Going Out in Style

My parents once told me that if I ended up spending two years in New Zealand, they would try to come visit. New Zealand has become another home to me, and considering that it's not a place one can easily visit from North America, I was happy to give Mom and Dad a reason to make the trip. After a couple weeks spent zipping around the North Island and catching up with friends in Wellington, I flew to Christchurch to meet my parents after their trans-Pacific flight odyssey.

We only had two weeks to spend in the country together, unfortunately, so planning an itinerary was challenging. A number of compromises had to be made, especially as Dad was limited by some pretty serious sciatica aggravated by hours spent sitting in airplanes. Having just finished a meditative solo trip around the North Island, I had to adjust quickly to travelling not just as a group, but as a family. It had been just under a year since I'd even seen my parents, and now I was partly their tour guide as well as their son. And that's not to mention that I was still in the process of moving two years' worth of belongings back to North America. I had spent the previous year establishing a comfort zone in Arthur's Pass, and now I was emphatically out of it. With all that being said (or written), our trip went fantastically.

After meeting up in Christchurch airport and “uplifting” our rental car, we made a quick stop for some lunch and I drove us up to Arthur's Pass in the rain. We spent three nights there. I did my best to tie up loose ends while showing Mom and Dad around and introducing them to the people who shaped my time in the mountains. Mom, who hikes frequently back in Northern Ontario, quickly made the adjustment to hiking in the Southern Alps. Dad's sciatica kept him off the trails, but he learned more about local history in three days than I had in a year (thanks to John Charles).

We could have easily spent more time in Arthur's Pass, but our time was limited and there was more to see. So on Monday (Mom's birthday), I left the village that had been my home for the last time. We stopped in Greymouth to go to the post office, then in Hokitika to do some gift shopping, and then at the TreetopsWalk just south of Hokitika. I had hoped for another stop at the Bushmans Centre in Pukekura – my last chance at a possum pie! - but, being the low season, it was already closed. We ended that drive in Franz Josef, where we spent two nights. In addition to hiking, we arranged some more involved medical care for Dad in Fox Glacier and had medicine delivered via InterCity bus that would suffice for the rest of the trip.

After Franz Josef, we drove to Haast, where I had my last sight of the Tasman Sea, and then through the Haast Pass to Wanaka. It's easy to like Wanaka, and Mom and Dad certainly did. I made sure to go to Cinema Paradiso one more time – Dad and I watched The Company You Keep, but the film isn't really what matters when you go to Cinema Paradiso. It's the cookies. Mom kept hiking, and I took off on my own to walk up Isthmus Peak, on the isthmus between Lakes Wanaka and Hawea. It was a greater challenge than I thought, but well worth the views.

Our next destination was Lake Tekapo, the one spot on our journey that I had not visited. The drive over Lindis Pass was beautiful, but MacKenzie Country was the real stunner. After stopping in Omarama for lunch, we drove through Twizel and made a stop at the southern end of Lake Pukaki. It was a clear day, and Mt. Cook was visible at the other end. After tearing ourselves away from the great view, we continued on to Lake Tekapo. I've said it before and it's still true: New Zealand keeps finding new ways to amaze me. The scenery along that whole stretch of road was jaw-droppingly gorgeous. We spent two nights in Tekapo, taking tons of photos, marvelling at how the view across the lake was just as good by the light of the moon, and hiking up Mt. John.

Our longest drive on the South Island was between Tekapo and Kaikoura. We took the “inland scenic route” along highway 72 to Darfield, which was still mostly farmland, and made an afternoon stop in Christchurch. The red zone cordon had recently been reduced downtown, so I had my first sight of Christchurch Cathedral. I also introduced Mom and Dad to the Re:Start Mall, which was buzzing with activity. But we had to move on to Kaikoura, and stayed there two nights. After visiting the seal colony, Mom and I walked the Kaikoura Peninsula track and met up with Dad for a picnic in South Bay. We also spent some time arranging the logistics for the rest of our trip, as we were to return the rental car to Picton.

