Wellington to Auckland

July 28, 2008
Well, massive swells on a huge vessel are profoundly soporific. We yawned until our jaws practically unhinged and cat-napped on the arms of our chairs (except Zada, who was frantic to be out on deck to be buffeted by the gale force winds and splashed with sea spray from the immense waves breaking against the ship’s sides). We got into Wellington late and just crawled into our mallard-littered campground. It was raining – just as it did last time we were here for a couple of days.
Today, the weather was fine for the early morning – only very light intermittent drizzle. Even though we have to get to Tongariro today, which will be a big drive, we wanted to go back to Te Papa. Now that school is back in and it is a week day, we could get through the galleries much easier and see some things we missed.
Most notable of these was Bush City. This is a marvelous garden complex they have attached to the museum. Interpretive markers detail interesting facts about what Wellington was like before they built the city. They have a wonderful faux cave set-up with stalactites and panels showing the formation process. There is a pool and an artificial glow worm grotto also.
As you exit the gardens there is a huge “bottle biome” arrangement. I have tried this so many times (obviously on a much smaller scale) and mine always just kill the fish. This thing was incredible! There were four tiers of 2 liter bottles filled about ¼ of the way up with some sort of gravel/growing medium. The bottles had cut-aways on the sides for the plants. Each level of bottles was connected to the next by aquarium tubing and the bottom level’s bottles dripped directly into the large open aquarium. I went straight-away into teacher mode and began lecturing Zada on the system. We drew a small crowd of young locals who wanted to know if we were schoolteachers and began asking questions.
I am inspired to risk some more fish in the endeavor to build one of these again. Wish me (and the fish) luck.
After the museum it was back to the Beast for some more hours on the road. We are really reworking and pinching the schedule to accommodate the weather. The current forecast is that it will be pretty awful until we leave. Sad, if it happens, but we cannot complain at all. We have had extraordinary luck with so very many clear days. The real problem is that we left Bay of Islands, The Kauri coast and the Coromandel peninsula until last because it was a lot of beach-type activities and we thought the weather would be steadily warming and clearing. I don’t know where we got that idea, but it appealed to us and we made plans with it.
Our new plan was to race to see Tongariro, Ngauruhoe and Ruapehu as quick as possible before the next killer storm (scheduled for Wednesday) hits. The effects of this last storm were pretty dreadful and we saw several frozen sheep carcasses on the drive to Okahune. We made it safely to the carrot capitol of NZ (yes, they have a giant carrot here in a small park and we heartbreakingly just missed the annual carrot festival too!), and are all set to try a few small walks along the mountain drive early tomorrow before it starts raining.

July 29, 2008
Okay, so the people at the information center that sold us the Tongariro National Park walks guide COULD have told us that the car parks and trailheads to the waterfall trail and few other short day hikes are buried in snow from plowing the road. Yes, well, the hiking part was fairly unsatisfactory, but we could see the “Rimu Walk” and the waterfall from the “Mountain Scenic Drive”, which is what we ended up doing when we found we couldn’t pull over or access the trails.
Ah well, we had a most frightening (for me, Brad & Zada are apparently indifferent to ice covered hairpin turns at steep inclines with no guard rails or barriers of any kind) drive up to the ski area, where Brad and Zada played in the snow and I contemplated mortality.
We crept down the same horrible way we had gone up and made all speed for Rotorua. We wanted to visit the city museum and the Agrodome and the other things we missed when we flew through the first time (all these things have the benefit of being indoors and good thing too as it started to rain at about noon and shows no sign of ever stopping).
We made such excellent time that we went out to the Agrodome for the 2:30 “experience”. It was really good. They impart a huge amount of information about several of NZ’s most important industries in a very entertaining way. We became acquainted with the 19 commercial breeds of sheep and their various unique aspects and uses. I was stunned to learn that the dairy industry was actually NZ’s biggest – I really thought it was sheep. We saw sheepdogs work and learned about their breeding and training. We saw a sheep sheared and learned that a Kiwi holds the world’s record for this (729 sheep sheared by one extremely tired individual in a nine hour period). After the shearing, the different grades of wool were explained and then we saw the process continued with cleaned fleeces being sent through a 109 year old carding machine and then spun into yarn by hand on a spinning wheel.
The stage show pulled people onstage to learn to milk a cow, and to feed lambs. It was much more fun than we expected and we picked up a lot of good information and material for our NZ culture kits. It would never do to go home without any sort of contact with the creature that defines NZ in popular imagination.

July 30, 2008
Well, the forecast was wonderfully accurate for today. The rain lashed and the fierce winds buffeted the campervan all night. The unearthly howling somehow complementing the staggering rotten-egg odor (don’t forget, we are back in geo-thermal wonderland and marvelous as all that hot pool, geyserish sort of thing is, it really stinks) and both combining to ensure a not so restful night.
Ah well, we were up and out to the Rotorua Museum of Art and History. This is housed in a marvelous faux Tudor/ colonial building set in the grounds of the Government Gardens. The edifice is celebrating its centennial this year. It started life as a magnificent bath-house – along the lines of those in Hot Springs National Park’s Bath-house Row, but on a much grander scale. The bath-house industry represents the second incarnation of this area’s tourism drawing card. This same region was home to the celebrated “Pink” and “White” terraces – dubbed the “Eighth Wonder of the World” by Rudyard Kipling.
Well-to-do adventurous souls came from all over to view these marvels and roads and a healthy hotel and guiding industry grew to meet the needs of the travelers. All this came to an abrupt and horrible halt with the eruption of Tarawera in 1886. At least 120 people were killed as the mountain (sacred to the local tribes and the repository for their ancestors’ remains) rent itself in two, sending up enormous multi-kilometer jets of volcanic material. The entire area was devastated and the famed terraces were no more.
The museum has marvelous exhibits detailing the history and development of this area. It is a very small museum, but the exhibits are extremely well done, with lots of primary source material delivered in a variety of formats. The community has really supported this endeavor to preserve their local history and many donated photographs, anecdotal accounts, letters, postcards and photographs lend a real richness and human dimension to the displays.
The same loving attention and respect for personal history permeates the equally absorbing galleries devoted to the 28th Maori Battalion. These troops were legendary for their valor and insouciance in action during both World Wars. They paid a terrible price for their courage, with the death of one out of every six of their number. A number of personal effects and accounts and photographs of the soldiers line the walls of this exhibit.
All of this regard for “stories” (this museum’s logo says “where great stories begin…”) has really captured my interest in terms of writing project for my students. At Te Papa I saw a beautifully carved stick with a number of protruding notches. This was for recalling generations – incredibly there were 18 notches on this stick – the idea of being able to orally recount 18 generations of your family is absolutely flabbergasting to me. I love history and am a Southern woman into the bargain – I mean I thought I was pretty up on this genealogy thing, but apparently not. Anyhow, I want to use these incredible examples we’ve been collecting to inspire my students to begin collecting their own stories. I want them to make little Fimo Southwestern “storyteller” figures and to capture their own history in as many mediums as we can dream up.
The northern wing of the building is dedicated to its own heyday as a splendid bathhouse. The descriptions of “the cure” were all so gruesome to me that it quite put me off visiting any of the contemporary spas this neighborhood is buried in. We read about the variety of baths and treatments available to treat all sorts of unattractive ailments. I could not recover from the “Rachel Bath” concept – that and the “Priest Bath” seemed to be a group (gender separate) experience. So you pile two or three individuals all suffering some disgusting skin disease or whatever and put them in the same water to steep. MMMMM! Medicinal! Then there were the variety of electric treatments, radium infused waters and x-ray treatments. The cooling room was very elegantly appointed and had displayed some of the original “instruments” utilized in the treatments in glass cases. Lastly, we descended into the basement to view the mud baths. The highly corrosive nature of the thermal waters has made maintaining the place an impossibility since the day it opened. The basement area gives you a close up view of rusted plumbing, gaps in the walls and so on. The management thoughtfully provides hard hats for touring this portion.
All in all a very enjoyable way to spend a day – especially a day where it rained sideways – all day long. We cannot complain. The news told us we had decided wisely by racing back up to Rotorua, the weather has been monstrously destructive elsewhere in NZ – flooding, roofs off, huge trees uprooted, tens of thousands without power. We are just wet. Back to the window/door open thing for a moment here. Okay, they are so very hardy they keep them all open in the cold and wind; surely they shut them in torrential downpours? No, you are wrong! Why would you close them? How would the dreadful plague of small birds render your café experience into an aviary experience if the door was shut? How can the onslaught of these flying, perpetually excreting beasts not bother anyone, but me? Okay, I am a bad person, I admit it. I hate birds. I especially hate birds indoors anywhere near my food and drink.
Enough ranting. After a very quick cup of coffee at the aviary/café we paddled back to the campground, roundly berating ourselves for forgetting to put on the stupid rain pants we dragged halfway around the world. Now we are all clean, warm and dryish (it is still raining sideways) and plotting our next move as the Coromandel Peninsula is still no. We might linger here, watching how far more entertaining other peoples elected bodies are. Seriously, compare the deadly dull sessions of our houses versus the wild carryings-on of the British, Australian and NZ parliaments.
More tomorrow, from wherever we end up.

