Merino Wool and Jade

I drove out of Franz Josef the next morning while Ingrid rested. On the way to Queenstown, I found a nice little rest stop called Ship’s Creek. Ingrid and I got out and took two walks. The first was inland, along the actual creek for which the stop was named. The creek was very brown and was fed by surrounding swampland. A gravel path along the creek turned inland into the swamp as a wooden walkway. The swamp water mostly appeared black. It was covered in a lot of places with a water plant that looked like a nice green ground cover. In the swamp we also saw “dinosaur” trees, which were extremely old trees that have entire ecosystems growing in them (other plants and animals). The second trail led through a freshwater marsh that led to a freshwater pond that was separated with the ocean by some sand dunes. The drive took us through Haast, where we stopped at a merino wool and jade store. The jade craft is surprisingly expensive. New Zealand is fighting the influx of Chinese Jade, which, because of the cost, is putting stress on their craft. The merino store provided some good wool goods. And as the clerk was fairly helpful we decided to ask her recommendations on places to eat. There was one place to eat in Haas, but she was emphatic that, if we could stand to wait for an hour, we should stop in at the Country Café in Makarora. Thinking we got an awesome food tip, we headed off to Makarora and found the Country Café. Let me just say that the clerk either had never, ever, ever, tasted good food or she had the worst sense of food of anyone I have ever met. The Country Café was a tourist trap. It was the equivalent of an American mini-mart. There was a case of hot “pies” filled with meats or cheeses, some pre-made sandwiches (with loaf bread), and hot fish n’ chips (although not fresh). All was expensive, greasy, and decidedly not gluten-free, which I had been hoping for. Our tip was a complete bust, and I am still amazed at how bad it was. We stopped to admire the beautiful blue water of another lake before arriving at Queenstown and checking into the Bella Vista Hotel, which is a chain hotel in NZ. The room was average but as expected for a chain hotel. The good news was that the hotel was within walking distance of a large portion of downtown Queenstown. We settled on Luciano’s for dinner, an Italian restaurant right along the harbor. Once again we tried the green-lipped mussels. These were in a spicy tomato sauce that drowned out any of the refined flavors of the mussels and so did not suit our fancy. Ingrid had the special, a wild hare w/ a chocolate, tomato, and feta sauce and pappardelle noodles, which was good but not amazing – you couldn’t taste the chocolate out right but could taste it’s effect on the sauce; the hare was lean and dark and tasty (and not very gamy); I had sole with pancetta and potatoes and rocket (a lettuce of some sort); it was decent, although the olives were kind-of an after thought. The good thing from this restaurant was that we got a great tip from the friendly waitress for dinner the next evening.

The Franz Josef Glacier

The next day we lounged around till our helicopter tour (which was almost cancelled due to an incoming rainstorm). After a brief introduction to safety we were given galciar gear, waterproof pants, jackets, socks, and boots and taken to the launch site. Two groups (out of four) went at a time. We were in group #3 and were rushed to the helicopter after it returned. We quickly ascended toward the distant mountains, passing green trees growing out of the bare rock, waterfalls, and the lower tiers of the glacier. The lower tiers were very dirty and looked like a huge ice tongue between two mountains. The pilot took us above our landing spot and swooped left and right so that we could look all get many views of the monster we were traveling above. The helicopter set down on a landing pad that was a little smaller than the helicopter itself. A stone marred path led to a “safe area” where the group amassed. After everyone on the tour had arrived we received crampons, ice axes & satchels. Then the groups split off into two. We tramped around the glacier just below an ice waterfall. The ice was a brilliant shade of blue, which we hear was because it is so dense. There were multiple wet crossings, where the glacier had melted and formed pools or streams of water. We tramped into some very small caves and passed some large formations. At the end of the trip, fog started to close in and it began to rain. Back into the helicopter, where we got a view of the ocean before landing. For dinner, we decided to go to Fox Glacier, another town a few minutes south. What a miserable restaurant we happened upon - I actually can't believe we decided to eat there. We asked the waitress to check if anything was gluten free. After consulting with the chef, she said the chef said that the pasta was gluten free (yes, the wheat pasta) amongst other things. Despite the obvious ignorance about gluten, Ingrid and I decided to eat there (most likely because it was raining). We ordered, I the lamb shanks, Ingrid the chicken parmesan. Then we sat down beside a window that had mold sprouting out of the window panes (looked like little grasslets). Our water tasted very minerally and was not very appealing. And while we were sitting there, a table got up and left because the rice on someone's plate was frozen. Our meals were not horrible, but they were most unspectacular. Mine did not come with the vegetables that were advertised, but I did not complain. We ate and left in more rain.

