Pacific Northwest in a Hurry

24 hours in Portland

From San Francisco I would embark on what, ultimately, would be the longest train journey of my travels. It turns out San Francisco is around the middle of California while Portland is in very northern Oregon – who knew? What lies in between? Northern California and the rest of Oregon allegedly, though I couldn’t tell you about them apart from witnessing some beautiful mountain scenery and a lot of pine trees from the moving train.

Beautiful Pacific Northwest from the Train

At the station in San Francisco I befriended an older gentleman from Korea after an exchange of smiles. This was his third time visiting his brother in San Francisco and he’d done some traveling around the states of the packed tour bus variety, but this was his first time venturing out on his own for a trip to Seattle and he was a bit nervous. I shared stories of my travels and helped assure him he was in the right place, helped him find his seat on the train and settle down, even moving seats to be closer to him at his urging. It really wasn’t much effort on my part, but through my travels I’d realized that a little kindness can go a long way. In gratitude the Korean man bought me breakfast (though I wasn’t hungry) and kept bringing me coffee without me offering throughout the trip before I jumped off in Portland.

I arrived in Portland in the evening, dropped my bag at the hostel and set off to see the city. I stopped by the famous Powell’s bookstore – a three story complex of new and used books, travel accessories and a small café. The place was brimming with character and after browsing the extensive racks I was sad to not have room in my bag for a pile of new reading material. Feeling a bit peckish, I then wander to an area I was told had some night life and found a promising Irish pub with live music and delicious Shepard’s pie, which at $10 a serving didn’t quite feel like modest worker’s food, but was delicious none the less.

Portland Park Picnics

On my way back to the hostel I wandered the empty streets (it being a Tuesday night) and found Portland to be a bit of a strange segmented place. The area I was in was brimming with strip clubs and bars, then I’d cross the street and suddenly be distinctly in China town. A few blocks later, through seemingly empty buildings and bland storefronts, the trendy artsy neighborhood begins. This is not too uncommon for an American city, but it amazed me the contrast between the sections with a clear line or dull nothingness in between – there seemed to be no blending of the neighborhoods. After wandering a bit in the ritzy, artsy neighborhood I stumbled across a place which stood out remarkably – the “Low Brow Lounge” and stepped in for a beer. Like the bookstore, the place had remarkable character and a pleasant mix of young people making up its few tables. I sat at the bar and started talking to the bartender about Portland. He told me about the ample music scene, the rapid expansion and growth and lamented the loss of his “old small town Portland”. His worries supported my observations - that Portland’s a small town struggling with its identity and loosing some of its old charm through a rapid expansion. That’s what popularity gets you, I guess. The next day, walking around the city center, down the river and through one of its many parks, my opinion solidified. Maybe my expectations were too high, or my visit was too short, but I couldn’t help but feel disappointed by this city which I’d heard so much about.

Portland Park

In my wanderings though, I observed one of the quaintest and oddest things I’ve seen yet. I rounded a corner downtown to see a small crowd gathering around a tent in a nearby park. I stopped in and looked over the peoples’ shoulders to see what was going on. It was then that I noticed some oh so stereotypically beautiful women – complete with permanent smiles which looked like they’d been ironed on – decked out in sequined red tops and tight black pants. “Interesting”, I thought to myself. With further observation I picked out some older gentleman about 7 feet tall freely giving out autographs to a crowd of people clad in Trailblazers jerseys. “Fascinating”. Curiosity took over and I tapped a middle aged man next to me in a suit and inquired about what was going on. “It’s the 30th anniversary of when the Trailblazers won the NBA championship”, he told me matter-of-factly. This took me aback. 30 years ago and they’re still celebrating! That’s a town desperate for a party.

