Lee Geiger

It was the most humbling moment of my life

Lee Geiger

For seemingly forever, I’ve talked about wanting to travel to New Zealand. And yet I’ve done nothing about it. But conversations over the past several years with dear friends who had twice vacationed in New Zealand convinced the Pretty Blonde and me that it was time to take the plunge while we’re still ambulatory, and to see for ourselves if the Land of the Kiwi could live up to the hype.

Spoiler Alert:  It did. And then some.

 

First, some context. We decided to travel in March, which is late summer/early fall for folks living “down there” as well as a shoulder travel season. We also made the decision to limit our journey to a “Shock and Awe” tour of the mountains, lakes, and glaciers of the South Island. Nothing against the North Island, mind you, but the cities of Auckland and Wellington weren’t a big draw, and a deep-dive into the Maori culture was not a priority. That’s just how we roll.

What followed during an epic two-week journey-of-a-lifetime can be summed up in one word; extraordinary. Why? Three reasons. First, the weather was very cooperative, with only one dreary afternoon (yet the cold rain and dense clouds made where we were seem mysteriously surreal). Second, every travel break, be it weather or timing related, broke our way. And third, thanks to Audley Travel (the first time I’ve ever used a travel agent), everything associated with the trip went as smoothly as my new granddaughter’s behind.

The best way to describe our adventure is to break it down into five parts, each one featuring its own unique blend of experiences, scenery, and activities. I hope you enjoy it.

But first, two quick stories:

Story #1 — Happy Valentine’s Day

We purchased airline tickets last summer. To be honest, $1,500 roundtrip/nonstop from San Francisco to Christchurch seemed like a bargain. But flying 14 hours in the back of the bus isn’t. So, on Valentine’s Day, I upgraded the US to NZ leg to first-class (or “Polaris Class,” as United calls it). At a cost of $600 and 30,000 miles for each seat, it was a no-brainer. Kudos to my long-time biotech buddy for pushing me to do this.

I wanted to surprise Anne with our good fortune. Because she was foolish enough to leave the travel details to me, I was able to bamboozle her with a little white lie; that by virtue of having global entry cards we could saunter up to the first-class counter for check-in, as well as cool our heels waiting to board in United’s decadent Polaris Lounge. She fell for it, thank goodness. Another reason why it’s easy to love her.

Finally, after helping ourselves to the lounge’s all-you-can-eat buffet, I showed her our boarding passes. She nearly came out of her skin. “Are we really sitting in Row 1?”

The Moral of Story #1 —38 years of marriage and I still have some game left.

Story #2 — The Most Expensive Orange EVER

Prior to our departure, I grabbed an orange and stuffed it into my backpack on the assumption I’d need a jolt of Vitamin C somewhere over the South Pacific. But after seven hours sleeping in a salad spinner (turbulence was HEAVY) and watching six episodes of “Band of Brothers,” I managed to survive without it.

After retrieving our luggage and sailing thru customs, our bags were scanned by the New Zealand agricultural patrol. I wasn’t concerned since I left my snake collection at home. Suddenly, a large woman who must have played rugby in her youth delivered a piercing stare in my direction and dangled my backpack in front of my nose, asking me if I had forgotten to declare something. “No,” I said nonchalantly. She proceeded to show me a photo scan of my bag with something orange and round laying at the bottom of it. D’ooh! Thirty-minutes and a $240 fine later, we were finally able to leave the airport and start making memories.

The Moral of Story #2 – Stop eating fruit.

Adventure #1 – Twizel/Mt. Cook

The Shock and Awe Tour begins in earnest. After spending our first night in Christchurch to acclimate ourselves to the time change, I drove our rented SUV to the tiny village of Twizel. It was my first time ever driving on the left-hand side of the road from the right-hand side of the car. Scanning the rear-view mirror with my left eye, and peeking with my right eye at the right-side mirror to make sure I stayed on my side of the yellow line, did take some getting used to.  Anne’s white-knuckled protestations didn’t help. The 4-hour drive introduced us to the sublime vistas of New Zealand, and already we were running out of superlatives to describe what we were seeing. And the best part was that we were just getting started.

Twizel is part of the Aoraki Mackenzie International Dark Sky Reserve. At a whopping 4,300 square kilometers and with minimal light pollution, it’s home to one of the world’s darkest skies and thus a great way to see the stars. We spent two nights at Skyscape, home to three all-glass cabins spread across a 6,000-acre preserve allowing you to stargaze from your bed. Assuming, of course, there are no clouds. And assuming you could even find the place. GPS on dirt roads is no match for bread crumbs and an Indian guide.

