We enjoyed a nice little breakfast of marmalade, toast and coffee with the speccy view over Lake Te Anau. There were a number of pretty birds around singing and flashing their colours at us - some little black wrens, some silver eyes and some others that we couldn't see but had a funny song. The sky was clearing and we could just tell we were going to have a magical day.
The drive to Milford sound was truly spectacular, breathtaking and dangerous. Not dangerous in terms of conditions but dangerous because I was always craning my neck into stupid positions to see the huge mountains. I don't know if sometimes we are the luckiest people in the world sometimes, but the cloud clinging to the mountain tops, coupled with the incredibly clear and rich blue skies made me all weird. I don't want to be a Mr. Clever Pants, but the photo to the right is an excellent example of why it was so friggin dangerous for me to drive. Every corner we turned had a new view like this, a view that was capable of convincing you that the world was being born in front of you.
Coincidentally this stop was where we first spotted a Kea, although only a fleeting glimpse we could still tell it was naughty. It was flying away from a frazzled looking tourist.
The terrain we passed through was what we came to New Zealand to see, actually it was more than I could have expected. The sheer size and raw beauty was more incredible than anything I had seen, and the power of it reminded me of when we stood on the edge of the Yasur volcano in Vanuatu.
We eventually arrived at the Homer tunnel, which is to me the epitome of New Zealand in its entirety - man and nature. Here was a tunnel, literally dug through the toughest rock by the toughest men available. The tunnel inside is still as rough as it ever was, jagged protrusions skimming past in the headlights drips of water hitting the windscreen, and a darkness more black than words can describe. The headlights didn't seem to light anything up at all. We were consumed by the earth. We didn't matter a tiny bit.
Fortunately we made it through to the other end, our souls still intact. The scenery on the other side was just as spectacular and we pressed on to Milford Sound down wet, green, windy roads and across clear, blue rivers spanned by wet, narrow bridges.
The tourist area at the Sound was to be expected, so nothing to write about here. Damn, I wrote something. We had made good time so we hopped on to an earlier cruise than planned which I think was good and bad. The cruise had less people on it because it was early, but it also had three of the rudest most obnoxious families I had ever seen. I am not surprised they hung out together; they were like cancer cells on a brain. The stupid, useless and ugly mothers had claimed the entire side of the boat (some of the only window seats available). They hadn't claimed it for themselves, but for their kids by using piles of bags. The kids never sat down because they were too busy ruining every one else's time by running around screaming like dickheads. The fathers had lost their man bits to the succubi, sorry, wives long ago. What happened to the time when 'adults' were more important than 'children'? Anyway I was glad to see that some kid's bag got a good view.
Fortunately Stacey and I weren't as egocentric as those repulsive people and we, and it seemed the rest of the passengers, went on to the top of the boat to get away and appreciate the view. I understand why people travel from all over the world to visit this place. Like the drive it was spectacular, but this time the driving was left up to someone else, and I could just sit back, relax and enjoy the view. Apparently James Cook missed the entrance to this sound on his journeys. He mustn't have yelled enough.I must write a quick aside on the vegetation in New Zealand. It is very growy. Like the New Zealanders themselves it seems to cling onto every precipice on every cliff and hold on for dear life. Even some of the sheer, rock walls in the sound seemed to mimic the densest rainforest. I therefore dedicate my new word to New Zealand as a whole. GROWY.
We left the sound and headed back to where we came from, on the way we stopped for lunch. This is where we first encountered 'biteys'. These little sand flies were to test our patience at almost every stop we made from here in. We parked the van at a beautiful lake (Lake Gunn) and I wandered off to take some quick snaps of the area. I returned to a vision of Stacey trying gallantly to make lunch all the while swatting these little shitty sand flies. The air was thick with them. We ate our lunch quickly, although the sand fly sandwiches were mighty nutritious, and drove off rather quickly. With the windows open. We stopped quickly at the Reflecting Lakes, but that was a non-event ecause they weren't very reflecty at the time.We pushed on through to Queenstown, named after Sydney. Sorry, bad joke. We stopped briefly in a town called Garviston, I needed to get some beers and stuff. Garviston is the 'most furthest away from the ocean of all of the New Zealand towns'. It also felt the most furthest away from anything else. Nice pub though.
The drive to Queenstown became more spectacular as we went along, and eventually we started to hit snow country. Except there was no snow. Lake Wakatipu greeted us with its funny snake like shape, apparently the water level fluctuates a couple of inches every 5 minutes. Weird. I felt a strange connection to this lake because my mood fluctuates every 5 minutes. Up, down, up, down, up, down, spaz.We drove around this lake and underneath the Remarkables (would have been called Pointy Mountain in Australia). Funny enough the Remarkables were quite remarkable. I made a few remarks as we passed, like 'wow, they're quite pointy' and 'I have a driving wedgie'. Stacey remarked on how much of a tool I am. She will probably make a remark about that remark as well.
Queenstown was pretty enough. Pretty much full of adrenaline, hormone and alcohol fuelled boys and girls in loud cars. It is situated on Lake Wakatipu and is a 'real snow town' as opposed to Jindabyne and Thredbo which are 'fake snow towns'. Jindabyne is on a fake lake and Thredbo's snow gets a 'no' from the 'Bureau of Real Snow'. Yo. However all three are filled to the brim with fake people that don't live there. Having said this the town is nice enough to look at, although a tad expensive.
We bought some groceries, got to the van park, ate some dinner and then washed some clothes in the laundromat while I drank beer and intimidated people. In the laundromat.
I showed them all who was the most grown up...