July 31, 2008
Today was a huge driving day. We drove from Rotorua up to the Coromandel Peninsula. The weather continues to be terrible, but we have plotted a route that avoids any of the road closures. We are extremely fortunate that we have been able to keep out of the path of the worst of it. Several lovely places we just came through have been seriously battered by these awful storms.
We made it to Hahei beach and our campground has a fantastic position right on the beachfront. We went for a long explore up and down the beach and then settled in for an early evening of Uno, Pass the Pigs and a movie while yet another enormous storm blew up and rattled the windows.

August 1, 2008
Narnia and the North! Well, north anyways, even if not really Narnia. We had a wonderful walk out to the Cathedral Cove. The walk leads you through some lovely fern forest and we saw the curled up fronds that are one of the major NZ symbols, the koru, everywhere. It was the usual decadent fecundity – the very rocks seem to be green and growing here. After a side trip to Stingray Bay (the beach was still inaccessible, only the boulder field out of the reach of the tide) we arrived at Cathedral Cove.
It completely lives up to the hype. The beach is unbelievably beautiful, with glistening pink sands, the eponymous cathedral-like arch and a waterfall! The waterfall even casts spectacular rainbows, yes; it is an absurdly beautiful place. We ran here and there trying to take it all in. As if gorgeous isn’t enough, there were also several interesting fossil remains clearly visible in the cliff face. The limestone of the surrounding cliffs is eroding into fantastic shapes and obviously, the most fantastic feature is the enormous arch. It is a lot bigger than I expected – it is easily 70 feet long and probably 30 feet high. The echo factor was rigorously tested by Zada and is quite remarkable.
The arch acts as a frame for Te Hoho, a lovely pointed limestone pinnacle, now separated from the cliff face by 100 feet or more. The whole scene is deliriously beautiful. I could carry on in this vein for another 500 or 600 words, but Brad is nagging at me to hurry up and confirm the rental car details for our return.
After our return from Narnia, we hiked back up the trail and this time took the side path to visit Gemstone Bay. We found a huge boulder field, but not so many gemstones. If I haven’t driveled on about it in this posting yet, let me here mention the spectacularly beautiful color of the water. Colors, I should say as the shallower areas perfect aquamarine is dappled here and there with a radiant, deep Mediterranean blue. It is a horrible distraction when driving and the roads in this area look (as usual) like an EKG gone awry.
We encountered a wedding party on the way down to the cove as we made our way back – what an amazing place to be married! What devoted (and hardy) family they must have to haul the decorations, tables, chairs and food up and down that trail! It was a lovely hike, but there were several blowdowns and a few washed-out areas. Ah well, “the path of true love…”
Our next destination was the “Hot Water Beach”. This beach is sitting atop a magma intrusion approximately 2k beneath the surface. Reservoirs of water sit above the magma and bubble to the surface.
Everyone brings a spade and digs a little personal spa. Most people do anyway; we just made little footbaths and then ran squealing into the surf when it got too hot. The water is 60 degrees Celsius – which is too hot unless tempered with some of the icy ocean water. Getting into just the right spot took some serious jockeying.
We admired the sturdy Kiwi souls who braved the beach in their Speedos to sit in a self-dug pool – admired, but did not emulate. It is the middle of winter here and though the sun shone with its accustomed devastating brightness, it was not in any way warm.
After an enjoyable hour or so of parboiling we returned to the car and began to travel the slippery, winding road toward the Northland.

August 2, 2008
We drove out to Matakohe to visit the Kauri Museum. It is a very interesting place – lots of pioneer and settler history. They have some wonderful tableau set up showcasing the furnishings and appointments of mid 19th century upper-middle class society. The mannequins were modeled on local descendants of the people they were representing and they had a very nice collection of period clothes and personal accoutrements – splendid toilet sets, glove stretchers, bootlacers, button-hooks and so on. They had lace sample books, curling tongs and willow pattern china. Then it was onto the galleries devoted to the loggers and gum-diggers.
These were not quite so decorative and lovely, but still rich in detail and personal articles. Again we see the tremendous support these museums receive from local inhabitants, who so generously give their stories and family treasures.
The museum holds samples (huge gorgeous slabs actually) of every wood in New Zealand. The walls are covered in these glowing, polished planks. There are superb examples of woodworkers’ art from various periods – gorgeous inlaid tables, elaborately carved sideboards, intricately designed pianos and organs.
A distinctly unique gallery was the “Gum Room”. Kauri “gum” is the resin from the tree. It hardens into a beautiful, transparent golden colored nugget. These were prized by collectors and used for a variety of industrial purposes, such as linoleum making. This gallery holds what appears to be hundreds of these glowing golden hunks of hardened sap. There are elaborately crafted forms – a cathedral, a ship and so on and simple, highly polished blobs. Gum-digging seems to have been an even more horrible livelihood than logging.
Kauri trees are immense; it is hard to believe that so many were so cavalierly destroyed. The saw mill gallery made clear it wasn’t easy. The size of the saws they had to use to bring them down and then shape them for transport were incredible. A single section of Kauri log took 16 bullocks to haul – some portions (a single individual section) requiring 32 bullocks! The Northland used to be covered in these mighty giants, but today they exist only in one small 16 kilometer forest reserve. Actually, small patches of two or three trees are preserved in a couple of other places, but this is the only real concentration of them today.
Waipoua Forest was our next destination. The usual dramatic winding, weaving steep roads rendered that much more exciting by the recent (and ongoing) rain. The roadside is littered with slips and rockslides. Most of these are small or already tidied up (the NZ road works department is seriously on the ball with the wash-outs and rock piles). Some few were pretty serious, with huge, raw looking craters in the cliff side and the enormous pile of displaced material all over the place.
We oohed and ahhed and craned our necks to see to the tops along the drive and stopped for the trails to the “4 Sisters”, “the Father of the Forest” and “the Lord of the Forest”. These are seriously big trees. The last named, called Tane Mahouta, is over 51 meters high and the tallest living Kauri tree. As big as the trees we gaped at today seem, the loggers who all but wiped them out recorded trees almost twice as big (before they chopped them down to make Victorian sideboards and commodes).
The rain was REALLY coming down by now and the wind howling in a most threatening manner. As most of the streams and rivers we’d driven past earlier were all but out of their banks we got back on the road and headed for Paihia in the Bay of Islands area.

