Big birds/Small World

Today, I got what I came to Napier for. We drove about a half-hour south of town to Gannet Safaris Overland. There, we boarded a bus with about a dozen other people—mostly English and Dutch—and headed out toward some cliffs overlooking Hawke’s Bay. There, we found three colonies of gannets, each numbering well into the hundreds.

The gannet babies born there wait for the parents to come back from the sea each day, so they can be fed. Later this year, these babies will leave this cliff and make their first flight utilizing a wing span of up to six feet. They’ll jump off the cliff and fly more than a thousand miles to Australia, where they’ll spend two or three years. Then they’ll come back to these cliffs to raise their own families. We were able to stand within just a few feet of the birds. I took 411 pictures in 40 minutes.

Now about that small world. When we visited our son David last August at the restaurant he manages in Boulder, we met a young woman working there named Bridget. She had an unusual accent.

“Where are you from?” I asked.

“New Zealand!” she replied.

“Where in New Zealand?”

“Napier.”

“We’re going there in February!”

And that’s how we came to be having lunch at the home of Bridget’s mom Angie today. She lives not far from the Gannet Safari Overland office. She greeted us warmly, had us in for a chat and a lovely lunch.

After our nice visit with our new friend, we came back to our hotel to relax. The view from our balcony didn’t make that any harder.

If you’re ever planning a trip to New Zealand, I recommend adding Napier to your itineary. Especially if it’s during the Art Deco Festival.

Napier

On Februrary 3, 1931 at 10:47 a.m., a 7.8 magnitude earthquake leveled the city of Napier, New Zealand. It killed 256 people, and remains the deadliest natural disaster in New Zealand history. Napier remembers the quake each year, but not with a somber memorial. Napier throws a party; one of the best I’ve ever attended.

The city rebuilt after the quake, and did so in the most popular architectural style of that time: art deco.

The party is an art deco festival. It runs for five days; five days of music and fashion and vintage cars and much more. People come from all over the world to come to the party. And they REALLY get into it.

We had no idea this festival existed when we booked this trip. We came to Napier to see the gannet colony nearby. It’s as if we booked an autumn trip to Munich to see Deutsches Museum, and were surprised to find out we were there in the middle of this big beer festival. In travel as in poker, it is better to be lucky than be good.

A Day in the Capital

We were up before dawn today to make our 7 o’clock flight to Wellington, New Zealand’s capital city. The 90 minute flight was on time and uneventful. We arrived to a gray and drizzly morning here. Our plan was to meet Roslyn’s cousin Claris at noon for lunch and an afternoon together. Claris is the 24 year old daughter of Roslyn’s first cousin David. She lives and works here.

We went out for lunch and then she took us to Zealandia. It’s a large nature preserve in the heart of the city. Someone had the idea about 25 years ago to take a large tract of land, and return it to the natural state it had been in before colonization and development. So you get to walk paths through native plants while native birds go about their business. There are almost no other animals. We saw a couple of lizards. No mammals. They’ve been eliminated, because they are native to this island. Cool fact: the only mammal native to New Zealand is the bat. I saw and photographed a several very nice birds, including this guy:

This is a member of the parrot family called a Kaka. That’s what the native people here, the Maori, call it.

After wandering in this lovely park for a few hours, we made our way back to the hotel. I showered to help wake myself up so I could better enjoy our dinner with Claris, her dad/Roslyn’s first cousin David, his wife Anthea and their 10 year old daughter Izzy. David, Anthea and Izzy live in Auckland and are here to celebrate one of their friend’s 50th birthday. We had a lovely evening together, and will have breakfast tomorrow.

Then we’ll be off to Napier.

Queenstown finale

“Sometimes you win. Sometimes you lose. Sometimes it rains." — Ebby Calvin “Nuke” LaLoosh

Words of wisdom from the movie “Bull Durham.” It rained today. Pretty much all day. We went out for breakfast, having finished the cereal and milk we bought Saturday night. Then we came back to our motel apartment and did laundry. We had enough for a two full loads, and the clothes I had worn for four days while my luggage was lost had to be washed or burned before I could pack them. While we waited on the washer and dryer to work their magic, we played cards.

