In Reflection

It's now been a month and a week since my return to my home in the US of A. And although part of me thinks this post is overdue, I know that's not at all true. I know that it's going to take much more time for me to fully understand and appreciate all that I have learned and experienced during my 5 months in New Zealand. But in the interest of closing out this blog, here's what I've come up with so far. 

One of the most prominent lessons I've learned is that it's a Small World. Of course, that's a phrase that get's thrown around a lot, but it is completely true. Even after 18 hours on a plane, there are still McDonalds on every corner, iPhones in everyone's pocket, and Katy Perry on the radio. These were some of the unfortunate aspects of the Global American influence that greatly diminished the culture shock. But luckily all it took was a set of wheels and advice from the locals to find what I was looking for, which brings me to my next lesson...

The World is still wild and unexplored (if you're willing to find it). We've all heard the scares about global overpopulation and how one day we'll run out of land. Well I can tell you that won't happen for a damn long time. The population of New Zealand is 4 million, half that of New York City while NZ is 220 times bigger than NYC. Of course, that's an extreme example, but there were times when we would be driving on the busiest road on the island and not see another car for hours. And there were times I hiked into the woods and found a level of absolute silence I didn't know existed. 

One thing I will always miss about New Zealand is the people. It was like there were no strangers in the whole country. You could (and I did) start talking to anyone on the street and before you know it, they're inviting you to their home for dinner. It's hard to describe how genuinely warm and over-the-top friendly these people are. It was rather sad to come back here and see people walking with headphones on, heads down and avoiding eye contact. We're all in this together, why not pay an extra dollar for the car behind you at the tolls or hold the door open for someone? Maybe at least smile at a stranger?

The people of New Zealand taught me to never take life too seriously. We're all going to die eventually, so why not have a fun time while we're here? It's really not the end of the World if a car cuts you off or you fail a test. Life goes on. Kiwi's are pro's at laughing at themselves and not taking anything personally. That's why in New Zealand you could freely ask someone what their salary is or playfully insult them to the point that an average American would call it verbal assault. Laughter really is the best medicine.

Only 1% of American college students study abroad, and I am so incredibly grateful to have been given this opportunity to be part of that one percent. Without the help of UNH, AustraLearn, and the University of Otago I would have been so lost. I also could not have enjoyed my time there without the support of my friends back home, always messaging me to see how things are and being there for me when I got back. But of course, my biggest support system has been my Mom and sisters. Aside from the enormous financial help (thank$ Mom!), they would always stay up late to skype with me and would always make me smile with facebook posts saying how much they miss me. I love you girls so much!

Some people have asked me how the trip has changed me. That's a tricky one that may be easier for people back home to answer. I'd like to think that I have become more independent, more open-minded, and more confident. Like I said before, I think it will take some time before I know the answer to that one.

When it comes down to it, I'm very proud of experience in New Zealand. At 21, I flew half-way across the globe to live on my own for 5 months in a foreign country. I travelled as much as I could during those 5 months and saw so much of the South Island. I met some incredible people who I will never ever forget. I bungy-jumped 440 feet. I hitch-hiked 200 miles by myself. I kissed a kangaroo and ate a kangaroo steak (in Australia). I spent all my money and then some. I hiked a lot and saw places that quite literally took my breath away. 

And I don't have a single regret.

Thanks again to everyone who kept up with this blog, I really do appreciate it!

Signing out for the final time,

See ya later!

Last day in New Zealand

Well here we are, on my last (full) day in New Zealand. Tomorrow morning I’m jumping on a few flights and by 5:30 pm, I’ll be in the beautiful country/continent of Australia, riding kangaroos with my buddy Stephen Wyka… that is if he remembers to pick me up.

The past few weeks have been quite busy. The normality of the week-by-week school year was thrown out the window and we were hit with exams. It was indeed strange to see how quickly the student body of 20,000 future-alcoholics changed gears and locked themselves in the library for what would most likely be the only two weeks of studying all semester. In the end, exams were okay. And most importantly, they’re over.

The day after exams ended, I said some tough goodbyes and made my way to Queenstown with everything that I brought to NZ and more. With impeccable timing, the annual Winter Festival started the next day and I found myself busy with concerts, fireworks, comedy shows, hockey games, snowboard workshops, and the sort. The only thing that was missing was the snow.

