When my friend, Nicky, invited me on a camping trip to celebrate her birthday, I wasn't quite sure what to expect. I'd never really been camping with friends before, and my NZ camping experiences were confined to Department of Conservation (DoC) campsites to save money while traveling around. To me, camping means solitude, songs and stories around a campfire, star gazing and an uncomfortable nights sleep. Imagine my surprise, then, when 15 people arrived to set up a close-knit a ring of tents, each large enough to stand in, pulled out their air mattresses, and carried the keg over to the campfire. The girls spent the afternoon chatting and trying to start a fire, while the guys played cricket. Once evening fell, the guys cooked half a cow on the full-sized barbecue, and the race to finish the keg began. And while I may have been wrong about the solitude, the other facets quickly became apparent. An ipod attached to what looked like a car battery with speakers blasted everything from Bruce Springstein (probably the last place I would have expected to hear "Proud to Be an American") to Katie Perry. When Bohemian Rhapsody came on, the singing commenced. I'm still not convinced that anyone but me knew the words (thanks to my high-school string quartet!), but what they lacked in knowledge, they made up for with heart. As the night progressed, the clouds cleared (a miraculous occurrence that close to Dunedin), revealing the beauty of the southern night sky. Someone showed me the Southern Cross, and I spent much of the night trying to find Orion's belt. When it was finally bedtime, I fell asleep on a holey air mattress, complete with sheets and my duvet cover (since my sleeping bag hadn't come in the mail yet, I basically brought my entire bed), and woke up the next morning on the ground and covered with dew.
Unfortunately, I couldn't stay to watch all of the antics my new-found friends employed to rid themselves of the post-keg hangover (which apparently included lots of gatorade and jumping into the nearby, muddy, COLD, river), because I needed to drive up to Wanaka to make a speech for the Rotary club up there (in retrospect, I was quite glad I knew I had to give this presentation, because it saved me from what looked like a very painful hangover).
In Wanaka, Eddy and I spent the first day riding our Rotary host's bikes on the lakeside trail from Wanaka to Albert Town. I had never been "mountain biking" before (and this barely counted as mountain biking, but there were the occasional hills and roots!), and I loved the feel of rushing along the trail. The fall colours were absolutely beautiful, and the lake was, as always, a breathtaking shade of blue. Riding back was not quite as much fun - the wind picked up, and I realized the the initial trip was so easy because it had been downhill the entire way - but equally breathtaking. Our hosts, Duncan and Rosemary, were ex-school teachers who were eager to hear my take on American politics while feeding me mounds of cous-cous and chicken, perhaps the healthiest meal I have experienced yet in NZ.
The second day was spent getting to and hiking up to the Rob Roy Glacier. In our 1 hour drive to the trail-head, we forded 8 small rivers. In a small, 4-door sedan. I now understand why so many Kiwis have 4-wheel drive and snorkels on their cars. But Little Black (the car came with that name...it was part of the reason I bought it) did quite well, and emerged only slightly dented (and washed!) from the ordeal. The first bit of the walk was through a cow field, then switchbacked sharply through the bush. On one break, I could see Mt. Aspiring in front of me, the glacier above, and a few hundred sheep migrating purposefully towards a cliff below me. Eddy and I watched the sheep for a quite a while and decided that sheep migration could serve as an accurate model of simple diffusion. A bit further on our walk, a second break introduced us to a New Zealand organism both more native and less prolific than sheep: the Kea. The world's only alpine parrot apparently knows that tourists get tired at the top of big hills, and sit and wait for you at the provided benches in hopes of getting fed. Bright green and black, the bird blended in perfectly with the shadows, making it very difficult for me to get a picture. Less than a half hour later, I emerged from the bush to the grandeur of the glacier. Waterfalls plummeted from the cliffs, crevasses so streaked the blue-white ice, and we sat and ate lunch as the sun set (at 1pm) behind the mountain. It got cold real fast once the sun had left the track, so we scurried back down the track, down the 23km of unsealed, unbridged road back to civilization.
Unfortunately, I couldn't stay to watch all of the antics my new-found friends employed to rid themselves of the post-keg hangover (which apparently included lots of gatorade and jumping into the nearby, muddy, COLD, river), because I needed to drive up to Wanaka to make a speech for the Rotary club up there (in retrospect, I was quite glad I knew I had to give this presentation, because it saved me from what looked like a very painful hangover).
In Wanaka, Eddy and I spent the first day riding our Rotary host's bikes on the lakeside trail from Wanaka to Albert Town. I had never been "mountain biking" before (and this barely counted as mountain biking, but there were the occasional hills and roots!), and I loved the feel of rushing along the trail. The fall colours were absolutely beautiful, and the lake was, as always, a breathtaking shade of blue. Riding back was not quite as much fun - the wind picked up, and I realized the the initial trip was so easy because it had been downhill the entire way - but equally breathtaking. Our hosts, Duncan and Rosemary, were ex-school teachers who were eager to hear my take on American politics while feeding me mounds of cous-cous and chicken, perhaps the healthiest meal I have experienced yet in NZ.
The second day was spent getting to and hiking up to the Rob Roy Glacier. In our 1 hour drive to the trail-head, we forded 8 small rivers. In a small, 4-door sedan. I now understand why so many Kiwis have 4-wheel drive and snorkels on their cars. But Little Black (the car came with that name...it was part of the reason I bought it) did quite well, and emerged only slightly dented (and washed!) from the ordeal. The first bit of the walk was through a cow field, then switchbacked sharply through the bush. On one break, I could see Mt. Aspiring in front of me, the glacier above, and a few hundred sheep migrating purposefully towards a cliff below me. Eddy and I watched the sheep for a quite a while and decided that sheep migration could serve as an accurate model of simple diffusion. A bit further on our walk, a second break introduced us to a New Zealand organism both more native and less prolific than sheep: the Kea. The world's only alpine parrot apparently knows that tourists get tired at the top of big hills, and sit and wait for you at the provided benches in hopes of getting fed. Bright green and black, the bird blended in perfectly with the shadows, making it very difficult for me to get a picture. Less than a half hour later, I emerged from the bush to the grandeur of the glacier. Waterfalls plummeted from the cliffs, crevasses so streaked the blue-white ice, and we sat and ate lunch as the sun set (at 1pm) behind the mountain. It got cold real fast once the sun had left the track, so we scurried back down the track, down the 23km of unsealed, unbridged road back to civilization.
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