Sheep!; Unemployed Sheepdogs; Clay Cliffs; Queenstown; Rudy! Bungy-Jumping? Where's My Brownie? Aitken's Folly

New Zealand has a population of about 4 million people and over 20 million sheep and lambs. That's a lot of lamb chops, and En Zed (N.Z.) lamb is shipped around the world to grateful shoppers and restaurateurs. I had been telling Suzanne that on previous visits here, I had had to stop the car dozens of times to allow flocks of sheep to cross the road. Here we were two weeks into our visit, and we had seen lots of sheep, but none crossing the roads. Then, as we were driving through scenic pastureland, we passed several ATV's with kennels and a huge flock of white wooly things assembled behind a fence. Then I saw a couple of guys and gals unrolling what looked like a long, narrow brown cloth. I jammed on the brakes, made a U-turn and drove back to the scene. Suzanne thought I was nuts, but I said, "Quick, get the cameras out. This is going to be a hoot." We introduced ourselves to shepherds (pronounced "sheep-herds" here) John and Jackie and got a ten minute basic course in Sheep 101. 


We learned that these lambs were only about 100 days old, and had just been weaned from their "mums". They were being moved from a paddock shared with their mums to a new one just for the newbies. They had been grazing off and on, but this move would allow them to learn immediately to eat grass instead of going looking for mothers' milk. These sheep dogs looked anxiously at their charges, wishing they were out at work, and we asked Jackie and John if they were going to herd the sheep across the road. "No, the road is too dangerous for the dogs, even when drivers stop. This will just take a few minutes, and there are enough of us sheep-herds to do the job without the dogs. Their job is in the fields and paddocks."





Sure enough, when the cloth "fence" was stretched across the road and the sheep-herds in place, the gate was opened and a mad rush across the road began. Hundreds of lambs were running and jumping in a mob scene, but it was almost like a choreographed event. 

One lone lamb held back in the first paddock, so one of the sheep-herds ran over and chased him back to the fold. Not five minutes had elapsed before all the lambs were where they should be. Once the second gate was closed, four sheepdogs were released to chase the flock uphill to their new paddock. 

After our sheep event, we visited the Clay Cliffs in Omarama, which are geologic formations similar to the hoodoos of Bryce Canyon National Park in Utah. 












These formations are made up of aggregate, in this case a mixture of mud, clay and rocks. Iy was good to visit on a clear, sunny day, because during rain, bits of rock can be dislodged from the cliffs above you, and a helmet might be in order.

We continued our trip to Queenstown, a world-renowned center for adventure sports. We were staying in the city, which as it turned out was a bit of a tactical error on my part. The last time I was here, back in 1983, Q-town was a sleepy place, busy in winter with skiers, but not so much in summer. Well, that has changed! Now it is an internationally-known summer destination for youngsters to visit for bungy-jumping, white water rafting, mountain biking and tramping. Q-town was busy as a bee hive, with lots of partying until the wee hours. Unfortunately, we missed one of the most exciting events on the schedule, the Running of the Wools... Pamplona has nothing on the excitement of the annual sheep romp through town, and there are probably far fewer gorings than in Spain. 


We were stopped short in our walk about the city by this poster; there was a giant Dachsund that was the spitting image of our Rudy! It warmed our hearts, but also made us even more homesick for our puppies. Fortunately, we know that Marc and Maureen are taking excellent care of them while we are gone.

Now, Regular Readers may wonder whether Your Faithful Correspondent got up the nerve to bungy-jump. I did indeed give it some thought – maybe about five nanoseconds. Here's the story: we drove out to the Kawarau Gorge suspension bridge, 141 feet above the Kawarau River, where AJ Hackett created the very first commercial bungy jump facility. It is still in operation. You pay about $150 USD for the thrill, and get a briefing while being secured to the bungy. This couple is about to jump together. 

Then you shuffle to the edge, throw high fives or final kisses to your friends, smile for the cameras, and leap into the void... the last words I heard were from the girl with the pink wig were, "Oh, my God; oh, my God; oh, my God, No!" And yes, that's her boyfriend in the pink outfit with a black leather mask... I wanted to ask about his outfit, but he was moving too fast...

This is what another jumper looked like just before the couple above jumped; he wasn't as graceful as some. I'm wondering whether he was thinking, "What have I done?"



















 

If the staff has calculated correctly, your hair will just touch the river below… if not, you may get a full-body dunking, like this guy did. You are pulled into a rubber raft and disconnected from the bungy, and then climb back up to meet your friends and maybe have a wee drink... or perhaps change your skivvies?

