On to Queenstown!

Yesterday morning we decided to do one last short walk before getting on the road and heading for Queenstown. A quick look in the guide book indicated that there should be a 30 minute walk along Frasers Beach that should give us some nice views. So we loaded up the car and drove 20 minutes to what we thought was the start of the walk.

This, however, was no nice, wide, sandy beach like we found at Cannibal Bay. Oh no. This beach was all loose rocks ranging from golf ball sized on up to mid sized boulders. This may or may not seem like a big deal, unless you have ever tried to walk on loose stones. About an hour of hard hiking across loose stones, over fields of Technicolor algae seeping out of the rock, through packs of vicious dire opossums, and much ankle peril, we finally made it to our final destination: Pearl Harbor.





Pearl Harbor was a bit of a disappointment, what with the complete lack of pearls and the overabundance of tour groups departing from the harbor on various cruises. There was, however, one thing of interest to us: the actual trail that we were supposed to take.

You see, the trail between Frasers Beach and Pearl Harbor did not start right where you first got off of the highway by the sign that says "Frasers Beach". The trail starts about a kilometer down the road next to another sign that says "Frasers Beach". Needless to say, the walk back was much less perilous.

Once back to the car, Jen declared that she wanted to try driving. Being the sporting chap that I am, I agreed that this would be a smashing place for her to try left side driving as we were in a fairly deserted, low traffic area (my own experience of trying to figure things out as I went when driving in a city indicated that this would be a much easier way to learn).

Twenty moderately terrifying minutes later we pulled into the Moose Bar and Restaurant in Te Anau, where we had decided to have lunch. It was not that Jen's driving was terrifying (in fact, she did much better than I did at staying in the lane at first), it was the sitting in the passenger seat while someone else figured out how to drive on the wrong side of the road. I told her that I was quite impressed that she hadn't screamed more when I was driving in Christchurch.

After a quick lunch in The Moose we were off to Queenstown. The drive was uneventful but pretty. I started to get fatigued, so Jen took another spell driving about half way through and remained at the helm until we got near the city, where I took over again.



We found our accommodation here in Queenstown without much drama. We are staying at a lodge about 50 meters from the start of the down town strip. Let me fill you in a bit about Queenstown: it is the "Adventure Capital" of NZ*. Just about every adventury thing you would want to do can be done in this town: bungy jumping, hang gliding, white water rafting, paragliding, jet boating, etc. It is also central to several ski areas in the mountains in this area.

Needless to say the city attracts a demographic that is a bit younger and more exuberant than, say, the Fiordland National Park. There are lots of hip little bars and cafes and about a third of the commercial establishments here deal with adventure sporting in one way or another. Some book trips, others sell supplies, others sell hipster clothing proclaiming the extreme sports adventuring life style. It is a very interesting city, very different from Te Anau. All that being said, our accommodation here seem a bit more like a dorm room than a hotel. Very small, somewhat ugly decorations, and thin walls make us feel like we are on spring break somewhere that you can't drink the water.



Since last night was our 1 week anniversary, we decided to head someplace nice for dinner. After consulting the tour guides, we decided on a place called The Bath House, which is apparently an old bath house that has been converted into a swanky restaurant. Unfortunately, it is closed on Mondays, which we only found out by walking there and seeing the dark building.

Strike One.

We then stood around the entrance to the Bath House and advertised our status as "Dumb American Tourists" by whipping out the tour book and trying to find a backup. The next fanciest place looked to be a place called The Bunker, which was somewhat ambiguously located on the map. After a couple of minutes walking around a back ally, we finally found the door and entered. It was a quaint little place with lots of character and only a couple of tables. All of which were full and would not be free for over an hour.

Strike Two.

Understandably flummoxed by the uselessness of the tour book, we decided to fall back on the old reliable "Pick a Place at Random and Eat There" method of restaurant location. A couple of doors down the ally from The Bunker was the back door to a little joint called Surreal. In we went and managed to snag a table for two, whose romantic atmosphere was slightly marred because the candle on the table had previously been extinguished by the wind coming in from the open door. We still don't know why they had the doors propped open, as it was quite chilly (about 10 C).

