We gazed upon that sky we had first seen outside Darwin, the Milky Way in its supreme glory. I remember every occasion in my life when I have looked skyward in the southern hemisphere night to see that sky. I look forward to occasions in the future when I can do it again, maybe one day with a telescope and more leisure time to contemplate it all.
On the road. We were on schedule when we left Queenstown the next morning for the glacier region along the west coast of the South Island. We headed first east to Cromwell again and then north toward Lake Wanaka, near Haast Pass. Near Cromwell, we stopped at a roadside fruitstand to buy some cherries, but found pickled walnuts as well, something we had never heard of. The woman working at the cash register also showed us the vile of gold flakes and small nuggets she had found in nearby creeks and streams, which were of course for sale. It was then that I got it into my mind to do some gold panning, but more about that later.
A bit later, when again at a high flat area and within range of the Queenstown 2 meter repeater some 40 km away, we met ZL4AB, Harry, at Lake Wanaka. He noted that we were headed right by his house and invited us for tea, which we readily accepted. One could not live in a more scenic area, and his hospitality was memorable. We chatted for about an hour and parted as though we had known each other forever. It was really a terrific experience. It is what we all do when we make contacts by radio, but encountering somebody like Harry along the way was special. With all that good feeling, we drove down the highway for about five minutes when I remembered that I had forgotten my jacket at Harry's place. He had been calling me on 2 meters but I had neglected to turn on my rig! Our second visit together was a bit sooner than we might have expected! Parting once again, we headed toward the Haast Pass, over Southern Alps and Mount Aspiring National park, to Haast, along the western coast of New Zealand. We were now on our last two days of South Island travel and headed toward the Westland National Park.
The Haast Pass gets an enormous amount of rain. Combined with the steep slopes and precariously carved roads, this offers near assurance of delays enroute. Harry had warned us about this, but we were well up into the mountain passes and figured we had been lucky this day. Just then, around a sharp curve, we were stopped by work crews for about an hour as heavy earth moving equipment cleared fallen rubble. When allowed to continue, we proceeded along a very rough road newly cleared of rubble from an earlier slide. In other places the road had just been repaired where it had caved in. Unfortunately, we saw less of the mountains around us than we would have were it sunny, but we were happy enough to be on relatively level ground once again and on the way to Haast, a small town along the western coast. We stopped at the Westland Visitors Center at Haast, which offered a slightly worn but impressive short movie of the highlights of that area. It also offered us a chance to relax after the difficult drive through the Haast Pass. We took a handout that described a series of walking tours along our route north. Before we continued on, we had a late lunch at the motel next door.
We stopped along the coastal road north at two walking tour spots noted in the handout. These were places along the beach where there were dunes and just astounding, wonderful contrasts of grasses and plants unique to the shore, white sand, large pools with different plant and birds. Wetlands just a few meters behind all that provided an impressive backdrop. The park service had constructed paths and walkways so one did not wander endlessly through these areas. Each featured unique views and contained plaques identifying many of the plants within view. Some of our most magnificent photographs were taken along these walk areas.
Fox. Our objective for that evening was Fox, where we hoped to see a glacier in Westland National Park. We had seen glaciers in Alaska, surrounded by scrub and majestic in size and ruggedness. We reached Fox late in the afternoon, found our way to the Visitors' Center and got some names of motels. I was quite interested in the least expensive lodging available. Nina was quite sleepy from the long day so I made a quick selection, with less consultation than usual! We were directed to a small motel about half a mile from the Visitors' Center, where a middle-aged, bearded fellow directed us to 'the brown unit over there' by pointing vaguely to the some dingy looking twin-cabins in the lot across the street. We drove across the lot just as he flew by us on a motorized tricycle, opened the door and showed us Halsey's Hotel. It had a private bath, Nina's first criterion, and two bedrooms. We took it for the bargain price of $33. Then we headed into downtown Fox for dinner, sharing a table with a couple we had met an hour earlier. We had seen them walking just as it began to rain and offered them a lift to the hotel adjacent to the restaurant. They were from Detroit and were riding bicycles around New Zealand, something I cannot even imagine doing!