The name of the bar at AJ Hackett’s is quite appropriate. My Lovely Bride offered to buy me a round or five to stiffen my resolve to make the jump, but after all, I was driving, and couldn’t let my devotion to duty lapse to throw myself off a 141 foot high bridge. Maybe next time, Sweetheart. (I worried a bit when I saw her looking at the kiosk listing one hour life insurance premiums for bungy jumpers over 65...)

That night, I decided to take My Lovely Bride to Gantley's, an upscale fine dining restaurant just outside Q-town (the local Wendy's was fully booked). When we arrived at 6:30, there were no other diners there. (That should have been a cue.) We ordered lamb cutlets, at $42 NZD a plate, and when our dinner was served, we found three small pieces of lamb about 1.5 cubic inches each, weighing no more than 2 ounces total. We were stunned, but not wanting to raise a stink, ate our meal and left a scathing comment card which I am sure went directly into the rubbish bin. We then went to Starbucks in town and ordered desserts, a rich chocolate brownie for me and a maple scone for My Hungry Bride, with a decaf latte. I set the desserts down, and went back to the counter for our latte. When I returned, there was only a tiny piece of brownie on my plate, just the size of the lamb "cutlets" we were served at Gantler's. Suzanne was in stitches, but I was not a bit amused... (MLB insisted that I mention that she had not eaten my brownie, only hidden it under a napkin.)

On the positive side of amusement, we can vouch for the positive quality of several New Zealand wines. One in particular, Aitken's Folly Chardonnay, we had enjoyed at dinner at The Hermitage at Mt. Cook, and we vowed to go out of our way to visit the vineyard in Wanaka. As we left Q-town the next day, we called ahead to make sure they were open, and got directions. We turned down the road as instructed, and after a couple of U-turns, found a narrow track leading to the tasting room. This sign was on the ground outside the door. (Ian, you might want to put something on the main road as well...)





Ian Percy and his wife, Fiona Aitken, are transplanted Scots oil field geologists who decided to move to N.Z. and become winemakers. Their boutique vineyard produces excellent Chardonnays and Pinot Noir wines, and we left with several bottles to get us through the rest of our visit. Regrettably, their wines are not yet available in the U.S.












Our next stop would be Te Anau, Gateway to Fiordland... and Milford Sound, another one of my favorite places on Planet Earth. Come back in a day or two for more on that adventure! You can view short clips of the sheep and the bungy jumpers on Suzanne's Facebook page.

"Pervert!"; A Room with a View; Running White Water; A Dinner Out; Foxgloves; Farewell to Mt. Cook

We had booked into The Hermitage at Mt. Cook National Park for two nights, but before going up to our room were looking around the lobby. My Lovely Bride had to refresh herself, and went to "the Ladies", as they say here. She came back into the lobby with this devilish grin on her face. The exchange went like this...
"Ty, you have to come take a picture..." 
"Yes, Darling, where are we going?" 
"Into The Ladies.." 
"What? I can't go in there!" 
"There's no one else in there. Hurry, you have to see something..."
This photo shows MLB washing her hands, but where is the sink? There is no sink... the counter is set out an inch from the wall and angles down towards the back at 15 degrees, and all the water flows into a narrow rectangular trough hidden under the counter. Very cool. But when we were leaving "The Ladies", a young female hotel worker was walking by, and MLB says in a loud voice, "Pervert!" The young gal whipped her head around, looked at me sharply, and I said, "I'm very sorry, but my wife has a strange sense of humor..."



After checking in, we went up to our room on the 10th floor. This was our view for the next 48 hours, at least for the short time we were in our room. Most daylight hours were spent out hiking. 











The terrain here is marked by classic U-shaped glacial valleys with flat floors. 20,000 years ago, ice covered most of the South Island, and glaciers up to several thousand feet deep sculpted the landscape. When the earth warmed about 14,000 years ago (long before SUVs), the ice melted dramatically and sea levels rose to their present level. The glaciers were mere vestiges of their former grandeur when Maoris and then Europeans migrated here in the period 1400-1850. 









It wasn't very icy this day when we went hiking; in fact, it was downright warm. The glacial lake was right chilly though, and there were several small icebergs grounded at the discharge, where a frigid stream started tumbling downhill through a series of rock gardens.










On the way back to our hotel, we found a whitewater kayaker hitching a ride. We pulled over and met Richard, from Corvallis, Oregon. He and several friends had flown over with their kayaks to paddle white water rivers for a month. They were having a ball, and had just finished running the rapids downstream from the lake. As we were heading to the parking lot where he was parked, Richard mentioned that his rental camper van was a bit loud. I thought he meant that the engine was loud, but when we saw the paint job on this van, it sank in.

