Queenstown – a.k.a. the nexus of extreme activity for the entirety of the planet earth, Extremeopolis, where stores supplying equipment for various dangerous outdoor activities outnumber food establishments by a ratio of 60:1. On (our) Tuesday, and after a delicious first hike up and down Bob’s Peak, we made the mandatory stop at Fergburger and watched videos of guys who had affixed rough water skis to their motorbikes in order to drive them out into the sound… just to see how far they could get before sinking.
We are surrounded by mountains, and when I made my regular slip-out-in-the-pre-dawn-and-find-coffee maneuver on Tuesday morning, I came bounding back to the hostel 45 minutes later, nearly jumping up and down with glee at the site of the sun rising over the Remarkables. (They are aptly named.) We spent the morning hiking up to Bob’s, which can also be managed by near-vertical gondola, but where’s the fun in that – and if there’s anything in the world more satisfying than a warm steak and bacon pie after a climb like that, while sitting on top of a mountain and looking at all the blue world around you, I don’t know what it is.
On the way up, the ancient forest gave way to a wide plateau about halfway to the top, and I dropped to the ground right at the edge and just stared at it all – the entire price of admission, in one vista. I scribbled some words in my journal, which don’t make much sense now, but sense is not what the journal is for – not for nothing am I chronicling longhand for the first time since I was eleven years old. On the way back down in the afternoon, we found a cathedral deep in the woods, a minor gorge with a frigid river running through it, and an explosion of more hues of green, brown, grey and blue than I would ever be able to capture, describe, or even fully remember. So New Zealand laid us on our collective ass three or four times in the first day alone. Sometimes, you just have to let go of everything you’ve brought in or will take out, and be in that space for as long as you can hack it, surrendering to the All.
I made a hash of wading into the glacial water with the GoPro, which is essentially the camera I’ve been waiting for my entire life – “What do you mean by INDESTRUCTIBLE, exactly?” – before we got ourselves nice and lost scaling our way back down to Queenstown. We were back on the peak last night for sunset, and I climbed up even further, till there were no Japanese tourists or armoured mountain bikers or any sign of human habitation at all, really; just me, and the mountain, and the wind, and the sky. I read some words over and over again till I was beaming, spoke promises to the close and holy darkness, and began the trek back down.
Today it was a horseback ride out near Glenorchy, under sullen skies and surrounded by mountains. Although it’s been with us all along – you’re greeted by Dwarven architecture at the airport, for goodness’ sake – the ride out to Glenorchy and back cemented the degree to which The Lord of the Rings has completely infiltrated the entirety of New Zealand’s tourist identity; our guides’ descriptions of the area ran about three to one in terms of Peter Jackson filmmaking references vs. general New Zealand knowledge and points of interest. My horsemanship, meanwhile, is improving.
On the subject of luggage crisis: averted. Our backpacks arrived yesterday – and I assure you, a fresh pair of underwear after 4 days in one pair is a whole new slice of heaven. The three of us are sharing a 4-person dorm room at the hostel and both nights so far we’ve had a randomly assigned fourth member – the latest of whom must have thought she’d walked into a chemical weapons factory when she checked into the room. Boys are gross. It’s been a long time since I’ve rocked a top bunk, though, and as I climb into bed I scribble lines to myself and secret messages to others, all by the beam of my penlight. Summer camp as it was meant to be done.
On the subject of stealing food from poorly-guarded buffet dinners at fancy mountaintop restaurants: it’s all about what one can palm, rather than plate, on one’s way out the door. (Repeated entry/exits, though, are helpful.)
On the subject of swords: yeah, I’m gonna need one of those.
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