 

The expansive view from our cabin’s patio, as well as the outdoor steel bathtub with plenty of room for two, accelerated the process of unwinding from the real world. So did some delicious fruit, cheeses and meats, all paired with a bottle of Cloudy Bay sauvignon blanc. The other two Skyscape cabins were tucked in corners hundreds of yards from us, so only the birds could see us. It was, hands down, one of the most memorable afternoons of our lives.

 

Night fell, and the absence of clouds and moonlight allowed the stars to put on a dazzling show. I had never seen the Milky Way, and now it stretched across the dark sky like a hazy blanket. I wanted to reach up and grab it. We stepped outside several times during the cold night to watch Orion’s Belt and the Big Dipper dance across the sky, and we woke up to Venus and Mars, each shining like Broadway spotlights, welcoming a dazzling New Zealand sunrise. It was magic.

 

The next day featured our first true activity—a helicopter ride around Mt. Cook, NZ’s tallest mountain, as well as a landing on the nearby Tasman Glacier, one of the largest in the world. But making this happen was a perfect example of why it pays to be flexible while on vacation, and how every so often the travel gods are on your side.

Protocol dictated we confirm our helicopter ride, but cell phone coverage was nonexistent. Because our ride was scheduled for 4:00pm, we decided a morning hike along the Hooker Valley Track, located at the base of Mt. Cook, was in order. This required us to drive past the airfield, and we decided a drive-by check-in was in order. Or so we thought.

“I’m sorry,” said the young man behind the counter, “but the 4:00 flight is cancelled due to bad weather.” There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, but the winds were brisk thanks to some incoming rain. But all was not lost. “However, you could go right away if two more people show up.” The odds of a random twosome walking in for a helicopter ride seemed slim. Nonetheless, we got some coffee and cooled our heels.

Forty-five minutes passed. The man behind the counter signaled for us. “There is another option,” he said. “You could purchase the other two-seats and go up right now.” The cost would add an additional $700 to what we had already paid for. Anne, being the pragmatic half of this marriage, paused and pondered. Me, on the other hand, a former stock trader trained to make buy/sell decisions in an instant based on gut feel, made a quick calculation–we had just traveled 7,000 miles and would likely never be standing here again. “Done.”

But the drama wasn’t over. As we walked to the launch pad for what had now become a private jaunt, the pilot hung up his phone and looked up toward the sky. “The other tour company just cancelled all their flights for the day,” he said. Our smiles suddenly turned upside-down. He then stepped away and made another call. He returned and said, “Ok, let’s go.” The ensuing 30-minute, sun-splashed flight across Mt. Cook and the Tasman Glacier was nothing short of can-you-believe-we-are-doing-this fun. And as luck would have it, ours was the last flight of the day. I should have bought a lottery ticket.

 

Adventure #2 – Wānaka

Most travel guides suggest visiting Wanaka for a half-day escape from the hubbub of nearby Queenstown. However, our travel agent insisted we spend two nights here, and we’re thrilled we did. The vibe of this town suits us perfectly.

Wanaka is a place you could retire to, a scenic outpost next to a gorgeous lake that’s just an hour’s drive to, A) the hair-on-fire thrills of Queenstown, B) the convenient Queenstown airport, and C) the incredible central Otago wine region. There is a touristy aspect to this peaceful community of 10,000 souls, and in fact a McDonalds will be opening soon. But most tourists leave before dinner and the sidewalks get rolled up by 10 o’clock. That most certainly works for me.

We partook in Wanaka’s #1 tourist activity– taking a snapshot of the Wanaka Willow, a lone tree sitting in about three feet of water at the southern end of the lake. Went there, did that.

 

Much more exciting was the boat ride we took to Mou Waho, a deserted island in the middle of Lake Wanaka. In the middle of Mou Waho is body of water called Arethusa Pool that serves as a perfect reflecting pool of the surrounding mountains. In other words, an island in the middle of a lake, with a lake in the middle of the island. Got it?

 

Wanaka also provided the best meal of our trip at Kika, a local bistro located blocks off the beaten path. The Pretty Blonde and I shared a savory lamb shoulder dish that was the best either of us had ever tasted. Slightly crunchy on the outside and falling off the bone tender. And that’s saying something, because I normally go out of my way to avoid lamb. But, you know, when in Rome… The wine list featured five “library” pinot noirs from the central Otago region, the most expensive of which was from Felton Road, a winery we were scheduled to visit later in our trip. When I asked the restaurant’s owner why he didn’t have a corresponding list of “library” white wines from the Otago region, he snarled and answered, “Because they’re s**t!” So, there’s that.