Paparoa and The Blue Ice Cafe

In the morning we continued down the western coast, which from what we saw was an extraordinarily violent and turbulent coast. The surf consisted of about thirty feet of continuous frothy breakers, the nearest of which slammed into the beach like a hammer upon an anvil. We stopped at Paparoa National Park, which is known for pancake rocks and blowholes. I had no idea what pancake rocks were but we liked these little stops to stretch the legs. As it began to rain again, we walked along a paved path that meandered through rainforest and then flax field (flax is surprisingly tall). At the first opening through the flax we saw pancake rocks, which were really cool. They were essentially layers of rock stacked on top of one another (looking like pancakes) that had been eroded and weathered into cool shapes. We passed a number of formations until coming to the first blowhole, which is exactly what it sounds like—there are holes in the rocks, the bottoms of which are exposed to the sea. When the tide is high, waves crash below the holes sending spray up through the hole. Very, very cool to witness. The paved path, itself, wove across narrow ledges around various holes in the rock. We stopped at Greymouth for lunch. In doing my research for the trip, my friend Dave told me to skip Greymouth, as it was the biggest waste of time on his trip. On the last curve in the road before Greymouth, the skies opened in thunderous approval with Dave’s assessment of the town. We arrived at Franz Josef that night. Franz Josef is a small town with access to the Franz Josef glacier. The town is small and quaint with a lot of accommodations. We perused the many, many tour vendors situated on the main road. Ingrid and I evaluated our options for seeing the glacier. Because of Ingrid’s Achilles, knee, and back troubles (none serious) since our hike in Abel Tasman, so we decided to sign up for the modern adventure tour of sight seeing the glacier via helicopter. The soonest available tour was the following day at noon, so we wandered up to the recommended Blue Ice Café for dinner. The Blue Ice Café was an interesting little restaurant. It had classic New Zealand cuisine, although with an Asian flare. Again, we started off with the green-lipped mussels. These were served in a coconut curry broth with “capzican” (New Zealand for red and green peppers). Delicious broth, good mussels. I had the “Irish” – braised beef on mushrooms and mashed potatoes. It was topped by weird squid sausages (sausages cut and cooked to look like squid). The dish was beautiful but had a weird tang to it. Ingrid got the “Green” – lamb chops in a green herb sauce. The lamb was beautifully cooked and tender. We did get dessert, but it wasn’t worthy of not except for the title of Ingrid’s Banoffee Pie – a mixture of bananas and toffee.

Tidal Surprise

I awoke with the dawn. There were two possible trails away from Torrent Bay Village: a high-tide route and a low-tide route. I had planned on taking the high tide route in the morning, as low tide came at 3:30 AM, but when I awoke, the low tide route, which was right outside of our tent, was very passable. As the map showed the high-tide route taking a considerable detour, I quickly awoke a grumpy Ingrid and told her we were leaving. I packed up my things with the familiarity and quickness of a long-distance hiker and then watched the tide rise incredibly fast over the low-tide route as Ingrid packed painfully slow. In the fifteen minutes it took Ingrid to pack her things, the tidal flat (low-tide route), went from barren to half full of a thin layer of water, which crept ever further across the flat. The water literally moved over the flat at a foot per second. And by the time we reached the river close to the other side, the entire flat was covered. We took off our shoes, rolled up our pants, and waded across the river just in time to miss an extraordinarily unpleasant higher tide. We hiked on to Anchorage, where Ingrid nursed her ankle, forgave me for making her hurriedly pack and cross a rising tide, and I filled up our water. We debated waiting at Anchorage for a water taxi, given Ingrid’s ankle, but she decided she wanted to continue hiking. Another nine miles of stunning hiking brought us back to Marahau, where a very cute, but lame in one foot, dog met us at the bathrooms. We changed to clean clothes, played with the dog, walked to our car, and then drove to Westport along the western coast. When planning the trip, I decided to stop over at Westport because it split a six and a half hour drive between Abel Tasman and Franz Josef (our next exciting stopover). With such high expectations, Westport did not disappoint. It was cold and raining on and off when we arrived; the heater in our hotel did not work; the dryers (after we did laundry) did not come close to drying our clothes; the “best restaurant in town” had mediocre food, including our first venture with whitebait patties (whitebait is a very small fish that is hugely popular on the west coast) which were basically a fish omelet; the town architecture was comprised of cinderblocks and plywood, etc. The two saviors for Westport on our trip were the people were very nice and, at a convenience store, Ingrid and I found gluten-free fruity popcorn, which tasted like fruit-loops.

