30 Days Down Under - Part 7 - Queenstown

Flying to Queenstown

Image from AJ Hackett Bungy Queenstown website

In Sydney's airport we breezed through Australia's exit controls, a mirror image of their entrance controls: an automated passport reader that tracked who we were and verified that their visa was in order. Then we stepped to an automated camera that verified that our faces matched our passport, and we were through.

Simple, fast, efficient ... regulating both entrance and exit.

We were soon flying our way to New Zealand for 3 1/2 days in Queenstown.   (Our flight wasn't tethered like in the adjacent Hackett bungy ad.)

Mid October is early spring in Queenstown. We knew we were pushing the weather, relying on luck; it can be dicey that time of year.  The highest probability for the entire year for rain in Queenstown is on October 14.  We would arrive October 15!

According to Weather Spark (my favorite weather site when seeking to easily see average weather patterns - they have lots of easy-to-read graphs for each of the major elements of weather, showing not just the month like most sites, but the days within each month.  https://weatherspark.com/): For the days we'd be there in mid October the average high temperature is about 55 F, 51% of the days are mostly cloudy or worse, 46% of the days have rain, and it's usually windy.

Queenstown is known as an active outdoor place; most of our plans revolved around that. And we were planning, amongst other things, to do a boat trip in Milford Sound where it rains 61% of the time in October (see here )

As the plane approached the mountains surrounding Queenstown we looked out at the threatening weather.  At Queenstown you get up-close-and-friendly with the mountains real fast; the landing approach for the plane was down a narrow valley, mountaintops above us with their flanks pressing close on each side.

Arriving

After we unpacked, when we walked into town and along Lake Wakatipu's beach, we were pleasantly surprised. Being from Seattle the weather seemed quite passable.

There were still lots of clouds but some sunny breaks too. It was windy with quite a chop on the lake - even some whitecaps, but we (and some of the people on the lake's beach) were warm in our jackets - some seemed not to need them. And best of all, no rain seemed to threaten.

During our walk the Lady of the Lake greeted us.  She was a beaut!

A working steam-powered steamship, the TTS (twin screw steamer) Earnslaw had been contracted in 1910 to be built in Dunedin NZ.  When completed she was dismantled and shipped by rail to Kingston, one of the other towns on Lake Wakatipu, and reassembled, beginning service in 1912.

Originally serving, along with other boats, as the sole means of transportation between communities on the lake, she now ran several times daily serving tourists. We passed it up; we were more interested in other things ... we'd save such things for when we were older and less active.

When planning this trip down under we had debated whether or not to come to Queenstown, or skip it in order to spend longer times at some of our other choices.

One of the delights of travelling is to experience alien environments ... a foreign culture with a different language ... or an environment not at all like home like the Australian outback and the red center, or the Daintree Rainforest, prehuman epochs old ... or best of all, to explore deeply into some specific thing that is a passion for you.

Queenstown, Fjordland, and their environs were none of that ... not alien at all.  Coming from the US/Canada Northwest, we are imbued with the fjords of the Salish Sea and inland passage; we have years of familiarity with playing in the mountains hiking, skiing, and when younger, roped scrambling across glaciers and to the summit of some of the northwest's glaciated peaks.  And I'd lived for several years in Whistler, with its mix of adrenalin junkies scraping by and its wealthy tourists, just like Queenstown. Did we really want to travel so far to see our own backyard?

Happily, we decided yes.  We have a passion for mountains. Though we would have neither time nor equipment with us for hiking some of the surrounding renowned multi-day treks, the next day resonated with our cores.

Milford Sound

With only one day to get to Milford Sound and back, the choice was to drive (too tiring), fly (too weather dependent), or take a bus. After researching the options, over a month ahead we reserved spots on the Milford Sound BBQ bus https://bbqbus.co.nz/.

It was a great choice - a small bus, a personable driver, and a limited amount of passengers; when we stopped at sights we didn't overwhelm the place like the (too many) large buses.  Our driver used his skill to time us to be at viewpoints between the huge buses.

Milford Sound is the destination that gets all of the accolades, but the drive to Milford Sound is equally spectacular.