By this time I had ditched the hostel and moved into my cosy campervan. I’ve never been much of a mini-van guy (contrary to popular belief), but I could tell I was turning heads with my bright green and purple van.

man in a van!

Early that week I decided to give another shot at hiking Ben Lomond Peak, a 6,000-ft mountain right outside of Queenstown. The first time I hiked this (back in March) I gravely underestimated it as a local "hill", got little sleep, and brought along way too much stuff in my pack, including my laptop (which I didn't want to get stolen from the car). I made it to the base of the final 1-hour push to the summit before my friend Alex and I decided to call it quits.

Though completely focused, even this time there were some troubles. I woke up with a bad kink in my neck and then accidentally bought 1.5 litres of sparkling water, but noticed soon into the hike and was able to refill with normal water along the trail. The rest of the trail, however, was fairly easy and I made it to the summit in about 2 hours (the map says 3-4 hours). There I had my victory tuna sandwhich and looked miles and miles into snowcapped mountains and down on helicopters returning after God-like heliskiing trips.

Ben Lomond Peak

They call me Sowbeard

Victory

On Monday I had finally had enough waiting for the mountains to open, so I had the idea to rent a snowboard and hike up the local mountain (Coronet Peak). Unfortunately, not one of the rental shops would rent me a board until one of the mountains opened. Fortunately, the very next day Mt. Hutt opened, which is 5 hours north. But they only had 2 trails open, so I told a little white lie to the rental shops and told them I was going to Mt. Hutt anyway. So I got myself a board, got up early the next morning and had an amazing but exhausting day hiking and boarding Coronet, dodging snow cats and snow mobiles the whole time.

Finally!

Well above the clouds at Coronet Peak

Finally, Queenstown’s prayers had been answered and Coronet announced they were opening the following day. With still 2 days left on my rental, I could not have been happier. Naturally, I was one of the first in line for the lift and one of the last to leave each day. Even though they had limited trails open, my snowboard craving had finally been satisfied. Riding way too fast and going off trail took me back to the good ol’ days at Cannon with my shred buddies, who, as I kept reminding myself, were probably dying of heat stroke at that very moment.

So tomorrow this adventure ends and another adventure begins. Wyka and I will be driving from Brisbane down through Sydney, snowboarding (if time and money allow), and on to Melbourne. Whenever I get the chance, I write an update or two here.

Thanks for reading!

--Steve 

The Last Chapter

Today is the last day that we will spend in Dunedin. At least, if all goes according to plan. The ash from the Chilean volcano has graced the New Zealand air space with it's presence and has caused flights to be cancelled for the past 2 weeks.  Luckily for me, I'm not flying out until July 3 after a week and a bit of bumming around Queenstown and Wanaka, two of my favorite places in NZ.

For the next chapter in my adventure, I'll be bussing to Queenstown tomorrow afternoon with all my Earthly possessions and checking into a hostel. For the next few days I'll be enjoying the festivities of the Winter Festival, which in the past has brought over 60,000 people to the small ski town. There will be parties, hockey games, mountain biking on ski slopes, snowboard movie premieres, bands, and comedians. My kind of festival. 

My plan all along was to snowboard, but that dream is slowly and sadly fading away. A complete lack of snow has delayed the openings of all southern ski fields, one of which was supposed to open on June 5. To say that I would be crushed if I don't get to snowboard would be a bit of an understatement. Especially since I have free lift tickets to a mountain in Wanaka. 

In any case, I'm renting a campervan on June 26 that has a bed, fridge, gas stove, sink, and all sorts of goodies. At least I'll have the freedom to be wherever I want when I want. If worse comes to worse, maybe I'll just blow the cash I would have spent on snowboarding on sky diving or something. 

The following chapter (barring any remaining ash clouds) will be in Australia, where I will meet my good buddy Stephen Wyka and begin our epic 1,100 mile East Coast Aussie roadtrip from Brisbane to Melbourne. Should be an amazing trip.

I'll save my wise, reflective thoughts for a later post and end this on a happy note....