Last week when we were on Kangaroo Island, we had met a woman from the east coast of NZ’s North Island who told us a landslide (which she called a landslip) had closed the area around the gannet colony south of Napier. This got my attention because we had an excursion booked for that gannet colony when we got to Napier. I called there today and was told, yes, indeed, our excursion had been cancelled because of the landslide. Roslyn started working the web while I worked the phone to see if there was a suitable alternative.

I will spare you the boring details, and skip straight to the good news that we found another tour that takes a different route and will get me up close and personal with thousands of gannets this Sunday. This makes me happy, because you know how I love the birds.

Which brings me to the only regret I have about our trip so far. We should have spent a day or two less here in Queenstown and added a night or two in Dunedin, where the yellow-eyed penguins can be seen. Dunedin is on the east coast of the South Island, about a three-and-a-half hour drive from here. I thought we would be able to drive there from here, and spend the night if need be—poor planning on my part. This island is huge—almost as big as Great Britain—and the roads are all two lanes and tortuous.

The rain in Queenstown stopped about 5 o’clock. The sun came out, but it was cool enough for sweaters. Queenstown’s latitude is 45 degrees. It’s as far south of the equator as Minneapolis is north. During the New Zealand winter, this is a Kiwi Aspen or Vail. Pulling out a few extra clothes, we got ready for our Valentine’s Day dinner (today is the 37th anniversary of our engagement!). Roslyn had asked Vanessa where to go for the best lamb in Queenstown. Vanessa had sent us to the Fat Lamb, a farm-to-table restaurant in the center of town. Roslyn had the rack of lamb, and proclaimed it the best she’d ever had. This is a supreme accolade, as lamb is Roslyn’s favorite meat and she eats it as often as possible. I had the green-lipped mussels. They were huge— at least half-again as big as mussels we get in the US—and tasty. And yes, their shells really are green at the edge where they open.

We walked back to our hotel. Roslyn started packing and I went out to gas up the rental car. We have a 7 a.m. flight tomorrow to Wellington, at the southern tip of the North Island. We have 14 days left in our trip, and we’ll spend all but two of them seeing as much of the North Island as we can.

Of Wine and Walks

It seems I was unfair in a previous post to this motel’s wi-fi. I told you it was lame because it takes so long to load pictures that I’ve just given up. Roslyn mentioned this issue to Vanessa, who can do no wrong in my book. She said even she was having the same problem, and that the cause isn’t the wi-fi itself. It’s the Chinese.

Australia and New Zealand are crowded with Chinese tourists at this time of year the way Florida is crowded with Midwesterners in February. The reason is the Chinese New Year, which occurs in early February most years. Vanessa explained that Chinese workers get two weeks off for their lunar new year, and a lot of places close up shop for that fortnight. With worker wages rising in recent years, families that used to just go visit family now can afford to travel. And they travel to here. In droves. Vanessa said someone from China called her asking for accommodations for ten people, and if she didn’t have several rooms, they would gladly all crowd into just one room. She declined. Like every place else I’ve seen here, she has no vacancies.

And with so many people here and all of them connected to the wi-fi, it slows to a crawl. We leave Queenstown Friday morning, and I don’t expect an improvement in my internet service before then. First world problem.

It was a lovely, sunny day today. We drove up to a charming old community near here called Arrowtown. It was a gold mining town 150 years ago. Now it’s a few quaint streets you can walk about. We came, we walked, we drove to the Gibbston Valley Winery about 15 minutes away. Our tour guide was Lindsay. She grew up on the Jersey side of Philly, worked in the wine industry in the U.S. for a time, and then came here on a work visa to spend a year at Gibbston Valley. It’s a small operation; they don’t export. But their Pinot Noir won some big international prize in 2014 that left the French none too pleased. We saw the vineyard, went into their wine cave, and got to taste four varieties. I thought they were very nice. Full disclosure, I know as much about wine as I know about Polish naval history, which is nothing.

Later in the afternoon, we walked the entire lakefront of Queenstown. This is such a beautiful little town, even when Chinese New Year roughly doubles its population.

Dinner tonight was a burger at the World Bar. Vanessa, in whom I have complete and total faith, told us it was MUCH better than FergBurger. Patties made from fresh-ground beef and buns baked on premises. It was, indeed, a delicious burger. But FergBurger is plenty good, too.

