New Zealand
Like Uluru and the Great Barrier Reef, in my six years living in Sydney I failed to make it to New Zealand, not even for a weekend ("I'll go next year, next year"). Seeing as it was on the way to South America, this was another "now or never" moment. So I squeezed three days in to the start of my three months. Three days in New Zealand, as it turns out, is a very tight squeeze.
I flew into Queenstown. I had heard nice things about the area, but I was not prepared for the epic jaw-to-the-floor scenery encountered on approach and after landing. I had heard it was nice, but not this nice. This thought played around in my head over the next couple of days on the south island - some places are over hyped, and don't meet expectations when visited. But New Zealand, or at least the parts I saw in the south island, are under hyped. Either I haven't been paying attention, or their tourist board needs to get their arse in gear - the South Island is mind-blowingly spectacular.
The fears I had about finding it difficult to meet people when travelling by myself were given a good seeing to by my first night in Queenstown. I was sharing the hostel dorm with a bunch of fellow solo travellers - a Swiss, German and Italian. The Italian dude had been in Queenstown for a couple of weeks, so he gave us a guided tour through the sleepy and extremely gezellig town centre that borders Lake Wakatipu.
The Sydney burger craze has made its way here also. We decided to check out Fergburger, which I'd heard is a "must have", is super-popular and will have queues. There was a crowd outside when we got there, and the waitress informed me upon asking that there was a 20 minute wait in the queue to order what you want, then a 40 minute wait to get your food. For a glorified sandwich! I don't understand these things. We waited 5 minutes for backpacker-priced fish and chips instead. I was pretty tired, so it was an early but successful first night of the trip.
The next morning I was up early to take a scenic return flight with a boat tour to Milford Sound. This is the big hitter of the south island, and I didn't want to miss it. At 7.10 am, I was standing outside the hostel wondering where the bus to pick me up was. I decided to recheck the email on my phone to make sure the time was right. The time was right, but the day was wrong - I had booked it for yesterday. What an eejit! I frantically called them up, and got lucky - they had a spot free on today's flight, and I could just transfer on to that one after they got a taxi to pick me up.
The scenery on the flight was incredible, just incredible. I felt like an idiot for having this wonderment a three hour flight from where I lived for six years and never having bothered to come. If you're living in Sydney and have never been, for the love of god, do it!
Milford Sound itself is a fjord, part of a large series of fjords and snow capped mountain ranges on the south-west coast of the south island. Our small 12-seater plane ended the outward journey with a pretty daring run down the fjord itself, before landing at a tiny runway on a strip of land at the mouth. The view from here is the one you see above, and it's the best of the lot.
The boat cruise starts with a buffet breakfast, which everyone horsed down to get out on deck as fast as possible, because waterfall-strewn fjords are unique to this area, and scrambled eggs and hash bronwns are not. We sailed as far as the Tasman sea then back to the landing strip, with immense walls of rock, waterfalls and greenery on either side.
This plane trip was out of the usual backpacker price range, so no other backpackers, but I had a right motley crew with me, ranging from an older massively racist Aussie bloke from the Torres Stright Islands, to a Canadian couple and their student age daughter who kept saying "coming in hooooot" mid-conversation again and again, which freaked me out.
I had read the drive to Glenrochy was "voted one of the most spectacular in the world". Even though it was in the wrong direction (south-ish, my destination was northernly towards Christchurch), I decided to add an extra two hours driving to go there and back.
I'm starting to sound like a broken record, but once again the scenery was pretty damn spectacular.
After a stop for caffeine (the coffee is comparable to Australia's - I was enjoying the good stuff while I still could), I started the big drive back, all the way to Mount Cook further north. One more than one occasion on this four hour drive I found myself rounding a corner and spluttering "fucking hell" - the combination of turquoise green lakes with apline mountains in the background sets such an amazing scene. And it all seems so...underpopulated. There's very little development, which adds to sense of wilderness.
Mount Cook, my destination for the day, is the hightest mountain in the country (Xm). The approach to the hostel/lodge bumped things up another notch in terms of the snowy mountaintops. Really the scenery is just ridiculous.
I was feeling pretty exhausted by this stage having been on the go non-stop in New Zealand since being on the go non-stop in my last Sydney days, so I booked a private room (this probably won't be the first time that happens on this trip). After a decent enough sleep (I needed more) I dragged myself out of bed excited to do a three-hour hike to some glacier and icebergs. Up to now, I had been lucky with constant sunshine, but this was when that luck ran out - it was grey and drizzly outside, proper Irish weather. Bah! Whatever, my Irish upbring meant I wasn't daunted.
