It's the adventure of a lifetime - a 2,109-mile
odyssey through verdant NEW ZEALAND
- and we're taking you along for the ride. Bungee
jumping, skydiving, and all.
Photographs by Warren Clarke.
THE SUDDEN SWOOSH OF WIND is disorienting, not to mention the first
few somersaults. Which way is up? I wonder. The deafening roar of
the Cresco turbine aircraft is gone in an instant. What have I just
done? The pressure eases as quickly as it began; my eyes eventually
open, watery and blurred; and a serene calm ensues as the earth
below comes into focus. From this vantage point, Lake Wakatipu is a
cobalt blue oasis surrounded by a lush, green, mountainous
dreamland. It takes a few seconds, but my brain eventually
registers that I have just voluntarily thrown myself out of a
perfectly good airplane - something that, like most sane people,
I've always said I'd never do. But, as anyone who has ever visited
Queenstown, New Zealand, can attest to, never say never … around
these parts, anyway.
Billed as the adrenaline-junkie capital of New Zealand - if not the
world - Queens-town is one of the final stops on a 2,109-mile
road-trip odyssey I've undertaken with James, a Kiwi and a fellow
journalist, through both of the islands of this South Pacific
wonderland, which has been made instantly recognizable by a surge
of recent Hollywood affairs (the Lord of the
Rings trilogy and King Kong among
them). Minds are changed quickly around here. To not bungee or
skydive or parabungee or canyon swing means you won't have much to
add to the dinner conversation that evening.
And this reversal of thinking happens in an instant. One minute,
I'm safely on the ground, laughing it up with friends over a couple
of pints of Speight's Old Dark 5 Malt Ale as we talk about the idea
of jumping off bridges or out of airplanes. Ha-ha. The next minute,
I'm airborne and plummeting to earth at terminal velocity (that's
around 120 to 130 mph, in case you were wondering). Queenstown is
the kind of place that flips switches in you that you weren't aware
you even had. It's the kind of place that makes you think a
45-second free fall from 12,000 feet is a perfectly normal part of
the day, like your morning cup of coffee. It's the kind of place
that makes New Zealand special. And, as I'm soon to discover, there
are many other things that do as well.
Days one and two:
Auckland to Rotorua
One of the first road signs we see on State Highway 1
out of Auckland says "If you're prepared to speed, be prepared to
kill." Wow. That's heavy. James is used to New Zealand's graphic
approach to curbing traffic violations, but for me it's a jolt.
Fortunately, we need not worry about such things. We scored a
major deal on our rental car from an outfit called A2B Rentals and
ended up with a beat-up 1995 Toyota Sprinter with 66,000 miles on
it - we're lucky if it pushes 50 mph. Off we go.
To the northeast of Auckland is a jutting stretch of land called
the Coromandel Peninsula, one of the most beautiful parts of the
North Island, the island that often gets the short end of the New
Zealand stick. South Islanders will say things like, "There are
only two kinds of people who live in New Zealand: those who live in
the South, and those who wish they did," and so forth. Oddly, North
Islanders tend to agree. Still, there is much to be seen here.
We hug the opaque green waters of the Firth of Thames on our way to
Cathedral Cove, a stunning patch of sand accessed via a hilly
coastal track (or by boat, though the rental company didn't throw
that in to the deal). This secluded haven is framed by jagged white
cliffs and bisected by an enormous rock arch that resembles the
nave of a looming cathedral. It would be a perfect spot for a
romantic picnic (though not with James).
We wake up the next morning in Mount Maunganui, a superb surfer's
town on the northeast coast, where James grew up. It's not big on
the tourist map - I'm not sure why - but tell any Kiwi you're from
"the Mount," and the jealousy is palpable. Here I'm introduced to
the spirulina smoothie, a wonderful morning wake-up drink that's
ubiquitous in New Zealand. At Sidetrack café, the best of many
charming cafés along the Mount's beachfront, it's a frothy, earthy,
grass green concoction that's healthful and tasty at the same time.
It will become the first of many surprisingly pleasing café
experiences along the road.
That evening, we roll into Rotorua, where we find the Zorb. Now,
you've seen the Zorb on TV. It's that big, plastic bubble-looking
thing that rolls down hillsides, with people inside. Kind of fun,
kind of cheesy, right? Well, James and I pile inside with low
expectations and come out on the other side a wet, laughing mess.
Oddly enough, tumbling down a nearly 500-foot hillside in a plastic
bubble full of water with another person is a lot more fun than it
looks. I hear having three people is even better.
Days three and four:
Rotorua to Wellington
The next morning, we hightail it out of Rotorua, but we
don't get very far. Tucked away deep in an 800-year-old forest just
outside of town is Treetops Lodge, our first taste of luxury on a
trip that will see accommodations range from campsites and hostels
to ecofriendly inns and historic hotels. Everything at this
boutique lodge is fashioned from the land, all without disturbing
the thousands of pheasants and deer on site. But the coolest
animals are the Australian brushtail possums, normally considered
pests in New Zealand but more like resident mascots here.
