January

Hello again! Since I've last checked in I've had a few weeks to travel around the North Island of New Zealand and explore the North end of the South Island. Although Tassie was pretty "country" with its half a million people, much bigger New Zealand only boasts 4 million (and about 20 million sheep I believe). So my kind of place really - rural and sheepy. Unfortunately, I had to start off in the biggest city- Auckland. A nice enough place, but I suppose I'm showing my age when I say I really don't enjoy sharing dorm rooms with 18-20somethings whose only goal in travelling is to stay at hostels and go out all night to get drunk... but I started enjoying the place a whole lot more as I watched it grow smaller from there ferry I rode to a nearby island called "Rangitoto." Formed when a volcano erupted from the sea, Rangitoto has some pretty swell lava caves and the best view of the Auckland city skyline available. Though it's taken a while, some interesting lichens and other flora have taken root in then volcanic soil. As I wasn't looking to spend a lot of time in Auckland, on the third day I caught a bus down to Waitomo (southeast of Auckland) to go on a black water rafting trip I had previously booked. The Limestone caves found in the little countryside town of Waitomo are amazing in and of themselves - but what really draws people to them are the glow worms. The "Worms" are actually little larvae that spin a silky spider web-like thread that hangs down in the cave which they cover with phosphorescent goo that attracts other insects they can then reel in and eat. In the complete darkness of the cave it really looks as though you are staring into a milky way of fluorescent blue and green stars...quite the trip! ;) The black water rafting tour was excellent also, and involved an abseil into the cave and a pretty freaky long zip line into the darkness where we began our floating. The water was freezing, so 3 hours underground was about all I could really handle anyway.

After all the relaxation of Auckland and Waitomo, it was time to put the ole' hiking boots back on again! This time the destination was Tongariro National Park, the first National Park in New Zealand and site of the filming of Mordor and Mt. Doom in the Lord of the Rings. The area is extremely unique and also very thermally active, (I'm not used to hiking around signs warning of possible eruptions and pyroclastic flows). The first day of the hike was the most crowded, as it was the most scenic and most accessible to day-hikers. But afterwards, the next four days were a lot quieter and almost eerie in some of the empty lava fields left behind by multiple eruptions from Mt. Ruapehue and Ngarahoe (Mt. Doom). Though it was quite steep, you could actually scale Mt Doom and peer into the empty crater, (didn't look all that hot to me). All of the minerals released from the constantly steaming volcanic vents in the area also leeched into a few small lakes on the circuit, turning them brilliant shades of green, (although I wouldn't recommend a swim). Aside from some cloud cover, the weather was actually pretty good and only rained on me (and blew dramatically), the last day I was hiking.

From Tongaririo I bussed it down to Wellington where I stayed a couple days before catching the ferry to the South Island. For some reason I enjoyed Wellington a lot more than Auckland. The city was much more compact and central and had some beautiful parks- including Mt. Victoria (where the best view of Wellington was to be had). The ferry ride was a destination in and of itself. The beautiful weather provided for clear views of the fiords we wound through on our journey from Wellington to Picton. I spent the bulk of the time sitting on the deck (the ferry food is all too pricey for me anyway). 

From Picton I moved down the East Coast to the GORGEOUS seaside town of Kaikoura - where the white-tipped alps run straight into the ocean (very unique). This town is also a hub of marine life activity (partly what drew me there). After being foiled twice by rough seas forcing two trip cancellations, I finally got on a dolphin swimming excursion the morning I left (albeit the 5:30am dolphin excursion). It was without a doubt one of the most magical things I have ever done, and a definite highlight of my trip. After suiting up in wetsuits, we cruised around in a relatively small ship until we found a pod of 100 or so dolphins then threw on the snorkels and jumped on in! The majority were Dusky Dolphins, very friendly and known for their acrobatics. They were far more interested in you if you sang to them (no joke), dived, and spun in circles with them as they circled you- maintaining eye contact. Sometimes three at a time would circle me in perfect unity and I'd spin with them until I didn't know which way was up. All that spinning probably contributed largely to the time I spent on the return voyage puking over the side of boat. Kaikoura also had a seal colony with some friendly seals that let you get up close and personal, which was good fun.

Following Kaikoura I spent another 5 or 6 days on the coast, this time in the Northwest as I hiked the Abel Tasman Coastal Track. This one was a bit of a highway, and was so well maintained and had so many access options (sea kayaks, water taxis, even helicopters) that it was full of people - even little kids. They did grow more sparse as I neared the less populated Western end of the track though. The last day I even ended up with some very nice secluded beaches to myself (and even found one loan seal to hang out with on a rocky point...you can see him waving behind me in one pic). 

Immediately after finishing the Abel Tasman Track, I caught a shuttle directly to the start of another nearby track, the Heaphy Track. This one was far more forested (and had less people), had a nice variety of scenery, and another nice beach hike on the way out. I stayed in a small town called Karamea afterwards and explored some of the limestone caves in the area (and the gigantic spiders that hid inside). 