For the first time in 39 years, the Stanley Cup has come back to Boston!!! It's hard to describe my feelings about this, maybe because I have so many, but here goes. Ever since I could remember, I was watching the Bruins on TV and going to games with my Dad. It didn't matter that the B's weren't that great, I loved them and loved the game of hockey. My childhood dream was to one day play for the Bruins. And now to see them lift the Cup is just a dream come true. I won't hesitate to admit that I did cry when the won. Yes, I cried at 3 pm on a Thursday afternoon in a New Zealand bar and didn't care who saw me. My only wish was that I could have watched that game with my Dad.

And I'll end this post with a picture I found of a bar tab run up by the Bruins in Foxwoods casino after the victory parade in Boston...

now THAT'S a party!

Milford Sound and the Sound of Playoff Hockey

Long time no post!

It's been getting colder and colder here in Dunedin, which is seriously confuzzling my body, which has become accustomed to the thought that June means warm. Not so in the southern hemisphere! Sitting here bundled up in my unheated flat with temperatures in the low 40's (outside and inside), I'm starting to warm up to the idea of returning to a New Hampshire summer, pun intended.

The most exciting trip of the past 3 weeks has been to Milford Sound, the place so nice I went twice. Renowned by Rudyard Kipling as the 8th wonder of the world, Milford Sound was named the World's top travel destination in 2008 by TripAdvisor. Despite it's fame, Milford Sound is not even a sound. It's a fiord, which was created by 5 glaciers over 5 ice ages carving out a deep valley in the rock, which was then filled with water. 

The first trip was with mates Evan and Hannah over the weekend of May 14. The day after arrival, we ventured into Gertrude Valley to walk one of the best hikes in the area, Gertrude Saddle. The hike began through a valley boarded on either side by vertical rock faces hundreds of feet high. Further into the valley it occurred to me that the valley was formed by a glacier, a monstrous ice scream scooper of ice that cut through tons and tons of rock on it's way to the ocean. Waterfalls cascaded down all around us, as if we were in a giant skull and they were the veins flowing down the inside of the cranium. 

As the picture reveals, it was quite foggy and we saw nothing from the top, but that didn't stop us from following the trail up one side of the skull. Passing waterfalls and trying not to fall on the slippery rocks, we made our way to the final push up a fixed cable to see the Black Lake. It was black. At least for the few minutes we could see it before the fog rolled in.

The next day we paid our $65 and took a boat cruise in Milford Sound. Although we didn't get the postcard-quality day for it, the fog lent a mysterious feel to the place. It was cold and rainy, but that didn't get us down, especially when a pod of friendly dolphins came up to the side of the boat!

Two weekends later I returned with my usual group, Pete, Lexi, and Mike. Pete and Lexi took the cruise and Mike and I stayed behind because we had already gone. That day (as is true for most day's in Fiordland, the 2nd rainiest place in the World), the weather was changing faster than Lady Gaga's appearance, so Mike and I got a brief opportunity to snap some pictures of the Sound in all it's glory.

Milford Sound, timestamp: 10:15 and beautiful

Mitre Peak beyond a palm tree, timestamp: 10:20 and still quite nice

Milford Sound, timestamp: 10:30 and foggy

Now in the last week of classes my focus must shift to studying for my exams, each of which is worth 50% of my final grade. Awesome. But the good news it, I'll be spending my downtime watching the Bruins play in the STANLEY CUP!!! The B's are in the Finals for the first time since I was 6 months old, and while I'd like to think I was aware of it and cheered them on, I have my doubts. So now I'll be keeping the Boston pride alive in New Zealand and praying we can bring another championship to Beantown!

An Endlessly Changing Horizon

Last Sunday night we grudgingly returned to a characteristically cold and rainy Dunedin. Home sweet home. Exhausted from a week on the road and sleeping in tents, it was an easy decision to let my putrid hiking clothes marinate in the sweat of my backpack for just another night. I had a brief urge to look through some of the photos that I had accumulated over the last 10 days but after discovering the total was over 500, I swiftly turned the camera off and designated it as another task for tomorrow.

Our adventure began two Fridays before as we set off for Christchurch, the largest city on the South Island (population 377,000). There, we were met with the remaining rubble from the earthquake that devastated the city center just two months prior. Having grown up in southern New Hampshire, I have never felt an earthquake nor seen the aftermath save on television, so it was quite overwhelming. Few words were spoken between the four of us during the two hours we were there. A solemn silence blanketed the once-thriving downtown area, all of which had been fenced off and guarded by the Army.