Abel Tasman Tidal Crossings

In the morning we went down to the beach to see the sunrise. It was an odd day of 12 or so miles, most of which had to be done after lunch because there were two tidal crossings in the day (the first couldn’t be attempted until after 1:30 PM). We slowly picked up our things and hiked the few miles to the first tidal crossing at Awaroa Bay, an expansive flat that was flooded with the tide and that had a river running out to the ocean. We waited on the shore, looking at sand crabs, clamshells, and birds. About 1:15 a trail runner arrived at the crossing. She took off her shoes by us and then ran the few hundred yards to where the water had receded, where she took off her pants. We watched curiously as she waded through the water, which went up to her nether region for another 50 yards of slow moving. I was ready to go after that, but Ingrid asked that we wait for another half hour or so, which we did. When we crossed, we were barefoot, and I could feel hundreds of clams beneath my feet. I kicked a few out to show Ingrid, wishing to scoop them up and take them on for dinner; but all wildlife in Abel Tasman is protected. Ingrid got a few pictures of the beautiful clamshells and we headed on to the Awaroa Hut. A quick fill of water, along with showing our tramping pass to the Ranger (we met two rangers along our hike, both of whom asked to see our tramping pass, neither of whom were friendly), and we headed south to the second crossing at Okarito. Ingrid’s ankle and knee were bothering her by this point (probably started during our hikes at Lochmara) so I felt bad that we had to do so many miles in half a day (I felt so bad, I took all of the food in my pack—can you say heavy?—we took about 4 days too much food). The Okarito crossing was a lot smaller than the Awaroa crossing and had beautifully colored and rippled sand with a driftwood graveyard beyond. A few more miles brought us to Torrent Bay Village, a small village that was largely deserted leading me to believe it is a summer get-a-way village. We pitched our tent alongside the bay and ate dinner within to get away from the sand flied.

Abel Tasman

After our Lochmara adventure ended we snagged some groceries in picton and drove along the northern coast (some along the Queen Charlotte Drive) to Marahau to catch a water taxi into the Abel Tasman National Park. The water taxi took us on a quick trip to split rock, which is the third most photographed “piece of real estate”, as the taxi driver told us, in all of new Zealand and then along the taxi route, which stopped at a half-dozen inlets or bays along the coast. The shoreline was stunning. Either golden-blond sand or rocky cliffs rose from the water—both back-dropped by lush hills. Ingrid’s and my trip ended 25 miles up the coastline at Totaranui, a large campsite that used to be a farm. After putting on warmer clothes, we headed off south on the Abel Tasman Coastal Track. This is one of the seven great hikes in New Zealand, and after traveling south not more than a half hour, it was clear why. The trail entered the forest, a lush band of ferns, palms, and other trees and foliage reminiscent of a rain forest, and ascended a small hill. Out of the branches and leaves we saw the coastline from above—the golden sand; the white foam of braking waves; the sea-green ocean; distant mountains of the Marlborough sound; and the nearby hills of Abel Tasman. The trail continued on, sometimes along the beach, sometimes in the forest. Only an hour’s hike took us to Waiharakeke Bay and our campsite for the night. The campsite was set back from the beach in a grassy nook behind a hill. This gave us nice shelter from the sea breeze and allowed us to hear the surf and birds. What a beautiful symphony to fall asleep to.

