Week 9 Kepler
Trek, Milford Sound, Gore (ugh) and Dunedin
January 23, 2012
Kepler Trek
I have completed the Kepler Trek. As a little background, New Zealand is full
of hiking trails, consisting of all lengths, difficulty and insanity; although the
Kiwis prefer to call these walking
trails. Of the myriad trails that
exist there are a few that are known as the Great Walks of New Zealand.
Supposedly they are the best of the best, the crème de la crème, if you
will. With their gorgeous vistas and
glorious and heavenly panoramas that you witness as you meander through the
trails, nearly falling over as you lose your breath in their beauty. Or so they say. In reality there are non-Great Walks that are
equally amazing but the biggest difference is the GW’s are more crowded and
more expensive to sleep in the overnight huts.
Every hut on a Great Walk will cost you $51.50 per night per person; that
gets you a cot and access to some water and a gas stove. The huts are really
more like giant non-insulated cabins than a 5 Star Hotel that you might expect
for that price. Sometimes I wonder if the
tax levied on the hikers is steeper than the hills we are climbing to pay for
them.
In preparation I have been making day trips on some of
the other Great Walks, usually by taking a water taxi out to some point and
walking out and back to my hostel to spend the night (at half the price of a
hut). But it was time for me to
experience a Great Walk in all its glory; to complete an entire trail and even
pay for a damn hut in the process. So I chose the Kepler Trek which starts just
a couple of miles from the town of Te Anau in the far southern region of the
south island. Kepler is within the
Fiordlands of New Zealand and [I think] it has some of the best scenery of the entire
country. The trail is 61 km long and
contains 3 different huts, which means you can take up to four days to walk the
trail. The norm is three and I chose
two. The ladies at the Department of
Conversation who sell the maps and post the weather updates kept trying to talk
me out of it. Frankly I found their lack of enthusiasm perturbing;
their furrowed brows and droopy frowns trying their best to dissuade me. It was going to take more than a bunch of
negative Nancy’s to change my mind.
I don’t know if it was the favorable weather conditions
or the half dozen eggs I had for breakfast but I had amazing energy the first day. Day 1 contains nearly all of the uphill and
just under half of the total distance.
It begins a couple of hundred meters above sea level and travels through
the bush bringing you to the first hill.
Cutting switchbacks wind you up about 1000 meters and eventually above
the bush line until you reach the first resting point, Luxmore Hut. It took me less than three hours to climb up there and I stopped for an early lunch.
Most trekkers bring pasta, freeze dried meals, bread or other food that
will last and isn’t too heavy. I had no
interest in any of that. I packed tuna,
salami, cheese and trail mix. Given the
high cost of dairy in New Zealand (strange since they produce it here) this was
the first time I had bought cheese; it was decent but nothing fantastic. But I do give
significant credit to that cheese and some of the salami for giving me the
energy to do the second half of the day to the Iris Burn Hut where I spent the
night. From the Luxmore I began to
encounter those that had spent the previous night there, spotting them on the
trail from a distance and slowly overtaking them. I began to think of them like rabbits, and I the
hound coursing them. My mentality of
course was to overtake all rabbits and avoid getting passed. That would have worked too except while I was
eating lunch some guy came jogging up the trail; he was running it all in one
day. I was inspired by his ability and I
became determined to make great time. My first day took me 6.5 hours.
The second day was technically longer in distance but
virtually all flat back through to the end of the trail’s loop. Recalling the runner from yesterday I began
jogging parts of the trail myself. My
pack was lighter, most of my food was gone and this allowed me to more easily
run while having something strapped to my back.
I hiked and jogged my way to the last camp, Motorua Hut, in under three
hours and stopped here for a snack.
Although I was on a bit of a time schedule the camp warden didn’t notice
as he rambled at length about life in the woods. I nodded approvingly between bites of boiled
eggs, bananas and peanut butter.
Honestly I don’t recall much of what was said, except it was harder than
I thought to remove myself from a one sided conversation. This put me on the final stretch of the
track. Twisting and turning down the
trail I pressed ahead, stumbling over exposed roots alternating with a fast
walk. When it was all said and done Day 2 took about 5 hours, putting me at a
respectable 11.5 hours total trail time for 61 km. Needless to say I slept very well that night.
January 24, 2012
Milford Sound
Today I opted for one of the more “touristy” things to do
in New Zealand; I took a cruise into the Milford Sound. I even stumped up to pay for a bus ride out
there and return. So much for hitch
hiking everywhere I go. Milford Sounds is the quintessential image that appears
whenever you hear about the New Zealand Fiordlands. With tall peaks jutting into the
sea after years of glacial carving it paints a picture nearly worth the price
you have to pay to see them. Boarding
the bus was a mix of sentiments; finally I didn’t have to wait and question
when I would be leaving, a seemingly small thing to be grateful for but
surprisingly providing much relief. On
the other hand, I was surrounded by the very people I have gazed at in shock,
awe, disgust, etc. in so many other places – the package tourists. Where is the originality or sense of
adventure of having everything planned for you?