After dinner, in the darkness and dreary rain, we walked across the road from the restaurant to a house with an outdoor botanical garden that supposedly featured glow worms. The four of us passed through a gate with a sign soliciting voluntary payment of $1 per person, and wandered about for a short time in the darkness. Sure enough, we found the glow worms, a rather startling sight if you've never seen glow worms before. They are very eerie, offering no heat or noise, just little gobs of muted light in the nearly pitch black night! There was also a cage nearby, seemingly empty, which I leaned against while waiting for the others to tire of the glow worms. I discovered my error about the cage when my fingers were unexpectedly licked by what turned out to be a friendly possum (identified by consensus), one of two in the cage. We all enjoyed that, but it began to rain again so we headed back to the motel, parted and headed 'home.' The cabin turned out to be quite satisfactory, once we managed to activate the electric heating system. We looked forward to the next day and our visit to Fox Glacier, and hopefully nicer weather.
The morning was overcast and a bit raw, not uncommon for this part of the country during late spring. The road to Fox Glacier was narrow and twisting, and was about 3 miles long. There were small signs posted along the way displaying numbers such as, '1675, 1750, 1825, 1932.' Those represented the location of the terminus of the glacier in those years. It has been retreating for a number of centuries. The parking lot was about a mile from the face of the glacier, but the path between the two was formidable! It consisted of a narrow walkway over massive quantities of morrain, the rubble of rock that the glacier had strewn in its wake, pieces of the mountains it had carved enroute. There were several streams of melting glacial water over which a narrow path had been deposited to serve as the walkway. The trek was made arduous by the steep inclines over the morrain. I climbed a hill adjacent to the glacier to take some pictures, standing on a bald rock outcropping overlooking the scene before and below me. It was an awesome experience that Nina shared a few meters behind me! We then walked back down to ground level and traversed the rock covered ground to the face of the glacier. A bright yellow plastic tape was stretched across the area in front of us warning adventurous spirits of the danger of falling ice beyond. We had seen members of a tour group actually climb onto the face of the glacier, on the other side of that tape, so we did the same. We could hear the faint cracking of ice behind the massive wall of ice before us. Nina and I took photos of each other and retreated to less slippery ground, marvelled at the sight, and headed back to our car. It seemed farther going back. We also noticed then that there had been a paved parking area nearer to the glacier that apparently had been undermined by glacial runoff. The newer parking lot was not paved and stood about 300 meters away, on firm ground.
We had been to Columbia Glacier in Alaska as well, but this was different. In Alaska the trees nearby, if any, are evergreen. In New Zealand they are deciduous. Indeed, these glaciers are at 45 degrees south latitude, which makes them the closest glaciers to the equator on the earth.
On the road again. We were already behind schedule, so we drove north to Franz Joseph Glacier, took photographs of it, and proceeded toward Christchurch. We had a long way to go, over Arthurs Pass and across the width of the country. We gave two young women from California a lift from the Franz Joseph area to where the coastal road, route 6, intersects route 73. They were headed further north and we were going east. During those several hours, though, we stopped with them at the Bushman's Center, an amusing and interesting private museum featuring a massive sow that promptly rolls over and falls asleep when her belly is rubbed. I braved the danger before us and rubbed her belly. She fell asleep almost instantly. There also was a series of displays of wildlife and plants, outdoorsmen sorts of exhibits and abundant crafts for sale. Just as we were leaving a tour bus arrived, filling the little museum. We had timed that one just right!
