our hopes rest on the weather today. We are praying that the heli-hike goes out for our scheduled 12:45 flight. We’ve heard that about fifty percent of the helicopter flights get cancelled because of weather. Every day is a crapshoot. But we can’t stay in Franz Josef forever. We need the weather to cooperate today.

The skies open up in the morning, but the clouds still hang over the glacier itself. There’s the rub. It can be sunny in town, but up on the glacier it can be quite a different story. All morning, Shalini and I watch the clouds from our hotel window like two wary hawks. At around 12:20, we go down to the booking office. It doesn’t look good. Word comes that the helicopter flight has been cancelled yet again.

It’s tragic. Shalini is crestfallen. She has wanted this so badly. We need to make some fast decisions about our options, which are thus: eiither take a half-day guided hike by foot up to the glacier (this hike doesn’t take you up as far on the glacier as the heli-hike does, but you still get a great experience) or don’t do anything today and take our chances and hope that the 9am heli-hike goes out tomorrow. I say we do the half-day hike--because heli-hike or no heli-hike, we’re leaving tomorrow for Queenstown. Shalini just looks so sad. I tell her the helicopter is not going to make or break her New Zealand experience and remind her of all we have done already. We stare at each other for a few minutes, not knowing what to do. We ask what the weather forecast looks like for tomorrow morning. It’s not looking good. With minutes remaining, we decide to go for it with the half-day hike today.

We join the foot-hike group and stand in line to get our waterproof Gore-tex jackets, heavy-duty boots and crampons that the tour provides. Poor Shalini. She gets handed boots that are wet from the last tour that went out, so she has swamp feet the entire hike. Because it has rained so much in the last several days, the normal trail to the glacier is not an option for our group, so we have to go through much more demanding terrain to get to the foot of the glacier. It’s very hilly and wet. We have to climb several ladders to go up and down the rocky hills. For about an hour, we are tramping pretty hard. It’s kind of worse than Tongariro. We pass through dense rainforest jungle and have to grab onto roping in many areas to avoid slipping. Neither Shalini nor I have mentally prepared for a foot hike today, so there’s a bit of mental adjustment. Finally, we get to the glacier. Everyone stops to put their crampons on. They are cumbersome to handle but feel good once they’re on. We break up into groups and follow our respective guides. Our group has some really nice people…a girl from Germany, one from Holland, some cousins traveling together from New York and Canada, an older British couple who bicker about who will go first in the trail of people..

Hiking the glacier is another world-class rush. The ice is blue in parts and we pass several crevasses that are too beautiful to describe. About five minutes into hiking the ice, a huge part of the glacier breaks off in the distance. Our guide says it’s the largest piece he’s seen break so far. It makes a ragingly loud sound. We all get really excited that we are witnessing something unique. The gash in the glacier causes the water levels in the rocky trail leading up to the glacier (the part that was off limits) to surge and transform from a stream to a river. It’s pretty exciting.

We climb icy steps that our guide forges with his gigantic ice pick. I imagine that we are on the Hillary Step on Everest. Hardly, but I feel so cool and pioneering. We summit a flat layer of ice, and everyone stops to take photos. At one point, Shalini accidentally drops her sunglasses in a small crevasse and dips her hand into the icy water to fish it out. Later, she loses her water bottle to a crevasse. Go, Shalini! She’s left a piece of herself on the glacier forever.

Finally, it is time to return back to town. We come back the same way we came, going through slippery terrain and snapping our ankles on endless rocks and gravel. Everyone is happy to finally see the tour bus. It’s been a tiring but extremely memorable day. I ask Shalini if she is happy. She says she is. The hike has satisfied her. I thought it was awesome. But don’t take my word for it. Let the photos speak for themselves….



Hiking volcanoes. Check.

Hiking a glacier. Check.

Who knows what tomorrow will bring…..

We're on the set of Lost. No lie.

Sorry it's been a couple of days. Getting Internet access here is a bit tricky. But we're picking up right where we left off...

Continuation of Sunday, April 27: Drive back to Auckland
So we're back to the morning after our mighty Tongariro hike. We leave Tongariro to drive back to Auckland. The day is fairly sunny, but the ominous clouds that loom over the volcanoes look pretty bad. When we check out of the lodge around 10am, the person at the front desk tells us that nobody went out to hike this morning. We really made it by the skin of our teeth. Hope this luck continues for the rest of our trip.