That brings me (a little rushed with internet time almost out!) to Fox Glacier - where I am gearing up to leave tomorrow for another wilderness adventure...this time into the Southern Alps. I will be out for 12 days hiking through Mt. Aspiring National Park, connecting a few different glacier valleys together. Should be grand! I'll keep you posted!   

Monday Dec. 19th - Wednesday Dec. 28th

Before I headed into Tasmania's Southwest Wilderness, (one of the last few true wilderness areas left in the world), I spent a few days in Hobart, capital of Tasmania, gearing up for the trip. This included constructing a 10-day supply of "primo" trail mix, and a bomb-proof ukulele case out of cardboard, bubble-wrap and duct tape.

 Yet again, my plan was to catch a bus to the town (Geeveston) nearest the trailhead (Farmhouse Creek) as I could get. Problem was, there was still a full 2 day's walk from Geeveston to Farmhouse Creek... but yet again, I placed my faith unswervingly in Tasmanian goodness and, yet again, I was rewarded. After walking for about an hour with my thumb stuck out, I started to realize just how remote the location I was hitching in really was. But after a cherry farmer passed me for the second time, he pulled over and asked me where I was trying to get to. When I told him, Farmhouse Creek he registered surprise, "really? nobody goes down there! you'll be waiting for days - I've got the day off, so I'll just take you down myself." Once again, I continue to be amazed by the Tassies. 

As we wound through old forestry roads, many overgrown through years of disuse, Steve (my benefactor's name) detailed the storied history of Tasmania's forestry industry and the resulting conservation movement. Many of the trees in the area were old growth Huon Pine, (the oldest trees in the world actually), and were being logged and sent to China for chipping. Now whilst I'm no hippy per se (not full blooded anyway), simply being surrounded by the majesty of those old growth forests made it pretty easy to echo the sentiment of the conservationists. Also- wood chipping? Seriously? From where Steve dropped me off, the next 2 days of hiking were largely a wet and muddy slog. There's nothing quite as disheartening as getting up in the rain and pulling on your cold and wet socks and boots :( The wet conditions also made for some rather interesting flora, including the funky fungi pictured (don't worry, I didn't sample it).

 My views were largely obscured by clouds and high brush, but I finally broke through to my first clear view of Federation Peak, and the gateway to the Eastern Arthurs mountain range. Unfortunately, the only access via my eastern approach was via a route called Moss Ridge. 

The pic hardly does it justice- but imagine climbing through a muddy, wet, moss covered jungle gym with a 45lb pack on your back. My body was barely capable of the contortions it required and it elicited plenty of frustrations and breaking of the third commandment... The recent rains also left some pretty treacherous log-crossing points - one of which placed me ass-end up. I have no idea how, but my $25 ukulele survived unscathed while my kindle - wrapped in clothing and placed in the middle of my pack - snapped cleanly in half.

 This was a more dire loss than it initially appeared, as my kindle contained detailed track notes for the Arthur's crossing. You see, the Eastern Arthurs contain some extremely tricky track junctions marked only by a ribbon here and there, or a distant cairn (rock marker), and my lack of proper guidance proved to be near deadly. As I crossed the first major plateau and reached a track junction, I incorrectly chose the wrong route (a climbers path instead of the packer's route - there was often very little distinguishable difference).

 As I descended backward down the near-vertical face, the small ledge upon which I was perched gave way, sending me into a free-slide for about 20ft down the rocky face. There was very little I could do but drag my hands and body across the rock until I came to a sudden (and frankly surprising) stop. {At that moment - I could almost feel His noodly appendages wrapped safely around my ;) } All I needed was a simple shifting of my weight, and my heavy pack would have sent us both snowballing down the cliffs hundreds of feet below. Fortunately, somehow all I sustained was a series of cuts on my hands and chest and decent bruise where my face struck the cliff. After spending a few shaky moments pulling myself back together, I realized I was likely following the wrong route, and backtracked to the junction where I spotted a cairn I had missed earlier. Once I scrambled along the seemingly impossible ridgeline, following the cairns, the payoff was incredible. I had an amazing view of the part of the range I had just crossed, and a panorama of what I had remaining (including the Western end of the Arthur's range). The clear sky cast some fantastic dusky hues over the range at sunset also. 

Exiting the Eastern Arthurs proved to be just as tricky as getting into them. There were times where, had I a partner and some rope, pack hauling would have been very handy. Otherwise, it mostly made for some exhausting days filled with teeth and sphincter clenching moments. You'll notice a pic of me eating Nutella straight out of the jar with a spork. Ha! That's right, I laugh at your recommendations of a 2,000 calorie diet! There were many days I was tearing through somewhere between 6 and 8,000 - so I was eating just about anything I could get my hands on.

After coming down from the Eastern Arthurs, I connected to the Western Arthurs range via a plains track. While it was nice to be back on flat ground even if only for a short while, it did present its own unique set of challenges. Maybe it's because it was particularly good weather, or because the conditions were conducive to bugs, but I've never seen a more "spidery" place in my life.