It was a scenic drive along the shores of Lake Wakatipu looking across it at mountain peaks where spring snow lingered, then through a broad farming valley full of sheep (in New Zealand sheep outnumber people 7 to 1), and then upwards into the sharp, craggy, wet, glaciated mountains.

There was a coffee shop stop to grab a quick bite (our little group amidst throngs from the big buses) and many scenic stops enroute where we had a chance to take some short walks.  If we would have been 2 weeks later, when the BBQ bus returned to its summer schedule, we would have had a BBQ and picnic at one of the stops. But October was still their winter season - we had our BBQ on the boat on Milford Sound.

The first scenic stop was at Mirror Lakes, where the farming valley had changed to a sub-alpine valley and the mountains began to surround us.

Click on any picture in the blog to enlarge it

As we approached the road's summit the spindrift that the winds were blowing off of Mt. Tutoko, and the clearing skies that the winds were blowing in, held promise for the weather at Milford Sound.

Promise fulfilled.
When we got to Milford Sound the weather - and the surroundings - were spectacular; a mystical place.  Best of all: we had happened upon one of the very few sunny days in a year.

The Sound (actually, technically, it's a fjord) is surrounded by sheer rock walls off of which plunge waterfalls - too many to count. It's the sort of place where one would expect a mythical sorcerer's castle to perch high up on a ledge shrouded in mist and clouds.

One of the benefits of being on a small bus: we went on one of the smaller cruise boats on the sound.  Our boat's size enabled it to nose in under several waterfalls. The people standing out on the bow stumbled over the raised boat-door threshold and each other and to get inside, trying to avoid the fall's onslaught drenching where they had been standing and photographing ... I, with my iPhone's camera, scurried around to the protection of the outward side.

Milford Sound opens onto the Tasman Sea near where the Southern Ocean and the Indian Ocean collide - where winds can hurl waves like earthquakes against New Zealand's cliffs.
But today it was serene. Today one could imagine a comfortable sail a little over 1,000 miles directly west to Tasmania, or by turning left, a little over 1,700 miles to the nearest coast of Antarctica. (measured off of Google Earth)

Queenstown

The next day was one of our down days. Because of the flying petri dish's respiratory thing we found we needed to relax between adventures, so we spent the day exploring the town.

Queenstown is, above all, an outdoors place.  An outdoor place both for young adrenalin junkies living on god-knows-what, sedate wealthy grandparents passively enjoying the scenery, and every life-style in between.

It's crowded with backpacker hostels and crowds of exuberant youths celebrating their adventures and preparing for the next. Coexisting, intermingled amongst them, are luxury resorts and condominiums - you can spend as much, and flaunt as much, as you want (The most exclusive places are in the countryside outside of town.). And there are kegs of restaurants and bars ... from relatively inexpensive (even those cost more than in many places) to extravagant ... lots of places where the entire human zoo meets and mingles, and lots of places where those on one end or another of the human spectrum would never be seen.

There are four major ski areas ("ski fields" in Kiwi parlance) surrounding Queenstown (five counting one that is further away) - the season had only recently wound down.  Dozens of stores had their ski season closeout sales on. Many displayed expensive ski clothes that no self-respecting skier could ever, or would want to, afford (even upscale boarder clothes? Things have certainly changed from the days that ski areas forbad those dangerous, grungy, and smelly boarders who slept through the winter in their tents, vans, or cars.)

It is a mecca for hiking ("tramping" in Kiwi parlance) and climbing, the jumping-off place for dozens of multi-days tramps and for dozens of short walks. And it's a mecca for kick-ass mountain biking - and for more leisurely biking to the nearby Gibbston Valley wine country. Outdoor stores abound for every price range.