Now, I know American possums are basically glorified rats, but
these cute little buggers are more like small dog-raccoon hybrids.
Every night, they turn up for a bit of masterful chef Bruce
Thomas's leftover venison crepinettes or organic lamb, which they
quite politely eat right out of our hands. Who can blame them? As
far as high-end, all-inclusive luxury lodges go, this place has
stellar food. We decide to call it a night after James gives me a
snooker lesson on the lodge's old English kauri-wood snooker table,
one of just 10 left in New Zealand. Let me tell you, the mechanics
of pool might help you a bit, but snooker ain't easy (though that
could be blamed on the Tohu Marlborough Pinot Noir).
By the time we reach Wellington, at the southern end of the North
Island, the town is buzzing. Regarded throughout New Zealand as the
arts-and-cultural hub (and throughout the world as the home of
Rings and King Kong
director Peter Jackson), it's sort of the country's San Francisco.
We swing for the fences here by trying to get into a bar that is so
trendy even Liv Tyler was reportedly given the heave-ho during the
filming of Rings. Motel Bar is located in
an alley, at the top of a flight of dark and dank stairs - kind of
like every inconspicuous bar in Los Angeles is. I don't know what
Tyler did, but we walk right in. We toast the North Island over the
best Negroni I have ever had (and the most expensive, at $11).
Days five through 11:
Wellington to Queenstown
You could fly domestically to the South Island, but then
you'd miss taking the hopelessly scenic Bluebridge ferry across the
Cook Strait. As we sail out of Wellington, we see the finish of
Leg 3 of the Volvo Ocean Race, an around-the-world professional
sailing race. If you have never seen an America's Cup-type sailing
event, let me tell you that it's quite a spectacle. The Movistar
and ABN Amro One boats sail past so close to us that we nearly
catch the spray across our faces.
Two hours later, the ferry approaches Queen Charlotte Sound, and we
circle a few times. (The narrow gap that leads into the South
Island is only big enough for one boat at a time.) Soon, the rugged
vastness of the South Island comes into focus, a stark contrast to
the more developed North Island. We land in Picton and speed off to
Nelson, en route to Abel Tasman National Park.
Before hitting the park - one of the South Island's most beautiful
and most visited attractions - we grab breakfast at Zest Deli, a
prime example of New Zealand's organic, forward-thinking café
culture. Various organic olive oils, tapenades, chutneys, and
honeys line the walls. And the onion-ham-and-cheese scones must
weigh five pounds. I opt for the homemade toasted muesli, the best
I've ever eaten - and likely the best I'll ever have. I drop $7 for
a tiny container of it to take on the road with me.
We camp that evening at Kaiteriteri Beach Motor Camp, a gorgeous
beach resort outside the park. Its cornmeal-textured beaches are
sparsely populated, as camping is the main accommodation here.
Being a city boy myself, and James being an Aucklander, we don't
actually have a lot of
tent-construction experience between us. But how hard can it be?
Three hours and five guys later, we're all tucked in.
THERE ARE TWO ways to see the pristine
coastlines of Abel Tasman National Park: by kayak and by foot.
There are no roads inside the park. We opt for a one-day kayak
trip, and it does not disappoint. Crystal-clear lagoons and
postcard-perfect sands emerge from every corner of this coastal
bushland, one of New Zealand's most environmentally protected
regions. We munch on steamed green-lipped mussels, a specialty of
the area, on the secluded Medlands Beach and wallow in our
surroundings.
From Abel Tasman, we're supposed to head south to Queenstown, but
we drive entirely out of our way to visit the Mussel Inn, contender
for the title of Coolest Bar in the World. It's located in Golden
Bay, north of Abel Tasman, near Takaka, one of the most secluded
parts of the South Island. There is only one road in and out of
Golden Bay, SH60, which is also home to another one of those morbid
road signs (this one reads "Blood spilt, life guilt"). More jovial,
however, are the penguin-crossing signs. The Mussel Inn is a
self-described "Kiwi woolshed meets Aussie farmhouse." I call it a
rustic, eccentric craft brewery that's like no other (there is a
cell-phone collection nailed to the telephone pole outside). They
make 12 killer brews, with names like Strong Ox Strong Dark Ale and
Black Lamb, some of which include local manuka-tree tips or New
Zealand-harvested habanero chiles. We use them to chase the
excellent pan-fried John Dory. It's a historical evening and more
than worth the extra miles, if not the whole flight over from the
States.
Over the course of driving the next few days, it becomes apparent
why Peter Jackson sticks to filming here: It's full of
near-mythical terrain that varies wildly around every turn. We see
mirror images of California's Big Sur coast and of Napa wine
regions, of Colorado's Rocky Mountains, and of Brazilian Atlantic
rain forests. You never know what you might come upon next. There
are surging rivers, majestic gorges, endless vineyards, soaring
peaks, and, for something a little different, restaurants serving
possum pies. (Yes, you read that last line right.)
