In October, my girlfriend, Eline, and I, went to the UK to visit family and friends. We went to London, Newbury and Swansea, the latter obviously being the most interesting city of the three. However, we also found time to hike in Wales.
The hike was a 4-day coastal walk in Pembrokeshire, from south of St. Davids up to Fishguard, both on the very western part of Wales and the UK.
Being a coastal walk, it stayed that way all the time. Wonderful cliffs, heaps of seals and interesting small, deserted and somewhat dead old villages that showed us the history of the early 20th century. Industries such as small harbours, grain mills that used to be in every small village with water running through them, quarries and the like all had stopped almost a century ago. A ferry line going to Ireland was not there anymore, a harbour was left dry and empty with a few boats parked and people were more frequent on the track that in the villages (and they werent't too frequent on the track).
Concerning the actual walk, we made our very first gourmet trek. Carrying tent, sleeping bags and matresses, our luggage contained delicious meals such as fresh makrel, ready made indian food package with rice (our Swansea friends will know what this means), an amazing cheese that we snacked from after almost every meal, oates cooked in water and a bit of sea water in order to add some salt and an endless amount of chocolate bars. And bread of course. Indeed delicious.
We had planned maybe to sleep in camps some days, but we ended up sleeping whereever we found ourselves when the sun started to set. And that turned out to be just perfect and gave us some splendid sunsets to watch.
The weather was very kind and mild to us, given it was mid october and Wales! Almost no rain, quite a bit of sun and a whole lot of clouds. But hey, we saw about thirty seals, some of them only from a few meters distance, so who cares about clouds?
Despite the many seals, sheeps were the most common animal seen. Endless pastures with endless sheeps seemed to be an inherent part of the undulating landscape.
Well, all for know, hope you enjoyed. Pictures to follow at: www.picasaweb.com/verdensbilleder123
onsdag den 4. november 2009
Back to the lovely grey Danish sky
So - back in Denmark after 3 months abroad, 2 of those in sunny Sydney. And how is Denmark? Well,people wise, I can't complain. Living with my girlfriend again and having old best friends and family nearby. But weather wise - oh my god! When I told people in Australia about the Danish winter I would say half in joke, half in earnest: Well, the sky is always grey, you don't really see the sun for 4 months. It's not that cold really, we hardly ever get snow anymore, but it's pretty wet. Not that the rain is heavy or dense or so, but it's continous - throughout the day, week or months. If you go to work or school, it might be dark when you go and certainly dark when you go home. And yes - windy too.In fact, many Danes get depressed in winter, I told.
So, is it really that bad?
YES! Today was just one of those days. Continous rain, hard wind, 5-7 degrees, sky all grey. Yesterday? Hardly rainy, but sky completely grey. Day before yesterday? More or less like today, but with a more pleasant evening.
Tomorrow? We shall see, but the odds are on grey.
So, is it really that bad?
YES! Today was just one of those days. Continous rain, hard wind, 5-7 degrees, sky all grey. Yesterday? Hardly rainy, but sky completely grey. Day before yesterday? More or less like today, but with a more pleasant evening.
Tomorrow? We shall see, but the odds are on grey.
søndag den 4. oktober 2009
Meeting Jesus and New Zealand as the most secular country in the world?
Many believes that New Zealand is in fact the most secular country in the world, the 81 year old retired English preast told me, as I asked about the state of Christianity in New Zealand. But there are followers, none the less. He came to NZ twenty years ago, but only had 4 years as a priest before the bishop decided you had to retire at 65. However, as a firm believer, he continued his own little church (church actually meaning a group of people that follow Jesus, not a building as we most often use the word today) every Tuesday. The ride with him was fairly short (max. half an hour, and maybe only half), but very intense. We had very good discussions on religion, me declaring myself an agnostic. As we parted in the car outside convinience store, he folded his hands and started praying. For me. To Jesus. He told him, that he was with a young man who was an agnostic and hadn't yet had the opportunity to meet him. If he would be so kind to make himself known to me within the next few days. And ended with an Amen. Then turning to me saying, if I had asked you whether I could pray for you, you've probably said no. He was right. But yet, I wasn't offended, but deeply touched by his care for my wellbeing and my soul, so I thanked him for his good will and departed in high spirit.
The American guy I had been trekking with was deeply devoted too. He imagined himself as a missioner in a later stage in life and we had some very good religious talks too.
