The Many Wonders of New Zealand

October 29th, 2006 Edgewater Hotel, Te Anau, New Zealand
I know I sound like a broken record every time I write because I repeat this phrase quite often: today I saw some of the most beautiful scenery I have ever seen.
We awoke early (nothing new there) and had breakfast next door. It was raining, which followed us for most of the day. I actually enjoy this kind of weather, so it wasn’t a very disheartening situation from my perspective. It gave everything a calm mood. We left the comforting confines of Queenstown and set out for more escapades.
I was pretty tired, having averaged around four-and-a-half hours the last several nights. That’s not exactly healthy or desired, so I found myself dozing quite a bit during our drive this morning. The trip was pretty long, but broken up along the way to relieve exploding bladders. We stopped on the shore of a lake in a little town called Te Anau where we would be spending the night. It was still a couple of hours to our destination of the day, so after a cup of coffee and a visit to the boys’ (or girls’) room, we continued. Then we came to the real stuff. We entered valley after valley of moss-covered trees surrounded by dramatic snow-capped mountains, lined with strings of waterfalls. We stopped at a swift-flowing stream, called Monkey Creek, which is supposed to be one of the purest in the world, and it was good.
A few minutes down the road was the Chasm. A short walk through the magical trees brought us to a bridge over a fast river which plunged into a gap in the rocky floor. Years of erosion had brought about this slim abyss.
And then we came to the main goal. It was the stunning Milford Sound. A long collection of bays connected towards the ocean. These were bordered by three-covered mountains like those we had seen earlier in the day. Instead of snow, the summits were laden with mist. We boarded a boat and set out on a cruise around these inlets, sailing beneath the magnificent splendor completely engulfing us. We had lunch onboard and I then climbed to the top deck to be alone in this mystical world. At every turn, in every direction, the green mountains were embraced by that faultless gray and white haze with the cascades appearing from the midst of it. The deck soon became too crowded, so I went to the bow, which was empty. A pleasant wind swept across the water, moving the mist with it, creating more unique pictures. It is times like these when it seems God is so apparent, when it seems the proof is right before our eyes. Doubt is present so many times, it is refreshing to have these times of comfort, when faith is not necessarily strengthened, but it is encouraged. The spray from the waterfalls came into my face and I wrapped my brown jacket tighter around me and closed my eyes. But only briefly, because the Milford Sound was too compelling to keep my eyelids down for long. One of the best hikes in the world is here, a three-day journey. Someday, I want to return and climb all over these misty mountains. I felt a strong urge to ditch the bus and hide aboard the boat to lengthen this experience as long as I could. These words are entirely inadequate and insufficient and every other word that has to do with standards unmet to capture the beauty and majesty and mythical essence of this place. Milford Sound has soared near the top of my list of places visited. I’ve said that about a lot of places in New Zealand. I think New Zealand may just have to be viewed as a whole, because it’s getting difficult to differentiate.
I was in a daze on the drive back to Te Anau. This was partly due to the awesomeness I had seen, and also because I was really darn tired. We stopped once more at the Chasm, but I stayed on the bus to rest. I did get off at Mirror Lakes and at Eglinton Valley, a vast plain of tall grass with snow-covered peaks on running beside it on either side. I thought of the plains of Rohan in Middle-earth and of the Three Hunters racing across to rescue their diminutive friends.
The rain had begun again while we were on the boat, but it was a light shower. By the time we arrived in Te Anau it had become a thundering downfall. Edgewater Hotel is, as its name implies, on the edge of the water of the lake. Ashley, Pierre, and I were put in Room 12. They’re nice quarters, with a small kitchen and two rooms. Malcolm drove us into town where we were set loose to eat. Katie, Felicity, and I found a little Chinese place where we were joined by Lily and Heather. I ate Sesame and Honey Chicken while listening to songs from musicals and Disney movies, as well as the theme from Titanic, played by Chinese instruments. It was pouring down rain when I walked the few blocks back to the hotel. I was suitably soaked when I walked through the door.
At 8, we met in the Littles’ room for communion and a short worship service. It was good to come together like that and sing. I led the prayer at the end and had a difficult time getting through it. Three of Morgan’s close friends were killed in a car accident yesterday, hit by a young drunk driver, who was also killed. Two girls are in a hospital in Memphis, one of whom is in an intentionally-induced coma. The parents of the drunk driver are with the other families. I don’t understand why these things happen; it’s just the world we live in. I hope those people involved and those affected can be brought together and brought closer to God through this pain and sorrow.
Pierre, Ashley, and I downed a few cups of coffee and watched Flight of the Phoenix on T.V. Tomorrow we head for Mt. Cook, where we will be staying in chalets at the base. This wide world in which we live can be such an ugly, cruel, and terrible place, but it can also be a place of pure beauty and splendor.