The bus was half geriatric and half Chinese. There’s nothing wrong with either group but I
felt more out of place there than in the passenger seat of some Kiwi
stranger. Luckily I could sink into
oblivion with my headphones while the family of four that occupied every seat
around me passed subway sandwiches like hot potatoes, the smell wafting through
the air abysmally while the others would chatter senselessly and rush from
window to window to take 17 pictures of every mountain. At least Milford Sound was beautiful enough
for me to let that all slide off the cuff.
January 27, 2012
Dunedin
So I have made it to Dunedin after taking a slightly
extended amount of time hitch hiking out from Te Anau. That morning started well, the sun was out
and old crazy Bob who runs the hostel I was staying in was cleaning the kitchen
and talking to himself again. I have to
admit, it was a great hostel: big, new, nice bathrooms, cheap internet and located
out on a decent sized piece of land. But
there was something about the owners, and it wasn’t just me, the other guests
thought so too. Each night when Bob
would come in to clean the kitchen or show a new guest around we called it the
Bob Show, you just never know what he was going to say. He had a garage full of nice cars and
motorcycles – where did the money come from Bob? And he would just say weird things or tell
you not to do things that would not otherwise be mentioned at a backpacker
hostel. His best conversations were
probably the ones between him and his two kittens. The morning I left was no different, walking
out the front door I could hear him mopping and arguing with the cats.
It started quite well, receiving my first lift within 15
minutes of getting to my waiting point.
A 30 year old Austrian picked me up and we discussed the merits of
traveling, quitting work and then how to find some sort of a balance. He was headed back North towards Queenstown
so he dropped me off in the small town of Mossburn where the highways intersect. It seemed like a good spot and I plopped my
backpack down and waited. And waited and
waited. About 2.5 hours in an SUV full
of young adults slowed down and began to pull over in front of me. I was elated at this change in fortune given
how long I had already been waiting, but my excitement quickly changed to
surprise and disgust as the passenger rolled down the window, gave me an aviary
salute, and then they sped away.
As the minutes ticked by I found myself depleting all of
my rations; the banana was long gone, the emergency can of tuna had been eaten
and I had already scraped what remained from my jar of peanut butter. And then, nearly at the 5 hour mark, a small
car pulled over and offered me a ride.
Inside sat Steve, a 50’s something man with white hair, dressed in
business casual and eating a giant ice cream cone. Even if I thought there was something odd
about Steve it didn’t really matter, I was ready to be gone from my roadside
prison in Mossburn. Steve proved to be
alright, but he was only going as far as Gore, a halfway point of my journey to
Dunedin. But it was late and I decided
to stay in that town whose citizens apparently have the nickname of
Gorons. One night was more than
enough. Gore was small, boring and
offered little to the traveler except maybe a place to refuel. Although on my way back from the grocery
store I was pretty sure I saw someone trying to steal a car. I’m not sure what to do in those situations
so I just watched a little as the man was using either a clothes hanger or pry
bar of sorts to enter this SUV, in broad daylight in the middle of Main
Street. If it wasn’t for the giant fish
at the town’s entrance then Gore wouldn’t even have been worth a photo.
So yesterday I awoke in my hostel and being the only one
there (no surprise) I made haste to exit.
It was Victor who stopped first, a 28 year old Mexican guy who left home
to discover the countryside of the rest of the world. And test the NZ speed limits. I’m not even sure where he dropped me off but
we got there with time to spare. Turns
out we turned off the main highway and before I knew it I was standing out
front of a café in the middle of nowhere.
I ordered a cup and sat on the road counting the lack of traffic. I suppose by percentage of vehicles seen then
this was the best spot. But considering
I only saw 7 in an hour it’s a miracle that one stopped. I didn’t catch her name but even if I had I
probably wouldn’t have remembered it.
That’s the thing with traveling, names just seem to float in and float
right back out. She was a student with
loans, car repairs and rent. It sounded
all too similar and yet distant. She
dropped me in Balclutha where I waited in the sun for 30 minutes until I got my
next ride. The name again escapes me but
it was an interesting trip. She was
early 40’s, full of conversation and a native Kiwi who now lives in Ireland on
a houseboat who was back for a short holiday.
We stopped at her friend’s house for a cup of coffee and only the kids
were home. They immediately began with a
plethora of questions. “Aren’t you
scared to hitch hike? Where are you
from? Do you know the Kardashians? Where do you sleep? Have you ever seen the Kardashians?” There’s something strangely fun about a
youthful inquisition. They wanted to
know more about America and why I was traveling. I did my best but when I left the one girl
still in disbelief and a little upset that I had never met anyone famous.
And so I finally arrived in Dunedin, a student city that
sits on the Eastern shore of New Zealand and is full of steep streets. For some reason I chose a hostel above all
others. Literally that is, the damn thing was at the top of the last hill. It has been windy and rainy since I arrived
but there is a break in the rain now at least.
It is even cold, the heaters in the hostel are on but their
effectiveness is a bit suspect. Alas I
will venture out and see what I can find to do in this city, indoors that is.