Days are long here on the South Island – over 15 hours of daylight each day. While we spent a lot of time outside, there was time to grab an occasional bite to eat, like at dinner one night in The Hermitage’s Panorama Room. This cute young lady I met was having salmon; I went for the lamb. Both were delicious. (I had suggested a freeze-dried backpacking meal, but she suggested dressing up for a more formal venue instead.)

The next day's hike found us with cooler weather and a brisk breeze; a fleece was required to keep warm, but at least the sun was still out. The forecast for the next day was for deteriorating weather - lower temps, high winds and rain.At least the two days we spent hiking at Mt. Cook were glorious. This foliage reminded us a little of Wyoming.

Foxglove (Digitalis purpurea) was in riotous bloom during our stay, providing a colorful foreground for the snow-capped Southern Alps. You might almost hear Julie Andrews singing in the background...

We hated to say goodbye to Mt. Cook, but we had enjoyed our short stay here to the max. It is one of my most favorite places on earth. It had taken me 20 years to get Suzanne down here, but she fell in love with the Southern Alps as well. Our next stop would be Queenstown, home of bungy jumping... Uh-oh...

Travelin' Light; More Waterfalls; Rakaia Gorge; Lake Tekapo; A Sheepdog Monument; Church of the Good Shepherd; Mt. Cook; Some of My Heroes

When My Lovely Bride was starting to plan her packing list for our New Zealand Adventure, she said, "Ty, we have to pack light for this trip. You're allowed 2 pair of skivvies, 2 pair of socks, etc... we have to keep our bags very light." As an Obedient Husband, I followed MLB's instructions to the letter, and our roller bags were well under the 20 kg/44 lb. limit. I thought we had done well, until I saw the bags being towed behind a young German couple's mountain bikes. I wanted to make a smart remark, like "I'll bet Brunhilde there packs even better than you do, My Darling..", but self-preservation has always been my watchword. 




The West Coast of New Zealand rises steeply from sea level to the 12,000 foot Southern Alps. Glaciers may be 12-20 miles/20-30 km long, starting in the mountains and ending near the shore. It's strange to see sub-tropical rain forest vegetation growing yards from streams that are blue-gray with glacial rock flour. 










Have I mentioned that Suzanne is a waterfall groupie? Here we see her standing next to a triple waterfall on the West Coast. I suggested that she take a quick dip in the pool at the bottom of the waterfall, but my suggestion wasn't well-received... it sounded like a good idea to me, but she said that she hadn't brought a swim suit along on the hike. "Well, neither did I, My Love, but what's the big deal? This is a free-spirited country, right?" Smack! Sigh...

















That waterfall shower would have been an even better idea when we got to our next stop, the Rakaia Gorge, one of the prettiest tramps in the country. (In this case, "tramp" refers to a hike, not a girl with loose morals.)

MLB said it was an easy hike, but the 30C/90F temperatures and steep climbs up and down for 2 hours made it a bit of a challenge for her hubby. Here we are at a lookout point; one of us looks perky, the other (not shown) looks tired and ready for a cold beer.

Our long day's drive finally brought us to Lake Tekapo (pronounced "Teak-a-poe"), where we had booked an apartment for a night. The accommodations were very nice; here you can see me trying to sort out the correct formula for Kiwi coffee. Those of us accustomed to fresh-brewed coffee, or even Keurig machines, will be somewhat disappointed to find that instant coffee (reminiscent of Nescafe back in the 70s) is the most prevalent variety here. Occasionally a French press (not a Bridgette Bardot look-alike, Dale) is available with a pre-packaged disc, but mostly you take your chances with instant. My Navy shipmate Dale may recall that I was up to 35 cups a day of Navy coffee aboard ship, so I consider myself something of a coffee snob.


The room had a nice view over the lake, but this shot of banks of morning mist, clouds and mountains from our balcony was one of the most striking of the trip so far. I stood on the balcony for 30 minutes watching the clouds roll over the mountains across the lake, in absolute wonder at Nature's majesty.  This photo is going to end up on a wall at home.











Lake Tekapo is home to this famous statue, a monument to the sheep dogs who made high country sheep farming possible. The light blue color of the lake is of course due to (what else?) glacial rock flour carried downstream by the many rivers spawned in the high mountains at the feet of the many beautiful glaciers. Please note a small building just above the dog's right rear foot...