In case you were wondering, our bodies still scream with pain, but the level is one notch below agony today. Our muscles have tensed up and stiffened over night. It feels like we have splints in our ankles.

It’s my turn to drive today, and I have to chant the mantra “drive on the left” over and over in my head to cope. It’s not so difficult on the open roads, but I know that driving into the big city of Auckland, where most of New Zealand’s population lives, will be a different story. The drive back north is another stunner. The trees are even more ablaze with the colors of fall. Each time we round a bend, Shalini and I scream, “I mean, Come on!” We pass pastures upon pastures of sheep farms; along many stretches, horses flank the roads. Some are grazing right by the road. If we stick our arms out the window, we could touch them.

As we begin to approach Auckland, everything changes. The charm is lost. The roads turn into big highways. The drivers are extremely aggressive (we have been warned that Kiwi drivers are kind of douchebags). They don’t think twice about cutting you off. One carload full of kids with their feet up on the dashboard drives by us and gives us the finger. Charming. At one point, I almost miss the exit and have to straddle three lanes to the left to make it. Shalini nearly has a heart attack. It gets worse once we get into the city. I am panicked and underconfident. New Zealand has tons of circles or “roundabouts”, and it’s a little tricky because you yield to cars on the right as you drive around the circle (American-style instinct tells you to yield to cars on the left). I quickly learn this the hard way. But at least we arrive alive at the Hotel Duxton, a smaller boutique hotel on a quiet, tree-lined street in the heart of the city.

Our room is nice…we have a full kitchen complete with a hooded range and a washing machine! We settled in and then go out to explore the city for a spell before our 7pm dinner reseravation. The city feels like the inside of a dog’s mouth---hot, humid and airless. Auckland is not a pretty city. The architecture is uninspired and industrial, the shops in city centre seedy and strewn with tourist tchotckes, maybe soft porn? It feels a little like how I would imagine Tokyo to be, but on a much smaller scale. The streets are filled with young, funky urbanites, many of them Asian students. I keep waiting for the architecture to get better, but it never does. We go into a Border’s because I want to buy one of their food magazines, Cuisine. I see it immediately on the shelves. I pick it up. It is $10. I put it back down. Again, it is astonishing how expensive stuff is here. I decide to browse instead of buy. We continue down the steep streets of Auckland to the waterfront area, which is littered with trendy restaurants. The waterfront is no more aesthetically pleasing. Big industrial ships and cranes crowd the landscape.The fact that it is swelteringly humid doesn’t make our experience any better. We are melting in our clothing. We have to walk uphill to get back to our hotel. Tongariro pain haunts us again. By the time we return, we need a shower. We drag our feet getting ready because we are so hot and tired, but we make an executive decision to go to the restaurant. However, we’ve spent so much time stalling that is it 7pm already—the time of our reservation. We’ll have to take a cab to make it on time.

The restaurant is called Harbourside and it’s supposed to have some of the best seafood in Auckland. When we get in the cab, the meter is STARTING at $6. I ask the cab driver if this is right. He mumbles a yes and then changes the subject. By the time we get to the restaurant, which is a 10 minute walk from our hotel, the taxi total is $16. It’s crazy (Later I will ask a girl on my flight to Christchurch if this is normal, and she is shocked and breaks it to me that we’ve totally been ripped off. Nice.)

Our dinner makes up for our cabdriver atrocity. We start with mussels…so fresh they feel like they’re still wiggling in their shells. Plump, big and flavorful. For mains, Shalini gets the crawfish special, and I get a trio of fish. Both are delicious. We’re happy we came. It is a delightful dinner. As we leave the restaurant, we have to walk down a flight of stairs, and the pain in our legs comes rushing back. Walking down the stairs IS THE WORST with our muscle soreness from Tongariro. We laugh ourselves silly thinking about what retards we look like trying to struggle down the stairs. We walk back to the hotel to avoid any more highway robbery. I kind of hate Auckland.