Then, not too long after having been prayed for, it turns out, that my host for the night, is deeply devoted too. I did perceive him as Christian, but more in the Danish sense of the word rather than the devoted one. But on the ride to Christchurch it turned out he had given his life to Jesus at the age of 21 in a time where he weren't too happy with the way he was living, was drinking too much and lacking direction and purpose in life. Less than 24 hours after Jesus had been called to convert me, I had the feeling that this was it. This was, at the minimum, a rare, but enticing, coincidence. At the conspiracy level, it was cooperation between two followers, who had decided that I was ripe for Christianity (i.e. the priest knowing the farmer and letting him know that there was a Danish hithchiker somewhere along the road). And at the most? It was Jesus talking and acting through the friendly and extremely hospitable salmon farmer.
Which one do I believe in? Well, it did give me something to think about, but it did not convince me. Still an agnostic I am afraid, too sceptical too believe, yet to uncertain to declare God completely out of the picture. But I did enjoy meeting Jesus on the road.
All for know, see you back home. I'm flying to London tomorrow to meet Eline!
The American guy I had been trekking with was deeply devoted too. He imagined himself as a missioner in a later stage in life and we had some very good religious talks too.
Then, not too long after having been prayed for, it turns out, that my host for the night, is deeply devoted too. I did perceive him as Christian, but more in the Danish sense of the word rather than the devoted one. But on the ride to Christchurch it turned out he had given his life to Jesus at the age of 21 in a time where he weren't too happy with the way he was living, was drinking too much and lacking direction and purpose in life. Less than 24 hours after Jesus had been called to convert me, I had the feeling that this was it. This was, at the minimum, a rare, but enticing, coincidence. At the conspiracy level, it was cooperation between two followers, who had decided that I was ripe for Christianity (i.e. the priest knowing the farmer and letting him know that there was a Danish hithchiker somewhere along the road). And at the most? It was Jesus talking and acting through the friendly and extremely hospitable salmon farmer.
Which one do I believe in? Well, it did give me something to think about, but it did not convince me. Still an agnostic I am afraid, too sceptical too believe, yet to uncertain to declare God completely out of the picture. But I did enjoy meeting Jesus on the road.
All for know, see you back home. I'm flying to London tomorrow to meet Eline!
hitching in NZ
Just got back from New Zealand last night. You won't get all the stuff I want to tell now as I have about 24 hours left in Sydney before heading towards the airport and it would be a shame to waste them all in front of the computer. But I will write something, cause I do not want to forget it before I get to it.
So, as you already know I started out ill and therefore took a touristbus down southwest to Queenstown. I stayed there for a couple of nights and then got a two hour lift with two Germans who had just finished med. school. Great people and I was allowed to practice a bit of my German which deterriorated quite a bit in Amsterdam learning Dutch. But it is slowly coming back! We drove to the small town Te Anau, which is sort of the port into or main town in Fjordland. Fjordland is probably the most famous one of the national parks as it possesses 3 (or more?) of the 8 "great" (ranked by the conservation office) walks in New Zealand. It is also in Fjordland that the Lords of the Rings was shot. Fjordland has an extremely volatile climate with up to 7000 mm of annual rainfall at some places (Denmark has a tenth of that), in short, a very fertile place to be. But, but, all I wanted was to tell about all the hitchhiking, so back to that.
New Zealand is apparently one of the easiest and safest place to hitchhike on the entire planet. Admittedly, at some places, you do not come across that much traffic (the country is bigger than England, but has fewer people than Denmark!). But the traffic you do come across often gives you a lift. I probably caught 10 different lifts or more and never waited more than one hour or one hour and a half. Sometimes not even 5 minutes. In Te Anau I hooked up with an American guy named John. We bombed into one another several times in Te Anau, at the info centre, on the streets and so on, before finally meeting on the road towards Routebourn and Caples. Well, if faith wants it that badly, we might as well hitch and hike together, we thought.
So we did. Way too late for cars going towards the most famous of the great walks, the Milford trek (Routebourn is on the way to Milford). Only one car passing every 10 or 15 minutes. Our hopes weren't high and we were counting on another night in Te Anau. But, but, but - then two Kiwis (New Zealanders) came along. They were up for a cruising drive to Milford and back. And as we did not have much trekking to do that day, we even got to go with them to Milford Sound and then got off on the way back. Great indeed!
