Far behind again. Only a few days pass and I've been west and south and north and west and east and back again.
Dunedin was a great city. I actually gasped as we came over the hill, because it's honestly tons bigger than I had imagined. Everyone emphasizes Queenstown which, in comparison to Dunedin, is a small and barely a city. Home to about 30,000 (out of a total population of 100,000) students, it's definitely a university city.
I took a Portobello village bus to Company Bay on the Otago peninsula, just east of town. From there it was a 4km walk up the most serious hill I've ever encountered. It's a wonder cars just don't slide backwards down it. At the top was the charming Larnach castle, built in the late 1800's by a local businessman. His family lived there for years and then death and family bickering left it uncared for and unowned. In the 1960's another family bought it, renovated it and set it up as a public attraction. Set in the hills overlooking the scenic peninsula (home to rare yellow-eyed penguins) with lush gardens and hidden pathways it made a nice day trip. All around the grounds were Alice In Wonderland figures, such as the cheshire cat in a tree and Alice herself in the greenhouse. I had scones in the ballroom cafe and headed down the hill fighting the intense winds.
It was earlier than I had anticipated when I got back to town, so I went to the Cadbury factory for a bit of a tour. It was Sunday and the factory wasn't fully operational, which was okay because they gave us triple chocolate samples to compensate. Oh yes, it did compensate. There's not too much to say about that adventure (as you are probably not too interested in how they make chocolate bars, but how they taste) except for YUM.
Early the next morning I left Dunedin for Invercargill. We drove through what is called the Catlins, in the southeast corner of the south island. It was blustery and cold, but the scenery on this stretch was amazing. The first stop was Kaka Point where the driver told us an interesting story. In the 1930's a young farmer's daughter in Kaka Point fell in love and was married. When the wedding night came she discovered that her groom was actually a second bride. To avoid a scandal the "groom" bribed the father, saying she would reveal the secret if he didn't give her money. He refused and instead turned her over to the authorities. It was uncovered that she had previously married five other unsuspecting women and bribed their families. On to Nugget Point, where we walked out to the lighthouse and saw seal pups sunning themselves on the petrified forest and rocks below. We past Surat Bay, Owaka, Tautuku Bay (where families had built houses on an inlet accessible only at low tide), Curio and Porpoise Bays (where dolphins will race up to swimmers in shallow water) and Slope Point (the southernmost tip of the southern island). At Slope Point we took photos of trees, pushed onto their sides (almost uprooted) by the severe winds. The wind roars in as there is nothing between this point and Antarctica so it has 1000s of km to pick up speed.
I spent the night in Invercargill as it was my jumping off point to Stewart Island. I opted to fly and it was a great decision. We took off from Invercargill and like a bumblebee hummed and flitted up and to the left. The city gave way to patchwork paddocks to sand dunes to beach and out to the translucent green waters of the Foveaux Strait. Foam on the water spread like cobwebs. A rainbow appeared, evidence of the determined sun, through the showers. The colourful ring circled around us in a way I've never seen before. Beside us the engines roared and all around us the pressure and speed rushed like a waterfall. As we neared Stewart Island the sea became thick and cloudy. The trees clustered together and from a distance resembled soft moss. The descent was the only slightly unstable portion of the flight. The plane fell and rose only twice and we dropped onto the narrow strip of runway.
Stewart Island was wonderful. In many ways it reminded me of Winter Harbor and Acadia National Park. Much of it is protected land. And one of the smaller islands to the east, Ulva Island, is a sanctuary. They have rid Ulva Island of introduced predators such as deer, possum and rats and are placing endangered plants and animals there are a means of conservation. I spent three lazy nights here, walking the tracks and beaches, sampling the deserts in the few cafes that line the two main streets, and relaxing with my journal. It rained for most of the time I was there, but it didn't matter. The simplicity of their life on "the island" and the sheer beauty of the island's nature was a real treat.
On the return flight the waters and islands to the east, as we took off, were dark and calm. As we circled around to the west the sun shone thorugh the clouds in patches illuminating small areas on the ferocious strait. I turned back for a look at lonely Oban village, the only on Stewart Island, tiny and isolated on an island paradise.
That evening we drove on to Riverton and the following day to Te Anau, with a stop at Lake Manapouri. It just stopped raining as we arrived and I followed a trail along the narrow end of the lake to where it opened up. It was absolutely magnificent. The rain was misting in the distance and the mountains and hills were rising around us as the fog cleared away from the rocky shore. It was one of my favorite stops of the whole South Island. Te Anau was a quiet lake town and our jumping off point for Milford Sound.
Milford Sound is not a sound at all. It's actually a fiord. The difference being that a sound can be created many ways, but a fiord can only be created by a glacier, as Milford was. Just the road winding through Fiordland up to the boat terminal was awe-inspiring. The rainforest met the mountain suddenly. Massive ranges hung like towers over my head and I had to crane my neck to get a decent view. They rose from the green, broad and dark, dusted with snow. In their majesty and temperature they house azure glaciers on their shoulders, oddly blue and icy above the lush tangle of tree and fern. Waterfalls in their multitude sprung from the mountainside and rushed down gracefully like milky veins. We passed Lake Gunn, where trees had fallen to a watery grave. They lay, seemingly floating, just beneath the surface. Intact they reached out, trunk extending frail branches that were turning a slow mossy green. The lake was so still. It almost seemed a mirror image of trees left standing.
The boat trip through the fiord was breathtaking. We past seals sunning themselves on rocks and hundreds of long, languid waterfalls. There's no way to describe it and my photos won't do it justice. It was just beautiful. My journey on this island would not have been complete without this day.
That night was back to Queenstown and out for Indian food and "The Life of David Gale". Today was a grueling trek to Christchurch. I will go into that drive and my Christchurch experience in the next couple of days, because this is plenty to read for now.