Our next stop was Kaikoura, a much happier town known for it's whales, seals, and dolphins. However, I was far more fascinated my the extreme vicinity of two of my favorite things, the ocean and mountains. Here is one of the few spots in the World where the ocean and alpine mountains are so close, about 2 miles. Pretty sweet.

Pete, me, and Michael (left to right) in Kaikoura

The next two days in Picton and Nelson were rainy and unremarkable besides the free soup and breakfast we were treated to in our Nelson hostel. After a short moment of morality, we were able to justify our three servings of vegetable soup and eat up. Joke's on you... the Americans are here and we're hungry!

Monday morning we began the cornerstone of our roadtrip; the Abel Tasman Coastal Track (one of NZ's 9 "Great Walks"). In Marahau, we took a boat north about 30 km up the coast then began hiking a very casual pace along the flat 12 km to our campsite. Along the trail we were treated to beautiful beaches, great conversation, yet mediocre weather. Nevertheless, we arrived at Medlands Beach an hour before sundown to see our private beach of a campsite. After a quick and icy swim, I made a 5 star dinner of rice, beans, and chicken then called it a night. The next day followed basically the same protocol, even down to the private beach/campsite! On the final day, we made it back to Marahau with only one thing on our minds... FISH N CHIPS. After three days of salami and tuna, we were more than ready for something warm and packed with cholesterol.

I bet you didn't know I was a break dancer

Cleopatra's Pool

The crew on Torrent Beach

Night one campsite: Medlands Beach

Night two campsite: Te Pukatea Beach

The next morning we took to the seas on the first sunny day of the trip. We rented kayaks and paddled around the bay for the better part of the day. We first parked on Adele Island and I made a PB&J using a shell as I forgot to bring a knife. Next, I led the way to the opposite side of the much smaller Fisherman Island to a beach I found on Google Maps. It turned out to be one of my favorite places of NZ so far. On one side, a beautiful white sandy beach, on the other a black sand beach, and in between a craggy rock formation on which I let my innate drive to climb things take over.

Pete piloting our 2-man kayak

Adele Island

Fisherman Island

<3

The final subadventure of the week was a more challenging hike to Lake Angelus, an hour south in the Nelson Lakes Region. After an initial steep climb I found myself on Robert Ridge, which we would follow for the next 12 kilometers. Shortly into the ridge hike, I realized this was one of the best hikes I had ever done. I looked right and saw miles and miles of rolling green landscape and dark blue lakes. I looked left and saw imposing snow-capped mountains extending well above a well-defined tree line. I actually felt like I was in Lord of the Rings. And to boot, there was a vicious cold wind blowing from the mountain side that we could only escape behind infrequent rock piles along the trail. Unlike most, I found great joy in the powerful winds, which made the trek all the more intense.

Robert Ridge stretching for miles

Decent view off the left side of the ridge

After 5 and a half hours, we peaked over another ridge into a crater of a valley and saw Angelus Hut surrounded by an unimaginably blue lake at 5,000 feet above sea level. I spent the rest of the day beside the lake, writing, and marveling at how amazing my life is and how lucky I was to be at that particular spot on that particular day. I woke up the next morning in a similar awe-struck mentality which was only intensified by the perfect reflection of the orange glowing mountains on the lake.

Looking down upon Lake Angelus and Angelus Hut

Good morning, Lake Angelus

Finally, I'd like to conclude this post with more of a personal comment. Today I received a card from my Mom which read "Life isn't about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself." I thought about this for a long time and recognized that it does, in some ways, speak to my experience here thus far. Being in such an amazing country while being so far away from home has a change potential that I was warned of. And I am starting to see that I am changing and creating myself here. I'm finally finding out what I want from life, and simultaneously rejecting the vanilla lifestyle that I before saw myself falling into. With only one life to live, why not do what I love? And why waste any time? I hope this will be one of the biggest changes I bring back with me; the hunger to live life every day and the curiosity to go out and experience this beautiful World.

Aoraki/Mount Cook paradise

I guess I've gotten into the habit of only writing about my weekends, which has led some to question whether or not I'm actually taking classes. Well... I am taking classes. It's just that they're not nearly as exciting as spending the weekend in Aoraki/Mount Cook National Park.