Monday, April 28: Fly to Christchurch
Our morning doesn’t get off to the greatest start. We leave a little late for the airport, and by the time we drop off our car rental we only have 45 minutes before our plane departs. In our haste to get to the car drop-off, we forget to refuel. The fuel here, like it is everywhere else in the world, is astronomical. The car rental lady tells us we’ll be charged double what the rate is (to give you an idea, it costs us the regular rate of $80 to fill up the tank of our economy car). To add insult to injury, the car rental lady points out a small chip in the windshield and says they’ll have to charge us $50 for it. We protest. That chip was there before. They never did a walkthrough of the car when we picked it up, therefore they can’t prove it wasn’t there beforehand. After much hemming and hawing, they retract the charge. Now we’re really late for our flight. When we get to the terminal, there’s a huge line. As we’re checking in, the woman at the desk tells Shalini she will have to charge her $40 because her bag is overweight. The day just keeps getting better. But by now we’re sweaty and over it and just nod and grab our tickets and run for the gate. We make it about 10 minutes before the flight takes off. We are thrilled to leave Auckland.

In Christchurch, we will be staying with my friend, Injung’s, beloved Aunt Oga and her husband, Carsten. Oga and Carsten moved to Christchurch from San Francisco three years ago. Since I’ve known Injung, I’ve heard her speak of Oga so fondly that I believe her to be a bit of a unicorn. Injung often refers to Oga as her “favorite aunt” because of the way Oga has followed her heart in living life. Her story is quite incredible: She was born in Korea and emigrated to Jamaica when she was in her early teens. Then she was sent to the States to go to school. She eventually became a lawyer in San Francisco. One day, unfulfilled with what her life had become, she picked up and left the States without warning, leaving her entire life behind. She met Carsten at a Buddhist temple in San Francisco. Carsten had just broken up with his girlfriend/business partner. Both of them were ripe for new adventure. They fell in love and started traveling together, getting married two weeks after they met! Now some 20 years later, they have been to some 60 countries and have too many adventures together to speak of.

As our plane lands in Christchurch, my heart swells. I am so excited to meet this couple that I have heard so much about, I can hardly stand it.

When we get off of our plan, Oga greets us warmly. She is beautiful—with a head of gorgeously thick salt and pepper hair and a perfectly toned yoga body. We embrace, and I feel like I already know her. She tells us Carsten is waiting for us in the car, so we go to fetch our bags. As we walk, Oga confesses that she was duped by the title of our blog…she thought Shalini and I were actually on our honeymoon! So much so that she called Injung to ask her. We all fall over ourselves with laughter. Our lesbian reputation continues to haunt us. It’s awesome. Shalini and I can’t stop with the lesbo jokes now. We laugh all the way to baggage claim.


When Shalini pulls her huge bag off the baggage carousel, Oga doubles over in hysterics. She can’t believe how huge Shalini’s bag is. Since Oga and Carsten have traveled the globe and are world-class hikers, they are obviously pretty lean packers. They cannot understand what Shalini could have possibly put in her bag. When we take our bags to the car, Carsten can barely fit them in their hatchback. Everyone keeps laughing. Shalini takes it like a man. They rib me about my luggage, too, but Shalini gets the brunt of it, poor girl. Everyone is a good sport about it.


Oga laughing at Shalini's bag for the 100th time...



We drive back to their beautiful home through rolling hills and impossibly green backdrops. Christchurch is alive with the colors of fall. It is a beautiful town with tin-roofed houses. Driving up to their house feels like driving in the Hollywood Hills. Carsten and Oga both regale us with the history of our surroundings. They are both so charming and smart. When we get to their house, Shalini and I cannot close our dropped jaws. It is beautiful, covered in floor-to-ceiling windows. It is modern but warm and extremely comfortable. And there isn’t a bad view in the house. Waking up to the backdrop of the Southern Alps out your windows is no wrong thing. We spend several minutes oooohing and ahhhhing at the life they have made for themselves. I want to pinch myself. Shalini and I exchange “Oh my fucking god!” glances. It’s too much. Oga and Carsten = Coolest Couple Ever.