 

Adventure #3 – Milford Sound & Doubtful Sound

A must-see for anyone visiting New Zealand’s South Island is Milford Sound, a majestic 9-mile-long fiord on the southwest coast famous for its sheer rock walls, lush rainforests, cascading waterfalls, and the towering Mitre Peak. It’s the Yosemite Valley of New Zealand.

 

We booked an overnight cruise of Milford Sound, enabling us to maximize our enjoyment of this imposing slice of Heaven. Anne and I took advantage of a tender to get close and personal with the waterfalls and seals, while many of our fellow passengers kayaked in the water. The weather was divine, and the pictures we took are phenomenal. The dinner buffet was delish, the wine pours generous, and the Milky Way made yet another appearance. And I can’t say enough about the people we met onboard–the wonderful individuals who trekked here from all around the world. They were friendly, interesting, and kind. The following morning, playful dolphins leapt across the ship’s bow while escorting us out to the Tasman Sea. Life doesn’t get much better.

 

Whereas Milford Sound allows you to drive up and hop on a boat, getting to Doubtful Sound requires some logistical planning and patience. First you make you way to the tiny village of Manapouri, then board a juiced-up catamaran for a 45-minute sprint across Lake Manapouri. Then you climb on to a passenger bus for a 45-minute, hair-raising slog along a dirt road over the Wilmot Pass until you reach the 75-passenger Fiordland Mariner. You have to want to be here.

Doubtful Sound is magnitudes larger than its more famous sister but is equally magnificent. And while a tour of Milford Sound consists of sailing thru a single fiord, an overnight cruise of Doubtful Sound navigates a half-dozen steep granite fiords, each featuring their own portfolio of trees, moss, lichen, waterfalls and wildlife. And while Milford Sound is a beehive of activity with multiple tour boats and planes/helicopters circling overhead, Doubtful Sound is a quieter and more intimate experience. Here, deep in the wonderous bosom of New Zealand, people are as insignificant as sandflies.

 

It was at Doubtful Sound that I realized I had fallen into the habit of taking pictures of the same landmark over and over again. I had been doing this since I’d arrived in New Zealand. But it was difficult not to; you’d take a picture, then one minute later either the light would change, the sky would clear, or the road would bend, providing a entirely new portrait. It’s fair to say that in New Zealand, every corner reveals a new masterpiece, and nature’s artwork can change in a single frame.

 

One memory from Doubtful Sound will forever stand out. The morning weather was raw, but the gray skies and frigid rain added an element of mystery befitting what was before our eyes. Near the end of our cruise, the captain pulled into a secluded cove and ordered the passengers to stop moving and to stop taking pictures. Then he shut off the boat’s engines, their constant drone now replaced by the resounding silence of nature; rain colliding with the water, echos of waterfalls cascading down the cliffs, and winds blowing dense clouds across the mountaintops. It was as loud as your senses would allow. Anne huddled next to me, arm in arm. Suddenly, and quite unexpectedly, tears began welling up in my eyes. Here we were, the two of us, lost in the breathtaking beauty of New Zealand, blessed with a long, successful marriage, two amazing adult children, an angelic granddaughter, good health, and satisfying careers allowing us to grow as people. Everything that had happened before in our sixty-plus years of life, the good, the bad, and the magical, had led us to this precise moment, to this precise place, to share a miracle orchestrated by Mother Nature that was so much bigger than us.

It was the most humbling moment of my life.

 

Adventure #4 – Queenstown

After a week of non-stop, jaw-dropping wanderlust of the South Island’s scenery, the bumper-to-bumper traffic leading to downtown Queenstown greeted us with the subtlety of a punch in the face. Billed as “the adventure capital of New Zealand,” the beautiful lakeside town surrounded by towering mountains teems with swarming bands of 25-year-olds reeking of weed, exploring new and exciting ways to kill themselves. It’s not enough to relax at a cafe and enjoy the scenery; you feel compelled to get off your butt and actually do SOMETHING.

 

The Pretty Blonde and I opted for the dullest experience on the menu; an excursion to Glenorchy, a small settlement on the shores of Lake Wakatipu whose spectacular landscapes served as prime locations for middle-earth movies such as the “Lord of the Rings” trilogy and “Narnia.” That explains why similar tours included passengers dressed as hobbits.

