Into the South

A very early morning taxi ride had us delivered to the domestic terminal in the dark. By the time we were taxiing down the runway, the sun was starting to poke its head above the horizon. In our cramped seats on a practically full plane, we soared over the paddocks and shoreline and up into the clouds. In about an hour we were sailing through the clouds again into the mountains which were mostly bare and devoid of snow, trees, and grass. Eventually this gave way to the yellow, grass covered slopes and green forested valleys surrounding Queenstown. The blue lake grew larger and larger as we finally landed, leading to the eventual calming of several upset children. My knees creaked with relief as they finally stretched out on the tarmac before getting through the terminal and into our rental car. Our first order of business was to get breakfast, a bit of food to start us off, and a sweater for the impending cold our visitor was to experience. The small shopping district was where we first got to stretch our legs. Having felt it upon exiting the plane, we continued to enjoy the crisp, cool autumn air, a far nicer feel to the damp cold of Auckland that we would be experiencing over our winter. The village area was beautiful with the blue sky and mountain backdrop, the still rising sun creating great contrast with beaming light and chilling shadows.

With Lisa's bus delayed we decided to take the opportunity to explore some of the Queenstown area. Driving through the obvious tourist town, we headed on up the lakeside towards and area known as Glenarchy. The view was spectacular; the mountains rising steep from the lake were framing the clouds on a canvas of blue, all reflected on the lake. The usual landscape of many shades of green now incorporated browns and yellows as grass dried and leaves either dropped or changed colour. It was clearly not home, but this was by far the closest we had come to an autumn day.

The twisting road went on round the bend in the lake and up towards even more mountain ranges. This area was part of where the filming for the Tolkien series' were done and it is without doubt that this was a great choice. The freshness and wildness of this landscape was breathtaking, and Mary-Ellen and I stopped frequently to take it all in.

Towards the end of the road, and very much near its actual end, we were greeted by snow topped mountains and braided rivers. This was definitely glacial country, to which much of the regions beauty can be attributed. Years of ice pushing down slowly through the rock, grinding away great valleys and fjords, dumping rock and creating kames (large mounds of glacial deposits), only to eventually melt faster than it flowed, receding up to the mountain tops where many will disappear forever. These leviathans may vanish but their legacy is evident today and will be for centuries to come.

Having had our much needed breath of fresh air, we wandered back into Queenstown to go to the many shops that were now open and bustling with tourists.  The town itself was built around tourism, with shops selling souvenirs, expensive clothing, and trips to the various extreme adventures. For us slower paced travelers, we simply enjoyed the novelty shops such as the rock shop and the yarn shop where much to Mary-Ellen's surprise, finally carried real New Zealand wool. Much like Auckland and most New Zealand cities, green-spaces and historical monuments were abound here too.

Our tummies starting to rumble, we began the hard task of deciding on a place to eat. When I say hard, I simply mean that on an average day there are multiple decisions; do I want deep fried? something spicy such as Indian or Thai? do I want food immediately or can I wait at a table? Fortunately, this decision was made for us as we passed a pizza place called the Fat Badger. On the sign was the words we had seen so often, poutine. Having been disappointed before with a mediocre fries with gravy and cheddar cheese, Mary-Ellen was tantalized by the addition of the words "Canadian Style". With one quick decisive action, she marched into the store, up to the counter, and to the slightly confused look of the waitress behind the counter, she asked whether the cheese was just shredded cheddar or was it real cheese curds. When the waitress returned from asking the chef, it was quickly decided that we would eat here. The sign would not disappoint us, and Mary-Ellen got her first real poutine since leaving Canada.

Very full after sharing a salad bowl worth of poutine and attempting to have a little of the pizza we ordered, we received message that Lisa was going to be very late and would just stay the night in town rather than have us wait around till who knows when. We then proceeded to Shotover to our accommodations to settle in and digest. Our first greeting coming into this town was the colourful gorge that ran by the minuscule community. Orange, yellow and green foliage dotted the sides of the grey cliffsides that rose from the blue-grey glacial waters. With the sun setting and bad lighting, we decided we would stop back before leaving, and continued onward to the holiday park.

The small community had a very unique feel to it, with the sides of the road dotted with makeshift mail boxes, each with their own character, including a number of ski oriented boxes that were appropriate for the alpine village.

Finally we settled into our little cabin in the mountains, repacking bags and going over the numerous brochures we had gathered from the airport and i-site in town. We then headed off to bed dreaming of the numerous wonders we would see over the next week.