Our plans for tomorrow are up in the air because the forecast says rain. Queenstown is the kind of place where everything there is to do is outside. So we’ll see.

Wanaka, Milford and Luggage!

I didn’t blog yesterday out of extreme frustration, which I’ll get to later. We had a lovely day yesterday. We drove about an hour and a quarter north to the beautiful lake town of Wanaka (accent on the first syllable). We got some excellent advice at the information office there. The extremely patient and helpful Hil told us the best hiking trail, she recommended a water taxi ride on the lake,and she even made some calls to help confirm why we should not plan a trip to Dunedin, a coastal city about three and a half hours away.

We hiked along the Clutha River for an hour or so, then drove to the marina. That’s where we got on a small boat with a twin-engine outboard motor for the half-hour ride up to Mou Waho island. We saw native flightless birds, the Buff Weka. We also hiked to up to a lookout atop a big hill, which gave us a view of a lake on this island in the lake. Gorgeous! I apologize for not posting any pictures of these adventures, but the wi-fi here is so lame; it would take all night to load.

We got back to Queenstown late in the afternoon, giving me plenty of time to make more frustrating phone calls to the people supposedly getting me reunited with my lost luggage. The airline baggage people assured me the bag had arrived at the airport on a flight that landed at 3:30 that afternoon. So why wasn’t it at my hotel? I went to the airport looking for it. All the Virgin Australia people had already gone home for the night after their last flight left a few hours before. Nobody else at the airport could help me. Nobody I reached on the phone could help, either. When I told all this to Vanessa, who runs this motel with her brother Hartley and their parents, she was so incensed that she promised to make it her mission to get my bag back. I was even more pissed because the next day we were heading out at 7 a.m. for an all-day excursion to Milford Sound.

“You go enjoy Milford Sound,” Vanessa instructed me. “Don’t worry about your luggage. I promise you I’ll either have your luggage or a thousand-dollar gift card from Virgin waiting for you when you get back.” She even loaned me one of her dad’s jackets; knowing I’d need one at Milford Sound.

I slept well, knowing Vanessa was on the case.

Just after 7 this morning, we were lining up to board a nice bus for the trip to Milford Sound, on the west coast of the South Island. It’s one of the places everyone who comes here goes to see—probably the most famous destination in New Zealand. We saw about a dozen other tour buses along the five-plus hour drive there. We had a wonderful driver/guide, Eric. He was funny and knowledgeable and informative; he made the time fly even if the bus couldn’t.

Milford Sound isn’t actually a sound; those are made by rivers, Eric said. Milford Sound is a fjord because it was made by a glacier, and it’s one of the five fjords in Fjordlands National Park. So how did it get misnamed? Turns out the first White explorer to find it named it for his hometown in Wales, Milford Haven. But Captain Cook, perhaps the best-known and most prolific explorer of the South Pacific, apparently believed only he should get to name places. So he changed Milford Haven to Milford Sound. For the record, the Maori people who lived here for millennia before any white people showed up, have always called it Piopiotahi

By any name, it’s one of wettest places on earth. Milford Sound gets 252 inches of rain a year. And it’s much cooler there than on the other side of the mountains that form the fjord’s eastern border. It wasn’t raining hard on our boat ride, just enough to make the jacket necessary. Thank you, Vanessa! The boat ride through the Fjord to the mouth of the Tasman Sea lasted about an hour and 45 minutes. We saw fur seals and lots of great waterfalls. It was similar to what you see sailing up Alaska’s inside passage.

While on the ride home, at about 5:15 p.m. local time, my cell phone range. It was a representative of Virgin Australia and the Queenstown Airport. She had my bag, was about to clear it through customs, and was I still at the same hotel? She would send it right over to the hotel. I called the hotel to give them a head’s up. Vanessa’s mom was thrilled to get the news. She told me Vanessa had called people at the airport today and “kicked butt.” I don’t doubt it.

The bus dropped us off where it had picked us up, in the middle of town. We got gelato for dinner (!) and walked back to our room, where my luggage was waiting. I almost excited about wearing different clothes tomorrow. It’s the little things, am I right?