Couple of the Century: Oga & Carsten


Oga and Carsten completely open up their home to us with a graciousness that touches me profoundly. They are so unbelievably kind. They have set up beds for us in their respective home offices. We get settled and then come upstairs to the kitchen, where we all share a plate of ripe green grapes as big as my thumbs and some delicious cheeses. I am so supremely happy I want to ask them to adopt me. We take out a map and Oga and Carsten walk us through the must-see sights on the South Island. They are both so wise and full of helpful information.

We ask them a little about their lives before they came to New Zealand. Carsten used to have a watch shop in San Francisco called Zeitgeist. Since Shalini used to live there, she totally knows it. It’s a great connection and Shalini and Carsten exchange mutual admiration for all things Northern California. Carsten is from Germany originally. But they managed to retire at a ripe young age and move here, traveling as much as they can. However, the cost of living in New Zealand has since skyrocketed, so Oga has taken a job again recently working in public affairs for New Zealand. They are actually thinking of moving to Berlin in a few years because it’s cheaper.

I actually get a little choked up listening to Carsten and Oga speak of their idyllic life together. They seem to live with so much joy. They tease each other very playfully. They make such a beautiful couple. It is inspiring and very touching.

By now, we have two hours of daylight left, so Carsten suggests taking an hour-long hike up the mountain. I cannot tell whether or not Shalini wants to go or whether she is still crippled by the after-shock of Tongariro, but it’s too good an opportunity to pass up. I declare a “yes” for the both of us, hoping Shalini doesn’t stab me in my sleep tonight. The hike turns out to be almost entirely uphill, but it is glorious. We hike in single file, Carsten leading the way and Oga at the tail. Shalini is behind me, shooting daggers through my back. Actually, I can tell she is starting to enjoy herself as well, even though the hike makes us break out in a full sweat. We pass a few sheep grazing on the mountain side. One of them looks at us with such fierceness, then goes back to his grazing as if we don’t exist.

The view from the top of our hike...


Taking a breather on our entirely uphill hike


Sheep!


When we return back from the hike, Carsten cooks us a superb seafood paella. We help ourselves to seconds of shrimp and mussel-filled deliciousness. For dessert, Oga serves a fresh fruit salad with lychee and kiwi and strawberries. It is so yummy. Then we take out the Vosges truffles we have brought them from Chicago and everyone has a bite of the exotic flavors. We chat until I am ready to die, but I don’t want our conversation to end. Finally, everyone has to go to bed. Tomorrow will be another early start. Shalini and I are taking the legendary TransAlpine train from Christchurch to Greymouth tomorrow. Oga will drive us to the train station at 7:30. We hug her and thank her for all of her generosity and collapse into bed.

Tuesday, April 29, 2008: TransApline train to Franz Josef Glacier
The TransAlpine train is another stunner—-rated one of the best train rides in the world. It takes us some 4 and 1/2 hours through the Southern Alps to the west coast through alpine foothills to Arthur’s Pass National Park, where we eventually reach the 737 meter=high Arthur’s Pass. We travel through several tunnels along the way, passing rainfalls and impossibly beautiful mountains. The weather begins to change and the rains and mist sweep in, making the mountains look even more beautiful. Shalini goes to the front of the car to take video and photos outside. She comes back to our train car with windswept hair, exhilarated from the journey. I sit in the train car and talk to a family from Holland. They are so nice, but it takes every ounce of concentration to understand their thick accents. Shalini meets two girls who are actually from Wicker Park in Chicago! Crazy.

The view from the TransAlpine Train


Two Dykes on A Train: The Movie

We arrive in Greymouth around 1pm and immediately go to get our rental car. It starts hosing (local term for raining cats and dogs here) outside. This weather pattern will continue the entire day. We drive to the supermarket in the downpour to load up on groceries, since we know there won’t be much in Franz Josef. We spend a little too long lingering in the supermarket, trying to decide what to get. Then we try to get some lunch. We don’t hit the road again until around 2:30, which is a little worrisome because it gets dark around 6pm here and the skies are already so forboding. Before we drive 3 ½ hours south to Franz Josef, we want to take a detour about 45 minutes north to the famous Pancake Rocks. So we've got to get our asses in gear. Shalini starts to drive like Dale Earnhardt Jr.