On the drive up to Picton, we stopped at the Ohau Point seal colony. Have I mentioned how New Zealand keeps finding new ways to amaze me? Like something out of an animated children's movie, we walked up a small stream from the ocean to a waterfall, at the bottom of which was a pool teeming with seal pups. Inland from the coastal seal colony, it was essentially a “seal daycare” where the parents leave their pups while they go fishing. Dad took a video (see below). There are no words to accurately describe it – simply one of the coolest things I've ever seen.

Our ferry from Picton was delayed by rough weather on the Cook Strait, but it was sunny in Picton. I made one last visit to the Village Bakkerij with Dad, then we all enjoyed the view of the waterfront while waiting for the boat to arrive. This strait crossing was my fourth, and the roughest one yet. I spent it lying down with my hat over my eyes to spare myself the sight of waves crashing over the side and other passengers losing their lunches. That kept me shipshape, and my biggest complaint was actually that we didn't get to arrive in Wellington in daylight.

We spent three nights in Wellington being tourists, dining out, and catching up with friends. On our last day there, Mom and Dad made their own bus tour of the city using the transit network while I did the last of my packing. Then we had a Wellington evening that could have been straight out of the Lonely Planet guidebook: dinner at KK Malaysian, a theatre production at Downstage Theatre, and gelato from Kaffee Eis for dessert. I hope it wasn't my last time in Wellington, but at least that was a great way to finish if it was.

As renting a car was the cheapest way for us to get to Auckland (we left it too late to buy plane tickets), we spent our last full day in New Zealand on the road. It's a long drive, but we have a family history that includes plenty of those. And I was thrilled that Mom and Dad were able to see some of the North Island too. We followed SH1 from Wellington to Auckland through Taupo, and although we bypassed Hamilton, it was almost exactly the same route I followed on the bus my first day in the country. After finding our hotel near the airport, I spent my last night in the country watching rugby at the pub downstairs. Again, if that was my last time in New Zealand – and I hope it wasn't – it's not a bad way to go out. 

Dad walking in the treetops.

Saying goodbye to the Tasman Sea at Haast Beach.

Lake Hawea from Isthmus Peak.

That's Mt. Cook on the left.

At Lake Tekapo.

Lake Tekapo.

Christchurch Cathedral.

Mom and I at Ohau Point seal colony.

Ohau Point. See video below...

Ruapehu.

Dad and I at Lake Taupo.

Saving, Shooting, and Sleeping Away

The past month and a half have seen several staff changes at work and two especially busy weekends - Easter and the Wild Foods Festival in Hokitika, which some may recall I attended last year. It brings plenty of business through Arthur's Pass, as we are directly on the way from Christchurch to Hokitika and the Wild Foods Festival draws tons of people. I've been picking up plenty of extra hours for various reasons, and when I leave New Zealand in two months, I will have a significant amount of money saved.

There have also been several adventures of note lately. Although Arthur's Pass has a squash court which doubles as a basketball court, there is rarely anyone else with whom to shoot around, and I haven't played on a full team since 2011. As soon as I realized that I would be in Arthur's Pass for a while, I sent an email to the Greymouth Basketball Club to see about playing with them. Almost a year after I sent that first email, and several aborted attempts to participate, I finally did it. I took the bus down from the mountains, stayed the night at a hostel, and played basketball for two hours. Despite being either a league or a club (or maybe both), it really felt like a big pickup session. I played in two games, and as usual, found myself in the middle of the pack in terms of talent. Teams are required to be mixed, and plenty of people clearly played very casually, but there were several formidable talents as well. I think I saw more mullets on a basketball court than I've ever seen before (two), and several people used rugby-style passes - a reversal of when I learned to play rugby and adapted my basketball skills for the same purpose. It's unlikely I'll be able to return because of my work schedule and the hassle of spending a night in Greymouth for a couple hours of basketball, but it was gratifying to follow through on an idea I'd had for a long time.