Seattle Revisited

Along with Australia, Seattle is a place I’ve been fascinated by since youth, but unlike Australia, I’d already been there. I accompanied my father on a trip when I was nine and about all I can remember involved eating gigantic Sundays while revolving around the top of the Space Needle, visiting the Boeing factory which, along with my infatuation with Legos probably led to my eventual studying of engineering, and buying a chain saw carved totem pole from a local alcoholic artist who carved the wings of the eagle for us while we sat by and watched (though we have no proof, I’m sure he was probably drunk at the time and yielding a chain saw – bad combo). There’s also a picture that survived of me brimming proudly holding aloft a fish which I had caught, so I must have also gone fishing. Anyway, I returned with a love of all things Seattle (which probably contributed to my grunge rock and flannel shirt phase in high school) and a Mariners hat despite the fact that I didn’t much care for baseball. A decade and a half later I was ready to see the city again and see if it met the expectations set by my youth, and in this case, I’m happy to report that it did. As far as American cities go the place seems laid back while still holding some character as a working town. There isn’t a hell of a lot to do, but you get the sense that the residents like it that way.

Seattle Ships

My friend Mike, whom I hadn’t seen since my 5th year high school reunion, picked me up at the train station. Mike had returned after serving in the Army in Iraq and Afghanistan and it was fascinating to hear first hand accounts from someone who’s been there, especially after it becoming increasingly remote in my conscience for last solid 5 months. Mike went from active battle grounds where bullets whizzed around his head to a PR firm in downtown Seattle caulk full of beautiful woman. I asked if that took some adjustment and he countered without missing a beat, “oh yeah”, he said. It was interesting to hear his accounts of readjusting to civilian life in America as I’d started a transition of my own.

The One and Only... The Original

Seattle was great. In my two nights I frequented brew pubs with Mike, had a martini in an old morgue, drank lots of coffee, ate fish at the famous public market, took the hilarious and fascinating “underground tour” of the city they built Seattle on top of, went to a Mariners game which they lost and ate a crumpet. I spent the majority of a day walking around the city going to touristy places like the space needle, the Sci-Fi museum and the science museum, and after standing outside rubbing my chin for about 5 minutes I decided none of them were worth the admission price and moved on. I found the city ripe with diversity, colorful neighborhoods and the feel of a real working town. I was sad to leave after such a short visit but the northern wilds of Canada beckoned.

Spring at the Space Needle


Underground Seattle

Vancouver, eh?

Yeah, yeah Vancouver – a place I’ve heard great things about with its access to the mountains, to the outward islands and with thriving liberal politics and real communities. The city lived up to all the expectations, a beautiful city (when the weather cooperates) with really friendly people. It was interesting to follow a week back in the states with a trip to Canada, were everything’s virtually the same except people have funny accents and the Queen’s still on all the currency (the currency also sports a loon, beavers, hockey players and a Caribou).

Vancouver High Rent District


Kits Pool

In Vancouver I stayed with my buddy Steve whom I’d met way back on my trek in Laos. On first arriving he lent me his bike and I rode around the water’s edge with great views of the city and eventually turned onto the bay where I watched the sun set over the ocean and the many tankers moored in the harbor. The next day Steve and I took a ferry to a nearby island with two bikes and rode around the small community going to a Buddhist retreat with a 1,000 year old tree and climbing a nearby mountain with breathtaking views of the surrounding islands and snow capped mountains which endlessly stretch out from Vancouver’s borders. My last night, Steve took me to a world music concert organized by his friend and part of a performance series called “In the house” so called because they all take place inside people’s living rooms. We sat with the other 20 or so people and listened as the group played away on Indian flutes, an Erhu, Marimba and the Tabla.

BC Ferry


Meditating on Age and Growth

For now, I’ve left the world of the unknown and the foreign, and have returned to my old home of Washington, DC to see what a familiar place looks like through new eyes. Over the next two weeks I plan to catch up with friends and begin to piece together the next stage of my life as I slowly make my way up the coast, through New York City and back to NH.

Sunset Over the Pacific

The San Francisco Treat

Apparently there is a group of people out there advocating San Francisco as the “best city in the world”. I haven’t actually met any of these people, and am not sure if they’re residents or visitors, but you know, they might have a point.