This was Monday. Friday, after 5 days of trekking, we found ourselves as exactly the same spot called the Divide. Weather conditions were kinda bad, raining and starting to snow. A tourist operator told us that the road to and from Milford would be closed at 5 pm due to the weather. It was now 4.15 and the only traffic we could hope to catch would be coming from Milford... but, lucky again. A camper comes along as the very first vehicle, we put our thumbs up and whoosh - up we go. Not one minute of waiting time. The sweet English couple in their late forties took us both to Te Anau. As I wanted to proceed to Queenstown to get closer to my flight from Christchurch I prolonged my waiting for chocolate, beer and food and went on in the rain towards a good spot. Obviously, I tried to stop every car on my way there, but you seldom have luck while you walk or stand within the city. Freezing cold, weet feet since the day before (my boots are waaaaay too old) and already 6 o'clock, my hopes weren't that high. But, as soon as I got to the good spot, I got picked up immidiately by a 52 year old man going all the way to Queenstown and beyond. It proved to be quite an interesting meeting as the man was a superathlete who had recently suffered severe medical problems and we had deep and honest conversations on that as well as on his races in New Zealand. To mention a few: The Kepler Race, 63 km of running on a fairly good walking path. From 200 m altitude up almost to Mount Luxmore in 1400, then a bit down, a bit up and then down again. He'd done it in 7 hours and 5 minutes. I find that impressive. But, the record is well below 5 hours! at 4.35! I find that hard to conceive. The coast-to-coast race - he had done it both in teams, alone over two days and alone in one stretch. I can't remember the exact distance, but it took him 14,5 hours and including mountainbiking, 33 km of running on bolders at the riverbed, some more running and mountainbiking and ended
with 65 km of kayaking! Hard core, I say! He also did one 23 hour race with 3 teammates, including swimming, running, kayaking and mountainbiking. I've got some serious training to do, was my conclusion... He put me off at the outskirts of town and vupti, I caught another lift to the center with 3 youg musicians - and saved myself a good one hour walk.
Queenstown, tenting for the night near the lake after an unsuccesfull bar mission. Woke up to snow, the first in Queenstown the entire season. Boots, socks and feet got even more wet and cold as I slowly made my way to a good hitching point, now aiming for Christchurch. Got a lift from the center to the good spot out of town after 15 cold minutes of waiting in the snow. There I had my breakfast and caught a new lift, not for that long, but there was a bit of a mitchmatch with the guy, so it did not matter much. Can't remember whether I got yet another, before meeting Roger, an allround repairman/electrician/handyman/engeneering kind of type, who drove around the southern part of New Zealand setting up machines and fixing them. He did not take me the straight way to Christchurch, but instead took my 3-4 hours southeast to his hometown Milton, where he had been living all his life. And that was extremely lucky for me. First of all, I got to see an entirely new - and beautiful! - part of the country and did not have to go the same way back. Secondly, Roger was probably right to say that my chances would be better on highway 1 as opposed to the smaller roads with less traffic towards queenstown. But most importantly, Roger knew heaps about every single village and valley we went through and could tell me of the changes it had seen. Finally we parted in Milton, a town the size of my hometown Vestbjerg (3000 people), but much more vibrant. In fact, there was a road sign saying 61 km to Milton!! (can you imagine that for Vestbjerg???).
After a bid of lunch, I got a new lift, this time one of these you are unsure whether to take or not. A fast and tuned sportscar with two young lads, the car smelling of beer and the non-driver drinking beer. Anyhow, I put my scepticism away, got in, buckled up and went for a fast, adrenaline kicking ride for 15 minutes until they took of for a lake. Happy to get out of that one, I tell you! The way up north along the coast proceeded this way - short waiting time, short lifts. None seemed to be going all the way to Christchurch, but I got closer every time. An old priest took me to Waitaki, a divorced father to the outskirts of Dunedin, where I was put off on the highway as he believed that to be the best spot for me. A student took me up saying I was lucky he wasn't a cop - turned out it was illegal to be hithchiking on the high way, who could have guessed that? He took me to the other side of Dunedin. Some more lifts, some more small towns until I got picked up by Brian Hutton, a 71 old salmon farmer, who, after two minutes of conversation, offered me to go with him to Twizel, a pictureque small town close to Mount Cook, for the night and then take me to the airport the next day as he was heading north. I jumped at the oppurtunity, cancelled my couchsurfing stay with Ian in Christchurch and spend the next 16 hours or so in the company of this friendly, knowing and pleasant old farmer. We had good and interesting talks. He knew at least as much as Roger about New Zealand and his area and was more than happy to share it. He took me to an impressive dam constructed in 1929, we ate dinner at a restaurant nearby and spend the evening at his place drinking tea and talking about the remnants of the 20th century. And I got a much needed bath and an actual bed to sleep in. Not too bad, I say!
