Alan's co-worker, Aaron, lives over
here and works in Queenstown, so he was able to pick me up in
Arrowtown on Tuesday and bring me over the Crown Range to the little
town along the shores of Lake Wanaka that's “Queenstown's hippie
brother.” The road twists and weaves along a pass some 1100 m high
– the highest sealed roadway in New Zealand.
It's pretty awe-inspiring, but it
doesn't take long to forget that you're as high up as you are, with
more mountains stacking up on the side of the road. The only little
spot we passed was Cardrona, which really is a little spot – though
I daresay it comes alive with the ski season. This is the land of the
Southern Alps, after all.
The drive to Wanaka took about three
quartres of an hour on a fine afternoon. The sun was right on the
lake when I arrived, and I had a chance to take a quick peek around
the town. Lots of little shops, but a more laid-back feeling than
Queenstown – big chains like McDonald's and Starbucks aren't
allowed to set up shop here, which leads to a more localized feeling.
Plus, it's only in the last decade that the population spiked over
1000 people. By dusk, I headed up to Beacon Point Road, where I'm
Couchsurfing with Luke at “the worst house on the best street.”
He's a former DOC worker, nurse, and
ski patrol student, still in the process of moving into a small, cozy
place with a clear view to the mountains and the stars. I laid out my
sleeping bag in the lounge with the woodstove – I woke up sometime
around 4:30, a few hours after the fire went out, and had to slip
into a sweater, curling my toes up and wishing I had the resolve to
get up and put on socks.
The morning was heavy, foggy, and cold.
Felt something like at a cabin – which isn't necessarily a bad
thing, mind you. Hot tea, sweaters, and the smell of a woodstove. I
wanted to climb Roys Peak, a mountainous day walk just outside of
town, so I put on the thermals, the fleece, and the jacket, and left
the house just past 9:00. The dampness of autumn-turning-to-winter
was in the air, with the lake and mountains that had been so sharp
the day before now completely concealed. I just hoped for a shift in
the wind.
The actual walk to the base of the
mountain took close to two hours, a lot longer than I expected, and
by the time I made it the blanket of fog had turned to tendrils.
There was a blue sky up there, not so far away after all! Once the
path started climbing, steeply, out of what remained of the fog, I
had to find some bushes for a complete wardrobe change – no need of
thermals anymore, and my coat could go wrapped about my waist for the
time being.
The tramp is described as hard but
worth it in the Wanaka town guide – I can attest to both of these
claims. It was probably the most gruelling of the hikes I've done
since I came to New Zealand, with long stretches of steep climbing
and only the occasional horizontal section to catch your breath.
Because it was just a consistent zig-zag up the side of the mountain
though, you always had a sweet view of the lake along your side. The
ache in your thighs and shrinking of the community gave you a good
indication of how far along you'd gone, the telecommunications towers at the
summit telling you how far you'd yet to go.
A rocky path up through grassy meadows,
past sheep, rabbits, and a weird congestion of grasshoppers. And
then, all of a sudden . . . no, it couldn't be. Could it?
It was. Snow, scattered in the shady
parts of the track – wet little patches, nothing that you'd need
your snowshoes in or anything, but snow nonetheless.
By the time I made it to the 1578 m peak,
looking out over Lake Wanaka, along the Matukituki River as far as
the Harris Mountains, it was a whole lot cooler but, like the
brochure said, worth it.
The Millennium Track brought me back to
Wanaka, passing through farmers' paddocks a trail alongside the lake,
giving some nice views as the sun set. A crowd of Couchsurfers had
shown up in the meantime, so that by the time I got to put my tired
feet up there were sleeping bags making a hipster mosaic in the
living room, a fire in the stove, a homemade pizza in the oven, and
cups of wine passing around.
The only downfall is that my bed got
relocated from a mattress on the floor to a couch . . . in a little
sheltered spot out in the backyard. And I know what this looks like,
especially after all I said about the chilling drop in temperatures
at night, but sleeping in the open air on a clear night (-2 Celsius)
was actually pretty nice. Plus, I had a nice, natural sunlight to
wake me up.
I decided, though, that I wasn't going
to do anything too strenuous that day. The pace of this adventure has
been exceptional, but it has been tiring. A coffee, a hot pie, and a
secondhand bookstore was a welcome change from hitchhiking and
mountain climbing – for now, anyway. It poured rain in the evening, which made for a surprisingly relaxing ambiance for falling asleep outside, bundled up nice and warm.
I hitched back to Arrowtown yesterday
afternoon, passing real snow along the Crown Range. Alan and Norma
had a bed and a winter jacket for me, and the Tap was full to
capacity on a Friday night. “Well Ryan,” Graeme said, “you'll
remember this place.” I did, and I will for a long time.
A Swedish girl staying at Luke's had just
come from a three month yoga retreat, and one of the basic principles
she brought with her was that yoga is not just flexibility of the
body, but flexibility of the mind too. I had something of a plan for
where to go after Wanaka, but by chance I logged onto Transfercar, a
website where vehicle rental companies solicit drivers to bring their
vehicles from one airport to where it's needed at another, rather
than pay the hefty costs that come with shipping them on the back of
a transport truck. Insurance and the first tank of fuel is covered,
all for just a buck. Not a bad deal – assuming you're flexible
enough.
Anyway, there are a heap of hatchbacks
that need to be brought from Queenstown to Christchurch. I certainly
wasn't planning on shooting up to Canterbury in the next two days –
but then again, the weather is supposed to be awesome, a gal I met in
Wanaka is keen to ride shotgun, and in the 48 hours I've got the car
I can really explore the West Coast. Glaciers, a lakeside view of Mt.
Cook, rugged shorelines, and Arthur's Pass, a highway through the
mountains – so, here I am, waiting at the Queenstown Airport on a
Saturday morning to pick up the car, after brushing up on how to
drive on the left and through roundabouts.
There's a lot to be gained by
hitchhiking across the country, but I can't wait to get behind the
wheel of a car and explore one of the most scenic spots in New
Zealand on my own schedule. This whole trip is an exercise in
freedom, but I think the next two days will be even moreso. I don't
know where I'm staying along the way, and I don't know where I'm
going after Christchurch, but it's a clear morning and there's plenty of room for hitchhikers
along the way – stick your thumb up and keep checking back, because
I promise you it'll be a good story.
Cheers,
rb
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