Our private tour was hosted by Charles, a handsome, white-haired retired farmer. After making the standard roadside Instagram stops, he pulled his SUV up to a gate and unlocked it. Soon we were off-road, four-wheeling across bucolic farmland that gave way to mountains, rivers, or beech forests. Luckily for us, the flocks of sheep and herds of cattle didn’t seem to mind. It was paradise, and we’ve got the pictures to prove it.

 

Finally, a day arrived with no activities on our calendar. The Pretty Blonde did some research and suggested after breakfast we head to the nearby enclave of Arrowtown, a historic gold mining town. I wasn’t too thrilled with the idea, as the guide books made Arrowtown sound like New Zealand’s version of Knott’s Berry Farm. But boy, was I wrong. This delightfully quaint village of tree-lined streets and restored cottages reminded me of small-town Vermont, especially with the onset of the fall foliage season (March = early fall in NZ). I popped into a wine shop and asked the gal behind the counter for a winery recommendation, and soon we were on the road to Kinross Winery & Cellar Door to eat lunch and sample some amazing pinot noirs. On our way we passed by the Kawarau Gorge Suspension Bridge, the Mecca for bungee jumpers. We watched three people gleefully throw themselves off the bridge, including a 70-something grandmother. God bless them all, but it’s not for me. By the end of the day we had browsed, shopped, spectated, drank, and ate our way across the Queenstown region. Fabulous.

 

New Zealand is famous for its wines, but despite our love of the grape we choose to schedule only one official wine tasting. A friend of my next-door neighbor, Sir Lag-A-Lot, who lived in New Zealand for a time recommended Felton Road Winery, a world-renowned producer of pinot noir located an hour from Queenstown. He claimed Felton Road was his favorite New Zealand winery, and I can see why. We bought three bottles to stuff in our suitcases along with a 15-bottle case to be shipped home. Not a bad way to spend a Monday.

 

Adventure #5 – Dunedin

For the last leg of our vacation, we were faced with a compelling choice; a four-hour sprint from Queenstown to Dunedin via the central Otago wine region, or a leisurly six-hour, road-less-traveled tour across New Zealand’s unsung Catlins region. We chose the latter. We wanted to see as much of this fascinating country as we could.

The drive through this wooded, wild coastal corner of New Zealand was captivating, and the lush green grasses and rolling hills reminded me of Ireland. The drive itself was as lonely as it was challenging, with way too many kilometers traversing one-lane dirt roads. We stopped at Curio Bay, where Anne marveled at the petrified remains of a forest that was over 160 million years old. I marveled at the ocean’s horizon, noting this was the furthest south either of us had ever been and that the next closest land mass was Antarctica. So, there’s that. Our next stop was the Purakaunui Falls, a 20-meter, three-tier waterfall that was as intoxicating as it was exotic.

 

And then something really fun happened, the singular New Zealand memory we’ll treasure for as long as we live.

After hiking back from the waterfall, we embarked on a 4-mile trek along a pitted dirt road to return to the main highway. Suddenly, I looked up and noticed a sea of gray directly in front of us. It was a massive flock of sheep, and it was heading straight toward our car. Anne turned on her video camera while I figured out what my next move should be. Should I move the car over, but where? Should I back up, but what good would that do? So, I too whipped out my iPhone and set it to record. What ensured was an enormous flock of sheep traipsing up and down a hillside before thundering past our car, herded by a handful of barking, ultra-quick dogs and accompanied by shrieking whistles from the dudes in the pickup trucks. It was such the New Zealand…thing. Now THAT was cool. (See sheep videos below)

We didn’t get to see much of Dunedin, though it appears to be a mix of urban professionals and college students. It’s also home to the Otago Peninsula, home to many species of protected wildlife. Our last activity was a bus tour of the peninsula, and it’s fair to say we now know much, much more about fur seals, the yellow-eyed penguin and the royal albatross, a strikingly elegant bird with one of the largest wingspans in nature. I’m proud to say that from now on I’ll be rooting for them.

 

Summary

There’s a purity to New Zealand that doesn’t exist elsewhere. It’s a unique country because it is so far away from the rest of the world, and it possesses a dual sense of isolation while also being protected. It’s stunningly beautiful and comforting, and thus very easy to love.

That being said, on the last night of our vacation I asked The Pretty Blonde if she would ever want to visit New Zealand again. We both had the same answer. No.

Why? Simple. Because it could never be this good again.

 

Sheep video #1: IMG_0102

Sheep video #2: IMG_0104