Sailboats on the Bay

There’s just something so damn amenable about the place. I imagine it has something to do with the friendly residents that chat with you on the buses, the breathtaking harbor views, the proximity to nature, the world’s “crookedest” street (for the record, I believe the San Francisco city council invented this word just to win this nonexistant title, which in my mind should disqualify them from any record; though, I must admit Lombard Street is very nice indeed) or possibly the amazing level of diversity which gives San Fran such a worldly feel. I’ll tell you what it’s not though, the weather – the city just can’t make up its mind. Windy? Cloudy? Rainy? Sunny? How about all at the same time? When you’re in the sun and sheltered from the wind you’re in a T-shirt and 30 meters (sorry 100 ft) away when you’re in the shade and exposed to the wind you’re wearing two jackets just to save from hypothermia.

Palace of Fine Arts

Regardless of the finicky weather, there’s a lot to keep a visitor or resident alike busy in San Francisco. For instance you could; check out the few remaining burnt out hippies in Haight Ashbury and grab a Starbucks coffee and do some shopping at Armani while you’re out there; visit the former residence of Al Capone and enjoy splendid harbor views and Midwestern tourists on Alcatraz; watch the sea lions fight and frolic on Pier 39; bike across the golden gate bridge and explore the wild headlands just a couple Ks from the city and then grab an ice cream cone in quiet seaside Sausalito before grabbing the ferry back to the Pier; alternatively, share a pitcher of PBR with hipsters at a biker bar in the Mission; or, finally take the ultimate travel picture – a picture of you in front of Danny Tanner’s house.

Alcatraz, The Bridge and the City from the Headlands


Welcome to the Rock

So San Francisco’s good. I was surprisingly surprised most by the two most idyllic symbols of the city: the Golden Gate bridge and Alcatraz. I always figured these were overrated (like the Hoover dam) but came to find that in fact I was prematurely underrating them. Though it’s over a mile away, Alcatraz really dominates the harbor view with the light tower, huge jailhouse and ruins of old residents for the island’s guards and workers. The Alcatraz audio tour is also wonderful with descriptions of life on the island (and escape attempts) told by old convicts and guards, and taking a walk out side you get great views of the city as well as the thousands of crazed seabirds which now inhabit the island. One tip if you go: Get the early morning tour and get some privacy before the jailhouse gets crowded and claustrophobic mid-morning. The other thing is the Golden Gate bridge which is phenomenal. It’s remarkably impressive in real life as it stands out in the skyline and is really, really long. The bright red paint also marks a great entrance into the harbor. I always thought a bridge to be a strange icon for a city, but now I understand and think it works.

Alcatraz Gulls


Damn, Now That There's a Good Lookin' Bridge, You Reckon?

In the city I was staying with this guy Chris whom I met through a social networking site called couchsurfing which was setup for travelers looking for a place to crash. Chris was a wonderful host and immediately showed me around his sweet one bedroom in Marina, threw me a set of keys and said, “enjoy”. I even met some fellow “couchsurfers”, had the place to myself while he went home for the weekend and borrowed his bike for a trip over the bridge and into the headlands. Although I wouldn’t expect all hosts to be as gracious and trusting as Chris, I would definitely couchsurf again and recommend it to anyone as a way to meet locals (and get a free place to crash).

I also got to see some old friends in the city whom eagerly showed me the different neighborhoods and watering holes. This included Neil my old roommate from high school and my friend Kiran from college who was kind enough to receive a package from my folks. This package contained my laptop, iPod and a present from the Easter bunny whom was kind to me this year. Sadly, the package did not contain the key item – my drivers license, which appears to have gone to wherever it is that lost licenses go these days. This cut short my plan of renting a car for the long haul north, but at least I’m reconnected to the technological world and thoroughly enjoying access to my music for the first time in 5 months.

It’s also been very interesting to return to the US after 5 months abroad. The first day I just marveled as I overheard people’s American chatter in this busy city. People like to talk frantically about money, relationships and work with an intensity I’m not used to. I’m also not used to hearing “like” used as every fifth word and must admit I’m slipping back into this bad habit myself. People look at me a bit strange when I say "cheers" instead of thank you or "no worries". In general I’ve begun to realize the truth of the foreigners stereotype of how loud Americans are and how tacky American tourism is. Ah American tourist, I can’t say I’ve missed you. Walking down the constantly packed Pier 39, I was amazed to see large masses of tourists virtually yelling at each other and almost everyone wearing a garment from, presumably, their last stop: Yosemite; Las Vegas; Los Angeles; The corn palace – you name it, they have sweatshirts for it. There are other things to adjust to like paying tax over the stated price and tipping which is slowly coming back. There are also good things like pizza. I almost snapped my neck in excitement when I caught my first whiff of Pizza shortly after getting off the BART from the Airport. Mmmmm.... Pizza....