October 30th, 2006 The Chalets of the Hermitage, Mt. National Park, New Zealand
I felt a strong disinclination to pull myself from between those incredibly warm sheets and the comfortably soft mattress. But I did. We drove down the road to the Te Anau Villas and ate a continental breakfast, which is basically fruits, cereals, and breads. I had watermelon and oranges and that was about it. I was able to check my email for the first time in a few days where I read that my great-grandmother, Granny Oakley, had just passed away. It’s been on my mind all day. A part of me certainly wishes to be there with my family and attend the funeral. She was such a kind and giving lady and now I wish I had been able to spend more time with her. It makes me realize how finite life really is, and I think of all things I want to do and places I want to go and the person I want to become. I spoke with Rich this evening about A New Kind of Christian (which, in the first few chapters, definitely has me thinking and reminds me very much of conversations I have had and feelings I have felt) and of the move from a modern theology to a postmodern theology and of the diversity in faith even on this group. Rich said, “If everyone who attends my funeral is just like me then I have failed.”
From Te Anau we drove to Arrowtown, which was once a gold-mining settlement. The main street looked like something from a Western, lined with over sixty wooden buildings from the 1800s. Ashley and I walked around a little while before finding a café in which a very delicious plate of fish and chips was served. Anna Justus soon came bursting in and said an absolutely wonderful thing: “Someone found Dr. Pepper!”
For some reason, the three countries we’ve visited on this trip haven’t realized the importance of the sweet nectar that is Dr. Pepper. Down the street in the Remarkable Sweet Shop I found a can of the stuff. I’ve heard God had his hand in directly creating two liquids: water……..and Dr. Pepper. And it tasted good. And I was happy. I then walked around and found the stream in which all the gold was found. Somewhere in this area was where part of the scene in which Arwen rides to escape the Black Riders. I attempted to jump across the stream, but missed the other side by just a little bit and my right leg was completely soaked. Not cool. My second attempt in jumping across, to get back to the right side, went well, though.
Aside from reading a few chapters, I slept most of the drive today. It was actually very pleasant. My eyes wouldn’t stay open, so I didn’t force them to do anything they didn’t really want. At one point we were stopped for about thirty minutes because of a blast on the side of the mountains. A few of us exited the bus and tossed around the football next to a large field of vineyards. At around 5:30, we arrived in Mt. Cook National Park, and to the Hermitage. We were staying in the chalets which overlooked the valley and Mt. Cook. New Zealander Sir Edmund Hillary, the first man to climb Mt. Everest, used Mt. Cook as practice. The chalets are triangular-shaped structures with the roofs reaching to the ground. I’m in one with the Four Musketeers: Ashley, Kevin, Greer, and Patrick. We had dinner in the restaurant of the Hermitage. The lasagna was incredible, and the banana pudding wasn’t half bad either.
I then went for a run. I wore my long-sleeve Duke t-shirt and shorts and I was freezing. The sun was beginning to set and the snow on Mt. Cook glowed orange and red. I went down the hill and through the expansive plain, covered in that same beautiful grass of green and pale brown that I have seen everywhere else. The ground was uneven, but soft and you just can’t pass up running on that stuff. Splitting the ground in two was what looked like a dried river bed, populated with jagged rocks. And I had to run on that also. I came to a series of hills, and on the top of one was a stone monument dedicated to those who have died from climbing the surrounding mountains. It would be a beautiful place to go, though. I ran to a lookout down the path, and I heard a symphony rising from the valley below. It was the Hooker River, racing from the lake of the same name. Behind it was Mt. Cook, joining to ranges on either side. There were no signs of civilization in that direction. It was pure nature, and the air was pure and everything was pure and clean and pristine. To the right the mountains, black and white, marched into the distance. The lights of the Hermitage were behind me, nestled against another series of mountains, reminiscent of Rivendell. The road we drove on disappeared into the wide gap between the mountains. The ranges to my right had been used as the backdrop for the great city of Minas Tirith in The Lord of the Rings. Standing on that little hill looking around me was such an incredible moment of tranquility and beauty. It was humbling. I was freezing my rear end off, but I didn’t care. I was alone, surrounded by the most incredible forms of nature. It was becoming dark, so I ran back across the plain to the warmth of the chalets.
I’m running out of good descriptive words to use about New Zealand, so I may sound like a broken record at times. But I can’t help it. This country has drained it all out, because everything is worth talking about. So bear with me on that. We don’t leave here until 12 tomorrow, so that give plenty of time to hike around and I’m sure there will be more to illustrate.

