Like many of the most memorable moments on our trip, we never really intended to visit the South Island of New Zealand. Sounded a lot like home we thought, so we opted to spend most of our time on the North Island. That all changed once we handed in our soggy, dented motorhome and realized that we had another 8 days to fill before our flight to Chile.
What to do? Sitting in the rain didn’t sound too appealing, so we checked the weather forecasts, found inexpensive flights to Christchurch and got the h-e-double-hockey-sticks outta rainy old Dodge. Once on the South Island, we picked up a zippy little Rav4 and spent eight days trying to see as much as possible. It involved a lot of driving and yet another speeding ticket (from possibly the world’s friendliest and apologetic police officer), but we crammed in a lot. It was pretty chilly and cold, but the rains held and we had mostly sunny skies. Woohooo.
We left Christchurch after only one night and headed towards Queenstown, stopping for a night near Lake Wanaka. We stumbled upon a funny little museum called “Puzzling World” and spent most of an afternoon immersed in riddles, outdoor mazes and other weird, illusion-type exhibits. It was really cool and we geeked out for much longer than anticipated.
Mike. Very puzzled.
It was soooo much easier travelling around by car in every sense. Freedom! With the exception of the Queenstown Top10 (which was fully booked), we still stayed exclusively at a great string of TopTen campsites, bunking in little cabanas or cabins instead of powered sites. Much better! Highly recommended! No need to traipse to the communal showers or empty sewage cartridges or make up 5 beds every day. Roll in, shower, sleep, roll out, repeat.
We made it to Queenstown a few days after arriving on the South Island and were immediately struck by a) its incredible beauty and b) its startling similarity to Whistler, BC. Twenty-somethings from everywhere, extreme sports, loads of shopping, burger joints and quinoa breakfast puddings. And you’ve gotta love a town ringed by a mountain range called “The Remarkables”.
We bought toques, a couple of sweatshirts, used the free Wi-fi at Starbucks and ate the requisite Fergburgers, apparently a ‘must’ when in Queenstown.
Like Whistler, the price of adventure in Queenstown is cringe-inducing. We limited ourselves to one adventure experience – a ride on the ‘world-famous’ Shotover Jet. It was school holidays in New Zealand, so they were offering a family special which meant that we could ride twice for the price of one ticket. Bonus.
When we arrived at Shotover Canyon, I wasn’t quite prepared for the slickness of the operation. Like a finely tuned machine – they had a wall of autographed photos of the hundreds of famous people who’d visited, most recently the Duke and Duchess of Windsor. We were ushered to the canyon’s edge, fitted with ponchos and lifejackets and shoved unceremoniously into our seats.
These amazing jet boats can manoeuvre in just 2 inches of water, spin 360 degrees and careen through the narrow Shotover Canyon at up to 85 kms per hour, coming within inches of the canyon walls. Our pilots were amazingly skilled and it was truly, heart-stoppingly thrilling. Thankfully, we all got quite a drenching so if maybe I peed my pants a little (not sayin’ I did), nobody could tell.
After Queenstown, we headed south towards Milford Sound. This was an epic day of driving through some incredible scenery until we reached the tiny town of Te Anau. From all appearances, Te Anau exists solely to cater to the tourists and trampers who visit Milford Sound and hike the iconic Milford Track. I would have loved to have hiked the 4-day Milford Track with Mike and the kids had I known about it and had we been able to plan so far in advance. It’s very popular, so bookings are limited and sell out months in advance. It sounds heavenly – not too tough, with well-equipped sleeping cabins spaced out among the breathtaking trail. Next time, New Zealand, I’m on it.
You’re a captive audience in pretty little Te Anau and you pay dearly for the privilege. It’s the only place within striking distance of Milford Sound, so even our very basic motel unit at a campground ran about $175/night. Ouch.
We set off early the following morning to make it to Milford Sound. It was an incredibly beautiful drive (not unlike the Sea to Sky in BC) but much longer – clocking in about 3 hours each way. We made it in time for our pre-booked 11am cruise of the Sound.
Truth – it is definitely beautiful. Milford Sound is a fjord, carved deep into the south of the South Island. Waterfalls cascading, sea lions lounging…. But it was very, very BC. We weren’t disappointed per se, but it was a great deal of driving and a lot of time, money and effort to experience a beauty very similar to what we are lucky enough to have in our own backyard. Tom and Lucy were actually mortifyingly nonplussed. Lucy spent much of her time inside the boat colouring while Tom played goalie/hockey with sugar packets and pebbles. Sigh.
Back to Te Anau for another night in our musty motel unit and then we pushed on to Dunedin, the world’s most Scottish city outside of Scotland proper. Dunedin actually means “little Edinburgh” and it was nutty how well the Scots were represented with woollen shops and a big statue of Robbie Burns, tartan flags and tea shops. We walked around, visited the oft-photographed train station and did a tour of the Cadbury’s Chocolate Factory. Each ticket came with a too-big goody bag of chocolate bars. Our favourite? The Perky Nana!
Henry informed us that Dunedin is actually as far as you can get from London, England on the entire planet. I liked that little factoid because London is where we started back in early September. We’d come a long way, baby!
Dunedin also boasts the steepest street in the world, but we couldn’t find it.
this sign in Dunedin made us laugh…still behind schedule, apparently
lucy was super-thrilled by this point…
From Dunedin, it was a push to Akaroa – our final stop on the South Island. From Scotland to France in one day.
Akaroa is a former French settlement surrounded by mountains. You can still feel and see the French influence everywhere in this tiny little settlement on the Banks Peninsula – baguettes, beautiful sculptures, good coffee. Its harbour is actually a volcanic crater and it’s known for the hundred of Hector’s dolphins that call it home. Like so many places in New Zealand, it feels almost too beautiful, as if you’ve stumbled unwittingly into yet another movie set.
We had a couple of days in Akaroa to relax before heading back to Auckland for our flight to South America. It was really nice to just kick back after such a harried schedule. And you can’t beat the view from our little cabin at the Akaroa TopTen.
We were there during ANZAC Day – Australia and New Zealand Army Corps. It’s the Antipodean version of Canada’s Remembrance Day, with poppies and a parade and a sombre ceremony at the cenotaph.
It was nice to feel part of the community, even for one day, as they remembered the efforts made by so many New Zealanders, Maori, Australian (and Canadians) at Gallipoli and other conflicts around the world. For such a tiny nation, New Zealand lost so many.
And then it was a final, loooong travel day. A fairly quick drive from Akaroa to Christchurch. Flight from Christchurch to Auckland. A mere 7 hour wait at Auckland airport for our 11.5 hour flight from Auckland to Santiago (crossing the international date line). After a month on these beautiful islands at the bottom of the world, it was time to start the next leg.
‘Kia Ora’ to New Zealand and ‘hola’ South America!