And, of course, it's a mecca for bungy jumping. A. J. Hackett and Henry Van Asch got the idea from "land-diving" by natives in Vanuatu using vines. They, with a group of Kiwi scientists from the university, developed artificial bungy cords. In 1987 AJ jumped off the Eiffel Tower to demonstrate. (Hey guys! Look! Exciting stuff!) In 1988 they opened the world's first commercial bungy site here at Queenstown at Kawarau Bridge.  Now they have three sites in Queenstown plus other thrills, along with some competition. The bungy jump shown in the round picture at the start of this blog is from that small green platform shown in my picture immediately above. Want to jump tandem with a friend? Nude? You can arrange for that here.

Everyone should take the Skyline Gondola for its panoramic views of Queenstown and Lake Wakatipu (or to ride the luge, or to bungy, or to hike further up.)  While on top we talked with one of the gondola attendants,  a young guy from the UK in New Zealand on a gap year. He'd just that week arrived in Queenstown, temporarily living in a hostel until he could find a more permanent place to live ... gotten this job within days.

And there's every type of boating you can imagine, and some types that you probably can't imagine.
And there are plenty of waterfront promenades and walking paths, places to peaceably stroll while taking in the view.

And for those who feel the need, there's a place to privately regret yesterday's sins.




Bicycling

The next day we were up bright and early for a day of bicycling. We had arranged to rent bikes for a day from Queenstown Bike Tours - located in Arrowtown http://www.queenstownbiketours.co.nz/ to ride from Arrowtown into the wine country in Gibbston Valley.  It's not very far, only about 15 km (9 miles) to some of the wineries. Our mid-70's year old bodies are relatively fit and used to cycling so the ride was easy.

map from Queenstown Bike Tours website

The owner's wife picked us up in our place in Queenstown, then went to another hotel to pick up another biker. We waited. And waited. She phoned him, no answer. She went to the front desk and phoned a second time; he hurried out, apologizing. Then we went to pick up his buddy at another hotel, where we waited and waited again. At long last we drove the faster, back, way to Arrowtown

While they were getting other people set up we decided to walk around Arrowtown ... it's quite a tourist stop, an old preserved but still active town of wood storefronts dating from the gold rush period.  It was only passably interesting, like many of the old gold mining towns in the western US.

They had bikes picked out for us and ready to go ... nice Specialized mountain bikes.  My legs are slightly shorter in proportion to my torso than most, so the bike was just a small bit too tall for me. They were going to change it out for me but it was getting late and I wanted to get going.  It was fine, I just needed to treat the top tube with respect. They gave us maps and some explanation and we were off.

We rode alongside the Arrow River on gravel and compressed soil bike trails most of the way, except a couple of short segments on country roads. The trail crossed the river five times on suspension bridges.
We finally arrived at a sixth suspension bridge, the Kawarau Bridge over the Kawarau River where commercial bungy first started. We joined the many others watching.

Bands to which the bungy rope is attached link the jumper's feet.  The attendants (here in black - securely tethered) help the jumper (here in red) shuffle their feet onto a small platform.  After the the jumper screws up their courage and jumps (regardless of whether they dive or  just jump, they end up head first when the rope goes taut) they spring and pendulum up and down.  After the elastic motion finally subsides attendants in a raft hold a long pole up for the jumper to grab to be pulled to the raft.

I badly broke both my tibia and fibula skiing a few years back, so am a bit cautious about stressing my legs.  But if it were before that I wonder if I would have jumped (nude?).  I would hope so.

We eventually rode on into the wine growing Gibbston Valley.  We rode on the trail above the river into the valley for a bit, then returned to the Gibbston Valley Winery, carefully closing the gate behind us.  The table cloths, menu, and price didn't quite match our bike-riding-intentions, so we walked across their courtyard to their Cheesery.  It was more informal there, and though it didn't seem to have as wide a choice of wines, we had an enjoyable lunch of various cheeses, crackers, bread, and wine.

By mid afternoon we phoned back to QT Tours to arrange for their pickup. The owner met us with his van and bike trailer back at the bungy bridge. I complemented him how good a condition he kept his bikes in. (Incidentally, for those of you who are U.S. cyclists, a word of warning lest you fly over your handlebars in a quick stop: in Australia and New Zealand it seems most bikes have the front brake's lever on the right handlebar.) He drove us back into Gibbston Valley to pick up a van-full of cyclists and bikes at various wineries and a tavern to return them to Arrowtown ... we were the only ones who continued back to Queenstown.