Driving up the coastline along the water to Pancake Rocks makes us realize something very quickly. The North Island? That place we came from yesterday? It’s a ghetto compared to the South Island. I mean, seriously. Seeing the South Island makes us lose our shit. It is so green and lush and dramatically superior to the North Island in every way. We feel like we are in an episode of Lost. I keep blinking. Are we really here? It is so gorgeous. Like driving highway 1 in California, but ten millions times more awesome.The waves are raging from the storm. The cliffs hang over the coastline, taunting us with their splendiferousness. The road is as winding as can be. Shalini drives fast. I have to close my eyes sometimes to cope.

We finally reach Pancake Rocks. These famous limestone rocks are layered in unique formations, thanks to a weathering process called stylobedding. The cumulative affect resembles piles of thick pancakes. When the tide is right, the sea surges into the caverns in the rock below and hisses through blowholes. We tour the rocks while it’s still pouring, but the detour is worth every minute. We can’t believe the natural beauty.

Pancake Rocks...It's faked.






But we can’t tarry too long. We’re losing daylight quickly. By the time we leave, it’s already 4:40. Panic starts to swell in the both of us, although we say nothing to each other. In an hour and a half, we will be driving in the dark. The island at night is REALLY DARK—there is only the reflective markings on the road to guide you--and the roads are extremely winding and treacherous. Fuck, fuck, fuck. To make matters worse, we cross several single lane bridges where you have to yield to the cars all the way on the other side of the bridge who are coming in the opposite direction of travel. Mental note: let’s never drive in the dark again. We drive in silence a lot of the way because we are pretty scared.

Finally, we arrive in Franz Josef some time around 7:45pm. By this time, we are cranky and very tired. The all-day downpour and the darkness has put us both in a foul mood. We check into our rooms and then go to dinner. It starts raining cats and dogs again on our short walk to the restaurant. It’s nothing a few glasses of their superior Sauvignon Blanc can’t cure. We eat a simple dinner at a bar-type restaurant and drink to loosen up our nerves. It works. By the time we get back to our room, we are laughing again and all is well.

We're alive

It's taken a few days to get up and running. We are having the time of our lives! But each night, I am too tired and bleary-eyed to write. It seems like we've been here forever already, so much have we packed into a few short days. Here's a very hazy, incoherent version of the last couple of days.

Wednesday, April 23: Fly to Auckland
Shalini and I meet at O’Hare. We will fly to L.A. first. Then continue on to Auckland. Our flight from Chicago to LA is pretty full. Shalini travels light as a feather, barely breaking a sweat with her dainty travel bag of pure essentials and nothing else. This is thanks, in part, to the fact that she has managed to pack three small children in the bag that she checks. The day before we leave, she actually decides that her current luggage isn’t big enough. So she has gone and bought a new roller suitcase that can accommodate a tiny village. I’m not kidding. When she puts that behemoth on the scale to check it, it weighs in at 30.5 kg. Nice work, Shalini.

I, on the other hand, slum it with my measly 20kg bag. I stuff it and stuff it before leaving for the airport until I can’t stuff it anymore, and I still have a ton of crap leftover that I am forced to put in a carry-on bag. Heavy shit, too. And of course, I have to keep checking and rechecking to see that I still have my wallet and camera packed in my backpack, even though I have just seen them five minutes ago. Zip. Unzip. It’s a rich tapestry of neurotica.

We sit in opposite aisle seats in the same row. We try to tame our excitement by reading Entertainment Weekly non-chalantly. We look at each other and chat every 15 minutes or so about how we are such New Zealand bad-asses. We talk about how this trip has fallen into place so fast…I had suggested it to Shalini just a few short months ago. At first, she wasn’t into it. It’s too expensive. She can’t take off from work. Blah, blah, blah. But within a few days, I have her all but ready to move there. She has been an amazing travel preparedness companion ever since, doing the heavy lifting in our hotel and car rental research. And her excitement about the trip is fabulous. Within a few more days, she is an expert on all things New Zealand. And the girl is more organized than anyone on the planet. By the time we leave, Shalini has all our reservations and plans---travel times, driving directions, cancellation policies, everything!—programmed into her beloved iPhone. I thought I was pretty organized, but this girl has me beat.