August 3, 2008
We reached Paihia as the sky opened and began to destroy the earth. The wind was screaming like a thousand souls in torment and trying to tear the roofs from the buildings. Rain was falling like bullets and we simply could not face camping. It rains like that in Houston, not NZ. We caved in and got a hotel room. Zada was so happy. That bear loves few things like staying in a hotel. She was even happier when she discovered we had Sky TV and she could watch the rugby game. She has developed a bizarre passion for the incomprehensible game. She can watch enthusiastically while Brad and I sit there bewildered and asking, “Is that a penalty? Why?” “Can you kick people in the head? Is he throwing that guy in the air?”
We even tuned in in time to see the All Blacks perform the “Haka”. This is a traditional Maori war dance and it is done before every match. Zada was in heaven. She fell in love with the Haka in Rotorua, when we attended a Maori concert. Anyhow, just to make for a perfect evening, the All Blacks defeated the Wallabies (Australia’s National team).
This morning the sky was blue and the sun was shining. Pahia looked like postcard of a perfect resort town. Everything was gleaming and shining in the sun. It looked like a perfect day to see the famed Bay of Islands, so we booked spots on a cruise out to Cape Brett and the “Hole in the Rock”. The vessel was named “Dolphin Seeker” -auspicious, we thought, which just shows what you get for thinking.
The weather turned before we were even decently out of the harbor and continued to toy with us for the entire rest of the day. It would clear, the islands would bloom into life – rich green jewels, shining in the sparkling bay; without warning rain would fall, shrouding everything in grim gray. It was like the Wizard of Oz – you’re over the rainbow – glorious color, now you’re in Kansas. Why did Dorothy want to go back? Anyhow, these monkey tricks made the sea wild and rollicking – huge swells starting developing and our trip was limited to a cruise around the islands and an exploration of the interior of the bay.
We stopped off at Urupukapuka Island for an hour and enjoyed exploring the beach. This island was home to Zane Grey’s fishing camp in the 1920’s/30’s. We found several urchins, mussels and a couple of sea stars.
The area is really lovely, and I can just imagine what an incredible place it is for water sports when the weather is more reliable. Also, we saw only one gannet as opposed to the welter of frolicking dolphins, penguins and orcas disporting themselves so merrily on the brochure. Ah well. The ice cream in this town is amazing and that is a considerable consolation.
We drove down to Warkworth and were treated to the most spectacular rainbows ever – they stretched completely across the sky and were amazingly vibrant. You could actually see them on the ground and we were looking at the countryside through a prism. Rainbow cows, sheep, farmhouses and construction equipment – it was truly lovely.

August 4, 2008
Well, everything cannot work out as planned and this morning certainly didn’t. We hoped to take a glass-bottomed boat ride around Goat Island. Goat Island was one of the first marine reserves in NZ. The visibility is supposed to be up to 10 meters in ideal conditions and the area is home to a staggering variety of sea life. Obviously, a glass bottom boat should be fantastic here (diving or snorkeling would have been even better, but you put on a bathing suit when it is 7 or 8 degrees Celsius). Incredibly, we drove around Leigh – and every other hamlet in the area – for more than an hour and could not find the place. Its ad said, “Located near Leigh”. Somehow, that just wasn’t enough for us and after an hour we gave up – it had started to rain again anyway.
We drowned our sorrows in honey at the “Honey Centre” in Warkworth. Honey is yet another one of NZ’s big agricultural industries. Their Manuka honey is wonderfully delicious and supposedly has numerous health and medicinal benefits. We watched thousands of bees industriously labor as we feasted on honey treats – their café makes honey everything on earth and it is all divine.
The attendant shop carried a line of everything you can possibly make out of anything associated with bees and a large line of the popular “Buzzy Bee” toys and paraphernalia. They have a huge sampling table where you can compare Manuka, wildflower, clover and Rewarewa honey.
After this it was off to Auckland, where we must clean up the “Beast” and generally begin to pull ourselves together for our return.

Te Anau to Wellington

July 21, 2008
All that can be said about Milford Sound is that it is ridiculous. Ridiculously beautiful, ridiculously lush, ridiculously ringed in snowcapped peaks and so on. The drive out to the sound was fraught with peril – first we were besieged by sheep. We were charmed to see a farmer? rancher? and his sheep dogs manipulating a large herd, until they “worked” them out into the road to move up to their next grazing field (I am making this up; I have no idea why they were being moved). Sheep are not very speedy animals and they lack the ability to focus on the task at hand. They scattered all along the roadside, stopping to snack on roadside hedges every few feet. There were sheep in front of us, bleating and baaahing to beat the band, sheep behind us, sheep trotting alongside the van. Zada was in heaven. She loves sheep. She never tires of seeing them; she must have seen several million by now, yet at each new flock she exclaims, “LOOK! SHEEP!”
The next danger we faced were the spectacular vistas – glorious views extended as far as the eye could see for 360 degrees. It made paying any attention to the steep, winding track a near impossibility. We gave ourselves 4 hours to complete the route that should take under 2 and we needed every minute as we had to pull over at every viewpoint (prior to the avalanche zone, where we virtuously did not stop at all despite tremendous provocation from magnificent photo ops). I took over 388 pictures and Brad took some horrific amount of video – all of which must now be pruned and edited. Zada, with greater restraint, took only 128 pictures. We stopped to photograph the myriad splendors at Te Anau flats, the Eglinton River (at several points) and most notably “The Chasm”.
At one stop, just before the Homer tunnel and the really hairy section of road, we got out to let Zada kick some snow around (and take some more photographs) when a kea flew up to check us out. They are the world’s only alpine parrot, and bigger than I expected. Keas have greenish-brown plumage and a wickedly curved beak – with which they like to rip off weather stripping from cars and generally tear things up. It was not in the least shy and was coming perilously close to the van when we were saved by a tour bus offering more scope for destructive tendencies.
The Homer tunnel is a somewhat terrifying construction. It is roughly hewn directly out of the mountain (the huge, icy mountain that seems like it must crush you as you enter the tunnel) and slopes downward – it also seemed to be rather full of water. I couldn’t help but think that it could easily become a giant ice rink if the temperature dropped just a degree or two. Once you clear the tunnel, the fun driving really begins – the road plunges and corkscrews down to the sound. The views are stunning, but you scarcely dare to look. I was having chest pains and palpitations until we reached the bottom.
The Chasm was a gorgeous waterfall? This seems a rather weak way to describe this extraordinary water feature. There certainly is a point, at which the water falls dramatically into the stream below, but this is the least of it – the water has dug an incredible, elaborate obstacle course for itself through the boulders. It has bored holes through the middle of some enormous rocks, carved out the sides of others into serpentine arabesques, while undermining other mossy slabs by removing the base material they rest on. The water here, like everyplace else, is of a superb clarity. As it rushes it is an almost unearthly blue color under its froth of white foam, and here and there where it flows more quietly, you can see every detail on the bottom.
Yes, all that and I haven’t yet begun to drivel on about the sound itself, our cruise, the trip to the underwater observatory or all the rest of it.
The sound was gorgeous, of course. Mitre Peak is the single most photographed peak in all of NZ and we did our duty nobly to keep its numbers up. Sadly, again, I do not understand how to compensate for the light in this hemisphere! It is so piercingly brilliant, you can feel it burning your retinas out of your head. When you can stand to look, it shows everything around you with this kind of hyper-clarity. What you see is in glorious Technicolor and sharp as a razor; what you photograph is bleached-out and the radiance is transmuted into mist. Profoundly irritating for me, but probably lifesaving for most of you, as it is radically diminishing the number of pictures I will make you look at when we get back.
We took the “Encounter” expedition with the Red Boat company. This is a very small boat that doesn’t follow a set itinerary – they chase down the most interesting bits of natural whatever that happen to be going on that day. We were taken right up to the edge of the rock face in the sound and could practically touch the overhanging greenery. We learned a great deal about the fiordlands area – there are a visible series of “shelves” that show the gouging out process during different glacial events. The sound in its current incarnation is the result of five such events. The cliff faces and outcrops are covered in incredibly lush growth – even more incredible when you realize that there is no soil layer at all. Extremely sturdy lichens provide a base for moss. The mosses allow ferns and various other small and undemanding plants to grow. This “carpet” then somehow is a sufficient support for trees. Some of these trees are enormous. It is impossible to believe that they are anchored to the rock only by the tenacity of some moss and lichens. We saw some “tree avalanche” scars. The trees’ roots eventually become the glue that binds a whole section of this rockbound plant life together. When the lead tree goes, it rips out everything attached to it and under it.
We also investigated a number of waterfalls. You could trace their circuitous paths back up to the snowy peaks above. They were absolutely gorgeous; some of the smaller falls were particularly lovely. We went in for a close look at the “Pixie” and the “Fairy” falls, so called because of the way they catch the light and create spectacular rainbows all around. We also went under a couple of waterfalls and enjoyed squealing and being completely soaked in freezing water (the interior cabins were heated and hot coffee and tea flowed generously throughout the voyage).
The boat visited several outposts of young bachelor NZ fur seals and we were corrected about these animals – they are in fact small sea lions, not seals at all. We had wondered about their hopping around on those back flippers and now we know. One poor youngster had recently been bested in a turf war and had a huge chunk of hindquarter (or whatever you call the backside of a seal/sea lion) missing.
We were extraordinarily lucky to see yellow-crested penguins, normally they don’t return from their winter grounds for another month or two. This was our third type of penguin and was tremendously exciting for all on board. Again, the captain of the vessel showed off the maneuvers of the Lady Bowen and practically landed the boat on the rock shore right next to the penguins.
After the penguins we landed at the underwater observatory. This is a floating, reverse aquarium – we are in the tank while the sea life swims around looking at us. This was a fascinating place! We were 7 meters under the sound in a floating box with 5 inch thick specialized $10,000.00 German plexi-glass windows all around. The special quality of the glass is it doesn’t distort at all, in spite of its tremendous bulk. We saw all sorts of sea stars, sea cucumbers, anemones and corals of every description. The mussels seemed to be having bad time of it with sea stars mobbing them and sucking them out of their shells. We walked round and round the tank in amazement; the views were incredible – the water (yes, again about the water and how clear) was so clean that the visibility was phenomenal.
Well, that is pretty much it (not really, and no matter how much you think I go on and on and on in these postings, I assure you, I could go on a lot more and probably will next time I see you). We re-boarded the boat and journeyed back to Te Anau where we ate ourselves silly at a marvelous Italian place. I do not understand the trim, healthiness of the Kiwis at all. The food here is amazing – everything is delicious, portions are practically up to American standards and butter is all but a beverage. Their desserts! Well, I won’t go down that track, but believe me, if you never come here for the gorgeous, come for the food.