On the way back he told us about QT Bike's history ... although much of their business was from Queenstown (they once had a shop there) they loved the smaller town's laid-back atmosphere and more peaceful life, so he and his wife had elected to run their business in Arrowtown.

I commented to him how, on our trip to Milford Sound when driving past the farmland, and again in the countryside between Arrowtown and Gibbston when we had been biking, and especially now along the back road between Arrowtown and Queenstown, we had passed so many farms where the farmland, although delightfully pastoral, seemed incapable of supporting their farmhouses which were mansions.  He replied that the farms didn't support the mansions; it was the other way around. The super-wealthy from around the world were buying the farms as huge private compounds.

That evening we reluctantly packed, knowing that our next stop, Auckland, would be the end of our trip (It will be in the next part 8 of my blog.)

On the plane we were seated next to a young guy from Belgium. He had spent several weeks exploring the beaches and mountains of the South Island, variously sleeping in his rental car, in a tent, or in hostels. It must have seemed a magical world to him compared to his home in the low-lands of  Europe. We all showed each other our photos on our phones and talked about our trips ... the flight went by too quickly.

Random Musings - Boltholes

It's no wonder that New Zealand, with its unpopulated mix of pastoral expanses and sharp, craggy mountains shrouded by mist and clouds, is the filming location of so many movies like The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings trilogy, and The Chronicles of Narnia.

There is a long tradition in human history of mystical worlds both in the past and in the future ... of pastoral and friendly worlds threatened by destruction accompanied usually by darkness and smokestacks belching, and greediness and violence  ... foreboding castles high up on ledges shrouded in mist and clouds, ruling with an uncaring fist.  The tradition, so common amongst many cultures, speaks to responses deep in the human psyche about good and evil and the battle against greed.

That pastoral and other-worldly and exciting environment of New Zealand is one of the things that has attracted explorations by young backpackers and exuberant thrill seekers, and in their footsteps,  by the mass tourists like us. It has also attracted others.

In "part 6 - Hobart Tasmania" I mentioned that Hobart reminded me of Eugene Oregon in the 1960's and early 1970's: Lots of denim. Lots of wool. Lots of foul weather gear. Lots of art.  Lots of crafts. A place where many young people could attempt "getting back to the earth". Parts of New Zealand still has hints of the remnants of that.

New Zealand also reminds me of Whistler Canada in the 1970's and in the early 1980's: a place at that time with young people trying to be self-sufficient, surviving on scraps so that they could experience life amidst the magnificence and the challenges of our planet while escaping the pressures and smog of the cities.

But like the 1960's, 70's and 80's, those times are disappearing, or have disappeared, fast. Tasmania a bit, but more so Whistler Canada, and especially New Zealand are now attracting the very utmost wealthy in the world.

I mentioned in "part 6 - Hobart Tasmania" that in the 1830's and 1840's Port Arthur was a prison with walls, within a prison walled by dogs staked at Eaglehawk Neck, within the prison of Tasmania walled by water, within a prison of Australia walled by oceans. The end of the earth.

In the 2010's Australia, Tasmania and New Zealand seem more like castles, shrouded in mist, surrounded by  thousand-of-miles high walls of the oceans' water.  Throughout Australia and New Zealand we heard strong comments, and saw strong wording in the newspapers, about the amount of the world's super-wealthy buying large tracts as private compounds where they could enjoy clean air and clean water and an idyllic setting, but which could also serve as "boltholes" to where they could bolt if need be if the pitchforks rose up, or if the missiles flew - where they could bolt the doors shut.

"At the Republican party convention in Cleveland last July [2016], Trump donor Peter Thiel declared himself 'most of all, proud to be an American'. So it came as something of a surprise for New Zealanders to discover that the PayPal co-founder and Facebook board member had become an honorary Kiwi – joining a growing band of wealthy Americans seeking a haven from a possible global apocalypse.

"... By the time of his appearance at the Republican convention, Thiel had already bought 193 hectares of pristine South Island land using his rights as a Kiwi."