Days 12 through 14:
Queenstown to Christchurch
On the 12th day of our trip, we arrive in Queenstown by
noon, and as we approach along SH6, the town's looming mountain
range (appropriately named the Remarkables) is visible, even from
miles away. Within a half hour, we're on the Kawarau River,
white-water rafting down the rocky gorges that surround the town.
It doesn't seem too extreme - until I'm dumped into the river on
the second rapid. Still, James and I have both caught the
Queenstown bug.
Within 24 hours, we've bungee jumped off the world's original
commercial bungee site, the harrowing, 141-foot Kawarau Bridge.
(Bungee jumping as we know it today was actually invented in
Queenstown by A.J. Hackett.) I have also willingly tossed myself
into one of the world's most beautiful skies at 15,000 feet - James
missed the 220-pound skydiving weight cutoff by eight pounds - for
no other reason than Queenstown made me do it. Seriously. If you
have any doubts about your ability to do such things, forget
Wheaties; just go to Queenstown.
To bring myself down to earth, the next day, in Dunedin, I wake up
at five a.m. (in the exact same bed at the historic Corstorphine
House that Prince Charles slept in back in 2005, no less) in order
to catch a glimpse of the yellow-eyed penguin, the rarest penguin
in the world, on the tip of the Otago Peninsula. These endlessly
fascinating creatures get up every morning at dawn and walk down
the hillside (where they nest) and into the ocean (where they
feed). We hide in purpose-built sheds on the hillside (the penguins
are terrified of humans). By an amazing stroke of luck, we see a
four-month-old chick, alongside its mother, entering the ocean for
the first time. The poor thing immediately freaks out and fumbles
about in the water as if it were drowning, but then, in a dramatic
turn of events, instinct takes over, and off it swims. It's one
thing to watch March of the Penguins, but
seeing these amazing animals in the wild makes you feel as if
you've witnessed a miracle.
THE ODOMETER CLOCKS in at 3,394 kilometers
(2,109 miles) by the time we arrive at our final destination, the
high-country Grasmere Lodge, outside Christchurch. Located in
scenic Arthur's Pass, the lodge, a limestone homestead originally
built in 1858, is bound skyward by the majestic Southern Alps, and
by 13,000 acres of tussock-covered hills at ground level. It's a
scene out of a Cormac McCarthy novel, minus the Mexican-American
edge. At breakfast, we're startled by management, who invite us to
check out a flock of Kea, the world's only Alpine parrot, which
have congregated by the pool.
We head over thinking we'll likely miss them, but these amazing
green parrots actually sit around and pose for the cameras. They're
not afraid of humans, and they don't run as we approach. What a
treat.
I end the day as any honest man just off the road would: at the
spa. While I'm pampered with the Mountain Man package (back
massage, facial, foot massage, head massage - that's what I'm
talking about), James opts for horseback riding. His guide,
Heather, tells him about the ominous Mount Bailey, which is right
next to the lodge. It's made of fine schist, and people climb up
and then actually slide down on their rear ends to the bottom.
I take one look at the steep and staggering peak, which stands at
6,017 feet, and one word comes to mind: no.
I didn't spend enough time in Queenstown to do that.
NZ Survival Guide
American Airlines offers codeshare service to New Zealand with
Qantas. If you're interested in eating, using, visiting, or
throwing yourself from anything in this story, here are the details
(in order of appearance).
A2B Rentals Limited
Auckland
011-64-9-262-6200
www.a2b-car-rental.co.nz
Cathedral Cove
Coromandel Peninsula
011-64-7-866-5555
www.whitianga.co.nz/hahei.html
Sidetrack
Mount Maunganui
011-64-7-575-2145
Zorb Rotorua
Rotorua
011-64-7-357-5100
www.zorb.co.nz
Treetops Lodge
Rotorua
011-64-7-333-2066
www.treetops.co.nz
Motel Bar
Wellington
011-64-4-384-9084
www.motelbar.co.nz
Bluebridge Cook Strait Ferry
011-64-4-471-6188
www.bluebridge.co.nz
Zest Deli
Nelson
011-64-3-546-7064
www.zestdeli.co.nz
Kaiteriteri Beach Motor Camp
Kaiteriteri
011-64-3-527-8010
www.kaiteriteribeach.co.nz
Abel Tasman National Park
Nelson
011-64-3-528-2027
nationalpark.abeltasman.co.nz
Abel Tasman Kayaks
Marahau
011-64-3-528-7801
www.abeltasmankayaks.co.nz
The Mussel Inn
Takaka
011-64-3-525-9241
www.musselinn.co.nz
Queenstown Rafting
Queenstown
011-64-3-442-9792
www.rafting.co.nz
AJ Hackett Bungy
Queenstown
011-64-3-441-0260
www.ajhackett.co.nz
Nzone: The Ultimate Jump
Queenstown
011-64-3-442-5867
www.nzone.biz
Corstorphine House
Dunedin
011-64-3-487-1000
www.corstorphine.co.nz
Nature Guides Otago
(for viewing penguins)
Dunedin
011-64-3-454-5169
www.nznatureguides.com
Grasmere Lodge
Arthur's Pass
011-64-3-318-8407
www.grasmere.co.nz