7/22/08
We visited Queenstown today – the physical location of the city is amazing. It sits in a bay of the gloriously lovely Lake Wakatipu and looks across the pristine water onto the aptly named “Remakables” mountain range. The best view of the city is to be had from on high, so we took the gondola up and were rewarded for the expenditure. It is indeed a beautiful city. The luge was one of many options to entertain yourself after tiring of the view. There was also the ubiquitous bungee jumping and other adrenaline enhancing activities. I don’t know if we’ve mentioned yet that the whole nation is madly addicted to extreme sports and throwing themselves off of precipices and the like. Every hamlet has it bungee, sky swing, paragliding and jet boat action adventure center. Why walk or drive when you can helijump/ski/hike? Why look at the waterfall when you can jet boat over/through/under it?
We tamely came back down the mountain in the sedate gondola and went on our way to Wanaka. Wanaka is our jumping off point for a series of short hikes in Mt. Aspiring National Park. En route we passed our first LOTR filming site. Zada was ecstatic. The touring guide map book we have shows all the various locations from the movies – we passed the “river Anduin and the site of the “Pillars of the Kings”. It was indeed a gorgeous river and you can, in fact, bungee jump from huge iron trestles over it in two different locations.
Wanaka is also home to Puzzlingworld. As their advertising says, “a truly unique attraction”. The first thing we did was The Great Maze. After entering the maze in the middle the object is to get to the color coded towers in the 4 corners. There are about 1.5km of passages in the maze. There are a number of dead ends and it is possible to go in circles. There is also a second story to the maze which does not allow you to plan your route through the bottom floor as easily as you might think. We found our way to the first 3 towers in about 15 minutes, the green tower proved very difficult to get to. In the end we managed to find the tower and get to the exit in exactly 30 minutes which is the low end of average according to the signs.
Puzzlingworld also has Illusion Rooms. This starts with a series of holographic pictures, many of which change if you shift the angle from which you look. Next you enter an octagonal room in which you are gazed upon by 168 famous faces. There are relief carvings of Winston Churchill, Mother Teresa, Einstein, Nelson Mandela, Beethoven, Lincoln, and van Gogh. There are 2 illusions at work here. One, the faces all appear to be looking at you, no matter where you stand and that some of the faces are 10 feet up the wall. Two, the faces are relief carvings (concave, bent inwards, like a spoon) but they appear to be sticking out from the wall. Next, there is an Ames Room. This is a room that from a certain vantage point appears to be a normal room. However, when you go in you find that it is terrifically slanted. The illusion it creates for the viewer is that Zada appears to bumping her head on the ceiling while Brad can’t touch the ceiling even if he leaps for it. This is possible because the back wall is not parallel to the front, it slopes down and away. Finally, you enter a room in which the floor is tilted and water appears to flow uphill, balls roll up hill, and generally everything is off center. A very enjoyable diversion.

July 23, 2008
We drove through Mt. Aspiring National Park today on our way to Fox Glacier (our glacier walk is set for tomorrow morning at 9:00!). The park was lovely with the standard issue gorgeous mountains, lush old growth native forest, pristine creeks, rivers and lakes, spectacular waterfalls crashing down the cliff faces every 20 feet or so. We stopped off at several of the walking trails to gawk and take thousands of photographs.
The first stop we made was the extremely enjoyable walk to the Blue Pools. These pools are reached via an easy track through cool, mossy, fern draped forest and a highly traumatizing (for one member of the party) walk over a swing bridge. Certain seven-year olds rendered the crossing considerably more horrific by skipping and clip-clopping over like the biggest Billy Goat Gruff, setting the bridge to undulating and wildly swinging over the rock filled river.
Once over the bridge, the pools were beautiful (although Zada took serious issue with the nomenclature, “the pools look GREEN, not BLUE.”) The pools (which indeed looked more green than blue) were spectacularly clear; the excellent visibility allowing us to easily spot the monster trout who live here.
This place was a rock-hound paradise. There were amazing specimens of greenstone among other beauties and we were itching to collect some (we both want a set-up like they had at Te Papa, a huge basin with an enormous hunk of raw greenstone and the bottom filled with gravel and grit. Patrons are invited to scoop up a handful of the sediment and polish the rock. It would be a wonderful classroom center and I wonder how many years worth of classes we’d go through before the rock was smooth and glowing green?). However, all the greenstone is the property of the Ngai Tahu (as we learned at Te Papa) and its removal is prohibited. We contented ourselves with photographs and throwing hundreds of rocks into the pool.
We stopped to view several waterfalls – the Fantail Fall, Thundering Falls and “Roaring Billy” falls. Each of these was reached at the end of a short forest walk and was …fill in all the usual overworked adjectives here. It was all of that. There were more enormous hunks of greenstone, more crystal, clear water rushing by, and more general loveliness.
After we left Mt. Aspiring we stopped for a snack break at Paringa Lake, this was a serious mistake as we had to eat and run to avoid the swarms of dive-bombing fantails. They were all over us! Once the bird plague abated it was time for the sand flies to move in. it was lovely, but apparently best enjoyed from the interior of the campervan.
The Tasman Sea providing a stunning backdrop for a good bit of our drive – a backdrop that moved to the foreground at certain points! The surf was insane, HUGE, monstrous, immense, enormous breakers were smashing into the shore. At one point there was rubble all over the road from where the sea kept crashing over it! Very exciting!
We arrived at Fox Glacier Township and confirmed our hike for tomorrow. This should be thrilling! We’ve explored glaciers before; in Alberta and Alaska, but not like this.