Some miles north, we encountered a most unusual bridge over a wide, shallow stream. These streams are common throughout New Zealand, largely as nature's drainage system for melting snows in the mountains. The major highways of New Zealand are two lanes and the bridges over these steams are almost always one lane, with one side instructed to yield to traffic from the other side. This bridge, however, in addition to serving both directions of auto traffic, was the railroad bridge. On first crossing it we all thought I had made a driving error and had somehow missed the road and embarked on crossing a railroad bridge! Fortunately, no trains were coming. The apparent intent was to provide the most efficient stream crossing for both trains and autos in this relatively sparsely travelled area.
We soon reached Hokitika, a small resort town that had once been the 'Goldfields Capital' where some 35,000 miners lived and where there were 102 hotels. When the gold ran out, it became a farming, forestry and tourist area along the west coast. The West Coast Historical Museum (free on that Saturday!) was fascinating, with a short film on the area's goldfield history, a scale model of a mammoth gold dredge once used nearby, early Maori artifacts and an original hotel bar. This is where I finally came to grips with my gold fever and bought a plastic gold pan, for use sometime in the future.
From Hokitika we proceeded north and dropped our hitchhikers at the road intersection where we headed east, back to Christchurch via Arthur's Pass. I must say that Arthur's Pass is decidedly an experience to be taken with care when driving! High in the mountains and driving sometimes at no more than 10 km/h to negotiate hairpin turns was common. The snow capped mountains loomed over us as dinner time approached. We knew we had reached the 'other side' when we made it to the Chalet Restaurant, where we ate dinner (despite a sociopathic waiter!).
(Just before we arrived at the restaurant we rounded a curve where a stream of mountain water ran adjacent to the road, and where there was a place we could park the car without creating a danger to others. We stopped long enough for me to unpack the plastic pan I had bought at Hokitika to search for gold. I climbed a few meters down to the stream's edge, remember what I had learned in Alaska about how gold tends to collect on one side of a stream and how to use the pan. I gave up after ten minutes, my hands nearly frozen and Nina beginning to offer threatening glances. I would very much have liked to end this paragraph with the announcement of a major gold find, but the truth is that I found nothing. I still have the pan and some day will return to try a better place.
The drive from there to Christchurch began with magnificent scenery at every turn, though for about half an hour we were slowed by dense fog as we gradually descended toward the eastern side of the country. The views were constantly breathtaking until the land flattened. We were soon on the outskirts of the city.
Christchurch, again. I had agreed with Peter to activate on a particular local 2 meter repeater when I got within distance. We succeeded in this about 40 km out. We actually managed to find our way to his house and called him again on the repeater output frequency just as we drove up his driveway. I announced that we would be there in about ten seconds! We arrived around ten at night, quite pleased to be 'home' with Peter and Maire, but still excited over all we had done both that day and through the preceding week. That evening I made a few contacts on 40 meters, but the band was not as good as it had been a week earlier, so we turned in early, probably around midnight!
The next day we had a flight to Auckland late in the afternoon, which gave us time to see Canterbury Museum and Botanic Gardens. We were indeed fortunate to have our own, private docent, an older woman who was exceptionally knowledgeable on every exhibit in the ample museum, from the Antarctic adventurers' personal lives to the archaeological history of the region. The museum itself is marvelous and displays some of the best exhibits we saw during our trip. The surrounding botanical gardens are also impressive, partly because many of the plants and trees are not seen outside New Zealand, such as the monkey puzzle tree which looks like a cross between a large palm tree and Medusa's head! The early afternoon was devoted to searching for assorted souvenirs and a sheepskin winter coat for me, which we finally managed to find in the color and style I wanted and a price I thought I could afford. We completed our shopping spree, returned to Peter's place to organize our luggage and were soon on our way to the airport for our flight to Auckland. It was tough saying goodbye to our adoptive family. We were 'on the road again.'