 The guy (or gal) you see in the pic is a pretty good representation of the size and type that spun webs with almost supernatural frequency across the trail. I stopped counting, but I feel I'm not exaggerating in the slightest when I say I either walked through or cut down at least 200 massive webs (with at least half as many carrying spiders). I never really had any qualms with spiders before - but if I did, I was quickly forced to reconcile both of our places in the world. From the plains it was another steep ascent back onto the Western Arthur's range where the topography was similar to the east end, albeit much more lake filled. Considering my rainy beginnings, and the fact that the Arthurs are known largely for their consistently foul weather, I'd gotten extremely lucky with a stretch of unnaturally good weather. Even with the good weather, I rarely ran into people, and ended up camping Christmas eve by myself about midway through the mountain range.

 As you can see from my pics, I even hung my smelly Christmas stockings "with care" in my tent - only to be sorely disappointed on Christmas morning. [And that's the year I stopped believing in Santa...]

 On my final day on the Western Arthurs, I took in some of the best scenery. The range is heavily glaciated, which not only made for some extremely difficult hiking, but some spectacular jagged cliffs and rock formations. As I was climbing the highest peak on the Western Arthurs, "Mt Hersperus," to descend back down to the plains, the FSM decided to remind me how truly lucky I had been with the weather and unleashed a fury of gale force winds full of freezing rain and sleet. The force was so intense I could barely stay upright. I took shelter for a little while against a rocky outcropping at first before I realized I wasn't going to be able to just wait it out. So armed with my high octane trail mix (which I had to retrieve with my teeth because my frozen hands couldn't open the zipper on my pack), and the ipod set on 5-star shuffle (thanks Todd), I made one final push over the top to reach the plains soaked and utterly exhausted. (So in a dark turn of events, the "high point" of my trip had actually become the "low point.") Here at least my journey transitioned to a much more easy-going one.

The next 3 days would be spent on the "Port Davey Track," which was originally created for sailors shipwrecked on the west coast to get back to the mainland. While I no longer had extreme elevation gains and losses to deal with, I had plenty of ticks and leeches as my constant companions. 

 At least when I reached the salty waters of Port Davey Harbour, I was able to change up my boring pasta routine with some fresh mussels! (see pic). Also, a bit further than halfway through my hiking circuit I reached a small airstrip with two backpacker huts called "Melaleuca." Used mainly as a starting point for the "South Coast Track," the majority of hikers fly in and then walk out on the track. For me however, this was my oasis in the desert. I had arranged for a food drop to be made here prior to my departure from Hobart, which also contained a very nice bottle of 12yr old single malt scotch :) Happy New Years to me!

 Melaleuca was a pretty quiet little place, and because nobody hung around - I got a walker's hut to myself for a few days. I also got to know the volunteer parks staff couple, Graeme and Anne, quite well. I usually had coffee in the morning with them and they made me dinner a couple of times also. They even told me to stay in their empty house once I got back to Hobart! (yet again- that amazing Tassie hospitality). I was enjoying the slower paced in Melaleuca, but ultimately had to leave before I ate through all my food supplies...

Coastward bound! The next 6 days I would spend hiking along the southwest coast back to civilization. The weather wasn't quite as good to me as it had been earlier, but the scenery was still spectacular. Sandy beaches (often sunny), a friendly spotted quoll (the weasel-looking fellow), and more friendly Tassie hikers. The couple pictured on the beach (Dave and Chameeko), were so impressed with my hiking journey, that Dave insisted I stay and chat a bit and even loaded me up with all sorts of fresh goods - cheese, veggies, sundried tomatoes, etc. - since they were flying out the next day. I offered him some scotch before we parted ways, both quite happy at this point :) His food contributed nicely to what was one of the best meals I've had. 

There was one particularly taxing point on the track that included a boat crossing and was quite difficult on your own. It involved rowing one boat across, returning with both boats, and then returning to the other side. It was low tide so I had to do a lot of extra boat-dragging along the beach.

 Once I left the beaches and entered back into the rainforest, there were times I felt I'd entered a prehistoric realm, with tree ferns towering high above me. I emerged at last to at least some signs of civilization (if boats count). The end of the South Coast Track is pretty limited in access also, so I faced some more potential problems in hitchhiking out as well. But after a couple of hours of waiting, a lovely little family picked me up (see pic) and insisted on taking me to dinner and having a few pints! (I can't really figure out why - I must have looked a hairy, dirty, smelly mess. My mind is continually blown by the people I meet here.) 

On my way back to Hobart I stopped by a quaint little coastal town called "Cygnet" to check out a folk festival that was going on. Upon returning to Hobart I was also able to find a wildlife rescue sanctuary where I could check out some Tasmanian devils. I was hoping to spot one in the wild, but it turns out a facial tumor disease has decimated their population, reducing it by close to 80%.

I'm quite sad to be leaving Tasmania. I know New Zealand is and amazing country, but I've fallen so completely in love with this place ant the people that New Zealand has simply got some big shoes to fill. I'll check back in in a few weeks with some more updates from Kiwi country - Cheers!