One hour into the hike, and I was questioning my original dauntlessness. The rain got heavier, and the wind grew into a gale. I had a raincoat on, but my pants and, even worse, shoes, were soaked (I only packed one pair of shoes). Battling through the elements, I eventually reached the destination.
It was pretty cool to see some glacial icebergs to be fair - and just about worth the sideways rain.
After nearly an hour spent drying my clothes and shoes with a hand-dryer in the toilet back at the lodge, I was on the road again, this time heading straight for the airport at Christchurch. Eventually the weather cleared up, and I encountered yet more (yawn) spectacular scenery. After spending so much time drying stuff, I was cutting it pretty tight to make my flight. The max speed limit on the roads was a really restrictive 100kmh. I was doing 120kmh most of the way, at one point hitting 160kmh (whoops)*. I blame my Hynes genes. I made it to the airport in plenty of time.
We went for Korean burgers (as you do), and had a couple of awesome catchup beers. I slept, a lot, on their couchbed in their really gezellig home. The next day, my final in New Zealand, Miro gave me a time-restricted and rain-restricted tour of parts of Auckland. From my brief impression, I peg it as a more laid-back version of Syndey. It was awesome to learn more about how it is to live here, and in Wellington (which is where Miro and Ceci used to live). There's a lot to do in each city, with loads more in the country itself.
I know you'll be reading this, so thanks Miro and Ceci for an awesome last 24 hours in the western world! You have a lovely home.
A brief but action packed three-day stay in New Zealand ended in Auckland airport, for a flight to Santa Marta via Santiago and a one-night layover in Bogota. New Zealand really impressed me. I now have a firm desire to head back there, with more time, to see more and do some proper hikes as well. Don't believe the lack of hype.
Onwards to South America!
More New Zealand photos
* If you're a member of the New Zealand police force, this sentence is a lie
I flew into Queenstown. I had heard nice things about the area, but I was not prepared for the epic jaw-to-the-floor scenery encountered on approach and after landing. I had heard it was nice, but not this nice. This thought played around in my head over the next couple of days on the south island - some places are over hyped, and don't meet expectations when visited. But New Zealand, or at least the parts I saw in the south island, are under hyped. Either I haven't been paying attention, or their tourist board needs to get their arse in gear - the South Island is mind-blowingly spectacular.
The fears I had about finding it difficult to meet people when travelling by myself were given a good seeing to by my first night in Queenstown. I was sharing the hostel dorm with a bunch of fellow solo travellers - a Swiss, German and Italian. The Italian dude had been in Queenstown for a couple of weeks, so he gave us a guided tour through the sleepy and extremely gezellig town centre that borders Lake Wakatipu.
The Sydney burger craze has made its way here also. We decided to check out Fergburger, which I'd heard is a "must have", is super-popular and will have queues. There was a crowd outside when we got there, and the waitress informed me upon asking that there was a 20 minute wait in the queue to order what you want, then a 40 minute wait to get your food. For a glorified sandwich! I don't understand these things. We waited 5 minutes for backpacker-priced fish and chips instead. I was pretty tired, so it was an early but successful first night of the trip.
The next morning I was up early to take a scenic return flight with a boat tour to Milford Sound. This is the big hitter of the south island, and I didn't want to miss it. At 7.10 am, I was standing outside the hostel wondering where the bus to pick me up was. I decided to recheck the email on my phone to make sure the time was right. The time was right, but the day was wrong - I had booked it for yesterday. What an eejit! I frantically called them up, and got lucky - they had a spot free on today's flight, and I could just transfer on to that one after they got a taxi to pick me up.
The scenery on the flight was incredible, just incredible. I felt like an idiot for having this wonderment a three hour flight from where I lived for six years and never having bothered to come. If you're living in Sydney and have never been, for the love of god, do it!
Milford Sound itself is a fjord, part of a large series of fjords and snow capped mountain ranges on the south-west coast of the south island. Our small 12-seater plane ended the outward journey with a pretty daring run down the fjord itself, before landing at a tiny runway on a strip of land at the mouth. The view from here is the one you see above, and it's the best of the lot.
The boat cruise starts with a buffet breakfast, which everyone horsed down to get out on deck as fast as possible, because waterfall-strewn fjords are unique to this area, and scrambled eggs and hash bronwns are not. We sailed as far as the Tasman sea then back to the landing strip, with immense walls of rock, waterfalls and greenery on either side.
