20060421

out of the frying pan and into the fire


I am back in old Wanaka and I have moved in to the same flat I lived in when I left. The dynamics of the flat have changed considerably due to the recent addition of three Canadian boys inhabiting my old room. The most significant change is the sound of the television. Nowadays the television is on full volume all day long and I dare not turn it off and put on music because the canadian lads stare at that thing day and night as if it were their idol. Oh well, I suppose my time back in Wanaka is short, I should be thankful for the roof over my head.

My whole perspective on wine has completely flipped itself over. I spent the last two days working in the winery, miles away from the mundane lifestyle I was accustomed to on the vineyard. I spent hours filling barrels with fresh wine in a room that was thick with the rich dense smell of oak. I spoke with wine-makers and got some insight on what happens to the grapes after they leave the vineyard. It was a great experience indeed and now I am able to look at a bottle of wine and know even more about the processes that went into it.

That's 'bout it for round here. I am planning on leaving wanaka in a week or so to hitch-hike up the west coast of the south island. It sounds like a pretty good plan to me, I hope I stick to it.

OH....I believe I have found a new owner for my car, "little brownie". A Swedish gentleman named, "Mons".

20060415

A beach is a place where a man can feel he's the only soul in the world that's real


Ahem,
I am going to try to recollect my recent visit to Stewart Island, but unfortunately my mind is a bit groggy, hazey, and lazy due to a lack of sufficient good hot black coffee. Anyway, here goes.

Martin and I began our trip to stewart Isl. by flying onto a nearly deserted beach about 100 KM from the nearest village (Oban (pop. 400)). We flew in the smallest plane I have ever been in, a 4-seater Cessna that barely fit martin. We touched down on the beach, threw our bags out of the tiny cargo space, and watched the pilot take off and disappear in a matter of minutes. We stood on the beach and laughed. We had just gone from civilization to standing on an isolated beach 60 miles from civilization. We picked up our packs and trudged up a sand-dune to find the first hut we would be staying in for the evening.

Much of the 8 day hike on Stewart was similar to the dusky track, the hike we had completed 3 days before. The trail was muddy, steep, and full of tree roots and tricky little sections requiring all of my coordination. The track overall, however, was incredibly different due to the beaches we came across every day. The beaches were incredibly scenic, pristine, and rugged. Massive waves slammed pillars of rock right before us while we clamored along on slippery rocks. Looking out at the ocean I truly felt as if was on the edge of the world.. There were also beaches that were full of great golden sand and sea-shells. It was quite a sensation to stand on a beach that stretched for 6 km's in one direction and not see a single human being or trace thereof. We didn't get too much rain on the island and that was surprising. I bought a whole bunch of good rain gear before the trip and I barely got a chance to use it, Dad Blast It!.

The bird life on Stewart is truly phenomenal. The island is reknown for it's abundance of rare and plentiful bird-life. The kiwi, that famous flightless bird particular to NZ, is found on stewart island more often than any place else. Martin, my hiking partner, saw 4 of the birds, while I saw none. He gloated quite a lot and showed me video of the birds on his digital camera, I stewed. I did, however, see a whole load of "kaka", one of the rarest parrots in the world. The birds down here in NZ are not the most beautiful in the world (so I've been told), but they have some of the most beautiful, unique, and memorable songs I can imagine. While hiking we could here bird songs everywhere. We'd stop, stare around at the trees, and listen to the birds fairly often. I've got to find a recording of those birdies, I can't let their songs slip from my memory.

There is so much more to say about the trip, but this is all I got in me right now.

Now I am heading back to Wanaka to work for a week or two. The last three weeks of travel have depleted my funds considerably, but I suppose you've got to pay the piper if you want to do the really good stuff. I leave NZ on the 18th of May, so my days are dwindling down. I'm not sure what I'll do with the rest of my free time here.

In the Airport on the South island we saw a sign for the southernmost McDonald's in the world, so this was, without a doubt, the farthest south I had ever been.

Adios Muchacho/a,
Collin

20060403

My head is my only house, unless it rains.


3rd of april 2006-
Holey Moley folks. 10 days tramping and kayaking in Fiordland National Park. 10 days of gorgeous rain-free back-country bliss, I tell ya. Today is my first day back in civilization after 10 days out in the Fiordland bush. My friend Martin and I began our trip in Fiordland with a 3 day kayak trip in Doubtful Sound (good name for a rock band?). We kayaked with a group of six others in a sound which receives little tourist activity. Of the three days we kayaked there we saw, on average, 2 or 3 boats a day. Each day we kayaked around 15 miles or so to certain sections of the sound while admiring the odd and surreal landscape of rich dense forested mountains dropping directly down into the water in which we paddled. The light blue bright sky of each day provided some incredible reflections/mirrors on the water (hopefully the pics do some justice). We saw a rare sort of dolphin called a "bottlenose" which is apparently particular to fiordland due to its' size and extra layer of blubber it has to protect itself from the frigid winter waters. We also kayaked by a fat old seal rolling about in the water spending his day with play. All in all the kayak trip was a complete success. 410 smackaroos spent wisely for this a-here country boy.
Immediately following the kayak trip, Martin and I began the challenging part of our trip in Fiordland. The kayak company has stored our hiking gear, so we immediately hit the trail and began an 8-day, 84 km, tramp known as "the dusky track". the Dusky is known for deep mud, flooding, and extremely rugged trail conditions, so going into the trip I was a bit nervous. The night before the dusky began I knelt down before my 1/8 inch thick sleeping bad in my tent and said a silent prayer to the rain gods. Praise Be!, my prayers were answered and somehow, I'm not sure how, it didn't rain a single drop on our entire 8 day tramp. Unheard of ! Good karma or global warming? Fiordland sees rain 200 days a year, 10 meters annually, 30 feet people!, we slipped through the cracks. The tramp was still the most challenging one I've ever done. Hidden mud pools still existed and the rugged terrain still beat me mercilessly. I can only imagine what the track must be like for most trampers when they get hit with massive amounts of rain. Those poor souls! I pity them! Anyway, the hike was out of sight and know I look back at with an incredible sense of achievement. The scenery and sense of absolute isolation on the dusky still has me aching with awe. I look back on the trip now and I only see good memories. None of the heavy strenuous garbage that can weigh people down on a long hike has stayed with me. It;s pretty rare that I had the chance to fall into mud up to my waist, I've never done that before. On one of the nights out I watched the sun set over a lake that had countless stumps protruding out of the water. As I watched the lake it dawned on me that I was the only person in the world seeing it at that moment. I thought that was pretty neat-o.
In a few days martin and I fly down to stewart island to begin another muddy 8 day tramp. Will the rain gods side with me this time?
Collin