It also took me a long time to spend a night in one of the many tramping huts in this area, which are a frequent topic of conversation that I bluff my way through. A friend from the Department of Conservation was heading off on a 4-night walk, and the first leg happened to be the beginning of a one-night walk that I'd been hoping to do. So the two of us hopped the bus down to Kelly's Creek and walked up to Carroll Hut. We rested for lunch, then continued over the Kelly Range and down into the Taipo River valley to Dillons Hut for the night. Hiking is a way of life in Arthur's Pass village, but my work schedule and limited transportation options mean I rarely get beyond day hikes. Furthermore, longer hikes require equipment that I don't have and am unwilling to buy, and my lack of experience means I have to rely on other people's advice to plan. So it was serendipitous that I could go along with someone who knew what she was doing to get my feet wet (which literally happened on top of the Kelly Range). Much more so than playing basketball in Greymouth, I needed to spend at least a night out in the wilderness that surrounds me here. Check.

I am now in my last month of work here, and it is flying by. Plans are beginning to develop for the next two months, five months, and two years of my life, but they deserve at least a post to themselves.

The best view I've ever seen from a toilet seat.

Looking down at the Taipo river.

Looking along the Taipo.

Hitching back to Arthur's Pass through Monteith's country.

Caving and the Coast to Coast

February was a busy month. Less than two weeks after I returned from Brisbane, we said goodbye to four of our summer staff and brought on two new ones. Four people leaving meant several goodbye dinners and special events, one of which was particularly memorable - the walk through Cave Stream Scenic Reserve.

Cave Stream is a unique spot less than an hour from Arthur's Pass that my erstwhile coworker Simon had been desperate to visit. Underneath a parking lot with a spectacular view of the mountains, its name reveals exactly what it is: a stream that runs through a cave. Despite - or perhaps because of - the constantly flowing water and several pools up to a meter deep, Cave Stream is a popular trail. I haven't spent much time underground, but Simon has, and he made a great leader. Caving is a nice alternative to hiking, as it allows everyone to make their own path - I spent much of the walk finding creative ways to keep myself out of the water by bouldering along the walls. We all got thoroughly soaked nonetheless, as we expected. Simon and Lili have moved on from Arthur's Pass now, but they are keeping a travel blog as well if you'd care for another perspective on New Zealand.

A few days later, Arthur's Pass played host to a musical performance for the first time since I've been here. Mihirangi, a recent contestant on New Zealand's Got Talent, is making her way around the country. She performed at the Bealey Hotel, about 10 minutes down the road from Arthur's Pass village. She builds her music with a loop machine, which allows her to record sounds, have the machine repeat them, and sing or add more samples over that. My interest in songwriting and composition has developed quite a bit in my spare time here, so I was intrigued by Mihirangi's unique show. You can see one of her performances here.

Early February also saw the running of the annual Coast to Coast race, a special triathlon that passes through the mountains near Arthur's Pass. The cycling portion begins at Kumara, on the west coast, and participants then run up over Goat Pass and kayak down the Waimakariri River to Christchurch. Hence the name Coast to Coast - there is a two-day and a one-day race, but all the participants travel from the Tasman to the Pacific. The nearest road to the race is Highway 73, and the nearest village to the overnight rest point is Arthur's Pass, so our shop was absolutely packed. We didn't actually see any of the race, but each racer had at least 3 or 4 support crew, and those folks love their coffee in the morning. In the first hour of Coast to Coast Saturday, we used over 20 liters of milk. If there were units for sanity, we probably went through plenty of them too.

In Cave Stream with Shine, Yanina, Phoebe, and Lili.

Before entering the cave.

   

How I Spent my 25th Birthday (and more)

It's been a while since my last blog post, so here's a few recent highlights:

October 2 was my birthday, and the first time I've spent two consecutive birthdays in the same country since I turned 18. My coworkers and I had a pot luck dinner before heading on to one of the two bars in Arthur's Pass. I've spent several birthdays around people I'd only just met, so it was nice to have a group of people who actually know me. I accidentally scorched a surprise cake by preheating the oven for someone else, but the cake was still delicious. And they even bought me a present - a fern carved out of greenstone from the West Coast, which is around my neck right now. I don't usually wear accessories, but I like this one (although I still forget to put it on in the morning).