Beautiful turquoise-coloured river on the way to Mount Cook

Originally named Aoraki by the Maori people (indigenous New Zealanders) then re-named Mount Cook after British explorer Captain James Cook, who spearheaded the settlement of British citizens in the 1770's. In an awkward attempt to appease both cultures, the actual name of the tallest peak in New Zealand is "Aoraki/Mount Cook". 

For the last half hour of the 4-hour drive to the National Park, the horizon ahead of us was dominated by the snow-capped 12,316-foot peak. I had to constantly remind myself to keep at least one eye on the road as my attention was so easily captivated by the mountain. I remember I kept thinking it couldn't possibly look any bigger, but sure enough around every bend it grew steadily in height.

Lexi, Jill, and myself called it an early night after a feast of chicken, rice, and beans fajitas to rest up for the hike the next morning. After finally getting comfortable in my hammock, I was startled to hear a kind of scratching close by which was accompanied by vibrations in my hammock. I quickly grabbed my headlamp, shined it at one of my supporting trees, about 6 feet from my head only to see an ugly opossum staring right back at me. 

For the rest of the night, I fought hard to get some sleep knowing that these hideous nocturnal creatures were so close to me. I managed to get some sleep, then woke up to find our bag of trash, which I placed neatly beside me had been stolen, and strewn across the camp site 20 feet away.

The plan for Saturday was to hike up to Mueller Hut, stay the night and hike down the following morning. But after a chat with one of the park rangers, we were convinced to make it a day hike given the "treacherous" weather forecast of Saturday night into Sunday. 

Soon after we began the 5-km hike up to Mount Ollivier, Lexi and I broke away from Jill, who decided to hike at her own pace. The track was one of the steepest, yet visually rewarded tracks I've ever done. Surrounded by views of Mount Cook, countless other snowy peaks, mountain lakes, glaciers, and ice slides, we made it to the summit after about 4 hours.

Mount Ollivier (6,342 feet) was the first "real mountain" ever climbed by one of my mountain hero's Sir Edmund Hillary, the NZ-native that was the first to summit Mount Everest. That thought flitted through my mind for most of the hike, and I found myself so humbled hiking along the same track that sparked Hillary's love of mountaineering. 

"I returned to the Hermitage after the happiest day I had ever spent. And now, after several decades of exploration, I still remember the intense pleasure of that day."

--Edmund Hillary on climbing Mount Ollivier

Me hugging a statue of Sir Edmund Hillary. He didn't hug me back

Tomorrow, the gang is off on the road yet again, this time to Wanaka, 3.5 hours northwest for some hiking, camping, and possibly some canyoning. Stay tuned!

Long Overdue: Queenstown, Otago Peninsula, The Catlins

So it's been over 3 weeks since my last post, so my apologies go out to those eagerly awaiting this correspondence. Somewhere in between a slowly accumulating workload, weekend trips, and my New Zealand wine class, I've found myself with little time to sit down and write.

As was indicated by the last post, the first weekend of March featured a trip to Queenstown, fittingly named the Adventure Capital of the World. Very quickly, this town became one of my favorite places on this planet. On the northern banks of Carribean-blue Lake Wakatipu, Queenstown is nestled between mountains exploding 6,000 feet from the ground from all directions. Combined with the unrelenting advertisements for skydiving, bungy jumping, heli-skiing, cheap beer and cheap hostels, for a while I could see myself settling down there.

In planning this trip, it was no surprise the suggestion of bungy jumping received a near unanimous answer. The next morning we anxiously signed in and filled out our toe tags (name, age, weight...), which was more than a little morbid. We took a very quiet bus ride 45 minutes past a crew setting up for a CCR concert to the site of the Nevis Bungy Jump. Boasting an 8.5 second freefall, the 440-foot bungy is the highest in Australasia and the 3rd highest in the world. What I've been waiting to do for years was finally happening! Check out some pictures and a video...

Possibly THE highlight of my trip so far, the jump was something I'll never forget. Of course, it would be a lie to say I wasn't nervous, but only leading up to the jump. After leaping off into the canyon, it took me about 2 seconds to comprehend that I was falling at 9.8 m/s/s towards the Earth, but after that a state of zen and near-self actualization overcame me. In stark contrast to the ear-shattering noise of a sky-diving freefall, the bungy freefall was completely and beautifully... silent as I stared down the rapidly-approaching river below. Truly one of the most intense physical, mental, and emotional experiences of my life.