 From The Guardian, Jan. 28, 2017

"News this week that Peter Thiel, co-founder of PayPal, was among 92 applicants secretly granted New Zealand citizenship outside normal procedures is focusing attention on the influx of wealthy migrants to the South Pacific nation. This follows an article in the New Yorker that pinpointed New Zealand as a favoured destination for rich 'survivalists' preparing for apocalypse."

From the article "Self-sufficient boltholes tempt global super-rich to New Zealand"
in  The Financial Times, Feb. 3, 2017

The article that spurred the above articles was in the New Yorker on January 30, 2017:  Doomsday Prep for the Super-Rich by Evan Osnos; it was succinctly summed up in its subtitle "Some of the wealthiest people in America—in Silicon Valley, New York, and beyond—are getting ready for the crackup of civilization." 

There are so many quotes from that article that are worth pondering, but I'll mention one passage that stands out:

"By January, 2015, [Robert A. Johnson, formerly a hedge fund manager, now head of a think tank, the Institute for New Economic Thinking]  was sounding the alarm: the tensions produced by acute income inequality were becoming so pronounced that some of the world’s wealthiest people were taking steps to protect themselves. At the World Economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland, Johnson told the audience, “I know hedge-fund managers all over the world who are buying airstrips and farms in places like New Zealand because they think they need a getaway.

"Johnson wishes that the wealthy would adopt a greater “spirit of stewardship,” an openness to policy change that could include, for instance, a more aggressive tax on inheritance. “Twenty-five hedge-fund managers make more money than all of the kindergarten teachers in America combined,” he said. “Being one of those twenty-five doesn’t feel good. I think they’ve developed a heightened sensitivity.” The gap is widening further. In December, the National Bureau of Economic Research published a new analysis, by the economists Thomas Piketty, Emmanuel Saez, and Gabriel Zucman, which found that half of American adults have been “completely shut off from economic growth since the 1970s.” Approximately a hundred and seventeen million people earn, on average, the same income that they did in 1980, while the typical income for the top one per cent has nearly tripled. That gap is comparable to the gap between average incomes in the U.S. and the Democratic Republic of Congo, the authors wrote.

"Johnson said, 'If we had a more equal distribution of income, and much more money and energy going into public school systems, parks and recreation, the arts, and health care, it could take an awful lot of sting out of society. We’ve largely dismantled those things.' "

I remember growing up in small towns. The most wealthy and the poorest went to the same public schools. To me, it's not important that they were public schools.  The thing that was important is that we all went to the same schools.  As kids of course we all formed our cliques.  But we all knew each other.  We all talked and played together.  We all understood each other. Our community had a common bond. Nowadays private or charter schools are hailed by some as ways to improve education, and they may well improve parts of education.  But at immense costs.  They drain funds away from public school, but far worse, they divide us ... they divide our kids ... we don't get to know each other and empathize with each other ... the sense of community and the common good gets lost ... for generations.

It seems to me that at an increasing rate of speed modern medieval castles are being built on hilltops, complete with their own faithful churches and freedom for those within the walls, all protected within their high walls. From there, it's hard to see, or understand, or empathize with those who produce the food and repair the roofs and walls, the masses of serfs below.  It worries me.  Are we reverting to wild animals' survival of the fittest, with none of the  morality that differentiates us from wild animals?

But looking out on the spring fields of New Zealand, on its empty beaches, its persevering rocky headlands, and its soaring mountains - all of them similar to America's Pacific Northwest, I can't help but feel eventual hope. In The Lord of the Rings Frodo Baggins and his fellow Hobbits went through dark, dangerous, harrowing times, like those that periodically transpire throughout history. But the world survived its various dark ages and prospered. And Frodo Baggins and his fellow Hobbits survived and eventually triumphed over the Dark Lord Sauron.

I hope that my faith in humanity, and in democracy, is well-placed. And hopefully an impetuous and fearful hand doesn't push the button.

But enough of that. New Zealand is too much fun to be morose.  Next stop, Auckland. And then back to our comfortable home.