The Church of the Good Shepherd was recommended to us by our Kiwi friend Sheree back in Auckland, and I promised to visit and put a photo in the blog. Regrettably, when we went there, a wedding was taking place, and we were unable to gain entry to see the inside of the church. It is fitting that the statue of the sheepdog was just 50 yards from the church; after all, sheep are still the foundation of farming here in New Zealand, where farms and ranches are called "stations".










Our next stop was at my favorite place in New Zealand, Mount Cook. The mountain was named for history's greatest multi-tasker (explorer, navigator, naturalist, cartographer and seaman), Captain James Cook, FRS, RN, who arrived in New Zealand in 1769 aboard his ship HM Bark Endeavour and claimed the islands for England. The Maori name for the mountain is Aoraki. Like in the USA with contemporaries Washington, Lee and Jackson, Cook is an old dead white guy, and his name is no longer politically correct in some circles... but he is one of my greatest heroes.










I first visited here in 1970 on a Navy destroyer, and a friend and I took leave and tent camped around the South Island. When Suzanne and I arrived at Mt. Cook, I pointed out these tents and said, "Sweetheart, that orange one is ours for the next two nights." There was a moment of silence until she said, "Ty, you're a funny guy."

Our hotel room wouldn't be ready for 3 hours, so we went for a hike up Hooker Valley to a viewpoint near the glacier of the same name. On the way was this alpinists' memorial to those mountaineers who had lost their lives while climbing the Southern Alps. Unfortunately, there were about 30 names on various bronze plates on both sides of the monument. Icefall-covered Mt. Sefton (10,358 ft./ 3,151 meters) is in the background. Avalanches, rockfalls, deteriorating weather and equipment failure were the principal reasons for these casualties.







After an hour or so, Mt. Cook itself poked its head through the clouds. New Zealand's highest mountain (12,218 ft./ 3,724 meters), it has three summits, and is flanked by five major glaciers, Tasman, Hooker, Linda, Fox and Franz Joseph. This side of the mountain with overhanging cornices and snowfields is not considered climbable. 

The first attempt at the summit was in 1882; two Swiss mountaineers made it to within 50 meters of the top before being forced to turn back. 1894 saw the first successful push to the summit by three New Zealanders who were anxious to beat American mountaineer Edward Fitzgerald, who was enroute New Zealand for the climb. Fitzgerald arrived and was the first to summit nearby Mt. Sefton. Today experienced climbers usually take a week or more to climb Mt. Cook, with the help of local Alpine Guides. "Experienced" means a high level of aerobic fitness and previous experience in high altitude alpine climbing, glacier travel and the ability to climb 45-50 degree snow and ice using two tools. These guys are also some of my heroes... maybe in my next lifetime, I'll sail with Captain Cook and climb big ice-covered mountains.

N.B.: these last two photos are not mine... but I sure wish they were!

Franz Joseph Glacier; One Lane Bridges; Wild Kiwi; Hokatika; Vandalized Cows; A Greedy Kea

The next two day-segment of our New Zealand Adventure took us south on the West Coast to Franz Joseph Glacier, a 2 hour drive from our B&B in Awatuna. But before we left, our hostess Trixie (shown here at left) prepared a splendid breakfast that we shared with two other guests, Americans from Manhattan. Both were charming folks, but he mentioned having been a photographer in a previous life. (Note just for guys: in that past life he was a photographer for Penthouse magazine... needless to say, I never raised the subject in front of the ladies. Talk about a job they wouldn't have to pay me to do... Smack! Sorry, Dear...) 





While at breakfast, I had the stove on in our apartment. Not cooking scones or muffins, but drying my socks, which I had washed the night before and left out to dry. 45 minutes at 50C was perfect to finish the job.  For some reason, Suzanne thought this was hilarious.  It made perfect sense to me.










The hike to Franz Josef Glacier (Ka Roimata o Hinehukatare in Maori) was along the Waiho River, another glacial stream colored blue-grey by rock flour from the glacier. 












The glacier was first sighted by Europeans in 1865, in the form of German explorer Julius von Hasst, who named it after the Emperor of Austria. (Naming mountains and glaciers after Emperors usually guaranteed funding of round-the-world expeditions in that era.) The glacier was in an advancing stage until 2008, when it began retreating; it is currently 12 km long. Just like armies, they push forward and back over the years. This telephoto shot was of the ice fall at the top of the glacier; those ice pinnacles are probably over a hundred feet high. Properly equipped mountaineers can climb that area, but you need specialized gear and a helicopter to put you on top. (Regrettably, we had left our crampons, ice axes and long woolies back in Florida when we climbed  challenging glaciers in Ocala.) 