Auckland. We arrived in Auckland at about 7:30 in the evening, hoping to meet ZL1AXM, Ken, at the airport. As we walked from the airplane into the waiting area enroute to retrieve our luggage, I noted a fellow waiting who I thought might be Ken. He and those with him seemed to be looking beyond us, presumably for relatives on that flight, so we proceeded to the baggage claim area. While waiting, I turned around to see the same people, including the suspected-Ken, standing a few meters behind us again. Remembering he had told me he would likely be there with his son, I approached him with 2 meter HT in hand (to serve as a visual ham identifier and to fend off aggressive sheep, if necessary). Indeed, it was Ken with his wife Sheila and their son. It was a special pleasure to meet Ken after so many years. They took us on an evening tour of Auckland, along the coastal roads, into the lovely residential sections, through the downtown area, and finally to Parnell Village, where our B&B was located. We parted Ken and family and wandered the main street of Parnell Village, selecting a small shop to have our first pizza on the North Island! We had great fun!
The Ascot Parnell is an exceptionally nice B&B, well located in Parnell Village, a quaint Victorian neighborhood of Auckland. Built in 1910, the B&B is now owned by a young Belgian couple who really work hard to make visitors feel welcome. Early the next morning, we called the car rental company that ZL1TRE, Mark, had organized for us via Internet. He and I had been exchanging messages by Internet thanks to WD3Q, Eric, a local friend who introduced us. The rental car company dispatched a car to bring us to their office, several miles away near the harbor. The price of the car for one day was as much as cars typically cost in Florida for four days, but there was little we could do. Grasping for some way of ameliorating the cost, I asked if there was possibly an older vehicle available. The question was worth asking. We got a two year old car for about 20% off the earlier stated price and we could bring it back by noon the next day instead of 9 a.m., a one day total rental. So, off we went north to visit ZL1MH near Kaikohe.
Kaikohe. The sights on the trip north from Auckland were decidedly more commercial and reminiscent of the typical big city environment than we had seen in a while. Eventually, the traffic lessened and the scenery became more like what we had seen for the last week. It took us three and a half hours to reach Kaikohe, essentially non-stop. We had been told by Mike to find Barbara, his wife, in the hardware store. As we looked around we saw no store that even looked like a hardware store. Our concern grew as we asked several people if there was a hardware store in town. Finally, the proprietor of a small shop said that the nearest thing to a hardware store was only a few doors down from where we were, so we headed there with the hope of finding somebody named Barbara! The saleswoman at the register called out the name Barbara, and there she appeared from a small side office! But, it seems, Mike had expected us the next day! So much for unexpected guests. No problem, though. She called Mike by telephone. We were lucky he happened to be indoors just then and would head into town from his farm, about 25 km away, in half an hour. That gave us time to have a quick lunch at the recommended sandwich shop in the back of the furniture store across the street. We had sandwiches, dessert and drinks for a total of about $4 as I recall -- one of the bargains of the trip! Mike's arrival in town in the old truck coincided with our return to the 'hardware store,' and we met ZL1MH! We wanted to visit the Bay of Islands area, not far away, so we got back into our rental car, which had more space, and headed east with Mike.
Bay of Islands. We spent much of our time at the Bay of Islands in a queue for a ferry to take us to Russell, which has historical significance as well as being an exceptionally pretty town. We visited the Russell Museum, with its audiovisual The Land Is Enduring, and displays of Maori and European history. From the strategic hills along the way we saw some of the most strikingly magnificent scenery of the trip, aided perhaps by the low elevation of the sun and the resulting shadow effects. Fortunately, there was no queue for the return trip on the ferry and we headed back to Kaikohe to retrieve Mike's truck and then head to his QTH. Nina rode with Mike while I trailed behind.
Suburban Kaikohe. We soon veered off the paved road and travelled several miles on dusty farm paths until we came upon a lovely house sitting in a level area and surrounded by stands of trees. It was really quite a nice setting. Before it got dark, Mike and Barbara gave us the grand tour of the estate, which consists of 4,000 trees that Mike and Barbara planted, including stands to protect against wind, and a variety of fruit and nut bearing trees, most numerous among the latter being macadamia. There were assorted cows, chickens, ducks and other animals, making it truly rural to all our senses!
