New Zealand's South Island
People sit in their own, self-dug spas on Hot Water Beach on the Coromand
el Peninsula, where geothermally heated water bubbles up through the sand. By the time we get there, every square foot of beach is claimed, but people are friendly and invite us into their pools.
We hole hop, wondering if one will offer something different from the others. Some are more boil-y, and some are too hot for more than a touch from us, though little kids sit submerged with plastic shovel and bucket, fruitlessly digging to the source.
The country’s tallest peak is Mt. Cook, or what was originally named Mt. Aoraaki by the Maori, meaning peace and clouds. On the way there from our hot baths, our driver pulls off the road to let us snap sh
ots of the snow-covered peak; he says it’s usually cloud-covered. It is magnificent.
Our camp that night is a rustic one with a single outhouse but the best view. We erect our tents riverside across from Mt. Cook, which reaches into a still-mostly-clear sky.
In Dunedin we tour the unimpressive Cadbury chocolate factory the next day before traveling on to Fjordland National Park and Mt. Cook.
Only one road leads into Fjordland, and to reach the end takes hours, but it’s worth the time. My bike and I are dropped along the way, and I glide downhill around hairpin turns 10 miles to meet the group at the marina of Milford Sound. The curvy switchbacks would be thrilling to tear around, I’m sure, but I’m careful since I’m biking alone.
We all take a 2-hour ferry tour of Milford Sound. Bottle-nosed dolphins breech around the boat, staying with us for 5 minutes. The captain says they appear for only about 10% of the cruises. He also says he’s never seen the water more calm. We all feel blessed to be here on this unusually clear spring day.
The cliff faces, the waterfalls, the sun-bathing sea lions, all are special, and upon disembarkation from the ferry, some describe the experience as spiritual. Mark and I are less moved, but we are the oldest in the group and have likely borne witness to more amazing and existential natural phenomena. We hope New Zealand brings us more.
el Peninsula, where geothermally heated water bubbles up through the sand. By the time we get there, every square foot of beach is claimed, but people are friendly and invite us into their pools.We hole hop, wondering if one will offer something different from the others. Some are more boil-y, and some are too hot for more than a touch from us, though little kids sit submerged with plastic shovel and bucket, fruitlessly digging to the source.
The country’s tallest peak is Mt. Cook, or what was originally named Mt. Aoraaki by the Maori, meaning peace and clouds. On the way there from our hot baths, our driver pulls off the road to let us snap sh
ots of the snow-covered peak; he says it’s usually cloud-covered. It is magnificent.Our camp that night is a rustic one with a single outhouse but the best view. We erect our tents riverside across from Mt. Cook, which reaches into a still-mostly-clear sky.
In Dunedin we tour the unimpressive Cadbury chocolate factory the next day before traveling on to Fjordland National Park and Mt. Cook.
Only one road leads into Fjordland, and to reach the end takes hours, but it’s worth the time. My bike and I are dropped along the way, and I glide downhill around hairpin turns 10 miles to meet the group at the marina of Milford Sound. The curvy switchbacks would be thrilling to tear around, I’m sure, but I’m careful since I’m biking alone.
We all take a 2-hour ferry tour of Milford Sound. Bottle-nosed dolphins breech around the boat, staying with us for 5 minutes. The captain says they appear for only about 10% of the cruises. He also says he’s never seen the water more calm. We all feel blessed to be here on this unusually clear spring day.
The cliff faces, the waterfalls, the sun-bathing sea lions, all are special, and upon disembarkation from the ferry, some describe the experience as spiritual. Mark and I are less moved, but we are the oldest in the group and have likely borne witness to more amazing and existential natural phenomena. We hope New Zealand brings us more.
posted by Elizabeth Evans Fryer | 5:26 AM
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