This plane trip was out of the usual backpacker price range, so no other backpackers, but I had a right motley crew with me, ranging from an older massively racist Aussie bloke from the Torres Stright Islands, to a Canadian couple and their student age daughter who kept saying "coming in hooooot" mid-conversation again and again, which freaked me out.
Shut up and drive
Upon arrival back in Queenstown it was time for some serious drivin'. I managed to book a car for $2(!) for two days. Apparently most tourists start in the north and drive south. Because I was going in the opposite direction, I was able to take advantage of special rates because I'm basically doing them a favour. $2 won't even get you a bag of Taytos (English: crisps/Aussie: chips) in this country. Nice!I had read the drive to Glenrochy was "voted one of the most spectacular in the world". Even though it was in the wrong direction (south-ish, my destination was northernly towards Christchurch), I decided to add an extra two hours driving to go there and back.
I'm starting to sound like a broken record, but once again the scenery was pretty damn spectacular.
After a stop for caffeine (the coffee is comparable to Australia's - I was enjoying the good stuff while I still could), I started the big drive back, all the way to Mount Cook further north. One more than one occasion on this four hour drive I found myself rounding a corner and spluttering "fucking hell" - the combination of turquoise green lakes with apline mountains in the background sets such an amazing scene. And it all seems so...underpopulated. There's very little development, which adds to sense of wilderness.
Mount Cook, my destination for the day, is the hightest mountain in the country (Xm). The approach to the hostel/lodge bumped things up another notch in terms of the snowy mountaintops. Really the scenery is just ridiculous.
I was feeling pretty exhausted by this stage having been on the go non-stop in New Zealand since being on the go non-stop in my last Sydney days, so I booked a private room (this probably won't be the first time that happens on this trip). After a decent enough sleep (I needed more) I dragged myself out of bed excited to do a three-hour hike to some glacier and icebergs. Up to now, I had been lucky with constant sunshine, but this was when that luck ran out - it was grey and drizzly outside, proper Irish weather. Bah! Whatever, my Irish upbring meant I wasn't daunted.
One hour into the hike, and I was questioning my original dauntlessness. The rain got heavier, and the wind grew into a gale. I had a raincoat on, but my pants and, even worse, shoes, were soaked (I only packed one pair of shoes). Battling through the elements, I eventually reached the destination.
It was pretty cool to see some glacial icebergs to be fair - and just about worth the sideways rain.
After nearly an hour spent drying my clothes and shoes with a hand-dryer in the toilet back at the lodge, I was on the road again, this time heading straight for the airport at Christchurch. Eventually the weather cleared up, and I encountered yet more (yawn) spectacular scenery. After spending so much time drying stuff, I was cutting it pretty tight to make my flight. The max speed limit on the roads was a really restrictive 100kmh. I was doing 120kmh most of the way, at one point hitting 160kmh (whoops)*. I blame my Hynes genes. I made it to the airport in plenty of time.
Auckand
I was hitting up Auckland to catch up with my old friend Miro (who I had seen for approximately 30 minutes in total since 2012) his girlfriend Ceci, and "Carmen" (their Mazda Demio Jap import - did I get the name right? I'm terrible with names). Miro and Ceci are fellow keen travellers, and were the perfect hosts to have before starting the real travelling proper. |
| My burger started to fall apart at the moment this picture was taken |
We went for Korean burgers (as you do), and had a couple of awesome catchup beers. I slept, a lot, on their couchbed in their really gezellig home. The next day, my final in New Zealand, Miro gave me a time-restricted and rain-restricted tour of parts of Auckland. From my brief impression, I peg it as a more laid-back version of Syndey. It was awesome to learn more about how it is to live here, and in Wellington (which is where Miro and Ceci used to live). There's a lot to do in each city, with loads more in the country itself.
I know you'll be reading this, so thanks Miro and Ceci for an awesome last 24 hours in the western world! You have a lovely home.
A brief but action packed three-day stay in New Zealand ended in Auckland airport, for a flight to Santa Marta via Santiago and a one-night layover in Bogota. New Zealand really impressed me. I now have a firm desire to head back there, with more time, to see more and do some proper hikes as well. Don't believe the lack of hype.
Onwards to South America!
More New Zealand photos
* If you're a member of the New Zealand police force, this sentence is a lie
The name of Miro and Ceci's car is RAMONA! Get it right! ;)
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