Mike uses an antenna that seems to be rhomboid in shape, and works! I spent only a few minutes that evening on the radio in part because the band really was quite bad. We had a terrific evening with Barbara and Mike, discussing all manner of issues with great interest. Dinner, which Nina helped prepare (and which I have a photo to prove!), was a stack of exceptional weinerschnitzels with a variety of veggies, all home grown or prepared. Just lovely! (And Mike's four mastiffs remained comfortably out of reach the whole time!) By 11 p.m we were very tired, probably from all the driving during the day. Moreover, we had to get up early to return the rental car before noon!
Early the following morning we regretfully parted from Mike and Barbara, wishing we had planned our trip to give us a day or two more to spend with them. The people and setting were what we travel for, but we just couldn't do everything on this trip -- already three and a half weeks in length! Rather than heading back to Auckland the way we had come, we headed west from Mike's area (some 25 km north of Kaikohe) toward the Kauri Forest.
Kauri Forest. Two hundred years ago the kauri tree was common in lush, forested areas of the country. But early settlers sheared the landscape of the kauri, which grows for 1200 or more years and stands at least 50 meters tall. They had no interest in environmental preservation. Today, the kauri is an endangered species and exists in only small sections of forest. One of these was along our alternate route back to Auckland. Though we could not take the time to visit all the marked viewing spots along the way, we did stop several times to take photographs and to simply stand in awe at the works that nature had produced. It was then that I decided I had to go home with a kauri tree, but more about that later.
The Kauri Forest road is not an easy drive. Route 12 is largely unpaved, with sharp turns that must be taken very slowly. Eventually, we reached the better section of highway and made tracks south toward Auckland. We were running very low on fuel at this point. For the first time on the trip I was gravely concerned about being stranded in the middle of nowhere waiting for assistance! There were just no service stations anywhere. We had begun the day with a third of a tank of fuel and I figured that would get us to the next filling station. After some long minutes of that special kind of silence that pervades a car when its passengers are waiting for the sputtering sounds to commence, we came over the crest of a hill and saw before us a gasoline station. For once I did not mind paying the premium price at the pump!
Auckland again. We arrived at the car rental agency in Auckland just before noon, and were charged for the one day! I am still waiting for notice of a speed camera violation, but I guess if it's not in the next VISA bill I am safe! While we waited for the attendant to take us back to the B&B we had stayed in earlier, we walked along the harborside area and found a great restaurant called the Loaded Hog that featured reasonably priced seafood salads, did a little window shopping, then returned to catch our lift back to the B&B.
From our B&B we walked to the fantastic Auckland War Memorial Museum. This museum is incredible. In the Maori Court, it features a 26 meter long Maori war canoe chiseled from one totara trunk and adorned with intricate wood carvings. There is also a huge Maori meetinghouse, painted red, black and white with tribal carvings amid traditional woven flax patterns. The Maori displays are really fascinating, and include a greenstone 'mere' (war club) and utensils for eating human flesh. More interesting, actually, were the large numbers of artifacts in settings that explain clearly how the items were used by the Maori in daily life. This museum really offered the best anthropological examination of the Maori culture. It gave us perspective for at least superficially appreciating today's social issues between the Maori and European cultures. I should note that the Maori, who came to New Zealand only a thousand years ago from Polynesia, were a fierce group of people. They ate Captain Cook (yes, cooked Cook!), and summarily slaughtered the peaceful Polynesians then living on the Chatham Islands. Today, there are virtually no pure Maoris remaining, but there is a certain sympathy for the Maori and their displacement over the centuries. Anyway, the museum also had an excellent Hall of Asian Art, a fascinating Centennial Street (reconstructed Auckland street of 1866), a series of detailed displays of Australian war experience in Europe and elsewhere, and an usually diverse and intriguing shop.