Fortunately we were bundled against the weather and simple left a couple of layers on. Jen had pork roasted in milk and honey on a bed of kumara and potatoes. I had a Mediterranean stir fry which was pine-nut free on the second try. I have never had feta cheese in a stir fry before, but it worked quite well and I will have to try it once I get back to the States. Ordering drinks was amusing: I had to explain how to make an Amaretto Sour, which Jen ordered, to the bar tender. He also had an interesting interpretation of a Manhattan; I think he added Grenadine. The martini, however, was excellent and straight out of a Bond movie (although I think 007 gets his with a twist, whereas I prefer an olive).

After dinner, our plans for heading to one of the trendy bars were dashed by the reality of our exhaustion from our earlier ordeal on Frasers Beach, so we headed back to the lodge and turned in. Since the place at which we are staying is not a B&B, we were somewhat relieved to find ourselves on our own for breakfast - that meant that we could sleep in a bit, which we did. We had brunch at a small cafe and then headed back to the room to get ready for our adventure of the day: kayaking on the lake.

Neither of us have done any kayaking before, so we didn't really know what to wear. The answer, of course, was to go with a bunch of layers. We were picked up by Glenn, who was our guide for the afternoon and is quite a character. He has been a guide of one sort or another in Queenstown for the last 20 years and just started the kayaking business with some other people in October.

Those of you who are used to Michigan would be astounded to hear that the lake here is almost completely unused by boaters. It is this huge, gorgeous lake surrounded on all sides by towering mountains, and there were a total of four boats on the lake today, two of which were our kayaks (Jen and I were in a two-person kayak, Glenn was in his own).



Glenn entertained us along the way with tidbits of the history of NZ and the Queenstown area. Some of the tidbits were a moderately embellished, such as when he told us that, back before the Maori hunted them to extinction, the moas (an ostrich sized flightless bird) towered above the trees. Also, there was something about a kind of eagle that hunted people which the Maori counter-hunted to extinction by baiting the eagle with a live person.

The highlight of the afternoon, though, was when we pulled off to the side and had tea in the rain while sitting in our kayaks. That may be something of a quintessential Kiwi experience, but you may need to work sheep in there somehow for it to really sum up the country.





Once back in town, both Jen and I were feeling the lack of anything substantial to eat throughout the day, so we changed out of our wet clothes and headed out to find a place to eat. We stumbled upon a bar called the Red Rock which looked to have a bit of character and headed inside. Jen had a salad of some kind and I had beef nachos, which were not in any way spicy, but were instead served with a sweet fruit chutney on top. Not quite authentic TexMex, but quite good. When we were ordering our drinks, I, in my never ending quest to find good beer wherever I go, asked the bartender what the Tiu beer that they had on tap was like. Her response was essentially "If you are asking how a beer is, you won't like Tiu, but here's a taste anyway". She was right, of course, it was a Bud/Miller/Coors style beer.

Both Jen and I went with Monteith's again (she the Redler and I the Ale). Apparently I got quite lucky when I picked Monteith's at random from the beer list on that first night in Christchurch, as we have yet to find another beer as good (though the Pitch Black Stout that Jen had at Milford was right up there).

After dinner we decided on the extreme sport adventure thing that we are going to don while here: we booked a bungy jump for tomorrow at 11:45. Once that was booked, we did a bit of souvenir shopping, and then returned to the lodge to do some laundry, which I am checking on periodically while I write here.

And on that note, we're pretty much caught up on what has been happening here.

* - I wanted to find a local tavern, sit down, order an ale, and wait for some stranger in dire need of assistance to give us a map and promise great treasure and fame if we would help them, but Jen pointed out that I didn't really need another level in Geek, so the phat XP would be wasted.