Sorry for the long post, next one will be shorter - and perhaps more funny too.
So, as you already know I started out ill and therefore took a touristbus down southwest to Queenstown. I stayed there for a couple of nights and then got a two hour lift with two Germans who had just finished med. school. Great people and I was allowed to practice a bit of my German which deterriorated quite a bit in Amsterdam learning Dutch. But it is slowly coming back! We drove to the small town Te Anau, which is sort of the port into or main town in Fjordland. Fjordland is probably the most famous one of the national parks as it possesses 3 (or more?) of the 8 "great" (ranked by the conservation office) walks in New Zealand. It is also in Fjordland that the Lords of the Rings was shot. Fjordland has an extremely volatile climate with up to 7000 mm of annual rainfall at some places (Denmark has a tenth of that), in short, a very fertile place to be. But, but, all I wanted was to tell about all the hitchhiking, so back to that.
New Zealand is apparently one of the easiest and safest place to hitchhike on the entire planet. Admittedly, at some places, you do not come across that much traffic (the country is bigger than England, but has fewer people than Denmark!). But the traffic you do come across often gives you a lift. I probably caught 10 different lifts or more and never waited more than one hour or one hour and a half. Sometimes not even 5 minutes. In Te Anau I hooked up with an American guy named John. We bombed into one another several times in Te Anau, at the info centre, on the streets and so on, before finally meeting on the road towards Routebourn and Caples. Well, if faith wants it that badly, we might as well hitch and hike together, we thought.
So we did. Way too late for cars going towards the most famous of the great walks, the Milford trek (Routebourn is on the way to Milford). Only one car passing every 10 or 15 minutes. Our hopes weren't high and we were counting on another night in Te Anau. But, but, but - then two Kiwis (New Zealanders) came along. They were up for a cruising drive to Milford and back. And as we did not have much trekking to do that day, we even got to go with them to Milford Sound and then got off on the way back. Great indeed!
This was Monday. Friday, after 5 days of trekking, we found ourselves as exactly the same spot called the Divide. Weather conditions were kinda bad, raining and starting to snow. A tourist operator told us that the road to and from Milford would be closed at 5 pm due to the weather. It was now 4.15 and the only traffic we could hope to catch would be coming from Milford... but, lucky again. A camper comes along as the very first vehicle, we put our thumbs up and whoosh - up we go. Not one minute of waiting time. The sweet English couple in their late forties took us both to Te Anau. As I wanted to proceed to Queenstown to get closer to my flight from Christchurch I prolonged my waiting for chocolate, beer and food and went on in the rain towards a good spot. Obviously, I tried to stop every car on my way there, but you seldom have luck while you walk or stand within the city. Freezing cold, weet feet since the day before (my boots are waaaaay too old) and already 6 o'clock, my hopes weren't that high. But, as soon as I got to the good spot, I got picked up immidiately by a 52 year old man going all the way to Queenstown and beyond. It proved to be quite an interesting meeting as the man was a superathlete who had recently suffered severe medical problems and we had deep and honest conversations on that as well as on his races in New Zealand. To mention a few: The Kepler Race, 63 km of running on a fairly good walking path. From 200 m altitude up almost to Mount Luxmore in 1400, then a bit down, a bit up and then down again. He'd done it in 7 hours and 5 minutes. I find that impressive. But, the record is well below 5 hours! at 4.35! I find that hard to conceive. The coast-to-coast race - he had done it both in teams, alone over two days and alone in one stretch. I can't remember the exact distance, but it took him 14,5 hours and including mountainbiking, 33 km of running on bolders at the riverbed, some more running and mountainbiking and ended
with 65 km of kayaking! Hard core, I say! He also did one 23 hour race with 3 teammates, including swimming, running, kayaking and mountainbiking. I've got some serious training to do, was my conclusion... He put me off at the outskirts of town and vupti, I caught another lift to the center with 3 youg musicians - and saved myself a good one hour walk.
