|
I'm beginning to
wonder if I've landed in a country of maniacs. At least, that's the
impression I get while walking through the narrow avenues of Queenstown,
New Zealand.
The alpine region looks tranquil enough at first glance. Tiny
Queenstown, population 17,000, sits nestled on the shores of beautiful
Lake Wakatipu in the middle of a lush valley. The mighty Remarkables
Mountain Range surrounds the small community, rising up like sharp-edged
giants from the rich, dark earth. It's a stunning geography that any
city would envy.
Queenstown itself has an Aspen-like feel, a fashionable community with a
small-town heart. Chic resorts sit among modest hillside homes with
window box flowers and tidy yards, and the active city streets reveal
orderly shops and outdoor cafés.
But a closer look uncovers a unique side of this mountain community, for
tucked in between small restaurants and tourist stores are dozens of
"adventure companies" offering everything from heli-hiking and
hang-gliding to skydiving and jet boating.
Although well-known for its peaceful sheep-ranching and rural tradition,
this island nation of 3.8 million has been called the "Adventure
Destination" of the world. Thousands flock to the southwestern tip of
the South Island each year, where tiny Queenstown (aka "Adventure
Capitol") serves up experiences never to be forgotten.
While my parents and I peruse the "adventure vendors" in Queenstown, a
local salesperson, sporting a friendly grin and proper Kiwi accent,
regales us with tales of jet boating. Later, another vendor offers to
shoot me into the air in a rocket-like contraption. It does sound like
fun and I start to ask for the price, but the horrified look on my
mother's face tells me to forget it.
My 60-year-old parents, vacationing with me far from their farm in
Windsor, Colorado, are looking for a more "serene" way to enjoy the natural
beauty of New Zealand's South Island. We're eager to experience the
extreme geography that this land has—we just don't want to do it from a
bungee cord.
Still, it's hard not to get into the spirit when you're surrounded by
adventurous people. We decide to bypass all activities that propel you
into the air, and ask several of the locals for their advice. "Go to the
Sounds in Fiordland," they say. "You'll be stunned."
 |
|
The Fiordland Navigator under
full sail in Doubtful Sound. |
Fiordland (as the
Kiwis spell it) National Park is an isolated area known for its
awe-inspiring fjords, dramatic mountain peaks, tumbling waterfalls and
abundant wildlife. In this "Switzerland of the South Pacific," tall
mountains drop dramatically into the dark seas in a stunning display of
nature's majesty. No wonder so many movies, including "Lord of the
Rings," have chosen to film here.
The park is located in a remote region of the island, and we wonder how
to get there. Should we drive? Take a bus tour? Eventually we decide on
a two-night boat cruise on Doubtful Sound, one of the less-traveled
regions of the park. The cruise company will provide the transportation.
But Doubtful Sound is not easy to reach. It takes four hours and a
well-orchestrated journey involving two buses, a boat and a van for us
to reach the deep waters of the Sound. By the time we reach our ship,
the Fiordland Navigator, civilization is left far behind.
Today, there are 40 passengers on the Fiordland Navigator, which
is operated by Real Journeys, the only commercial company allowed to
overnight in the Sound. The small crew is made up of fit, young people
whose jovial manners put everyone in a good mood.
Within minutes we're tossed room keys, shown our simple but shipshape
cabins, and given safety instructions. Then it's time to head into the
fjords. A light rain is falling, but the air is not cold as we stand on
deck, watching nature's most incredible show pass by.
Lush green mountains rise majestically from the water. Dreamy white
clouds drift along their massive midriffs, while the peaks reach above
the cottony mass toward the sky. It's like living in a beautiful
postcard.
 |
|
Up close and personal with New
Zealand Fur Seals
basking on the Nee Islets at the mouth of Doubtful Sound. |
Occasionally,
dolphins swim near, jumping and leaping, while tiny penguins float
nearby. The ship is in search of a calm inlet so we can drop anchor and
go out in kayaks, allowing us more intimate contact with nature. It is
almost dusk when we find a protected cove and the ship drops anchor. A
warm rain falls with dreamlike stillness, while a thick haze covers the
sea, giving the water a heavenly quality.
"I know it's wet out there," says our guide, Terri, calling us together
like a team before the big game. "Don't let that stop you from getting
out there on the water. It's even more beautiful in the rain because it
starts up the waterfalls." She is right. The mountains have sprung
leaks, and dozens of waterfalls stream from their sides.
The crew urges us on. They pull out dozens of kayaks as well as two
tender boats. Those who want to explore on their own will use kayaks;
others will explore in the craft. My parents opt for the boats; I head
toward the kayaks.
"The rain will keep the sand flies away," says one of the crew
cheerfully as he hands me a rain poncho and guides me into my kayak.
I've never kayaked before, and it takes me a few minutes to get the
rhythm of paddling, but soon I'm following the others. While my poncho
keeps the rain off my face, it seems to block my view. I pull it off,
ignoring the rain.
Immediately, I feel overwhelmed by the stunning scene surrounding me. I
stop paddling and coast, delighting in what I see. All is silent except
for the in-and-out swoosh of kayak paddles.
Then it dawns on me: this is what brings people to this island
nation-the chance to throw away cares and rediscover the thrill of
nature, beauty and even life itself.
 |
|
There is plenty of time on the
overnight cruise to
explore by tender craft or kayak. |
I hug
the shoreline, awed by the vast numbers of green ferns and leafy trees.
The vegetation is so thick on the steep mountainsides that I can't even
see the earth below it. A bird flits from the shelter of one dripping
tree to another, then disappears in the foliage.
Huge drops of water fall on my face as I paddle underneath tree limbs
sticking out over the water. Moss covers the thick limbs. I can see the
rocks below in the crystal clear water, and pull in closer for a look at
the plant life that has grown together, giving the illusion of a thick
green carpet covering the mountainside.
Eventually, I pull back out into the open Sound. I can see my parents in
the boat, listening intently as their guide describes the local fauna.
Even through the drizzle, I can see the smiles on their faces. My mom
waves to me, nudging my dad and pointing me out. I laugh and signal
back, content in my kayak. It is a shared experience that we will always
remember.
I stare up into the torrential skies and watch huge drops pouring, one
by one, into the sea. I feel tiny in this land of natural wonders. The
experience is so powerful that I ignore the streams of water running
down my face. Right now, it's unimportant. For now, I am in a yellow
kayak, paddling through the protective cove of Doubtful Sound. I am in
awe of the world and the gift that New Zealand has given me.
And for once in my life, words seem woefully inadequate.
IF YOU GO
New
Zealand Tourism
http://www.purenz.com
Queenstown Tourism
http://www.queenstown-nz.co.nz
THING TO KNOW
About tipping
Tipping is not the norm in New
Zealand. Says one local: “Be sure to tell your readers there is no
tipping here. We don’t want to set any precedents. Those waiters are
already on full salary!” Keep in mind that Queenstown, which is quite
touristy, will often put a “Tip Line” on bills anyway. Feel free to
leave it blank.
Where did the “kiwi” fruit come
from?
China! This
well-known New Zealand export actually originated from Asia. Brought to
New Zealand as “Chinese gooseberries,” the fruit did well. Enterprising
New Zealand farmers renamed it “kiwifruit,” after the country’s national
bird, and it has achieved worldwide fame.
|