Kiwis will immediately recognize this image; for Americans, it requires some explanation. Here down under, traffic volume is not what you find in the States. Kiwis have found that they can reduce the costs of bridges dramatically by making them all one lane wide. This photo is on a major highway, not Farm Road 2749. When you approach a bridge, there will be a sign with two arrows, one pointing up and the other pointing down; one is red, the other black. The black arrow has the right of way, and the red arrow has to give way. It all works fine until a 20-something gets to the bridge just before a 60-something. Even if the 60-something has the right of way, the younger driver (particularly if he is Asian - no foolin'!) will try to get to the bridge one nano-second before his elder. It's all in good fun, though, and some bridges have turn-outs in the middle if two cars going in opposite directions arrive in center-span simultaneously.  I don't understand why Suzanne keeps closing her eyes in the passenger seat ...


While in the scenic town of Franz Josef, just down-stream from, well, the Glacier itself, Suzanne decided she needed a new fleece. I suggested shopping at the local St. Vincent dePaul's store, well known back in the USA for cheap, second hand clothing. She looked at me kinda funny and didn't even bother replying. A few minutes later, she emerged from a touristy shop with a tres chic Wild Kiwi fleece. (I'm not sure whether the liked the "Wild" part better than the warmth itself; maybe I shouldn't ask. Young Kiwis - people, not the furry little critters with long beaks - are known for an on-the-edge, wild-and-crazy lifestyle.) 







 


After our glacier hike, we drove back north along the coast to the town of Hokitika for our stay at a beachfront cabin. It was quite nice, and within listening distance of crashing surf. We poured a wee glass of delicious New Zealand Pinot Noir and took a stroll on the beach before dinner. I was worried that we would be fined for drinking wine in public, but My Lovely Bride reminded me of where I grew up, and that all I had to do if a policeman came around was to weave a lot and say, "But Occifer, I am from New Orleans, and our city laws require one to drink in public." She can be so helpful...  Again, you can see how crowded the beaches are here.




After our wine walk, we headed for t-o-w-n (sorry, I am so used to spelling that word when Rudy and Gretchen are around) for pizza. I wish I had made a photo of the pie, because it looked, well, a bit strange to me. Sorry, Sheree, but there are only two things I can fault you Kiwis on: coffee and pizza. Now let me be specific -  the pizza tasted okay - it just looked weird. Fat Pipi's in Hokitika (you just can't make this up - here's a photo of the clock tower) uses cheese that tastes kinda sorta like Mozzarella, but looks bright yellow, and the pepperoni was more of a bologna-type sausage. I think it's because of the English heritage here; when was the last time anyone saw an English-Italian restaurant?  ;-)  This image also reflects the ever-present roundabout. We have been on the South Island for 5 days, and have seen nary a single traffic light. Not one. Nada. Zilch. Roundabouts are the rule here, and I have to admit that they work quite well. Far better than the deadly traffic circles back home in The Villages where visitors from New Yawk and Taxachucetts ignore all the rules and cause accidents on a daily basis. Kiwis know how to make traffic flow.



We are finally over jet lag, except for my head cold. After a good sleep and a quiet night beachside, we headed back up over Arthur's Pass for our next destination, Lake Tekapo (pronounced "teek-a-poe"). On the way, we saw these cows that some Australians had vandalized... they had painted white bands around an entire herd of all-black cows. I know this because New Zealand's awesome national rugby team is called the "All Blacks", and their fiercest rivals are players from Oz. It really helps to be well-read.

Finally, ornithologists and birders will appreciate this image. We stopped at a roadside cafe in Arthur's Pass (there aren't many options for crossing the Southern Alps) for lunch. We got two sandwiches inside sat down at an outside table to eat. I hadn't even unwrapped my lunch when a "cheeky" giant Kea (Nestor notabilis) swooped down and tried to snatch my meal. I wanted Suzanne to smack him, but she said, "Ty, they are protected." Turns out Kiwi farmers tried to exterminate this species of parrot because they were thought to be attacking lambs. Keas are the world's only alpine parrot, and average about 19 inches in height and weigh up to 2.2 lbs. They are very smart, and have been observed preparing and using tools as well as munching on the rubber gaskets on car doors. Their beaks are strong enough to break through ice several inches thick. This guy was obviously ignoring the intent of the yellow sign right next to him which read, "Do Not Feed Kea".