The following day, we awake early and climbed Ben Lomand, a local 5,735-foot mountain, which offered stunning views of Queenstown when the thick clouds briefly parted. Soon enough, we were forced to say goodbye (until next time!) to beautiful Queenstown.

The following weekend I was invited to an overnight hike on the Otago Peninsula, which I had already hiked on. Eager to try out my new camping hammock and make the most of the weather, I went along. The hike turned out to be a lot less strenuous than the last, and included some beach trips, rock climbing, and icy ocean swims. It was a guys weekend, and with my friends Sam, Sam, Matt, and Austin, we had a myriad of in-depth conversations stretching from the biochemical and social basis of beauty, sensory relativity, and the implications of the American family moving further into suburbia.

I was finally able to check off something that had been on my to-do list since even before I left, to see a penguin! After making camp on the beach and starting up a small fire, I ventured further down the beach and took a sunset skinny dip. On my way out of the water, I happened to look up and saw three Yellow-Eyed Penguins urgently waddling back into the sand dunes. I must have scared the little guys!

The next two weekends  (leading up to the current one), I made two trips south the the Catlins National Park for some good ol' 'sploring. With two different groups, each trip was different, with one admittedly better than the other. The first (with Jonah, Carly, and Taylor) was intended to be a 2-night excursion of hiking and camping, but turned into one night of the four of us spending the night in the back of our station wagon to elude the hurricane rain and wind that on several occasions shook the car. Thats all that should be said about that.

This past weekend was much better. With my friends Michael, Lexi, and Jill, we rented a car and took off with a very nice weather forecast, which turned out to hold true for just one of the days. Just over two hours from Dunedin, our first stop was the Parakaunui Falls, a brutal 10 minute hike into almost obscenely impassible terrain... just kidding.

We drove on and found Cannibal Bay, which was named after the discovery of human bones in the sand dunes. The bay was beautiful. Soft, white, sand led to some very peculiar rock formations, both of which were juxtaposed by furious waves crashing into the land.

Moving on, we drove a bit further north to Nugget Point, the home of one of the most famous lighthouses on the southern island.  We took a 20-minute walk along some high coastline, and could see some seals splashing playfully in the tide pools below. Once the winds picked up, we conceded and headed back to the car.

Just after arriving at our campsite, we were met with a New Zealand police cruiser. Initially, I thought it came for us for taking someone's spot or not paying, but we soon learned it was for something much bigger. I chatted with a fellow camper, and she explained to me that a group of six very drunk teenagers and two dogs had driven their car at high speeds down an embankment, through a river, and onto the beach, where they got stuck. Pretty exciting stuff, but I quickly lost interest when the groan of the heavy machinery that was brought in kept us awake.

The next morning, we drove to Slope Point, known for being the southern-most part of the New Zealand South Island. It turned out to be a great stop and after taking some silly pictures with the sign, Michael and I descended a rather slippery slope to the rocky coast below. Looking out at the relentless swells, I found myself memorializing that moment, which I assumed would be the furthest south I would ever go in my lifetime.

Our next dot on the map was Cathedral Caves, one of the most popular attractions of the Catlins. After paying our $5.00 fee, we took a short hike to the beach and were greeted with the impressive caves. Naturally forming over thousands of years from the pounding of the ocean, some of the caves crept almost a kilometer into the coastline.

Our final stop was McLean falls, another one of many waterfalls in the Catlins. By this point, the forecast for mostly sunny was all but a joke and we were drenched with rain. So when we arrived at the falls, both Michael's and my natural instinct was to take a swim in the water. I've been in some cold water, but this may have been the coldest swim I've ever taken. After cannonballing in, shocks were sent all over my body and I could hardly breathe! But of course, even that didn't stop us from jumping in a few more times.

Thanks for sticking with me though this pretty long post. Next weekend we'll be taking off to Mt. Cook National Park, home of the highest peak in New Zealand. Unfortunately, we won't be hiking it, but I'm sure we'll be trekking through our fair share of snow and ice!