July 24, 2008
The glacier hike was incredible. Exhausting, but incredible! We were booked on the sissy tour; called the “Fox Trot” it is a half day hike with an hour exploring the glacier – no ice climbing, no prior experience needed – suitable (by NZ standards) for elderly heart patients and infants in arms. Those Kiwis are psychotically fit. I had to check out a walking stick to get through the bush walk portion. I want to say right here and now how very proud of my knees and ankles I am. Miraculously, everything held together and I got all the way up and back, without any sort of airlift or emergency rescue operation. We have noticed that the Kiwis are a remarkably direct nation on occasion; they are super-scathing about “stupid tourists” not following local advice or warning signs and getting themselves lost or injured. They’ll pull out all the stops to save you, but make it pretty clear they don’t appreciate having had to.
Our guides explained the route, track conditions and checked everyone’s shoes for crampon compatibility. They had extra warm layers, extra waterproof layers, extra boots, socks and even extra backpacks if yours wouldn’t hold everything. We had to check out one of these bags, which was disappointing as we were so excited about having crammed everything into just one small pack (we forgot we’d have to carry the crampons and need a place to store extra layers of clothing). They warned us that there were 600 stairs to climb during the bush walk, no railings over a 100m drop, log bridges and small creek fords on the way up and that we’d have to come back the same way.
Once everyone had their crampons and other gear we were loaded on to a bus and driven from the town to the glacier. When we arrived the two guides divided the group in to 2 groups of 14 and away we went. We only walked to the end of the “car park” (which is Kiwi for parking lot) before stopping. Our guide Simon pointed out the various features of the valley, the steep sides, the horizontal gouges caused by the scrapping of ice and rock, and the piles of till showing where the old terminal faces had been. He also pointed out the NZ Works (like the Department of Transportation) trucks. He explained that they are trying to shore up the car park as it is sinking. About 120 years ago a land slide buried a 500 meter long sheet of ice and detached it from the glacier. Now it’s about 15 meters underground and melting slowly, taking the car park with it.
The first portion of the hike was fairly level through increasingly thick bush. When we stopped again we had an excellent view of the cave out of which flows the river of glacial melt water. Rivers flowing out from under glaciers have a milky color. This is caused by “rock flour”, the finely ground bits of rock that have been pulverized by their time under the glacier. We also saw a pool that had been cut off from the river by shifting currents. This was not milky like the river but blue green like many of the other rivers we’ve seen. After the rock flour settles out of the water the dissolved minerals give the water this color.
Walking on we entered the bush proper which is exceedingly lush. This is a temperate rainforest receiving about 7 meters of rain a year. Everything is encrusted in moss, lichen, and other plants. Most of the trees seem to be hosting at least 50 other species of growing things. We crossed a few streams on stepping stones and a few on log bridges. Then the steps began. We thought that when the guides said 600 steps that they meant figuratively. Alas, they really meant 600 steps, each with a rise of about 2 feet. Clearly the designer of the steps was channeling the ancient Mayan pyramid builders. The stairs in places resembled the winding stairs into Mordor that Gollum leads Frodo and Sam up, that steep with that kind of fall if you slip. One portion had a safety chain which we were ordered to hold at all times.
At last we arrived glacier-side. This, we were told, is the coldest part of the valley due to the wind caused by the very cold glacier in the relatively warm rainforest. Here we strapped on our crampons and were issued an alpenstock (a meter long stick with a point metal end to help keep your feet on the ice) and set off. Fox Glacier Guiding sends a crew out to the ice daily to maintain the pathways on the glacier. They cut steps and fill in cracks. Without the constant maintenance the paths would disappear after just a few days due to melting and evaporation.
Our walk took us over ridges and through crevasses. The ice in a glacier is primarily blue because all of the air has been squeezed out, rendering the ice super-dense. The ice we walked over was probably about 80-100 years old. That is about how long it takes for any one snowflake to get from the neve (the top of the glacier where the snow goes in) to the terminal face (the bottom where the ice stops). We peered into an ice cave that disappeared into the depths of the glacier. We walked under a dripping ice arch and up a steep set of steps where it was necessary to haul oneself up on a rope. It was impossible to photograph enough. Taking all of our photos together one could probably assemble a flip book of our hike.
Our time on the ice flew by and Zada was especially incensed when the hour was up. We wound our way back to the place where we began and removed our crampons. There we began our bush walk back down to the car park. The steps were no more enjoyable going down than they were going up. Everyone’s knees held up and we made it to the car park intact. Zada had to be asked several time not to hop down the steps and skip across the log bridges. She and the guide were the only ones not looking just a bit worked by the hike. When she heard he’d be going back out for another 4 hour glacier hike after lunch, she asked if she could also go again.
Back in town we loaded up the Beast and set our sights on Hokitika.

July 25, 2008
We are delighted to be in Hokitika – one of the primary arts and crafts capitols of NZ. Everyplace else we’ve been, when you pick up this or that little charmingly made piece of kiwiana, it turns out to have been made in Hokitika. We had particularly set our hearts on this place called “Bonz and Stonz”. The proprietor lets you design your own piece and then teaches you how to produce it in paua, bone or greenstone. We were really excited about getting hands-on with the traditional art forms. Unfortunately, this place was closed. We did very much enjoy visiting a glassblowing studio, several jade workshops, a paua shell workshop and a local artists’ cooperative, where we saw amazing work in wood, bone, shell, wool and stone. The artists were very generous with their time and knowledge.
After examining every piece in the entire village, we hit the road for Paparoa National Park to view the “Pancake” rocks. This name comes from the extraordinary arrangement of the layers of rock here on the coast. The park has a very nice track that leads you through a veritable flax forest out to spectacular view of the rocks, the Tasman Sea and the range of snow capped peaks in the distance. It was a glorious day, with more of that impossibly bright southern light glistening off of everything. The view we had was what prompted the Maori to name this land Aotearoa – the “Land of the Long White Cloud”. That was exactly what it looked like, the white peaks seeming to hover above the landscape.
We followed the track, exclaiming at every bend, “They REALLY look like pancakes here!” Until we gave ourselves over entirely to the art of videotaping a blowhole; the sea roars alarmingly and the waters swirl and crash menacingly. You are sure this swell is the one that will send the water erupting up in a spectacular spay and turn the camera on, okay, the next one, no, the one after is really big – keep rolling, if you stop the camera it will take too long to come back on and you’ll miss it! So we have really long series of video of us staring down into various holes in the rock. It was quite exciting when it did happen (which I do not believe we actually caught on time). Anyhow, it was a very attractive park with lots of interesting geological features.
In addition to the “Pancake” rocks the coastline itself bears the unmistakable scars of living next to the sea. The massive breakers are wearing away and sculpting the enormous stands of rock into quite fantastic shapes.

