hanging out with the parrots

Te Anua is a relaxing place to be after all the excitement of Queenstown. My leg was healing, and we were thinking of either doing the Milford Track or some other. Ideally, we wanted to do the Milford Track. Described in National Geographic as the best walk on the planet, or something similar, and reckoned to be a rite of passage for most New Zealanders, it was obvious that we shoud at least give it a go.

The weather hadnt been particularly kind lately and it was becoming a wet blanket on a lot of activities. The plan to do the Milford Track became its latest victim. Due to the season, many of the bridges had been removed and the DOC huts were without gas. That wasnt our main concern, due the greater inconvenience of the avalanche risk in the area. I guess we could have ignored them and goen ahead anyway, but maybe its best to wait for when the weather is good.

Instead we plumped to do part of the Kepler Track. Again, once into the mountains, the avalanche risk becomes to great to proceed further, so we contented ourselves with the trip up to the first hut. This could be done in a day, there and back if you have a light load, but we wanted to spend one night away from the village. Its cheaper for one, and I like the outdoors living.

Its a long slog up the hill, tramping through an ever changing forest scenery, catching glimpses of the view as we climb. The lunch stop at the Bluffs took longer than I thought and I think Cathy was getting bored of my comments like, "Its just around the next corner", and "Its can only be another one or two hundred metres". After another hour we reached the Bluff and had lunch. It was about 3 o'clock and we started thinking that we should have really got up earlier.

Another hour or so through different forest and we reached the tree line. Its hardly surprising, but as you climb the vegetation changes. From almost rainforest to fern-filled forest to a pine mix, without ferns at all. Then the grass and moss scrub of alpine country. The scenery opens out in front of you and you see the harshly glacier-sculptured landscape of fjordland in all its rough glory. There isnt anybody about, no electricity, no mobile phone masts, pylons, rubbish, noise except the wind.

Another 45 minutes and we made the hut, got comfy and had a cup of tea. There was a Danish guy at the hut as well, but considering the hut can sleep 50 or more, it was deserted. While we were cooking dinner, some strange calls were heard, and a shadow moved in the moonlight on the decking outside. We opened a window and had a nice meeting with a Kea. These alpine parrots, the only alpine parrots in the world, are supposedly very intelligent. I dont know about intelligent, but they are inquisitive.

I went to fill up my water bottle and one was waiting for me outside. I placed the metal water bottle on the ground and as it 'tinged' the parrot came up and had a nose around. It tried carrying the bottle away, and kept tapping the bottle to make it ring. Like the dolphins, hanging around with intelligent creatures is maybe not spiritual but certainly entertaining. Seeing as the cold was getting to everyone, I lit a roaring inferno of a fire. Greatly appreciated by everyone I think you'll find, including the Kea.

The wind picked up that night, so much so that we could feel the hut move. I think the Kea got blown away in the night. By morning we were depressed as the weather had closed in and the wind was just as bad. A lie in 'till 12 meant we could at least give it a chance to improve, which it did, so we finished our breakfast/lunch/loafing and legged it back down the hill. This was after exploring the Luxmore caves, where we found amazing artifacts from early mans history. Probably.

The rain soon came back and we got back to the hostel, Te Anau Backpackers in town, had some food and very quickly went to sleep.

The next morning saw us stiff and tired, but realising we had to rush a little bit as Cathy was starting to run out of time. I hired some snow chains, filled up and drove to Milford Sound. Along the road were some fascinating places, such as 10 mile bush, flat knob creek and kiosk river. We got to Milford Sound and decided to hop on one of the boat trips. It was the perfect time to see Milford as while the weather was bad, the waterfalls were everywhere, making it all very picturesque. We stopped off at the marine reserve on the way back which was interesting. Due to the huge amounts of freshwater coming into the Sound, deep sea animals come to the surface as they are tricked by the visibility.

After thinking about staying the night in Milford and realising it might not be worth it, we drove back to Te Anau and then onwards to Queenstown. We have to pass this way to see the west coast.

Since the Southern Laughter hostel was a no-no, Cathy did the books and went for Hippo Lodge. Now THIS was a nice place. Spacious clean kitchen, clean towels on the bed, with a little chocolate hippo on the towels. I met a Kiwi lady who was showing a Nepalese Sherpa the sights of New Zealand. The views over Queenstown were well worth the stay at Hippo lodge on its own, but I wish we had stayed here before instead of Southern Laughter.

strength and honour

Wednesday 18th was meant to be our skydiving day, but there was a bad storm. While it was very windy in Wanaka (sounds like a good name for a first album), it was dropping 1.5 metres of snow on the hills. Too windy for skydiving and too snowy for skiing.