Our flight is about 20 minutes late arriving at LAX. Because we have bought separate tickets for our New Zealand leg, we have to claim our bags and then take a shuttle to the international terminal and go through security all over again. It is a royal pain in the ass. In baggage claim, Shalini’s bag arrives pretty quickly, but mine is one of the last ones to get spit out. It delays us even more. By the time we make it to the Air New Zealand terminal, we have just under two hours before our flight departs. We are starting to show signs of fatigue. The excitement and anticipation of our trip has worn off a little. We both have that not-so-fresh feeling—and we have a 13 hour flight ahead of us. I tell Shalini I am willing to blow anyone to get upgraded to Business. She laughs and thinks I am kidding. I am not. The guy at the Air New Zealand terminal who checks us in is nice, but he won’t let us blow him to get an upgrade. He looks at us curiously. Shalini will say later that he thinks we are “together.” She can just tell. I make a mental note that this will be a running joke throughout our trip. We are “together.” After this, we tell each other “By the way, she/he thinks we’re together” any time we come into contact with other people.

Friday, April 25: Happy Anzac Day!
Leave it to us to arrive in New Zealand on a national holiday. It’s Friday, which means we’ve lost a day crossing the international dateline—all on our 13 hour flight from L.A. The flight to Auckland is actually much better than both of us have anticipated. Air New Zealand legroom is surprisingly generous in coach, and they have a kickass selection of movies and entertainment. Shalini and I both sleep on the flight (even me!) and we arrive in Auckland not that much worse for the wear.

Getting our rental car is a breeze, but we are momentarily paralyzed because Shalini cannot get her iPod to work on the radio frequency. This is a girl who has an MP3 player in every room in her home practically. She cannot be without her music. We finally get it to work. Tragedy averted, but then we are met with the shock of what we have been told but are not quite prepared to accept: The steering wheel is on the right side in New Zealand. To make matters worse, they drive in the left lane here. It freaks us out in the beginning and we never really get used to it all day. Shalini, god bless her, drives the entire day, and we do a lot of driving, my friend. She is such a great sport. The site of cars careening right at you in the oncoming right-hand lane is unbelievably unnerving…especially since New Zealand roads are so curvaceous. You round a corner and see a car coming right for yours in what instinct tells you is the wrong lane. It’s so crazy. We have one mishap driving in the wrong lane, but otherwise Shalini drives like a champ.





Our plan today is ambitious as far as first days go: We will drive from Auckland to Rotorua (about 3 hours), where we will visit one of their spectacular geothermal wonderlands. Then we will drive another 3 hours to Tongariro National Park and get ready for our 8-hour hike of the Tongariro Crossing tomorrow.

Driving through New Zealand is a cumulative rush. The drive from the airport is more beautiful than any area near an airport that I’ve ever seen, but it isn’t THAT amazing. I immediately feel like New Zealand has been oversold to me. As the day wears on, however, this couldn’t be more untrue. Our encounters with the terrain will grow exponentially more gorgeous. By the end of the day, it almost hurts to look out the window, so beautiful is the landscape. This is stunning country and it defies all description. It is astonishingly pristine. What’s odd is that it feels strangely familiar, too. Something about it doesn’t feel foreign enough, and yet it’s utterly unique as well. Shalini likens parts of the drive to driving through Marin County in California. Sometimes you feel like you're in Seattle. Other times, it's nothing like anything you know back home. The roads are fantastic and the towns smack of sleepy little beach towns. It is such amazing land, so lush and green, but then it also feels so civilized as well. The mountains are profoundly majestic, and yet they don’t feel fake in the way that, say, the mountain ranges in Utah feel fake. You feel extremely alive looking at them. They roll and plunge and swallow you up in the valleys. It is autumn, and the trees are starting to change. They’re afire with yellows and reds. Just stunning.