October 31st, 2006 YMCA, Christchurch, New Zealand
I got up at a little after 7 and packed my bags. Check-out time was 10, and I didn’t think I would be back by then. I went up to the Hermitage for breakfast, along with Felicity, who would be accompanying me on the hike. Will followed on the same path we took, which was called the Red Tarns. We walked down the road to where the path began by way of a bridge crossing a river. The way then became a steep wooden staircase heading up the side of the mountain. It was a pretty good little hike. Before us was green in all directions, and behind us lay the plain hemmed in by Mt. Cook and its adjoining ranges. I think it took around forty-five minutes to reach the summit of the walk. It ended in a little dirt path that encircled two crystal clear ponds, in which the reflection of the snowy mountains appeared. Felicity had an urge to touch snow, but the closest path was across the side of the mountain, far off the marked path. So……we went off the marked path.
This is hiking. It was bushwhacking. There were no signs of paths or of previous visitors besides places where the grass had been bent into narrow goat paths, which I tried to follow as closely as possible. The ground was soft beneath our feet as we wove between shrubs and over mounds. At times we slid down gravel embankments, carefully avoiding a landslide. I went in front, forging the safest road I possibly could, telling Felicity that if I fell through a hole and died not to go that way. And it almost happened, too. I was walking down a moss-covered ravine when all of a sudden my foot broke through and both feet dangled into some nothingness beneath me. My hands instinctively shot out and grabbed hold of the edge on either side to ensure I didn’t fall through. I was pretty excited.
We continued surfing down rock cliffs and at times we were forced to leap across streams. Some of them were pretty wide and one bank was much shorter than the other. That’s what made this path exciting: there was no particular path. We made our own. Before us, snaking down a wide ridge, was snow which abruptly ended into a fierce-flowing river, which we had crossed by bridge at the beginning of our journey. I felt very happy, jumping from bank to bank, crawling up and down hills, sliding across rock walls, repelling by vines. My chivalric nature caused to pause at times and curb my adrenaline rushed to check and see if Felicity was still alive. But she was barreling along also and pretty much had no trouble with the rough terrain. We finally dropped into the riverbed, which was populated by large stones being beaten by the clear, melted snow. For some stupid reason I didn’t bring any sort of time-telling device, and the sun was blocked by the mountains so I couldn’t adequately tell the time by using my hands either (if you know what time the sun sets, you hold your hands front of you, one on top of the other, with your fingers pointing sideways, from the horizon to the sun; each hand is an hour, and it’s amazing how accurate this method can be). The bus would be pulling out at 12 and I didn’t want to late. The snow was still quite a ways up the mountain and I wasn’t confident that we could make it there and back again in time. So, I threw off my camera and jacket and went running up the riverbed to retrieve a handful of snow. And I wanted to bury my face in it, because it’s quite refreshing. The closer I got to the snow, however, it seemed to move upwards, away from me. After several minutes of flat-out racing, I just felt that I wouldn’t be able to get there, grab snow, and be back down the river in a fast enough amount of time. I returned, my head hanging in shame, without any snow in my hands. I asked if this could be one of those times when it was the thought that counts.
We began our descent along the rapids, cautiously moving around boulders and hopping from one side of the water to the other. When we finally came to a flat stretch, we went into a brisk walk, soon exiting the canyon beside the bridge from which we had originally started. The sign posted in front of the canyon said “Dangerous Passage: No Entry.” We lived to tell the tale. I can’t think of many better ways to see a place than to forge your own path through the mountains.
It was only a quarter past 11 when we came into the Hermitage, but I’m glad we didn’t risk it. At 12 we boarded the bus and pulled away, driving through the gap in the mountains to Glentanner, where we had eaten lunch on our journey south from Christchurch, and where would be eating it once again going north. The heel of foot had been worn raw from not wearing another layer of socks during the hike at Queenstown, and now my left knee, which acts up every now and then from a basketball injury, began throbbing. The cramped seating on the bus didn’t really help. I’ve been limping pretty significantly all day.
I stayed away as much as I could during our long drive back to Christchurch, but the little sleep and draining physical activity was beginning to take its toll on me and I dozed off for some time. We arrived in Christchurch and to the YMCA which we had previously stayed at around supper time and ate in the cafeteria. All ten guys are in Room 202, the same quarters we had before, and I am once again in the same bed. Anna, Lily, and I walked through town for a little while, looking for gifts and the like. At 8, we had a Halloween party. A lot of people dressed up in makeshift costumes. I must say that Darren’s was the best. He wore a red-and-white striped sweater and a cap with a ball on the tip, the spitting image of the illusive character from “Where’s Waldo?” I went as myself, which I’m pretty good at. I was told I should be a male model (as opposed to…..?) for L.L. Bean. It’s the brown jacket and beard.