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San Fran Sunset

New Zealand Wrap Up

I arrived in Queenstown at about 5:30 a bit sore from my morning workout at the climbing gym in Wanaka and after a brief trip to the original bungy jumping site – a 43 meter bridge over a local gorge near Queenstown. It was here that local legend AJ Hackett first had the bright idea that people might pay him to tie a glorified rubber band to there ankles and throw them off the bridge. Hitherto, this idea would have been considered more than a little “crazy”. Shortly after AJ popularized this bizarre ritual, Queenstown began its transformation from a quaint ski town and summer holiday destination to the “adventure capital of the world”. Apart from bungy jumping (including the formidable “Nevis” – a 147 m jump from a small pod suspended by wires and accessible only by a small gondola - AJ’s latest monster, visitors to Queenstown can also indulge in a bevy of other adventure activities such as: jetboating, canyoning, canyon swinging, helihiking, helibiking, heliskiing, paragliding, parasailing, skydiving (which includes parachuting), and any other activity which begins with “para” or “heli” - you could probably even buy a helilatte if you have $250NZ burning a whole in your pocket. Your author, however, did not partake in any of these activities so if you want to know what it’s like you’ll just have to go yourself.

I should also explain that Queenstown is a beautiful little mountain town on the shores of a large glacial lake, so apart from tricking your brain into thinking you're going to die, it turns out the town has a lot else to offer… like drinking. OK, seriously though, I woke at dawn the first day for a day trip to Milford Sound, which is actually a fjord (don't get me started). After an uneventful couple hours on the road, the bus finally found itself in Fjordland national park which was stunning. The bus continued down a flat valley which glowed yellow with the local grasses slope and height of the mountains led you to believe you’d have to strain your neck and bend backwards to look straight up and see the tops. The road to Milford is often closed because of rockslides and avalanches and also passes through a dramatic 1 kilometer tunnel through one of the mountains. This trip was also my first and (sadly) only view of the Kea, the only alpine parrot in the world. In this episode two of the inquisitive creatures were on top of a tourist’s car jumping up and down and pecking at the rubber seals while the driver dutifully stood by and took pictures. Our driver pointed out that he should probably have been scaring the birds away before they ruined the car but I'm sure it was probably a rental so no worries!

Mirror Lake


Fjordland National Park

Once at the sound we boarded a small boat for a quick tour. Like the drive in, the sound was impressive with rising mountains over the water, lots of gushing waterfalls and the occasional fur seal. We wound through the narrow sounds out to the Tasman Sea and then turned around for the long return journey to Queenstown.

Milford Sound


Milford Radar

The next day I woke at dawn again and immediately set out from my hostel for the hike up Ben Lomand peak which was equally stunning to Milford Sound, while requiring significantly less time and money and a much larger effort on my part. On the way up I encountered mountain goats, a host of different birds and a bunch of sheep whom looked lost. The hike went up through a low forest and then onto a dramatic saddle and a ridgeline which curved around to the summit. Halfway up two helicopters came from the seemingly endless mountains to the west and whizzed over the saddle as I admired them from eyelevel on the mountain. At that moment, I wanted their job. Since it was early the clouds still clung to the lake and moved quickly down the valley before being burned away from the mid-morning sun. Once at the top, I found a spot in the sun and sheltered from the wicked wind and sat for an hour amazed by the stunning views of Queenstown, the lake and the surrounding mountains and also amazed by the complete peaceful silence at the top saving the occasional cry of a far-off bird. I was halfway down the mountain before encountering my first person of the day and then they started up in droves.

