* * Day 14, Twizel

Because of the road closure of the only highway on the west coast of the South Island, we were forced into a new plan to get to Nelson, our last primary destination which is at the northern tip of the Island. Our new best friends, the Fishers, invited us to stay with them at their second home at the southern end of Lake Pukaki.

Before our journey, we had a leisurely morning in Queenstown, trying fitfully to get decent Internet service at two downtown cafes.

Leaving town, we could see that all the surrounding mountains got a fresh dusting of snow overnight. The picturesque and craggy Remarkables to the east of town (named the Remarkables because they run almost due north-south) were particularly striking, with a definite horizontal snow line below which was clearly above freezing where the precipitation was only rain. Our trip took us through the fruit growing region around Cromwell with its wineries and orchards of Kiwi fruit, along with many others. We entered scrub-desert country and crested Lindis Pass, where there was actually a dusting of snow still on the ground. We arrived in the small town of Twizel, near our destination, where we bought a gift of wine for our hosts – and soon learned they don’t drink! We had some lunch at the downtown outdoor mall. It was blissfully sunny but still quite chilly. I found myself in conversation with a bicycle rider who was fixing a flat tire by a park bench. I commented on his good fortune to be having a flat in town and not somewhere out on the road. We spoke for several minutes. He lived in Dunedin and had the most impressive time-trial bike I’ve ever seen, which he said cost $11,000, plus another $5000 in special wheels that he used only for racing. He had just done a 4-hour ride that took him over the same Lindis Pass we’d just driven. I commented on my observation that seemingly everybody in New Zealand was into some sort of adventure sport. He agreed, saying his bicycling friends were into every sort of activity, from skydiving to orienteering to downhill bicycle racing. He was a slight man who appeared to be at least in his 40s. He said his son was into racing as well. He finished replacing his tube with a spare he carried, then sped away.

We continued on to the Fishers’ place. At the end of a kilometer-long gravel driveway, their home overlooks the long, glacially carved Pukaki Lake which is bookended at the far end to the north by Mt. Cook, New Zealand’s highest peak. The lake has the fantastic azure blue color that is characteristic of glacial lakes, because of the silt flowing into them off the mountains. The eastern shoreline is of tan scrub desert, which accentuates the lake’s dramatic color. The great mountain itself was obscured by clouds, but I found myself watching for it to peek out as each hour went by.

The home is magnificent! It is a log structure, at least twice the size of our home, with a huge window-dominated north wall, overlooking the lake and the mountain. There is a dramatic balcony from the second floor. The wooden log beams are immense, some 12-16” in diameter. There is a fireplace built with flat stones, open on both sides, with a 20-inch copper pipe chimney. Wrought iron chandeliers hang from the wooden ceiling.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, the Fishers are overflowing with personality and charisma. Both are from Australia, but David has the thicker accent. He boasts of his prowess with the women and laughs heartily at jokes of his own and others. He wears cowboy boots and big hats. Tracy has an infectious smile and is delightful.

David and I spoke for some time about his occupation of farming. Being Australian, it was easy for them to emigrate and to buy farmland in New Zealand. He raises only crops, no animals. He uses herbicides to control weeds and fertilizer, but only in minimal amounts. He uses “no-till” methods, which he said increases soil fertility, increases yields, takes less time and reduces wear-and-tear on his equipment. He has obviously been enormously successful, at a level outside the experience of any other farmer I’ve ever met.

Soon, several other friends arrived, including three attractive young women and two young men including one of their sons, Peter, who we met earlier at their home in Ashburton. We chatted and played a Charade-like game and ping-pong through the afternoon until supper, which we all threw together and shared around the big wooden dining room table. Hamburgers, sausages, potatoes, lettuce salad and tomatoes.

I kept a constant eye out the window to the north, watching the last sun rays of the day strike Mt. Cook, barely emerging from the clouds that seemed to attach themselves to the great peak.

I had a nice conversation with Chris, the young man who joined us for the afternoon and evening. The Fishers met him in church and they have become friends. Chris is a big, friendly guy. We spoke about the amazing appeal of New Zealand, the awesome countryside, the utter lack of nasty things like bugs, snakes, spiders, and poisonous plants. The clear air and clean water. The diversity of the wildlife. The productivity of the farmland. He admitted that Kiwis need to remind themselves more often of their incredible fortune in living in such a special land.  

David has amazing energy, as for hours after supper he led everyone in country music line dancing. He scooted one of the wide brown leather couches out of the way and had everyone sliding across the hardwood floor. When everyone finally tired of dancing, they played a card game that was ongoing when I retired for bed, but not before I walked into the chilly night air looking for the southern constellations, particularly the Southern Cross which is the emblem of the New Zealand national flag. Even at 10:30 at night, when my eyes refused to function any more, there was still some light on the western horizon making it difficult to discern whether I was seeing the Cross at all. I did, however, see what appeared to be our old friend Orion, however from the opposite angle.

This morning, as I write, the house is still quiet but Mt. Cook is bold and brilliant white with the sun’s rays from the east striking it. The top ¾ is above the snow line. It is a stunning mountain, rising impressively pyramidal from the rest of the range of the Southern Alps, reminiscent of Mt. Rainier in Washington State, only more angular. The view is mesmerizing.

We have charted a new course for the rest of the holiday and will depart this morning for Hamner Springs, a hot spring resort, a journey of perhaps four hours. Tomorrow we’ll cross Lewis Pass and go to Westport on the west coast, and then Nelson where I hope to do some sea kayaking. The final few days of this amazing trip are winding down in this, the world’s most appealing country.