Queenstown, tenting for the night near the lake after an unsuccesfull bar mission. Woke up to snow, the first in Queenstown the entire season. Boots, socks and feet got even more wet and cold as I slowly made my way to a good hitching point, now aiming for Christchurch. Got a lift from the center to the good spot out of town after 15 cold minutes of waiting in the snow. There I had my breakfast and caught a new lift, not for that long, but there was a bit of a mitchmatch with the guy, so it did not matter much. Can't remember whether I got yet another, before meeting Roger, an allround repairman/electrician/handyman/engeneering kind of type, who drove around the southern part of New Zealand setting up machines and fixing them. He did not take me the straight way to Christchurch, but instead took my 3-4 hours southeast to his hometown Milton, where he had been living all his life. And that was extremely lucky for me. First of all, I got to see an entirely new - and beautiful! - part of the country and did not have to go the same way back. Secondly, Roger was probably right to say that my chances would be better on highway 1 as opposed to the smaller roads with less traffic towards queenstown. But most importantly, Roger knew heaps about every single village and valley we went through and could tell me of the changes it had seen. Finally we parted in Milton, a town the size of my hometown Vestbjerg (3000 people), but much more vibrant. In fact, there was a road sign saying 61 km to Milton!! (can you imagine that for Vestbjerg???).
After a bid of lunch, I got a new lift, this time one of these you are unsure whether to take or not. A fast and tuned sportscar with two young lads, the car smelling of beer and the non-driver drinking beer. Anyhow, I put my scepticism away, got in, buckled up and went for a fast, adrenaline kicking ride for 15 minutes until they took of for a lake. Happy to get out of that one, I tell you! The way up north along the coast proceeded this way - short waiting time, short lifts. None seemed to be going all the way to Christchurch, but I got closer every time. An old priest took me to Waitaki, a divorced father to the outskirts of Dunedin, where I was put off on the highway as he believed that to be the best spot for me. A student took me up saying I was lucky he wasn't a cop - turned out it was illegal to be hithchiking on the high way, who could have guessed that? He took me to the other side of Dunedin. Some more lifts, some more small towns until I got picked up by Brian Hutton, a 71 old salmon farmer, who, after two minutes of conversation, offered me to go with him to Twizel, a pictureque small town close to Mount Cook, for the night and then take me to the airport the next day as he was heading north. I jumped at the oppurtunity, cancelled my couchsurfing stay with Ian in Christchurch and spend the next 16 hours or so in the company of this friendly, knowing and pleasant old farmer. We had good and interesting talks. He knew at least as much as Roger about New Zealand and his area and was more than happy to share it. He took me to an impressive dam constructed in 1929, we ate dinner at a restaurant nearby and spend the evening at his place drinking tea and talking about the remnants of the 20th century. And I got a much needed bath and an actual bed to sleep in. Not too bad, I say!
Sorry for the long post, next one will be shorter - and perhaps more funny too.
søndag den 27. september 2009
short update
Hey.
Mainly a family notice, but hey, others might care too.
Am off for Routebourn and Caples trek in the northern part of Fjordland. Did part of the Kepler trek the two last days including 3 and a half hours of caving with some locals. More on that later. But gotta run as I need to get a lift up north.
So - will return late in the week or even later.
Time is running, less than a week left here.
Cheers
Anders
Mainly a family notice, but hey, others might care too.
Am off for Routebourn and Caples trek in the northern part of Fjordland. Did part of the Kepler trek the two last days including 3 and a half hours of caving with some locals. More on that later. But gotta run as I need to get a lift up north.
So - will return late in the week or even later.
Time is running, less than a week left here.
Cheers
Anders
fredag den 25. september 2009
so, which option did i go for?
Obviously, there wasn't much choice in the options given. As stated in the last post, two of them were dull. So, obviously I opted for the third one and went to a bar where I met Steven, Cam, James and another bloke who later abandoned his drinking brothers for a bar chic, wherefore his name will not longer be spoken, nor written. 2 from the UK, 2 from the US - all living the dream in Queenstown, the world capital of extreme sport. You name it, they have it: Bungeejump, paragliding, skydiving, mounteneering, skiing, snowboarding, waterskiiing, white water rafting and other kayaking, mountainbiking and probably a whole lot more.
They turned out to be some quite entertaining fellas and we had a really good time - albeit both Cam and XX abandoned us way too early. Eventually, I was invited to stay and gladly took the offer. Steven, James and Cam all live together with James' girlfriend as the fourth resident. And what a place! It is admittedly hard to find a place in Queenstown with a bad view. But saying that, the view from their apartment was absolutely stunning. Think of San Francisco (I've never been there). Queenstown has hills just as steep or possibly steeper, starting only a couple of hundred meters from the lake. The live in the very upper part of the city with a view to the rest of the city and not least, to the lake and the mountains. It is very European, very Alpe like - just a bit better I guess. I spend all day on their couch reading a novel (haven't read any fiction for several weeks, so I ate it raw) and looking out the windows. Eventually, I got out and went for some walks around the city and had to leave tonight as they are having an inspection tomorrow (no extra visitors then). However, I am very happy I ran into them and I look forward to receiving Steven's monthly music picks (he seems to be an expert that shares my taste - hint: built to spill is one of his favorites too and when I mentioned them he instantly said: Christmas twinfalls idaho, one of my favorites songs))
Just as I was about to enter the feared and dredded hostel, I got a text saying - yes you can stay from Sheree (I won't mention your last name, so feel safe). I met her with two lovely and witty friends, Chris and Ian, in Old Man's Rock and am now left alone in Sheree's home while she is out dancing her friday boogee.
