BEE-YOO-TEE FUL

Nov. 22

My day started auspiciously when a phone rang as I was packing and I realized it was my cell phone that no one in my family can get to work. It was Johnny! He had found a way to get through and I talked to him for the first time since September. What a treat!!! I found out all sorts of stuff I didn’t know. But I had to get off eventually because I had a date with a pilot to fly to Milford Sound.

 As I think I mentioned, Fiordland is made up if 16 fiords, none accessible by car, only walking, boating or flying. Jessie had been working on getting me the best flight and cruise on the best day and today turned out to be the first full clear day since I arrived. The pilot in Manapouri where I was staying had to fly and pick up trampers in Milford so she could drop me off at the cruise and then could fly me back to my car after the cruise. So I would be getting two flight instead of one. Usually you take the bus one way, but since she had to go both ways anyway I got a deal.

I drove to the teeny, or as they say here, wee airport and met Jenny my pilot. She took me out to the plane which, without wings, is smaller than my minivan. She had me sit in the co-pilots seat and I could barely see over the dashboard/control panel. It wasn’t a really new airplane either. I was starting to wonder if this was a smart thing to do. Jenny didn’t look very old. I started saying all sorts of prayers: Guardian Angel, St Christopher, Holy Spirit, any one listening.  I mentioned that it was a pretty long runway and she said we wouldn’t need much of it. That sounds good. As we start to taxi the whole column thingy comes toward me and starts turning and I cringe away from it as far as the seat will let me. I have on headphones and a mike to talk with her and she tells me to get ready. So I prepare to be thrown back for takeoff but it is really simple and light and suddenly we are in the air soaring above the valley with Lake Manapouri and the swamps below us.  We are just like a little insect floating through the air with all the earth below us.  The sky is clear blue with just a few white wisps of cloud for contrast. I almost forget I am in a tin can about to go over mountains with a 12 year old at the helm. Almost.

Jenny gave me an excellent commentary on everything we passed over; factual and interesting. They have managed to name everything in NZ: the culverts, the streams, the bridges on every back road, and now I find every peak, saddle, valley and mountain lake, waterfall and river has a name too. This place is a cartographers dream. As we start over the mountains I am torn, torn by exhilaration and terror. One second I am awestruck by the beauty, the majesty, the wonder of what I am seeing and the view I am seeing it from. I am thanking God for this opportunity and this blessing. The next moment I am sure I am going to die. I am begging God for my life. I am wondering if the crash will be painful, will it be quick, will I burn up, will they find the wreckage. Oh my gosh, isn’t that gorgeous? Look at that mountain lake pouring into a waterfall then down into the fiord with the ice just beginning to crack into ice floes. Look, we are above the tree line and the perfectly round lakes still have snow that is tinged pink next to the glacier. Then Jenny decides to show me a canyon that I’m sure is impossible to turn around in.  The grey craggy peaks are getting really, really close. There is no way we can get over them at this point and I’m sure we can’t turn around. The wings are almost touching the mountains. Dear God in heaven I am going to die! I finally squeak out a question about how she knows if the wings will touch or not. She says it’s just like a car; you get a feel for it. And I’m thinking, but you can drive without the bumper you just ripped off, you can’t fly without the wing! But of course we did make the turn. And the same thing would happen when we had to fly over the tall mountain ranges. I would have left at least at thousand foot clearance, and I think Jenny left maybe 10. Like I said, there was a lot of yin and yang going on emotionally for me on the way over to Milford. And as we approach the Milford airport after seeing all these beautiful fiords stretching out to the sea, I see this little, short landing strip, with ocean at the end of it.  Really short. I try to comfort myself by remembering how little we needed to take off. And as we line up for landing, Jenny reaches over, grabs my seat belt and says, “Is it on real tight?” Dear God, I’m going to die!!! Well, we landed just fine, as a matter of fact it was so soft I didn’t know we were down, and we had plenty of runway. I almost got down and kissed the ground. Terra firma!!!