We decided it was time to make a move; we had skiied, drunk coffee at nice places (Fusion), tried to skydive, gone walking, and stared for hours at Lake Wanaka. The most obvious destination was Queenstown. We checked out, late as always, from the Purple Cow. Despite it being quite a nice hostel, I felt decidedly underdressed compared to the Japanese snowboarders who looked SOOOO COOOOOL! I might as well have been wearing flecked trousers and luminous socks compared to the bleeding-edge fashion of these snow warriors.

I rang up 'Southern Laughter' hostel. There might have been some laughter at some point in time, but it had long since passed along with dry rooms and a clean kitchen. We were in the outbuilding along with the people who work there, and when they arent working they are getting very pissed and getting to know each other intimately on the sofa in the lounge. I might not have minded if I hadnt been woken by the loud drunken conversations or have to sit in the soggy patch when I had my breakfast in the morning. Actually, there was no soggy patch, as I interrupted mid-coitus in the night when I need the loo. The dribbling but sheepish couple had faces red enough to glow in the dark. I was happy.

Generally though, I think Queenstown is overrated, full of kids wanting to be cool but not knowing how to go about it, and assuming spending money on cRaZy activities will help. Me, I plumped for the Nevis highwire, and the jetboating, as I think that will make me cool. Unfortunately the jetboating was off as all the rivers were swollen.

We made up for it in Q'town by eating and drinking well. There are some cool cafe's and eateries. 'Vudu' did some very nice pastries and cakes, while 'The Cow' on Cow Lane (or Cow La as Cathy wanted to call it) does excellent pizzas, and if you ask for some bread to start with, you get a loaf, a WHOLE loaf, freshly baked, with butter, an EC mountain of it. Cathy also did an awesome meal of roast veg with roast nuts and sesame seeds served with pitta, aoili, red pepper humous, garlic mushrooms and couscous.

This helped settle me down for the day of the big bad bungy. This was a fairly sleepless night, what with fear and drunk people and noise and rain and a full stomach. I awoke crotchety, tired and not very eager to do the jump. We checked out at Southern Laughter (hahahahahhaha. not) and went to the AJ Hackett office. There, others were stood, looking nervous or backslapping each other in fake bravado.

The coach arrived and the assortment of idiots got on board. An American, some english, including a foolish girl from R.A.M.C., some koreans, including a very brave girl, and an Irish couple. Everyone had the grin of fear on their face, myself included. After a 4 wheel drive up the hill we caught our first glimse of the contraption. The Gondola is suspended by four wire cables over a canyon. A small trolly takes you out to the gondola then the preparations begin. The cuffs are put on then you watch the first few jumpers. Its a long way down and their screams fade quickly as they descend. It came to be my turn, and I sit in the comfy chair so they can attach the bungy. One of the guys plays with you, in the sense of testing your resolve, and playing mind games. His buddy mentions it might time to revamp the rope, which I smiled and tried to look relaxed about. Like a lamb to the slaughter. I have to say a few words for the tape which I do. Nothing profound, "I havent done anything wrong ever! Its not my time!" Then I jump.

I thought, really thought I was going to die. I screamed but then couldnt. The only sound was of rushing wind. I kept falling, it felt like an eternity, and I could see the ground coming to meet me but it wasnt going to shake hands. Then the wind stops and your body relaxes a little. Your ankles try to swell up to make sure you dont fall through the cuffs, but then the elation at having missed a messy demise coarses through your veins along with the adrenalin that has been released in unethical corporation sized amounts. Only then did I start feeling the pain caused by a missing lump from my shin. The bungy clip and flicked and hit my shin, causing a considerable amount of pain. Ahhh, the buzz of dangerous sports.

The rest of the day was a blur, and I didnt notice the face of the bloke who was staring at me, only that I was ready for a fight. It turns out he remembers me and after a bit of prompting I remember him. It was Shannon, from my old cadet unit. He remembers Colour Emmett, while I have to admit to only remembering a small boy in a badly fitting uniform. I certainly found it hard to recognise the bloke who was taller than me, wearing a beard and yak coat, scarf and some kind of ethnic beanie.

We had a good chat and caught up on the Eastleigh gossip. he was with a friend from Boyatt Wood, that bastion of middle-class in the railway terraced last century museum that is Eastleigh. It was very very strange to bump into someone I know at the end of the world, but even stranger when I had blood made of rocket fuel and lumps missing from my leg.

I need less of this excitement. I got Cathy on the insurance as I was a bit of a liability, and she drove my battered tingly body to Te Anau, for some peace and quiet.