The weekend after my birthday was Canadian Thanksgiving. I briefly mentioned it to a few of my coworkers, and before long the entire village was involved. We had dinner on Saturday night, and most of the people I've met here attended. I managed to make a pumpkin pie from scratch for the first time, something I will definitely do again. And after dinner, I played "Alice's Restaurant" through the speakers. That might have been mixing American and Canadian traditions, but my Thanksgiving traditions have always been confusing.

This past week has seen two snowstorms that have closed the highway, turning this village into a bit of a ghost town. Despite it being October, which is well into spring here, a few friends and I had a long walk through what might be the last big snowfall for a while. We made snowmen and snow angels, threw snowballs, went snowboarding, ate snow candy, and invented the snowjito (a mojito with snow instead of soda water). It hasn't been a very normal winter here, but we certainly made of the most of a very wintry day.

On my birthday - look at me, accessorizing. (Thanks to my flatmate Emily for this one).

Snowjitos.

The day after the big dump.

Several days after the snowfall, it's still hanging on in the distance.

The Otira viaduct, just over the mountains from the village.

Politics, Kiwi Style (Part 2)

This blog was originally meant as a replacement to mass e-mails that I sent to family and friends about my travels. For that reason, I have tried to write primarily descriptive pieces about the places I'm visiting at the moment, and kept touchy subjects to the side. But now that I'm staying in one place for a while, there aren't so many new places to write about. New ideas and opinions are always easy to find, however, and some of them might stir up debate - but that's not why I'm writing about them. It's because they're interesting. Here's one:

People frequently ask me about the differences I notice between New Zealand and North America, which is a difficult question to answer. It can be hard to remember what things are like at home, especially less tangible things, like political attitudes. But the recent Chik-Fil-A kerfuffle in the US reminded me. Chik-Fil-A is an American fast food chain that places a major emphasis on its Christian beliefs. The CEO recently made a statement expressing his opposition to same-sex marriage, and it caused an uproar. Several mayors issued declarations that the company was not welcome in their cities. Same-sex couples protested the statement by kissing outside Chik-Fil-A locations, while supporters demonstrated their agreement by eating there more often.

On this side of the Pacific, New Zealand's government is currently processing legislation to allow same-sex marriage. Civil unions are already legal, and common-law relationships are also much more common here than they are back home. There is some opposition to the bill being considered at the moment, but it seems as though it will pass fairly easily. However, Damien O'Connor, one of the opposed members of Parliament, recently faced a unique conflict – his own daughter publicly disagreed with him. In a posting on his Facebook page, she asked – politely – that he change his opinion. Was Dad angry? Apparently not. He praised his daughter's sense of social justice and replied: “Sometimes we disagree. And so it will be throughout New Zealand. We must respect one another's opinions but ignore the extremes from both sides of the debate.”

Maybe it's not a perfect parallel. But being in the news around the same time as each other, these two events reminded me of a major difference in the political cultures of the US and New Zealand - and, I'm slowly learning, between the US and almost everywhere else.

Here's the article about MP Damien O'Connor: http://www.stuff.co.nz/national/politics/7450294/MPs-family-split-over-gay-marriage-bill.

Pancakes! As You've Never Seen Them Before

Hitchhiking had served me well on the journey up to Nelson, but I decided to take the bus on the return. I had my reasons for returning to Arthur's Pass somewhat early, and the bus followed a different route than the one I had taken up. And as I've learned in this country (especially on the South Island), every route is a scenic one.

We made our first stop in Murchison, and from there entered the Buller gorge. As we drove, we would occasionally stop for traffic signals, which seemed odd as there were no possible turns. Then it became apparent that the signals were controlling traffic along stretches of single-lane road, particularly at blind curves along the cliff base. I've grown accustomed to seeing single-lane bridges on the South Island, but this was something else again.