The day is gorgeous—around 65 degrees and sunny. We have lunch in Rotorua at a place called Relish. Many restaurants are closed because of the holiday. We eat delicious wood-burned pizzas at 11am. I have a fabulous Tehu Pinot Noir (at 11:20am). I briefly wonder if I have a drinking problem and then return back to this delicious wine. Food is not cheap here. Lunch costs us around $40. We are on the road again by 12:30pm. It takes us about another hour to drive to the WAiotapu Thermal Wonderland, a tourist attraction filled with active volcanic formations and geothermal waters. The greener the water, the higher the arsenic content. It is so cool to walk by the different thermal pools. Many are literally bubbling and boiling with mud. Steam rises from the ground like heavy mist. The pools hiss and roar as you walk by them.

A geothermal wonderland in Rotorua...





The drive from Rotorua to Tongariro National Park is the most breathtaking drive I have ever taken. The park is a series of sacred volcanic mountains that rise up in the horizon and make your heart fall into your stomach. The core of the park consists of three peaks: There is Mt. Nguaruhoe, which is still active and the most difficult hike (You know this mountain as Mt. Doom in The Lord of the Rings). Then there is Mount Ruapehu, the highest mountain on the North Island. And finally, Mt. Tongariro, the lowest of the three mountains measuring in at 6,455 feet. Our stomachs turn inside out as we anticipate our hike (which will take us through Tongariro and Nguaruhoe) tomorrow with fear and excitement. Will we be able to do it?




When we get to our lodge in Tongariro, we are pretty knackered. We ask Scott at the front desk about weather conditions on Tongariro for tomorrow. He says it will probably be the last day of decent weather for a while, because "shocking" weather will be rolling in tomorrow afternoon. We don’t understand whether “shocking” means something good or bad for a moment. But then we get it. Complete the hike before the late afternoon or else!

We have surprisingly good energy in the afternoon. So far, the flight to New Zealand actually feels much easier than a flight to Europe, jetlag-wise. My body doesn’t feel much like it’s been tricked yet. Before going to dinner, we buy food supplies for our hike at a convenience store attached to a local gas station (the only place for rations…this is the off-season and many places are closed). The prices are astronomical. Did I mention New Zealand isn’t cheap? Our dollar is so weak. It runs on fumes here. We are astonished by how much we pay for deli meat and bread. Oh, well. The price you pay for breathtaking countryside. At dinner, we start chatting with a Kiwi couple—Scott and Camilla. They have driven up from Wellington for the weekend for an engagement party and are as nice as can be. Scott is a musician and talks about the good music that has come out of New Zealand, including The Pixies and Jean-Paul Sartre Experience. They give us a lot of good advice about traveling around NZ, but are just a tad fatalistic, sharing stories about how tourists get lost on the South Island all the time. They tell us to always tell someone locally where we’re going. Awesome.

We conk out at around 9pm. This has felt like the longest day ever, and that’ because it has been.

Saturday, April 26: Hike the Tongariro Crossing








We wake up at 5:15am this morning so we can take the 6AM shuttle to the Tongariro Crossing. It is about an 8-hour hike that takes you through steep volcanic terrain. Tongariro Crossing is widely known to be one of the best one day hike in all of New Zealand. It takes you through spectacularly diverse terrain…not just volcanoes but through raging springs, boiling mud pools, craters and, as if this weren’t enough, lush native rainforest and cacti-like flora and fauna. It is a challenging hike, and considering the fact that Shalini and I have never hiked before (they call it “tramping” in NZ), we are more than a little nervous. We’ve seen the size of the volcanoes we will be hiking from the night before. These are no sissy mountains. We ride in silence on the shuttle bus with about 20 other people. It takes about 10 minutes to get to Mangatepopo, which is one of the more popular places to begin the hike. The driver waits until everyone is out of the shuttle bus. He then tells us that the hike clocks in at 5 hours without stopping, but will probably take us between 6 and 8 hours total (accounting for stops and lunch). Everyone will be walking at their own pace without a guide. He warns us to take particularly heavy caution on the steep descent to the Emerald Lakes. It’s very rocky and slippery and there are parts of the climb that are pretty steep. This makes my bowels rumble. But we have to be brave. It is still dark when we start the tramp, but climbing as the sun comes up is one of the most breathtaking experiences I’ve had. The weather is crisp and dry, with more sun than clouds. I am fine in just a long sleeved shirt with t-shirt over it, but we have been warned to pack for severe weather. Weather on the Crossing can change on a dime, and we learn this to be true very quickly. Our back packs are filled with waterproof jackets and pants, fleece coats, 2 liters of water, Cliff Bars and sandwiches.