Tomorrow? Who knows. Am seriously considering skiing though. Just because it is cheap compared to actually going skiing in Europe where you have transport, hostel and all that shit. Here I can go for around 50 Euros for a day which is really not that bad after all.
Anyhow, enough chatting from me. Ciao
Am proceeding towards Te Anau as soon as possible, probably Sunday. Good news is that the treks seem to be more accessable than expected.
They turned out to be some quite entertaining fellas and we had a really good time - albeit both Cam and XX abandoned us way too early. Eventually, I was invited to stay and gladly took the offer. Steven, James and Cam all live together with James' girlfriend as the fourth resident. And what a place! It is admittedly hard to find a place in Queenstown with a bad view. But saying that, the view from their apartment was absolutely stunning. Think of San Francisco (I've never been there). Queenstown has hills just as steep or possibly steeper, starting only a couple of hundred meters from the lake. The live in the very upper part of the city with a view to the rest of the city and not least, to the lake and the mountains. It is very European, very Alpe like - just a bit better I guess. I spend all day on their couch reading a novel (haven't read any fiction for several weeks, so I ate it raw) and looking out the windows. Eventually, I got out and went for some walks around the city and had to leave tonight as they are having an inspection tomorrow (no extra visitors then). However, I am very happy I ran into them and I look forward to receiving Steven's monthly music picks (he seems to be an expert that shares my taste - hint: built to spill is one of his favorites too and when I mentioned them he instantly said: Christmas twinfalls idaho, one of my favorites songs))
Just as I was about to enter the feared and dredded hostel, I got a text saying - yes you can stay from Sheree (I won't mention your last name, so feel safe). I met her with two lovely and witty friends, Chris and Ian, in Old Man's Rock and am now left alone in Sheree's home while she is out dancing her friday boogee.
Tomorrow? Who knows. Am seriously considering skiing though. Just because it is cheap compared to actually going skiing in Europe where you have transport, hostel and all that shit. Here I can go for around 50 Euros for a day which is really not that bad after all.
Anyhow, enough chatting from me. Ciao
Am proceeding towards Te Anau as soon as possible, probably Sunday. Good news is that the treks seem to be more accessable than expected.
torsdag den 24. september 2009
Well, we've knocked the bastard off...
were the first words Edmund Hillary said to his fellow climbers when he and Tenzing Sherpa returned from the first ever succesful climb of Mount Everest in 1953.
I can't climb I knocked a bastard off (an certainly not The bastard), but I came close yesterday when I went towards the summit of Sebastapol, the lowest peek in the Mount Cook National Park at about 1500 meter. I got desperate to get out of the lovely, but a bit dull for my purposes, Christchurch, so as I told you I booked a tourist bus going from Christchurch over Mount Cook, the highest mountain in NZ at 3754 m, down to Queenstown, the renowed party city on the southern island.
What happened? It was as great or greater than I imagined, so there was no sense in leaving for a not so great destination. Fortunately, I could even get with the bus today (am in Queenstown now).