After passing through the mountains, we reached Westport and began heading down the west coast. The road from Haast to Greymouth rarely comes close to the Tasman Sea, so I was expecting something similar from the stretch north of Greymouth. Instead, I was rewarded with a stunning piece of highway. The road came so close to the water that I was thankful I was in a vehicle driven by a professional. We winded and twisted our way along the water until we reached Punakaiki, where we stopped for a second break.

Punakaiki, like Franz Josef and Fox, is a town built on the success of a single tourist attraction - the pancake rocks. These are limestone formations along the water that have eroded into a variety of aesthetically pleasing shapes, and simultaneously formed blow holes that channel the force of waves straight up into the air. I had heard of this spot, but never planned on going out of my way to see it. Now I'm glad I put it in my way. I'll let the photos below explain why.

Before long I was back in Greymouth, hopping on the bus back to Arthur's Pass. For a three-day weekend, I was quite happy with what I had managed to achieve.

Hitching Through the Hills

On a recent three-day weekend, I took the opportunity to visit Nelson, which is on the northern shore of the South Island. I had only ever heard good things about Nelson, so I was curious to see what it had to offer. Getting there was the first challenge, however. The bus network would follow a longer route and arrive after dark, while hitching on the less busy inland route was far from a guaranteed success. In the end, I decided to keep things interesting and hitch.

Being an employee of Arthur's Pass Café and Store, I get free rides on the Atomic shuttle that stops in the village if there is space available. So I took the bus to Stillwater and began to hitch along Highway 7. I've previously referred to Stillwater as "Backwater" - it's just too easy - but there was enough traffic that I got a ride within 15 minutes. It was only a dairy farmer heading to the next village after doing his grocery shopping in Greymouth, but it was a start.

A slow start, as it turned out. I waited outside the next village - Ngahere - for two hours. When I finally decided to start walking and get a change of scenery, an SUV pulled over almost instantly. The driver reached across and flung the door open, simultaneously talking on a mobile phone and chasing one of his small dogs into the back seat. As I sat and listened to him debate crayfish prices, the dog reclaimed his spot, this time on my lap. He eventually hung up his phone, and after a ride of about 30 minutes, I left the driver and the dogs behind in Ikamatua and began to walk again.

I marched past cow pastures and appreciated the unusually good weather for about 10 minutes before another car stopped. It was driven by Dave, a gold miner heading home to Reefton. He had just gotten out of a troubling situation, and was keen to give me all the details. I'm not keen to do the same, so I'll just say it involved the end of a long relationship and a brief stint in prison.

Once in Reefton, Dave left me at a spot that turned out to be on the wrong road. I managed to redirect myself - Reefton was the biggest town I'd seen all day, but it was easy enough - and starting walking out of town. My ride turned out to be a minivan driven by an Australian foster mother, accompanied by one of her children. She was full of information about the area, and indicated a spot where a landslide had covered an entire village. The ride was over all too soon, and they left me in Inangahua Junction.

I barely had time to start walking out of Inangahua Junction before a car pulled over. It had two mountain bikes on the back, two occupants, and a back seat packed with gear, but they made space. My new travel partners were two American guys, both from the Northeast and making their way up from Queenstown. They were going all the way in to Nelson, and although I was out of my depth when they brought up mountain biking, we all thoroughly enjoyed the scenery.

Every time I hitch, I am reminded how fun it is. I almost enjoyed getting to Nelson more than I did the city itself! But it does deserve its own post, so watch this space.

What lay ahead of me in Stillwater.

Also in Stillwater.

In Reefton.

If this place had its own phone book, I could probably rip it in half.

The Other Wild West

After a brief visit to Christchurch, I returned to Arthur's Pass for one night before continuing on to Hokitika for the Wild Foods Festival. As I've mentioned before, the West Coast is a particularly untamed part of New Zealand, both geographically and culturally. So there's hardly a better place for a festival that celebrates my kind of weirdness - the tastiest ways to consume the food provided by one's immediate surroundings.

Hokitika is not a large town, so its accommodation is stretched to the limit by this festival. I ended up camping in one of several specially designated sites for festival guests. As at New Year's in Queenstown, the camp site was a rugby field. Wild Foods has earned a reputation as a weekend of partying and costumes, which has unfortunately shrunk the importance of the food itself. But the overall atmosphere was friendly, and the food was still the highlight.