I was then driven over to the cruise wharf where all the ships go out to take people on tours of the fiord. Jessie had booked me on a small ship so it would not be crowded and filled with tour bus people.  It was very nice inside and outside and the day was warm enough to go back and forth. Cruising this sound or fiord is like stepping back in time. The advantage of traveling alone is no one is intruding on your thoughts, and on this cruise I looked at the massive cliffs rising hundreds of feet above me and I knew I was in the Lord of the Rings. I was on the boat with the hobbits and Gandolf and all their companions as they pass the great statues. I saw what they saw and I felt what they felt. I was also in Jurassic Park when they had to get down the river past the pterodactyls. I could hear the shrieks of the flying dinosaurs. People sometimes look at me, the lone traveler, and I know they feel sorry for me and wonder why I’m alone. But I get to go on all sorts of trips in my head; I go on flights of whimsy and fantasy and wonder while they have to talk to each other. I’m tripping along in my head, they’re wishing the person next to them will shut up. These fiords are magnificent and you can see the massive scarring from rock against rock as the glaciers moved away, the rich deposit of copper shining in the sun, but untouchable as it is in a National park, and multitudes of waterfalls from the mountain snow melting.

And on the flight back with Jenny we had three other passengers; a couple and their one year old. I wanted to shout a warning to run for their lives, but instead I appeared really cool and experienced. We took a different way back and the wind was a bit friskier with a few more clouds which occasionally caused me to panic, but I kept up a fine front. As co-pilot I have a lot of responsibility, mainly not to throw up. She has the little white bags on this plane too. The flight back was especially beautiful and I spent time with my own thoughts again and mainly I thanked God for the beauty he has bestowed upon us, the chance for me to see it from this perspective and the ability to appreciate it. It brought tears to my eyes to be so blessed. Anyone who has a chance to do this should.

I then wind my way to Queenstown, adventure capitol of New Zealand. On my way there as I once again marveled at the scenery, it occurred to me that the area I have traveled has been uniquely scenic. If you were to put someone anywhere I have gone and turn them 90 degrees they would see mountains, turn them another 90 degrees and they would see another kind of mountains, maybe soft, mounding freshly green. Turn them another 90 degrees and they would see grey, craggy snow capped mountains. And finally turn them one last time and they would find tall, deeply forested old mountains. And interspersed among these mountains, we find the valleys, plains, rivers, and lakes. Amazing. One of the greatest drives I’ve ever taken is along Lake Wakatipu on the way to Queenstown. This drive rates up there with California Highway 1 south of Carmel and the South of France into Italy. You drive along the winding side of the Remarkables mountains, not as high as California or Italy. But the difference here is instead of just ocean on the other side you have an incredible lake the color of the Caribbean with mountains in the background on the other side. Breathtaking, simply breathtaking.

Nov. 21

I found my passport! Sorry, I forgot to mention it, but I did pack it away in a very special spot I totally forgot about. I have now repacked it in a logical spot I will remember.

Today the weather is still overcast, but since I’m not going on a cruise of the sounds and I bought a walking stick yesterday, I am determined to walk some of the area. I bought a pamphlet yesterday that showed one of those hanging bridges suspended over a river and I’ve always wanted to cross one of those. As a matter of fact, that is one of the things I said I had to do in New Zealand and it is on my Bucket List. So I took the pamphlet over to Jessie and she said it was quite nearby and easy to get to and that I would actually cross over another smaller bridge too if I went a certain way. She wrote out instructions for me because I immediately got confused when she started telling me. So today I became the only person on the famous Kepler Track reading handwritten instructions like a little kid instead of some really cool track map.

I drove a few minutes away to one of the parking lots along the track and put on walking shoes and socks, my bush hat, rain jacket, SPF 50 shirt, my walking stick, water and a nut bar, and of course my back brace as my back has been killing me, and then figured I was good for 20 minutes or so.  I started on what Jessie assured me wouldn’t be too tough of a trip and right off I come upon the big hanging bridge I saw in the pamphlet. I see a couple crossing the bridge and ask if they will take my picture. They agree and I notice they have accents and I ask where they are from and they say Holland and I mention I met quite a few people from Holland on my cruises. They are quite nice, but look like pretty serious trampers as they both have all the gear and two walking sticks apiece. I begin to wonder if I should have bought two!?! After savoring my moment on the bridge I continue on ahead and turn the way Jessie’s directions say and right off I have to climb a big hill in the forest. I thought this would be fun! I’m huffing and puffing and really using my stick and glad I insisted on the one with the pointed metal end as it pulls me up the path, although I thought the point was for protection…..  At the top I have to stop and catch my breath and when I finally look up from my bent over position I realize I have crested a cliff overlooking  a rushing river, the Raiau , and I could easily fall over into this gorgeous view if I put a foot wrong. I have officially entered one of The Great Walks of NZ and this particular river and area is where some of the Lord of the Rings Two Towers was filmed. I continue on in a fantastic forest filled with fallen, moss covered tree trunks, hanging moss and old, gigantic trees mixed with newer growth trees and shrubs. The sun comes and goes and a slight mist falls occasionally. It is easy to believe a hobbit, or worse, (“Fresh meat”) is behind each tree or bend. I cross paths with others trampers and we say hello. Some are in for multi-day hikes and carry heavy packs, a few are jogging and getting ready for some crazy 43K run on the Track in a week. I kept tripping on roots and rocks, I can’t imagine running without spraining an ankle.