July 26, 2008
Our astounding run of weather luck finally broke today. We beat the odds for a good long time – we haven’t been shut out of almost anything or anyplace we wanted to see. We might have had to curtail or temper activities a time or two, but we always got to do something everywhere we’ve been – until today. After some of the worst roads of the entire trip we fetched up in Abel Tasman National Park to be told we’d missed the day’s last water taxi and all activities, tours and rentals for tomorrow were looking pretty grim. A huge weather system had been smacking around the North Island, flooding and washing out roads and bridges, suspending the ferry and air travel. Now it was moving south. They had seen swells of 4 meters and weren’t about to gives us their kayaks to destroy in the Tasman Bay.
This was a serious disappointment – the whole area is stunning – golden (not yellow, not tan or cream, really GOLDEN) beaches lapped by sparkling turquoise water. Well, let’s give the day its due and carry on a bit about the horrific driving. We were desperate to escape the West Coast, which was costing us a fortune. The consummate artistry of the craftpeople (whether working in glass, stone, bone, shell, wool or a decadent selection of native timbers [all reclaimed or from dead wood]) in this area was impossible to withstand. Somehow I neglected to set up a taonga (treasure) budget and most of you know how precious my spreadsheets are to me. It has been a struggle. Most shops had the workrooms open and the artisans were happy to discuss their craft, the significance (traditional and contemporary, cultural and political) of the medium they worked in and the process by which they transformed the raw materials. The materials themselves are so very beautiful and we were lucky enough to be able to purchase some of these un-worked bits and pieces for the NZ study kits we are assembling for our schools.
Anyhow, we drove, and drove and drove on and up the sides of impossibly steep cliffs, as intricately curved and twisted as Celtic knotwork. Then we drove down, down, down at ever steeper angles off the impossibly steep cliffs into the lovely river valleys/bays/whatever type of water course, again switchbacking and hairpin turning every 20 feet or so. Repeat 5,000,000 x infinity. This was all rendered more challenging than usual by the large preponderance of rockfalls and washouts. You are frequently warned of these hazards, but the roads are so well policed and maintained on the whole that usually it has all been swept up and patched. Not today! Brad loathes the reliance on one-lane bridges here. I disagreed, but have to join with him in condemning the one lane mountain road! Yes, we drove this heart-stopping phenomena 3 times on this road. One was on a completely blind curve and they had set up those dinky shoplifting mirrors you see in convenience stores as your only guide. Sadly, some vandal had broken out the mirrors in both directions so it was really a supreme test of faith, rather than a road hazard.
Well, that for several hours, capped by the bad news at Abel Tasman - followed by more wretched road – about 120km – to retreat to Nelson (where we found everything closed when we arrived)was making for a sad bunch of Texans. However, the sun (in the guise of a local Indian place) shone on us again – figuratively- and we basked in the rosy glow of warm samosas, pakoras and malai kofta. We are now restored and ready for tomorrow, when we hope to cross the Cook Strait.

July 27, 2008
We got up and out very early as we had 134km of fun road to cover to catch the ferry at Picton. I enjoyed the views of the gorgeous Tasman Bay (when my life wasn’t flashing before my eyes). We made good time and although we were cautioned that the seas were extremely “heavy” and the vessel running behind, it should still be making the afternoon crossing. Here goes!

Dunedin to Te Anau

July 19, 2008
The campervan is beyond filthy at the end of its trek from Dunedin to Invercargill. We took the Southern Scenic route through the Catlins. This region is supposedly extremely scenic and picturesque. Personally we found that it looks for the most part like the rest of New Zealand, rolling green hills covered in varying quantities of sheep or cows. There was more native forest here than we’ve seen in most other places and there are more forest reserves too.
The first place we went, in an attempt to see elephant seals and sea lions, was called Nugget Point. This is reached by driving 15km down a rutted gravel road with blind curves and steep grades. The road travels through ever more sheep pastures until emerging along the coast. (Though even here there is the ocean on your left and sheep on the right.) At this point the road becomes a single lane for added excitement. The ocean was breaking violently on some very interesting looking rocks. They were layers of some sedimentary rock that have been tilted and so the layers are at about a 45 degree angle. The wind was roaring along making it difficult to stand in one place. It was also somewhat chilly. We rumbled out to the end of the point and found no seals of any kind.
Our trip out to Nugget Point was not wasted though. Along the way we discovered that sheep are afraid of the sound of the camper’s horn. As we trundled by we would honk and then giggle about the mini stampede we created. (Kimberly wants it noted that though she laughed, she strong disapproves of tormenting simple farm animals.) We only indulged in this activity a few times so as not to cripple the wool industry by traumatizing the nation’s sheep.
Our second stop was more rewarding. We stopped at Purakaunui Falls Scenic Reserve. The track passed through a native forest to a delightful waterfall. The forest reminded me of the Hoh Rainforest in Olympic National Park. The trees, rocks, and even the signage was draped in a hundred varieties of moss. Birds twittered unfamiliar songs in the canopy. This is the kind of forest that most of the two islands were covered with when Captain Cook arrived, the forest that the giant moa lived in before being hunted to extinction by the Maori.
From there we headed for the Cathedral Caves which we discovered are closed for the winter. Moving right along we drove out the Curio Bay. At this place we reached the southernmost point of our journey. Here there is a forest of petrified logs which can only be seen at low tide. The wind was even more ferocious here and the cold even more unbearable. Most of the fossilized trees are laying on their sides half exposed. In a few places there are stumps in which it is possible to identify the bark and some of the rings.
We’ve ended up at a holiday park in Invercargill. Tomorrow we are off to Te Anau to see a glow worm cave and prepare for our drive out to Milford Sound.