Lake Wakatipu in the Morning


View From Ben Lomand Saddle

I arrived back in town at about lunch time feeling quite accomplished, but also with an intense grumbling in my stomach and so I head for the famous Fergburger for a lamb burger roughly the size of my inflated head, which I promptly devoured along with a large portion of fries. Then, before I knew it it was Good Friday. Usually such a development would completely slip my conscious, but in this instance it was hard to miss because they closed all the bars at 12 am sharp Thursday night (Friday morning) cause it's illegal to serve liquor on Good Friday. What the hell? Good Friday isn’t a holiday! That’s the southern hemisphere for you... Luckily a repeat trip to Fergburger raised my spirits and allowed me to intake 25 times my daily allotment of grease in a 24 hour period.

The next morning we boarded the bus for the epic (and by epic I mean epically boring and uneventful) drive to Dunedin where I got to go on a great wildlife tour with flying Albatross (they’re huge!) and a private conservation beach covered with sea lions and waddly and rare yellow-eyed penguins. Also of note was the World’s steepest street which I was very excited for and was not disappointed – it was steep alright! Sorry Dunedin that’s all you get – just two sentences. Next time try being more interesting.

Frisky Sea Lions


Hello, Yellow-Eyed Penguin Style


Life on the World's Steepest Street

After Dunedin, the bus wound (buses tend to do this a lot in New Zealand in my experience) through the plains and along pristine glacial lakes and long canals which feed New Zealand’s many hydropower plants. The lakes and canals are a brilliant teal blue from the glacial sediment filtering the light reflecting through the water. We finally arrived in a sleepy little town with one main street and a tiny stone church on the lakes edge. We stayed at a hostel at the lakes edge and I decided to book an extra night and take a trip to Mt. Cook national park for Easter Sunday. Mt. Cook is New Zealand’s largest peak and is named after the famous captain cook who explored much of Australia and New Zealand. It’s also just on the other side of the mountain range from Franz Joseph and Fox glaciers which I had visited on the West coast.

Blue Lake Pukaki


Mt. Cook Over Lake Pukaki

The shuttle arrived at the park at 9:30 am and as usual I headed out on an overly ambitious hike right away. I figured it would be cold so I brought 5 layers and my brand new possum/merino wool hat which turned out to be four layers and one possum/merino hat too many, with a day of brilliant clear blue skies and a strong, hot sun. The first 30 minutes of the hike took me through low meadows of yellow grass and low shrubs and then I was at the crossroads looking down the nicely grated, flat path in one direction and the path straight up a steep slope in the other, and with only the slightest hesitation sighed quietly to myself and bound up the steep path past the sign telling me it was a 6 hour return and knowing I only had 4. Well, the hike was amazingly difficult but equally rewarding. After rising high above the glaciers and grey glacial melts (with much higher levels of glacial sediment than the rivers and lakes) I got great views of the valley fading into the distance and of Mt. Cook and the surrounding mountains. Pushing further up the trail I found myself scrambling up boulder fields and onto a high ridgeline which was little more than a pile of rocks left behind by long receding expanses of ice. After a full 2 hours of uphill battle I reached the hut which had been my goal and took 7 minutes to bask in the sun and down a small round of brie, half a baguette and a stick of Chorizo, and then headed back down. The trip down was easier on the lungs, but harder on the knees and treacherous as I tried to maintain even footing on the loose rocks. Slowly but surely I made my way down the trail and nearly ran back across the plain to reach the shuttle bus a mere 5 minutes before departure.

Path to the Mountain


Mt. Cook and Hooker Glacier

The next day, I treated myself to the first (and also my last) adventure activity of the trip and went white water rafting. I found myself decked out in a wetsuit, raincoat, safety vest and helmet and floating down the Rangitata River. As we followed the glacial blue river as it gently dropped through the valley our Kiwi guide, who was about 17 times cooler than I’ll ever be, explained how he was going to get us through the two grade five rapids alive. Well, what followed was amazing. I absolutely loved it and here’s why: it’s so participatory and team oriented. Everyone gets a paddle and within 30 minutes of climbing in the boat we’d all learned the basic strokes and commands and our guide could navigate the boat around the water at will simply by shouting commands at the 7 of us whom had never done this before. Everyone paddles and when someone falls out of the boat they rely on the closest person to pull them back in. I also liked it because our guide did a great job of scaring us senseless while simultaneously convincing us that we’d get through unscathed. For the next 3 hours we did all the rapids, jumped off cliffs and floated down through the 8 degree C water and our guide even flipped the boat on purpose just to mess with us. The trip entered with a huge BBQ at the end where we all relived the adventure before being taken off to Christchurch.