So, yesterday was beautiful weather, almost perfect blue sky and not too cold given what you can expect. I went to the info center and inquired about my options. Mueller's hut in 1800 m, recommended by Flint, was highly unsafe yesterday due to avalanche risk and required a lot of gear which I do not have. Moreover, a party was about to be flown out as they considered descending from there too dangerous. So, no Mueller's hut for me (btw, the hut was named after a Danish scientist/explorer from the early 20th century). However, there were numerous other small walks I could attempt on, including the governor's bush walk, red tarns, hooker valley, kia point and some a bit further away. I did all of the four above - none of them being spectacular, but where the red tarns ended, the more remote and less travelled track up to Sebastopol started - which I did not know off. I just felt, hey - track is there, it seems easy enough, legs are fine, so - off we go. Which, apart from deciding to stay, was the best decision all day. From boring stairs (the red tarns) the track turned into a track finding mission where you had to navigate through the small bushes and later on, up the morrain. Moreover, it let me further up and rewarded me with stunning views of numerous lakes that I couldn't see further down. In the end I took a very unusual decision for me. Instead of pushing all the way to the summit, I stopped 50 meters below, as the track was increasingly steep, slippery, snowy and demanded more and more climbing. Moreover, nobody knew I was there and I did not know exactly when it would get dark (apart from soonish). So - for once I took the wise and mature decision - and got down safe and tired. Could feel that I was well, but that the body was not fully recovered wherefore I got extremely tired considering the moderate walk (700 up and 700 down or so - without backpack!). Got to the camping ground just in time to put my tent up in what could be termed very late dawn. Ate my terrific Chinise nudles and went back to my tent - waiting for my new mattress to put in some air... waiting...waiting... helping with my mouth...waiting....waiting. The temperature outside the tent was definitely freezing and inside was quite cold too, so I would prefere my mattress. But as the instruction said - don't sleep on it the first night, let it just fill with air (which it did not at all at any time), I was afraid to loose my warranty and opted for the cold, but remarkably soft ground. I woke up completely rested at 1 am, but as I haven't purchased travel literature yet, nor have got any music here, this wasn't exactly the best time to get up. The following hours saw me sleeping, waking and sleeping some more until I finally got up and out and ate my breakfast. Only to return to my sleeping bag as my hands frooze to numbness within a minute outside. Nope, I was not keen on doing more walks in that cloudy, cold weather, where you couldn't even see the tops of the mountains.
Eventually I did get up, did some hours of walking before I packed down and went to the museum at the visitor center displaying fascinating accounts on the history of climbing on Mount Cook. 3754 m may sound like an easy climb, but it is not by any means. In fact it was here that a mountain guide from the Hermitage hotel learned Sir Edmund Hillary 'everything I know about snow and ice'. They climbed Mount Cook in 1948 as far as I recall and Hillary used the national park with numerous other summits above 3000 as primary training for Everest in 1953. Afterwards I visited the Edmund Hillary center located within the hermitage hotel and saw a bit of movie there before ascending the steep stairs of the bus leading me to Queenstown...
where I am now in search of a place for the night. As I wrote John from my class on skype: 'seems like I either have to tent within the city (which is somewhat a bore), find a hostel (which is always a bore) or get lucky in a bar (which eline doesn't appreciate)', I later specified: 'get lucky in a bar seems the most interesting option though - but in the sense of scoring a couch, not a girl'.
Alas, I have tried to get a place to couchsurf here, but either there not in town, busy or not replying at all.
Queenstown is this time a season more of a skiing resort than a place from where you go to treks. So I now have the options of taking one or more expensive days on the slopes or limiting my tramping desires to lower altitudes. Or fly/go north alltogether. Or proceed to Te Anau and see what comes. As you may read out of this, I do not know yet. But Queenstown is extremely beautiful right next to a big lake and with mountains all around. So, not the worst place to get stranded after all. I am off for now (it is eight and I better start now I wanna get lucky), hope you enjoyed reading.
All the best
Anders
p.s. New Zealand is kind of a special place for an anglo-saxon country. Instead of having UK/US style economy, the country has, at least earlier, chosen a path closer to the Scandinavian or Northern European welfare state. In fact, a 55 year old man (moved from Britain) came sneaking up to me in the library in Queenstown the other day and starting talking about NZ. 'The country has chosen a soft form of capitalism. And some countries don't like that (US and UK). NZ refused to have US nuclear missiles testing on the island and was punished for that. All countries, like Cuba, Scandinavia and New Zealand, that don't endorse full-scale capitalism end up in some sort of trouble with the US', he continued in an urgent tone of voice.
Cheers to Cuba!
I can't climb I knocked a bastard off (an certainly not The bastard), but I came close yesterday when I went towards the summit of Sebastapol, the lowest peek in the Mount Cook National Park at about 1500 meter. I got desperate to get out of the lovely, but a bit dull for my purposes, Christchurch, so as I told you I booked a tourist bus going from Christchurch over Mount Cook, the highest mountain in NZ at 3754 m, down to Queenstown, the renowed party city on the southern island.
What happened? It was as great or greater than I imagined, so there was no sense in leaving for a not so great destination. Fortunately, I could even get with the bus today (am in Queenstown now).