July 20, 2008
Today’s EARLY morning drive was brightened by the spectacular vistas. Almost as soon as we turned off onto SH 94 did the verdant, rolling sheep/cattle/deer/ostrich farms give place to majestic snowy peaks. We oooohed and aahhed at a magnificent range on the right, then one on the left, then one right in front of us! We couldn’t wait to get to Te Anau and photodocument these beauties against the aquamarine iridescence of the lake!
Sadly, by the time we reached Te Anau, a huge fog bank – it didn’t roll in or settle; it just appeared – blanketed the …everything. So much for mountains, we couldn’t even see the lake and the town is built right on the shore. Que sera! We booked a tour to cross the lake and visit the glowworm caves.
After a monstrously huge, but delicious, second breakfast (they apparently assume everyone here is fueling up to trek the Milford Trail), we set out to explore the town. It is mostly closed for the winter. Everything that is open is manned by the standard issue, perfect Kiwi staff. Where do they find all these friendly (without ever being pushy or over-familiar) competent people? They must be the product of the NZ schools – year-round, uniformly attractive and gender separated at high school.
The boat trip across the lake was very informative. We saw Manuka trees (love the honey!)and learned that the islands that dot the lake (NZ’s second largest at 350 square kilometers, but deeper than Lake Taupo at about 200 meters deep and the largest containment of fresh water in all of Austalasia)are the handiwork of glaciers. The softer material and sediment having been scoured away and these outcrops of harder bedrock scraped into the current domed shapes. These islands are covered in old growth, native forests and are used by the DOC as part of their programs promoting the conservation of endangered native species.
The corner of Fiordland National Park that hosts the glowworm cave is covered with these evergreen native trees and plants in the hyper-profusion and absurd lushness that seems to be the hallmark of pre-Cook NZ. We entered the cave and immediately were plunged into darkness. The cave ceiling at the entry point is just over a meter high, even Zada had to duck. Bent double we proceeded into a wildly twisted limestone tunnel, almost deafened by the roaring river rushing under our feet and actively excavating the cave around us. The water had created a phantasmagoric labyrinth of bizarrely sculpted sedimentary rock. The base layer of sandstone is eroding at a much slower rate and in a completely different pattern than the limestone upper storey. Holes are being bored into the sandstone, in some places making it look like Swiss cheese while the limestone looks like baklava or perhaps a napoleon – layers of slightly harder material jutting out over more deeply eroded softer rock.
The river was beautiful – raging torrents of the most crystal clear water – here a large pool, there rapids and at one point a spectacular waterfall. We boarded boats and were cautioned against making any noise. Glow worms don’t like light or noise, so there are no pictures of this amazing adventure. Sorry folks, but come to NZ and see for yourself. I cannot imagine anyone on earth who wouldn’t love this place.
We caromed off the rocks, banging our way down a channel (it isn’t easy to steer a boat in a completely blacked-out environment) into a grotto. We had spotted a glow worm or two on the way in, but this was clearly fungus gnat heaven. Glow worms are the larval stage of the fungus gnat and a thoroughly unattractive specimen when seen by light of day. Their behaviors also lack charm, but when drifting silently through a pitch black cave lit only by their twinkling bioluminescence, they are magical. We strained neck muscles and dislodged vertebrae trying to see everything and everywhere at once. It was completely wonderful.
Out of the cave and in the visitor center we were regaled with hot drinks and fun facts about the glow worms and this cave. The town’s name is based on the Maori Te Ana-Au, which means “cave of the swirling waters” or something close to that. No one though anything much about that apparently, until the 1940’s when Lawson Burrows spent three years looking for the legendary spring and found that there was in fact a cave with waters that could be described as swirling. He squeezed through the cave opening and stumbled upon the grotto.
The larval stage of the fungus gnat is its longest phase – it is a glow worm for about 9 months. By comparison, it is only an adult for a few days; the adult stage doesn’t even have a mouth. The glow worm hunts by secreting long stings studded with droplets of a paralyzing toxin. It arranges as many as 70 of these “fishing lines” around its hammock (tube of viscous, clear material that a glowworm uses to attach itself to rock walls). It has complete range of motion in its hammock. The larvae are cannibalistic and somewhat antisocial (near neighbors may be eaten). They only glow when hunting; a sated glow worm goes dark, until it is hungry again.
On the boat trip the clouds parted and the glorious mountains came back into view. We were delighted to see how extremely gorgeous Te Anau really is. The lake water is pristine; you can see every detail on the bottom for a couple of meters or more. This spectacular body of water is outlined in rich green native forest, which itself is set against a backdrop of rugged snowcapped peaks.
To cap the splendours of this place, the campground we are at one of the very nicest holiday parks we have seen yet. The restrooms are heated! This offsets the almost pathological Kiwi fresh air fetish (I say when it is 4 degrees Celsius or less, the doors and windows should be closed! Everywhere we go, be it never so arctic/Antarctic or rainy, every door and window stands wide open! Some are even bolted or fixed so that cannot ever be shut!). It is winter, but the Kiwis know it not.

Christchurch to Dunedin

July 15, 2008
International Antarctic Center- The International Antarctic Center is the public face of the facility from which the United States, New Zealand, and Italy manage their Antarctic research stations. Inside there are a variety of exhibits detailing the kind of jobs and work that are done at the research stations and the difficulties the people working there face. There are more than just scientists there. The bases also employ truck drivers, chefs, machinists, clergy, and artists.
There is a cold room at the center where people from warmer climates can experience a little taste of Antarctic style cold. Inside is a floor of real snow, an igloo, and a slide made of ice. There is also a large thermometer indicating a constant temperature of -8 degrees Celsius (17 degrees Fahrenheit). If you like you can press the button on the Wind Chill Machine. This turns on a fan which allows you to enjoy the icy caress of a -18 degree Celsius wind chill. Before entering the staff issues you a pair of rubber overshoes (to keep the snow clean) and a South Pole grade parka. I’m not sure what the parka is made of (maybe lead or Kevlar) but it sure was warm. None of this cold bothered Zada who went down the ice slide perhaps a hundred times. In the end we had to pull rank with her to get her out of there.
Every hour a “storm” kicks up in the cold room. This involves turning the lights way down and turning on some very large fans. The wind in the room goes up to about 45 knots which (I’m estimating here) is about 38-40 miles per hour. The wind chill drops to around -22 degrees Celsius (-5 degrees Fahrenheit). At that point it is really not possible to describe the cold. It’s a cold that you can feel right through to your bones. Even with our lead parkas we were forced to huddle up with our backs to the wind like the penguins in “March of the Penguins” in order not to freeze to death. After the “storm” passed we dragged Zada out and turned in our parkas.
The center also serves as a rest home and rehabilitation hospital for injured little blue penguins. This is a species found only around New Zealand. (Of the about 20 species of penguin in the world only 4 live in Antarctica.) We watched their daily feeding during which the number of fish eaten by each individual is recorded. Most of the penguins ate in the water as they would in the wild. Some however were unable to swim and so had to be hand fed on shore. Unfortunately, most of the penguins there had been handicapped by human activity. Getting tangled in fishing line and other garbage is a major problem for them as is eating plastic and other waste. Sadly, most of the birds here will never be fit for return to the wild.
I think that I speak for everyone when I say that the most exciting part of our visit was the Hagglund ride. The Hagglund is a Swedish military vehicle something like a tank. It is designed for moving through extremely rough terrain. It can scale, descend, and traverse a 40 degree incline. It can drive over a gap of 1.9 meters (that’s about 6 feet). It’s also amphibious with the tank treads providing the propulsion when it acts like a boat. They cost $500,000 each and need new treads annually for $80,000. If not for the cost, it would be just about perfect for negotiating the potholes of the typical Houston street. The driver made sure that there was plenty of heart stopping action as he drove up and over the hills of the course all the while extolling the virtues of the Hagglund and pointing out the sites of the Antarctic Campus (even the United States Postal Service has an office here).
Before continuing our drive south we had a snack in the café. Here in New Zealand you cannot just say that you want a coffee. If you do they will ask you what kind of coffee you want. Even at Starbucks you have to ask for “filter coffee” if you want a plain old coffee. The closest thing to American coffee is something called a “long black”. This is a shot of espresso with hot water. It is generally excellent. A great surprise has been the Kiwi ability to make a dessert. At the center we had a carrot cake which was simply divine. Back at Te Papa we had a brownie and a chocolate truffle cake and both were heavenly. We are investigating which of the immigrant groups brought the secret of tasty desserts to New Zealand.
We carried on south which today was nice as there were no steep, twisty roads. There were several charming towns along the way. We didn’t stop until we got to Oamaru where there is a blue penguin colony. Our attempts to see the penguins was foiled by the fact that the birds spend the whole day at sea eating and don’t come back to shore until evening. Perhaps our penguin dreams will be fulfilled in Dunedin.