The nice part of walking in NZ is there are no dangerous critters around. No snakes, no poisonous spiders, no foxes, coyotes, wolves, lions, alligators, etc. They didn’t even have mice or rodents of any kind until they were introduced by sailing vessels. If you’re walking, your biggest problem is your own ignorance and stupidity. So I wasn’t concerned about critters, just myself and the people I would meet on the trail. I came across the other, smaller hanging bridge so I was just thrilled, but had to try and take my own photo – not very successful.   I made it in to the boardwalk over a swamp that Jessie had directed me to, but it took me a bit longer than she said. I was both slower and a dawdler at the pretty parts. Some of the grades on the track were pretty steep and I really used my stick, especially going downhill, and on the way back my knee really started hurting. I’m not exactly hardy. When I finally make it back to the parking lot I figure I have been walking about two and a half hours, but they were tough hours and I am beat, thirsty and hungry. I drink in the car and then drive back toward Manapouri where I know an easy walk goes along the beach and around part of the lake. I drive in and see a family putting kayaks in the water and get out of the car and find a path to the beach and discover I am surrounded by thousands of Lupine on the edge of the beach and a flat rock is just begging for me to sit on it. So I rest my tired, achy body on the rock in the sun with the Lupines and their aroma around me and watch the kids practice kayaking. Across the lake is the mighty Fiordland Park, A World Heritage Site, with huge mountains and miles of forests, rivers and lakes a teeny, tiny fraction of which I just tramped. I am mighty proud of myself!

Tonight I went over to Jessie and Rays’ for dinner. They so nicely invited me for home cooking which I really, dearly miss, and to help me plan the rest of my trip. Across the street is a deer farm or Wapiti, a cross between our north American deer and an elk. The deer are all giving birth right knew and it is quite a treat to watch as you can tell when a mother has given birth because the others all walk by the new mother and give notice to something in the grass and then the mother goes and hides the baby and the baby will not move until the mother tells it to. They say you can often go and pick a baby up they are so obedient to a mother’s command. If only human children were so easy! Anyway, Jessie and Ray have a metal bird sculpture in their yard I pass when I go into their house each time and I mentioned it tonight. They said it was very special and made out of terta. I had no idea what that was, but I didn’t’ say anything because the first week in NZ I thought the ruma all the homes were made out of was a tree, and it turns out it was a type of stone. I didn’t want to look silly again. Then they went on to say they thought part of it was from a motorcycle too and I realized a terta was a Toyota. I will never get this accent right! We had a lovely dinner of turkey, gravy and cooked fall vegetables. I secretly pretended it was my Thanksgiving meal. After dinner they helped me with a new plan for the South Island and I think I will change some of my plans and not see a lot of the north. I am getting tired (and achy) with the activities combined with the driving and trying to write.  I think I will stay longer in fewer places, but who knows?

After I finally turned out my lights and went to bed with visions of flying into Milford Sound tomorrow, I realized a lot of light was coming in my bedroom window. I figured I accidently left the yard light on so I went over to check out my window. There hung the most brilliant, piercing full moon risen over the mountains throwing shadows where it couldn’t throw light. Sensational. And to top it off, it was a Blue Moon, you know the ‘once in a blue moon’ saying. A blue moon is a full moon that occurs more than once in a month. Well, I’m certainly only under these skies, seeing a blue moon, only once in a blue moon.