So, yesterday was beautiful weather, almost perfect blue sky and not too cold given what you can expect. I went to the info center and inquired about my options. Mueller's hut in 1800 m, recommended by Flint, was highly unsafe yesterday due to avalanche risk and required a lot of gear which I do not have. Moreover, a party was about to be flown out as they considered descending from there too dangerous. So, no Mueller's hut for me (btw, the hut was named after a Danish scientist/explorer from the early 20th century). However, there were numerous other small walks I could attempt on, including the governor's bush walk, red tarns, hooker valley, kia point and some a bit further away. I did all of the four above - none of them being spectacular, but where the red tarns ended, the more remote and less travelled track up to Sebastopol started - which I did not know off. I just felt, hey - track is there, it seems easy enough, legs are fine, so - off we go. Which, apart from deciding to stay, was the best decision all day. From boring stairs (the red tarns) the track turned into a track finding mission where you had to navigate through the small bushes and later on, up the morrain. Moreover, it let me further up and rewarded me with stunning views of numerous lakes that I couldn't see further down. In the end I took a very unusual decision for me. Instead of pushing all the way to the summit, I stopped 50 meters below, as the track was increasingly steep, slippery, snowy and demanded more and more climbing. Moreover, nobody knew I was there and I did not know exactly when it would get dark (apart from soonish). So - for once I took the wise and mature decision - and got down safe and tired. Could feel that I was well, but that the body was not fully recovered wherefore I got extremely tired considering the moderate walk (700 up and 700 down or so - without backpack!). Got to the camping ground just in time to put my tent up in what could be termed very late dawn. Ate my terrific Chinise nudles and went back to my tent - waiting for my new mattress to put in some air... waiting...waiting... helping with my mouth...waiting....waiting. The temperature outside the tent was definitely freezing and inside was quite cold too, so I would prefere my mattress. But as the instruction said - don't sleep on it the first night, let it just fill with air (which it did not at all at any time), I was afraid to loose my warranty and opted for the cold, but remarkably soft ground. I woke up completely rested at 1 am, but as I haven't purchased travel literature yet, nor have got any music here, this wasn't exactly the best time to get up. The following hours saw me sleeping, waking and sleeping some more until I finally got up and out and ate my breakfast. Only to return to my sleeping bag as my hands frooze to numbness within a minute outside. Nope, I was not keen on doing more walks in that cloudy, cold weather, where you couldn't even see the tops of the mountains.
Eventually I did get up, did some hours of walking before I packed down and went to the museum at the visitor center displaying fascinating accounts on the history of climbing on Mount Cook. 3754 m may sound like an easy climb, but it is not by any means. In fact it was here that a mountain guide from the Hermitage hotel learned Sir Edmund Hillary 'everything I know about snow and ice'. They climbed Mount Cook in 1948 as far as I recall and Hillary used the national park with numerous other summits above 3000 as primary training for Everest in 1953. Afterwards I visited the Edmund Hillary center located within the hermitage hotel and saw a bit of movie there before ascending the steep stairs of the bus leading me to Queenstown...
where I am now in search of a place for the night. As I wrote John from my class on skype: 'seems like I either have to tent within the city (which is somewhat a bore), find a hostel (which is always a bore) or get lucky in a bar (which eline doesn't appreciate)', I later specified: 'get lucky in a bar seems the most interesting option though - but in the sense of scoring a couch, not a girl'.
Alas, I have tried to get a place to couchsurf here, but either there not in town, busy or not replying at all.
Queenstown is this time a season more of a skiing resort than a place from where you go to treks. So I now have the options of taking one or more expensive days on the slopes or limiting my tramping desires to lower altitudes. Or fly/go north alltogether. Or proceed to Te Anau and see what comes. As you may read out of this, I do not know yet. But Queenstown is extremely beautiful right next to a big lake and with mountains all around. So, not the worst place to get stranded after all. I am off for now (it is eight and I better start now I wanna get lucky), hope you enjoyed reading.
All the best
Anders
p.s. New Zealand is kind of a special place for an anglo-saxon country. Instead of having UK/US style economy, the country has, at least earlier, chosen a path closer to the Scandinavian or Northern European welfare state. In fact, a 55 year old man (moved from Britain) came sneaking up to me in the library in Queenstown the other day and starting talking about NZ. 'The country has chosen a soft form of capitalism. And some countries don't like that (US and UK). NZ refused to have US nuclear missiles testing on the island and was punished for that. All countries, like Cuba, Scandinavia and New Zealand, that don't endorse full-scale capitalism end up in some sort of trouble with the US', he continued in an urgent tone of voice.
Cheers to Cuba!
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