On the Rangitata


Bravely Rafting the Rangitata

I had a day to kill in Christchurch and killed it with style. I ran some errands, drank some coffee and took a nap in one of the many parks. My last night I joined some friends from the Magic Bus (which has redeemed itself after having some cool drivers and getting to know many cool people) for a BBQ at their hostel. We ate like Kings (and Queens) drank some NZ wine and beer and even sat in the sauna for a good spell. I was in bed by midnight and slept for four hours before waking to catch my early morning flight. Roughly 24 hours later I touched down in San Francisco at 10 am the same day, so for now I’m relaxing in California, enjoying the spring weather and trying to reacclimatize to the states while preparing for my long trip home with some small detours to Seattle, Vancouver and Washington, DC.

As usual, I've posted a boatload of new picks on my Flickr site. Enjoy.

Christchurch Hammock


Tekapo Bench in the Morning


Guarding the Moeraki Boulders

Mt. Cook

Ferries, Trains and Cheesy Tour Buses On Ice!

From Wellington, I had the pleasure of taking the early morning Ferry back across the Tasman Sea to Picton. the boat quickly exits Wellington Harbor and a couple hours later enters the Queen Charlotte Sounds on the South Island for the long winding trip in Picton . The scenery was stunning as the boat wound through the hills with the bright green of the trees and golden glow of the grasslands in contrast with the dark blue water of the sounds.

Hills around Wellington From the Ferry


Island in Queen Charlotte Sounds

We docked in Picton about midday which gave me just time enough to grab a bite to eat before boarding the TRANZCoastal, the scenic train which would take me back to Christchurch. The train ride was wonderful with great views of the coastline from the tall windows which made up its sides. We wound along the coast passing through old tunnels, over historic bridges and past the sweeping salt flats which provide New Zealand with much of its salt. One car was just an open platform with guard rails to let you take in the cold air rushing by and to allow good pictures of the scenery unobstructed by the glass of the cars. Unfortunately it was cold so that car was empty but contained multiple warnings about staying within the rails so no picture-happy tourists lost an arm in one of the close cropped tunnels.

Down the Tracks of the TRANZCoastal

After another nice but uneventful night in Christchurch, I woke early to catch my next ride - the TRANZAlpine which traverses the Southern Alps by the way of Arthurs Pass and onto the rugged west coast of the South Island. The ride, like its coastal sibling, had breathtaking scenery, but seemed to be lacking a little something... and that something was snow. I don't care if its still technically summer, these are the ALPS for heaven's sake. Where is the damn snow?! Alas, it appears that New Zealand will not help break my sad winter without snow. Oh well.

The Great Pass

So the great alpine passage behind, I now arrived in Greymouth , the biggest town on the west coast, where even my guidebook admits there's nothing to do but drink Monteiths. Regardless, I would not be dissuaded and, after suitably stuffing myself with delicious pizza, found a nice walk through a local estuary, along a winding flood wall and up the grey stone beach which just about matched the color of the eternal cloud covered sky of the west coast. After that, some English gents and myself mistakenly missed the Monteiths brewery tour shuttle, but not to worry, we managed to get the driver to take us back to the partner pub and got a free tasting of all their beers, therefor saving ourselves the pain of sitting through all that drivel about how the beer is made (does anyone really care?) and $15.