July 16, 2008
This morning’s first stop was the Moeraki Boulders. These are boulders ranging from 2 to 5 feet in diameter. They are almost perfectly spherical and are scattered across about 180 feet of Pacific beachfront. The boulders formed about 60 million years ago when this area was on the sea floor and lime salt formed around a solid core. Today some are still being eroded out of the cliff above the beach. Some have been cracked open by the ravages of time and are now strewn about, large chunks of gray stone lined with yellow crystal. The beach around the boulders is covered with lovely iridescent snail shells. Zada made a good attempt to collect all of these and only reluctantly put down several large handfuls when we told her she would have to abandon some of her other treasures in New Zealand for want of baggage space.
Upon arriving in Dunedin we embarked on a 40 minute quest to find parking. There is no street parking for more than an hour anywhere in the city. There are a few parking garages but only one was tall enough to accommodate the Beast. For $2 an hour we were able to leave the camper and visit Cadbury World. This is the place where such delightful treats as Crème Eggs, Caramello, and Dairy Milk bars come from. During the course of the tour we were able to fill goodie bags with full size Cadbury candy bars. We each earned an extra bar from the guide for answering questions. It is a fascinating facility where they turn out 95% of the chocolate made in New Zealand. Inside an old storage tank they have created a 50 foot chocolate waterfall. In 30 seconds it spills out a ton of melted chocolate. The guide assured us that none of that chocolate goes into the food. The tour ends where all good tours end, in the gift shop. The Cadbury shop sells the half pound blocks of chocolate for about $1.50. Mmm… treats!
After the chocolate shop we walked around the city’s Octagon. That’s the central district, covered in charming cafes, shops and gorgeous buildings. Dunedin is apparently less subject to the subterranean forces that rock and rip so much of the rest of the country as wonderful examples of Victorian and Scots/Edwardian architecture abound here. There are several impressive churches, the Municipal Chambers, the Law Courts and lovely homes lines the steep streets – no doubt anchored in place by the weight of gingerbread trim they carry.
The Railway Station was the real heavyweight though. This stunning building, constructed with contrasting Oamaru limestone and central Otago bluestone, is impressive inside and out. It is done in a sort of Northern Renaissancesque style with richly ornamented dormer windows projected from a steeply pitched roof. A 120’ clock tower surmounts the whole. The interior is equally rich with railway themed mosaic floors and an intricately wrought frieze of Royal Doulton manufactured cherubs and floral swags underlining the wrought iron balcony. This will be our point of departure tomorrow (weather willing) for our Taieri Gorge rail expedition.

July 17, 2008
Today we split forces. Kimberly and Zada explored the Otago Museum and Brad went on the Speights tour.
The Otago Museum has a marvelous collection of Pacific Island treasures. The entrance to the galleries is manned by a splendid Easter Island Moai. These galleries are filled with masks, musical instruments, ceremonial garb and weapons from Micronesia, Polynesia and Melanesia. Interpretive panels explain the relevance of such rituals as the Kava ceremony (only a ritual with certain groups – enjoyable beverage to others) and explain the similarities and differences (genetic, linguistic and cultural) between the various peoples of the Pacific. Zada was most impressed with the necklaces and headdresses – beautiful arrangements of shell and feathers or somewhat terrifying strings of human teeth and armored fish skins ringed with shark teeth.
Across the hall is their Maori collection – not large, but with some extraordinary pieces. Their waka, war canoe, is one of the largest and most elaborately carved we seen so far. They also give a good bit of gallery space to information about archeological excavations of an early settlement in the Shag River area.
The whole museum was amazing, other galleries housed a plesiosaur, skeletons of several moa and a recreation of the NZ La Brea tar pits equivalent swamp that trapped so many of these flightless birds. There were fossil dolphins, sea turtles and other marine mammoths.
At the top of the museum was a true hall of wonders! There was a photograph showing the museum in its original late 1800’s splendor – several floors of galleries lit by skylights over a central atrium. These galleries housed wooden glass-fronted cabinets filled with …everything on earth. They have recreated this original Victorian gallery on the top floor – called “Animal Attic”. It was unbelievable, the Victorian passion for collection, collation and cataloging in all its glory. There were cases filled with the taxidermed or skeletal remains of Noah’s Ark. Except there was only one of each kind. I found it a little overwhelming and also a little disturbing, but I was completely alone in this as I have never seen so many completely fascinated and transfixed children ever. They couldn’t see enough, read enough, or ask enough questions.
I did learn the origin of the “Rat King” in the Nutcracker, as they had a preserved example floating in a jar. A “Rat King”, you are no doubt breathless to know, is a rare phenomena. The tails of all the juvenile rats in a nest become snarled together in the nesting material and the rats are the inseparable (one wonders who ever tried to separate one and why?). It will further interest you to know that if a “Rat King” were found in a house, the house would be razed and all the women burned as witches.
As if all this weren’t enough for one day we next made our way to the train station and boarded the historic Taieri Gorge train. The train travels alongside the course of the beautiful Taieri River. We took the train as far as Pukerangi and then returned. It was a very lovely and enjoyable journey. The pictures fell victim to the over-bright Southern light – in real life it gives a remarkable brilliance to everything, photographically is shrouds the world in mist. The train traversed several aqueducts and high iron trestles spanning 100 foot gorges. We were again amazed to note that almost every square centimeter of land in NZ is in use. I had no idea that sheep and cows could graze on mountaintops and at a 60% angled slope. They are far more surefooted than you’d guess.
We got back to the campground in time to explore the creek trail and go searching the cliff faces for glowworms. Yes, a word here, again, about NZ campgrounds - they are incredible! And, yes, this one in Dunedin has a lovely creek and wooded trail area complete with glowworms on the grounds. It was delightful to see those little fairy lights shine through the trees and ferns along the trail.

July 18, 2008
Today we went to the top of the world’s steepest street. Baldwin Street, in Dunedin, is certified by the Guinness Book of World’s Records as the steepest street in the world. It is a ridiculous looking thing- it climbs at a 38 1/3 degree angle according to the propaganda, according to me it was a sheer cliff face – easily an 88 or 89 degree angle. How do the people who live there manage? I have never owned a car that could manage that incline – they must replace their brakes and transmissions at least twice a year. Zada cavorted, skipped and frolicked all the way to the top. Brat. My legs shook for at least half an hour after we got down. They hold an annual event, charmingly titled “The Baldwin Street Gutbuster”, which requires participants to complete the lung-scorching, heart-bursting course in two minutes. We missed the Jaffa race, sadly – this is an event where they roll Jaffas (a roundish Cadbury chocolate) down the hill. The street was still fairly well coated in the squished remains of the contenders.
We headed back into the city center to see the new Chinese Gardens and visit the Cadbury climbing wall. Zada was a champ at this and more than earned the snack sized Moro bar prize. She frittered her rapidly dwindling financial resources away on a regulation rugby ball and a possum fur/merino scarf.
Fortunately, by the time we got back to the Yellow-eyed Penguin Reserve office, the gift shop had closed. The excitement of viewing so many of these incredibly adorable and terribly endangered animals would doubtless have triggered an orgy of fridge magnet, plush toy buying. We were run like hunted rabbits through a bewildering series of underground trenches. Racing the penguins from one viewing blind to the next and standing breathlessly (holding our breath because they are highly sensitive to noise, which was challenging, as racing madly up and down dunes and hills had us snorting and blowing like racehorses)still and silent while we watched for them to bodysurf onto shore. They “porpoise” out in the surf for an irritatingly long time. When they’ve assured themselves that all is well, they shake themselves like little dogs and begin their hop-waddle up the beach and into the dunes.
We were lucky enough to see several of these wonderful birds; they are the only non-social penguin. They dislike the sight of each other, much less anything else, and will not appear if they feel threatened in any way – hence the underground viewing blinds and injunction for silence. We also saw a Little Blue, or Fairy Penguin, in a nest. These are the world’s smallest penguins and we struck out seeing them once before because we hadn’t done our homework and learned that they only emerge from the sea at nightfall. The one in the nest was a juvenile, who apparently hadn’t got the memo that they feed all day in the winter.