Twisting Roads and Big Burgers

On advice of our friendly innkeeper Hartley, we made the short drive up to a hiking spot called Bob’s Cove. Bob wasn’t there, but some pretty views were. Unfortunately, the wi-fi here is awful; loading a picture takes more than 15 minutes, and I’m not that patient. But the waters of Lake Wakatipu are the same blue-green brilliance we’ve seen in other lakes formed by glaciers, Think Lake Louise, only bigger.

We drove along the lake the 30 miles up to the next town. The longest straightaway on that drive is about 50 yards. This did not deter some of the local drivers, who seemed to think they were on the Formula 1 circuit.

Safely back in Queenstown, we went for a late lunch/early dinner at the one place everybody who comes here seems to know and love, FergBurger. The line is usually out the door and half-way down the block. But at 3:30, it was only about a 20 minute wait. And then about 30 minutes more before the food was ready. The place doesn’t seat more than 15 people, and there are only about a dozen choices on the menu. And yet the lines are long and constant. The burgers are huge and delicious. We’re here for a few more days, and I won’t be surprised if we go back there again.

Back at the motel after dinner, I finally got through to the baggage claim people in Auckland. The nice lady assured my bag had arrived in Queenstown, and should be delivered soon. Three hours later I called back to ask where my bag might be, as we’re only about 20 minutes from the tiny airport. Well, they couldn’t get through on the phone and now Queenstown airport is closed for the night. Tomorrow morning for sure, she said.

It’s now tomorrow morning, and I’m waiting and hoping. We’re leaving soon for our day’s activities. Maybe my stuff will be here when I get back. I’ll let you know.

These things happen

Sometimes you’re traveling and everything goes off without a hitch. Some other times are like yesterday. We were standing outside our hotel in Adelaide at 4:20 a.m. waiting for our ride to the airport for our 6:05 a.m. flight to Brisbane. Roslyn checked an app on her phone and discovered our flight had been cancelled. Bad weather in Brisbane had prevented the flight from getting out. I started working the phones, hoping Virgin Australia could get us on another flight. But no. They couldn’t get us to Queenstown until the next day.

By this time, we’re at the airport. We get a seat in the check in area, and I start calling our travel agency contacts in Australia while Roslyn calls are travel agent back in the US, where it’s mid-afternoon the day before. About 30 minutes go by, and I get a call from the travel agency (their Toronto office!). She hasn’t been able to find us a flight, but she suggests I go find a gate agent and see if he or she can put us on another airline.

I find gate agent Brett. He is sympathetic. He makes a call. No soap. Can’t get us on another airline out of Adelaide. But give him a few minutes to make another call. OK. A few minutes go by.

“Do you have all your bags with you?” he asks.

“Yes, right there,” I reply, pointing to our spot about 20 steps away.

“Come on then,” he commands.

He tags our bags, ushers us through security, and puts us on a cart for a ride to the gate. Brett, gate agent and miracle worker, has found a way to get us and another couple with the same problem on a flight to Melbourne. From there we’ll fly to Auckland, and from Auckland to Queenstown. We’ll arrive about four hours later than originally planned, but who cares?

The first flight takes less than two hours. The second flight takes about four. And because it’s a long flight, they serve lunch; just like airlines in the U.S. used to do.

We land in Auckland and go through the process of clearing customs. I spot Roslyn’s suitcase right away. Where’s mine? It’s not there. Roslyn, who’s operating on about two hours of sleep, starts to lose it. One of the crew members from our flight is nearby getting her bags and sees Roslyn. She rushes up to ask what’s wrong and how can she help. She directs us to the baggage office. There, the nice folks at the desk find my bag. It’s still in Melbourne. They’ll get it brought over on next flight and delivered to our hotel in Queenstown, probably tomorrow. Well alright then.

We flew on to Queenstown, which is spectacularly beautiful. I got a NZ sim card for my phone, we picked up our rental car, and found our hotel with no trouble. Got settled and strolled into town. It reminds me of Banff; not just physically, but also in that all they young people working in the restaurants and shops have come here from somewhere else.

We crashed early, and got a good night’s sleep. Hoping for a fun Sunday some good pictures to share later today. Even though Queenstown is more than a thousand miles closer than Sydney to the west coast, it’s two hours later here. We’re now 18 hours ahead of ET. Our longitude here is 168 degrees east; we’re almost at the International Date Line!