A game of Charades was begun, and Patrick, Pierre, Will, and I took on a much larger number of girls, and we were really darn good. I think our fastest time at guessing was seven seconds. But the girls do get credit: they did a very, very admirable job with the ridiculous skits we created for them. We were downright jerks at times, and we liked it.
Tomorrow, we leave New Zealand. And I’m not looking forward to it. It will be nice to have a few days of rest and relaxation in Brisbane, but I could definitely do that here. I’ve felt peace and quiet here. It’s amazing what fresh air and gorgeous scenery will do for the mind.
I think a few people are watching Tim Burton’s Sleepy Hollow, with Johnny Depp, upstairs to continue the festivities of this weird “holiday.” I think I’ll join them. If my knee’s feeling any better in the morning I’m going to run. The exercise never stops. Unless, of course, I can’t use my left knee.

November 1st, 2006 Bridgewater Apartments, Brisbane, Australia
My knee was feeling better in the morning, but I decided to skip on a run and sleep twenty more minutes. I forced myself out of the bed 8 and Anna, Ashley, and I walked downtown. Across from the Excelsior Hotel was a Men’s Hair Salon and Tobacconist. On a rack behind the counter was a foot-long pipe, exactly what I had wanted to find. It may be the coolest one I own. I believe I have explained my hobby of collecting pipes. I’m sure the people I’ve bought these pipes from think something which isn’t exactly the reality. Here’s a guy in beat-up, worn-out clothing with a scraggly beard and shaggy hair buying pipes. Pretty interesting.
At 10 we loaded the bus and drove to the Antarctic Centre. The administration and warehousing headquarters for the U.S., New Zealand, and Italian Antarctic programs are stationed in this complex in Christchurch. The museum was filled with exhibits of life on that freezing continent, including video footage and a room set at well below 0º Fahrenheit. A storm swept through, allowing us to experience what it would be like to actually live on Antarctica. I’d love to visit someday.
We went on a Hägglund Antarctic Snowmobile ride. These off-road vehicles were like miniature tanks. Our driver was an older gentleman in blue overalls and a black baseball cap, and he told us about the vehicle over headsets as we drove on an outdoor adventure course. We sped over steep hills and around holes, flying through the air. We drove into a large pool of water and the vehicle became a sort of boat. I’d love to visit the bases in Antarctica someday.
A frustrating thing occurred while I was trying to purchase food at the centre. I found that none of my cards (my debit card of my travel card) would work, which therefore means that I have no money at all. This is not good. It’s left me in a little bit of a stressed state, and it part of the reason why I was in a bit of a peeved mood at points during the day. The other reason might have been that we were leaving New Zealand. I wasn’t ready to go. I was ready to have a few days of relaxation, but I wanted to have them in New Zealand.
We went to the airport and said goodbye to Malcolm, once again going through the familiar routine of check-ins and security. New Zealand has $25 departure fee, and I was forced to borrow this sum from Dr. Byram, seeing as how I was broke. Our flight was delayed for some time, so I found myself visiting with a contractor from Queensland about studying, Australian and New Zealand cuisine, and life in general. Nice guy.
As the plane lifted from the ground, I felt sad. I watched as the snow-topped mountains began to sink into the distance and soon we had flown all the way over the width of the South Island and that idyllic and magical land was gone into the expanse of the sea. As far as I’m concerned, I’m going back someday. I miss it already.
The flight was uneventful, except that the movie shown was Pirates of the Caribbean 2. How cool is that? In case you’re wondering, that’s pretty darn cool. Three hours later, we landed in Brisbane. Customs and security went smoothly. It was the easiest time I’ve ever had coming into Australia. I guess it was because I didn’t have some big sword sticking out of a bag. It was pretty warm outside and I was beginning to long for that cool, crisp mountain air. Dinner was at Sizzler’s. You can’t go very wrong with buffets. The surprise of the night was Heather Little’s best friend, Amy, flying over and showing up at the restaurant before us. Heather was completely in the dark about the whole thing and she seemed pretty amazed.
As we drove across the Story Bridge and saw the lights of Kangaroo Point below, it seemed strangely like coming home. We once again climbed the three flights to suite 3019 and I returned to my same bed in the far left room in the back, beside the balcony. It was the cleanest I’ve ever seen the apartment, except when we first arrived two months ago. Laundry was a beautiful thing. It’s nice to know we don’t have to go anywhere for a few days. But, I will be busy. I have packing and rearranging things to worry about, as well as getting this money thing sorted out, and trying to get Internet access, and I’m supposed to be drawing for Will’s scrapbook. And I think we’re going to have a Lord of the Rings marathon. And I think I’m going to write an extra credit paper for Psychology, just to be safe. Oh yeah, and last but not least: a lot of stinkin’ sleep.