Greymouth Beach

The following day, I woke early to catch my new bus, the "Magic Bus". Sounds fancy huh? The Magic Bus is a hop-on hop-off coach service/tour bus that does circuits around New Zealand. This isn't normally my style, but nearing the end of my trip I thought it would be a good way to quickly tour the island and meet some new peeps instead of stubbornly always going the exact opposite direction as everyone else (a specialty of mine). So far the bus meets my needs, but not without cost (both monetarily and patience wise). First problem is that many of the other occupants seem to lack any sense of adventure and seem to just stop at the main stops, just flying through the ones in between. This attitude is encouraged by the drivers who try and get you to book preplanned activities at the main stops instead of going out on your own. Lame. The second (and more annoying) problem is the drivers themselves. The idea is solid, with the drivers making occasional stops at interesting places the regular coaches usually just fly by, and offering commentary as you pass interesting towns and sites, but the system falls apart because the drivers seem to have trouble shutting up. My first driver went on and on about all the partying we would be doing with him in Queenstown. When I was just about to go mental on him, he announced, "Of course, we won't be getting to Queenstown until tomorrow so I'll make sure to repeat this all tomorrow." Arrrgghhhhhh !!! Let me off!!! Then, to add insult to injury, he told a story about a couple which met on his bus and then got married years later. This was one of those stories where you sit in eager anticipation of the words "...and to make a long story short", but they just never come. You may know this kind of story, because occasionally even I tell them... but then I found a $5 bill under my seat which I decided I would spend on beer to slightly alleviate the pain.

That day, the bus took us from Greymouth to Franz Joseph, stopping at a jade factory which no one went in to and a gold panning demonstration which no one forked out $6.50 to participate in. Such is life.

Once in Franz Joseph, I dropped my pack, ran to the DOC (Department of Conservation) info center, bought some food and ran back to the hostel just in time to catch the shuttle to the park. I decided to do the Alex Knob trail on a recommendation , the only problem being that it was listed as an 8 hour return and it was one 1 pm and I had to catch the 7 pm (and last) shuttle back to town. I decided to go for it anyway and climbed the mountain at a blistering (literally) pace through tropical jungle, past wonderful overlooks and up into the sub-alpine shrubs. I took only one short break, ate my lunch as I hiked, and my legs burned sharply the last 25 minutes of frustrating false summits, but finally my hand hit the summit marker exactly 2 hours and 20 minutes after setting out. I collapsed in the grass from exhaustion and promptly patted myself on the back for my achievement. The top of Alex Knob was stunning and worth every calf burning step. It afforded magnificent views of the west coast, the surrounding mountains and the star attraction, and the town's namesake, the Franz Joseph glacier. My first glacial experience and it was simply stunning wedged between two mountains and extending from the gray clouds almost all the way down the mountains to the riverbed below. I was surprised to look down from my perch and see bug sized helicopters below viewing the glacier. I took some pictures and headed down the mountain as the daily rain started to fall and gladly made it back for the 6 pm shuttle, then promptly limped back to the hostel and went to bed.

Hobbit Trail up Alex Knob


The Mighty Franz Joseph

By 9 am the next morning I was 30 Ks south and trying on heavy boots and crampons for my trip atop Franz Joseph's twin - the Fox Glacier. We hiked about an hour and up past the terminal face, along steeply carved cliffs and past fresh rock falls, then descended the valley and hiked onto the glacier over steps freshly carved that morning. Our group of ten loyally followed our guide past crevasses , glacial streams and up thick ice faces on the steps she chipped out for us with her sizable pick ax. It was really fascinating to hear about the formation and evolution of these huge masses of ice and to see the results of their forces in real time. The glacial blue of the dense ice was truly amazing mixed in with the white surface ice and grey rocks and glacial mud. We hiked up the glacier for several hours before turning back where the ice became too jagged as it spills out of a bottleneck high above. It was an unforgettable experience, but unfortunately I came back with few pictures as the afternoon found us drenched in rain and I've already lost one camera on this expedition.

Climbing Fox


Glacier Up Close

I've spent the last few days in Wanaka, a town high in the Alps on a huge glacial lake and surround by the high pinnacles of mountains. Wanaka is a great town with a famous movie theatre filled with couches (as well as a car) for viewers as well as a bar and famous homemade cookies and ice cream. Apart from taking in the scenery, I rented a mountain bike and toured an awesome set of local trails and, due to no outdoor trips going out (what gives?), hope to hit the local climbing wall tonight. I also did one hike up nearby Mt. Iron with great views of the town, the 2 lakes and the surrounding mountains.

Looking down on Lake Wanaka


Wanaka Berries

Tomorrow I'm back on the bus and onto Queenstown, "the adventure capitol of the world". We'll have to see what that's all about. I'll let you know when I find out.