As I travel, I keep a mental list of unique foods that I've eaten - whale and puffin in Iceland, rabbit in Morocco, reindeer in Alaska, etc. I added some new ones to that list while at the Wild Foods Festival, including crocodile and kangaroo, which were both tasty. At the end, my main regret was that the festival only lasts one day.

The driftwood sign on Hokitika beach.

Crocodile on the left, kangaroo on the right, human in the middle.

Live huhu grubs, straight from the tree.

Raw mountain oysters.

Weekends in Las Greygas

Arthur's Pass attracts visitors primarily for its scenery, hiking, and wildlife (read: the kea). With a population of less than 50, one might expect that those of us who live here would have trouble filling our spare time. That has not proven to be the case, at least for me: the Bealey River has more than one swimming hole, all at a temperature just warmer than freezing; for some reason, there is a public squash court; and I've been able to indulge a number of my curiosities, including experimenting with new baking recipes and taking an online course to improve my travel writing skills.

But there are obviously numerous services that this place cannot provide, a supermarket first among them. So I've been taking advantage of our free seats on the bus service that comes by every day to go to Greymouth. Greymouth is the largest town on the West Coast, but that isn't saying much in one of the wildest districts of New Zealand. With its history of mining, fishing, and forestry, it is now facing many of the same challenges as other blue-collar towns and cities across the Western world. Put more simply, it's the kind of place that causes people to roll their eyes and groan when its name comes up in conversation.

But coming from a settlement that doesn't even qualify as a village, Greymouth might as well be Las Vegas. It has a supermarket, a department store, and a cinema (!), among many other things that Arthur's Pass doesn't have. Although I like to think its name is highly appropriate - there's plenty of rain and concrete - it's hard to stay bored when I have a week's worth of purchases to make. And it happens to be right on the ocean (in this case, the Tasman Sea), something that, in my opinion, should always drive real estate values up.

I don't think I've ever seen a more typical Kiwi house.

I guess they couldn't agree on how to spell it. So they used both.

The Tasman Sea.

The Grey River on an atypical sunny day.

 

Not the Beach Boys' West Coast

Finding a job to follow apricot-picking was quite easy, as I mentioned in my previous post. Getting there, however, promised to be an adventure in itself. Arthur's Pass is a village of less than 100 people on the eastern side of the mountain pass for which it is named, well within the boundary of the national park of the same name. And I would be approaching it via the West Coast, one of the wildest areas of New Zealand, without my own transport.

Despite the formidable journey ahead of me, I spent one day in Alexandra tying up loose ends. Without really thinking about it, I was making the third major move of my time here; despite staying in a variety of places, I had been in Central Otago for almost two months. As I packed my bag, I remembered why I enjoy having a job to keep me in one place – my pack is gigantic, and its contents don't like to stay put. I don't mean it's bursting, but if I stay in one place for more than two nights, necessity will empty at least half of it and spread it throughout my living area. So as I packed to leave Alexandra, I could look forward to being able to empty the bag again in two days.

The bus connections to Arthur's Pass were, predictably, not the smoothest. Central Otago is not on a well-worn tourist track, and the West Coast's massive size and winding highways make it difficult to pass through quickly. Rather than try to make an inadequate bus schedule fit my needs, I decided to hitchhike all the way if I had to. I gave myself two full days, and it all began outside Alexandra at around 8.45 on Tuesday morning. After about 15 minutes, I was picked up by two women working for a franchise of Crest Cleaners on their way to Cromwell. It wasn't quite the distance I was hoping for, but putting Alexandra behind me was good enough.

After almost no time waiting in Cromwell, I was collected by a couple from Edmonton who are also on working holidays. They both worked north of town, and were able to drop me at a spot about 20 kilometers outside Cromwell. As I waited next to a sheep pasture and listened to their bleating in the intervals between passing cars, the movie O Brother, Where Art Thou? came into my head, as it tends to do. I remembered the scene where the main characters pull over to pick up Tommy in the middle of a vast stretch of farmland. Despite the racial inaccuracy, the line that kept popping into my head was, “Pull over, Everett, let's give that colored boy a lift,” Southern drawl and all.