Still, there is no shortage of under-dressed people in shorts and sneakers instead of hiking boots. A rescue team will go out when someone does not make it back to their bus. Still, for about the first hour, I feel good in the clothes I am wearing. But as we continue our ascent, the winds start to howl. They gust through us to a shockingly strong degree. We have been warned. Still, the winds are a little scary. We quickly find ourselves up in the clouds. They cascade through the mountains, bringing with them a complete 180 in weather. All of a sudden, it’s totally foggy and cold. We have to put our heavy jackets on now. It’s freezing. Out. Of. Nowhere. But the trail is very well marked and it’s almost impossible to get lost. Not that this is a problem, because there are just enough hikers ahead of you and behind you to get annoying. I thought it would be comforting to have others behind us, but it makes us unconsciously try to speed up instead of hiking at our own pace.

Then, as if out of nowhere, the sun comes out again. It’s amazing how your heart soars when the sun comes out, and when it despairs when the fog rolls in. This weather pattern repeats throughout the hike…foggy, cold chilly air sweeping in, and then sunny patches again. Our spirits alternate with the weather. Some hikers do not make it up the steep 45 minute ascent up what is called The Devil’s Staircase. We tread on heavy volcanic rock and parts are very steep and slippery. I cringe looking at the people who are just wearing sneakers with no ankle support. There are more than a few times that I feel like if I take one wrong step I will hurl myself down the mountain.

But I don’t. And when we get to the top of a particularly grueling stint, the sight of Red Crater awaits us. This is a still active and steaming vent. It is stunning, and the track’s highest point. Beyond Red Crater, we have to travel down (more like slide the entire way) an extremely slippery slope of volcanic rock that takes us to paradise—the Emerald Lakes. These are green pools of shining water that take your breath away. From here, the terrain changes and grows much greener, with cactus-like flowers and moss covering the mountains. This part of the journey seems to last forever. Shalini and I start to grow pretty tired. But then the route changes again, skirting into lush Amazonian-like forest that is so thick you cannot see through it. Birds whose sounds we have never heard before chirp in the trees up high, and raging springs start to rush through our pathway (at one point, the waters block our trail and we freak out for a moment, but manage to balance on the narrow strips of mud to pass through it). Going downhill is almost as difficult as going uphill. There are so many experienced hikers who seem to treat this trail as child’s play. A few guys are even jogging through many parts of it. It’s is unconscionable. Every time a new group of hikers gain on us, we move out of the way for them and they mutter “Cheers” as they pass by us.

Finally, seven hours after our start time, we arrive at the end of the trail, some 18.5 kilometers in all. We are exhausted but exhilarated. This has perhaps been one of the most amazing experiences of our lives. We replay the different terrain we’ve seen in one day over and over in our heads. It seems impossible, like a dream.

We get back to the lodge around 3pm. We cannot believe it is only 3 in the afternoon. Our muscles are already starting to tense up. As we step out of our car, Shalini proclaims, “Every step: agony.” It hurts to laugh. We get in our room and collapse on our beds. We are still stuffed with adrenaline from what we have just been through and cannot nap right away, even though are bodies are screaming for rest. But then, somewhere around 4:30 we fall asleep. I wake up at 6:50 and mutter to Shalini that we have 30 minutes before our dinner reservation. She mutters “Mmm hmmm” and rolls over and goes to sleep. I can’t argue with her. The next time I wake up, it is 10:30pm. Shalini is still OUT. I get up to pee and then go back to sleep. I do not wake up until 5am. Shalini sleeps through the night completely.

Sunday, April 27: Day of Rest (aka feels like we’ve been gang-banged by 500 men)
Sunday brings with it searing pain. Shalini wakes up and the first thing she says is, "Ow." Our calves and glutes have tightened up something fierce. When we try to walk, we look like we have muscular dystrophy. But we don't care. We did it! We finished the Crossing! We are so stuffed with pride and awe that we can hardly stand ourselves. But we can't gloat for long. Today, we must drive 5 hours back to Auckland. Tomorrow, we fly to Christchurch.