Lochmara Lodge

The following morning at Lochmara we took kayaks (free) out for a two and a half hour tour of the bay and saw a plethora of wildlife, mostly birds, but there were also mussels, sea urchins, jellyfish, and assorted fish. We chatted a bit with the artist in residence for the weekend, Rachel Olsen, whose style Ingrid liked very much, before dining at the Lochmara Lodge, where I had a very tasty bun-free venison burger and spicy fries and Ingrid had the best thai beef salad that she’s ever had. We donned our hiking gear, intent on getting up to the Queen Charlotte Track (an hour or so hike up the hill behind Lochmara Lodge), but on our way up the hill we decided to take a nap in one of the hundred or so hammocks strung out across the Lochmara property. Just before sleep snatched me away, it started to rain. Ingrid and I got out our rain jackets to cover us, and I managed to snag a quick nap before we decided to continue our rainy hike. Again, dinner was had at lochmara, where we dined on green-lipped mussels (this time in a coconut milk and ginger scallion broth) kingfish, and salmon. Most delicious food at Lochmara.

Wine Tasting

The rain the next day kept us from biking around to the wineries as I had planned. Instead we drove to a number of wineries for tastings, buying a few bottles for the rest of the trip. My favorite, by far, was a Riesling from a winery called Framingham. This was apparently one of the wines featured in the book 1000 wines to try before you die. From the wine tour, we went up the coast to Picton, a tourist trap and the main town with ferry service to the north island, where we caught a ferry to Lochmara Lodge, an artists retreat/resort in Lochmara Bay. The first thing we did after landing and checking in was to wander the dozens of hiking trails within the resort grounds, which were lined with interesting art sculptures, sheep, chickens, parakeets, and other assorted wildlife. Some of the more interesting sculptures were the punga people -- people carved into the base of various punga (fern) trees. We had a European style dinner of brie cheese, fermented venison & beef salami, apples, gluten-free corn crackers, and wine. So simple, yet so delicious.

Swimming With Dolphins

The next morning, Ingrid and I headed off for our dolphin encounter. The tour started off with full body wetsuits, as the water was close to 50 degrees Fahrenheit. After a quick movie that taught us about the wet suits we had just put on and what to do when in the water whilst swimming with dolphins (the trip, after all, was about us being entertaining to the dolphins as opposed to the other way around, so we learned to sing to, swim in circles around, and dive with the dolphins. After a quick bus trip to the wharf, we set off on a boat with our fellow swimmers (and a few observers) and traveled maybe 20 minutes south when the boat captain spotted a humpback whale in the water (an unusual occurrence for a humpback, so we were told). The boat got right up next to the whale, which was splashing about and not in any way intimidated by the boat. I got a stellar picture of the whale's tale out of the water. Then it was off to the dolphins. When the captain found a bottlenose pod that looked interested in swimming with humans (by coming up to the boat and showing off), all of the swimmers lined up on the back of the boat, feet dangling in the water, waiting for a horn to sound. The horn was our cue to slip into the water quietly and quickly and then to swim over to the dolphins. The water was cold and fairly murky, so it was difficult to see. I didn’t see any dolphins for a few minutes and occasionally looked up to the boat that would point in the direction of the dolphins, where we were to swim. Eventually, the swimmers made it to the pod of dolphins and then the playing commenced. The dolphins would up to you and make eye contact, then they would start to swim off. I swam in circles and chased after the dolphins for as long as my lungs would hold out and then start singing again to attract more dolphins. Time and time again, dolphins would approach and as I got more comfortable, I started to dive in the water, which I thought the dolphins like more than swimming in circles or singing. After the horn sounded again we swam back to the boat and changed into dry clothes for a little dolphin observing. The bottlenose dolphins were jumping out of the water, slapping tails, and more, as it was mating season and the dolphins wanted to attract attention. At last that tour ended and we headed up the coast to Blenheim, stopping at a small shack called Cay’s Crays for some lobster (New Zealanders call lobsters crayfish). The lobsters were good and fresh and unadorned and quite a bit cheaper than at the restaurants in town (NZ$21 vs NZ$90). Blenheim is located in the Malborough wine district, which is why we stopped over. The town was very drab (it didn’t help that it was raining) and the downtown lacked shopping and focus. But after checking into our hotel, which was fairly nice, we wandered down to a recommended restaurant (Bacchus) for dinner; and, dinner was absolutely amazing. The meal commenced at 6 PM. The interior of the restaurant was painted a deep purple/eggplant color; the tables were a light-colored wood; the daily specials were written on small chalkboards (one special per chalkboard) mounted to the walls. Ingrid and I decided to order a bottle of wine (a Spy Valley Merlot) for the evening, and as we normally do, we shared meals. The meal began with a seafood boulliabase (which had incredibly fresh seafood, including the famed green-lipped mussels, salmon, shrimp, & butterfish) and a mixed green salad with capers, sun-dried tomatoes and a tarragon-dill vinnagarette. For entrees, I had the braised beef (beef atop a winter mash of potatoes & turnips, spicy fries, and an intense wine reduction sauce); Ingrid had the rack of lamb (served au jous on mashed onion, carrot, and potatoes). Dessert was a rhubarb crumble and white chocolate mousse with passion fruit sauce, ice cream, and a meringue, all garnished with a powdered sugar dusted lavender flower.