It was not a long wait, however, and before long I was riding next to a blinds salesman on his way to Wanaka. He clearly made the drive frequently, as he was talking on his phone as he picked me up, and was quite willing to find ways to distract himself while driving, including looking up Arthur's Pass village on Google maps. Although he was good company, I was glad he was only going as far as Wanaka. That stretch of road is not particularly tricky to drive, but it would have been a nightmare riding with him through the Haast Pass.

After being dropped at the turnoff for the West Coast to join about four other hitchhikers in the same spot, I was soon picked up by a Danish pilot on a two-month holiday. He was heading through the Haast Pass in a rental car, and we got along very well. Far from being in a rush, he was taking full advantage of being on such a scenic route. We made three stops for photos, some of which required small hikes, and he was even generous enough to provide me with lunch. I would have happily ridden with him to Jackson Bay (literally the end of the road, southwest of Haast), but I felt obligated to continue north and so began hitching again in Haast.

Haast was...well, it barely was. It's actually a group of three settlements that are all several kilometers apart, and from where I hitched I could only see a roadside café, a gas station, and a regional tourist office. But maybe my opinion of it was worsened by the wait I endured there. Haast is either the last or the first town on the West Coast highway, and it seems that few tourists make time to stop there. The Fox and Franz Josef glaciers are well to the north, and Queenstown and Wanaka are all the way over the mountains to the southeast. Many people seemed reluctant to even slow down as they passed. Very few of the cars that passed me were driven by young tourists like myself; most were rented camper vans, which I have found to be disinclined to picking up hitchhikers, as they are often occupied by families. So I waited. The time passed fairly quickly, as each car could have been the one to stop, and one hour passed almost without my noticing it. I also knew my Danish friend would be headed north later in the evening, so a ride would come eventually. But I was thrilled when one of the campers finally stopped, a rental driven by a middle-aged English couple. They took the time to provide me with a seat belt in the rear portion of the vehicle, and said they were heading to Franz Josef, the further of the two glaciers.

Once again, I was lucky to be riding with a cautious driver for an extremely difficult stretch of road. The West Coast is filled with one-lane bridges, hairpin turns, and winding ascents and descents. I had been thinking of hitching even further that evening, but as we passed mile after mile of uninhabited scenery, I began to think further progress unlikely. There is almost nothing in the way of human settlement between Haast and Fox Glacier, about 100 kilometers apart. I began to worry that I might not be able to find a place to sleep, but once we reached Fox Glacier, I knew I was back in tourist country. Fox and Franz Josef are two towns that exist solely because of glacier tourism, and every building seems to provide either accommodation, food, or tours (some have all three). When I arrived in Franz Josef, I had my pick of at least ten different places to stay, which must be a record for a town of its size.

After such a long day of hitchhiking, and thinking that I should probably get to Arthur's Pass fairly early in the day, I reexamined the bus schedules and found that hitching would not be necessary. Although tickets were not cheap, I had saved money the previous day and felt the need to be fairly exact about my arrival time; I was heading to a new job, after all. So I made the necessary purchases (about 10 minutes before departure) and soon found myself cruising towards Hokitika. We made a very entertaining stop at the Bushman's Centre in Pukekura, a welcome reminder that quirkiness exists in even the smallest towns. And the small town of Hokitika, of which I had high expectations for some reason, left a very favorable impression on me. I couldn't stay to find out why, however, as I was quickly headed off to Greymouth and then inland to the mountains. Within three hours, I was in Arthur's Pass and getting acquainted with my new surroundings. 

Lake Hawea.

At the Blue Pools in Mt. Aspiring National Park.

Thunder Creek Falls, also in Mt. Aspiring National Park.

Outside Haast, where I waited almost two hours.

A small portion of the Bushman's Centre's character.

  

Me and one Pukekura's locals.

The Otira gorge, just below Arthur's Pass.