Kaikoura Peninsula

The next day, we drove into the main part of Kaikoura, which is known for its seafood. We breakfasted at a small café in the downtown, where Ingrid had spaghetti on toast (exactly like it sounds). We booked a dolphin-swimming excursion for the next day and then walked around the peninsula, passing a road-side stand that sold fresh seafood platters for NZ$6 (which was around US$4 given the exchange rate) passed a seal colony, where the seals enjoyed grunting at us, up onto the hills that form the interior of the peninsula and which were covered with pastures, baby cows, and plenty of cow patties. Dinner that night was in The Pier Hotel, where we first tasted green-lipped mussels, a New Zealand specialty. The mussels were in a white wine, butter, and garlic broth, which was sooo delicious.

Hanmer Hotsprings

Ingrid and I made it to New Zealand just fine, after some initial drama at Dulles. I booked our tickets through Air New Zealand, one of the nicer airlines in the world, which stated that tickets bought together would have seats together. The leg from Dulles to Los Angeles was on United (a sister carrier of Air New Zealand), which apparently does not have the same policy of sitting with the others you bought tickets for. What a crappy airline. Fortunately, some of United’s employees (at the gate) were very nice and upgraded us to seats together and with extra legroom. A little over 24 hours later, after a wonderful flying experience in Air New Zealand economy (gluten-free meals, personal televisions with music, movies, tv shows, game shows, etc, free champagne, wine with dinner, etc.), we arrived in Christchurch, NZ. A quick trip to the Thrifty counter provided us with an upgraded (for free) rental car (automatic, which was good for Ingrid). We had an afternoon to kill between the airport and Kaikoura, our first town, so we decided to drive up to Hanmer Hotsprings for the acclaimed thermal pools. The town was cute, but very small, and seemed to be built around the hot springs, which were a little too commercial for my tastes. After paying a few dollars, you walk out to what looks like a cross between an outdoor swimming pool and a water park. The grounds were unspectacularly manicured. The pools were designer swimming pools with faux rocks; and the water was fairly sulphery, making for unpleasant smells. From Hanmer, we drove the gamut of New Zealand roads. We followed some seemingly main roads (navigating from the atlas we bought at the airport) to Kaikoura, a small town on the eastern coast. But first to the roads. They are narrow, which isn’t such a problem because the cars are also narrow. But one of the roads we chose to follow suddenly turned into a narrow gravel road for some 20-30 miles. And then at nearly every single bridge, the roads narrow into one-lane road with right of ways determined by arrows. Not a bad idea, but it took a little getting used to. In Kaikoura, we stayed at the Donnegal House, a lovely Irish hotel that overlooks a chain of snow-capped mountains. Our room opened out onto the beautiful gardens and cow pastures, which we spent a little time roaming before dinner, where we found out that my aunt Karen had arranged to pay for our accommodations as a wedding gift.