That evening we had plans to meet with Mark, ZL1TRE, his wife Suzanne, and another, non-ham couple, Ken and Margaret. Mark and Ken are both New Zealand Air pilots and Suzanne is in the travel business, so between us we had a great deal of interesting chatter during our dinner in a super Italian restaurant in Parnell. They were all terrific company. Mark is active on amateur satellites and remains in contact between air flights with me by Internet.
We had one more day of our trip left and we had four objectives: Meet ZL1BVB, do some last souvenir shopping, eat at the restaurant Suzanne had recommended for lamb, and make it to the airport on time for our flight to Los Angeles and home! I also had an intention to go home with my very own kauri tree!
Mike, ZL1BVB, and I had made a number of cw QSOs on 40 meters, most recently from ZL3GQ's QTH. He arrived with Katherine, his wife, to our B&B early to 'show us some of Auckland.' He chauffeured us to all the great views, including Mount Eden, which is an extinct volcano that overlooks both Auckland harbors, the city and Hauraki Gulf. The Maori once fortified this high spot as a fort, as they did a distant hilltop called One Tree Hill. I wouldn't mind having a station atop this hill, but I am about 100 years too late. We then went to the Winter Garden, adjacent to the Auckland War Memorial Museum, to see a creative and complete exhibit of tropical and subtropical plants, including a large display of ferns.
Over the years I have tended to shy away from Chinese restaurants, in part because of the monosodium glutamate they often use and because in recent times Vietnamese cuisine has caught my fancy, in part because it contains less oil. Mike took us for lunch to the Sun-Sun Restaurant, on the second floor of a nondescript building across from the train station in downtown Auckland. They served by far the tastiest (and not at all oily) dim sum that I have ever eaten. We also had paluka, a local fish, in a tasty medley of vegetables and a light garlic sauce. It was one of those places in which only Chinese is spoken and only Chinese generally frequent.
We then headed to Mike's house for a short visit, followed by a tour through several gift shops for last minute acquisitions, including a replica of that Maori canoe we had seen at the museum the day before. (Sure enough, I saw the same object later that day for a lower price, but that's how it goes!) At that point it was time for me to float my idea of taking a kauri tree home with me. It didn't float. It was the consensus, however, that we should at least visit a local nursery to see what was available. All (except me) were positive there would be no such seedlings or small plants, or even seeds, available. Well, they had 1 meter high potted kauri trees, and they also sold seeds. On more serious reflection, I realized that Customs at home would be less than thrilled with me bringing a potted plant through, even if I could manage to carry it. So I opted for the seeds, which are now reposing in plant soil and will sprout any minute into formidable hardwood trees like I saw in the Kauri Forest. My friends remain sceptical, but remember who was right on the issue of availability of kauri seeds in the first place!
It was time for Mike and Kathleen to return us to our B&B, for us to pack and prepare for our return Stateside. We still had plans for a meal at Suzanne's recommended restaurant, though it was getting a bit close on time. We nevertheless walked, in a drizzling rain, to The Old Brick, a restaurant down the long hill from our B&B. It took a bit longer to get there than we had planned, and we were the first diners for the evening. But we ordered the lamb filets anyhow, and they were spectacular, appearing in the form of a twisted bread loaf on a bed of beets with a homemade fan-like structure of fried potatoes. Time was getting really close now, because we had already called for the airport van to pick us up, in about 20 minutes! Our taxi was already two minutes late arriving at the restaurant and it was getting decidedly tense. We went outside and began to look for another taxi, but none was to be found. Just then the one we had called arrived and got us to our B&B just in time for us to organize our bill, chat a few minutes with our hosts and appear relaxed when the van arrived for us! In reality, we were quite early for our flight, but we have gotten into the habit of being early for international flights. Anything else seems to make us nervous!
Home again. The prologue to this trip occurred in Los Angeles. Our 11 hour flight from Auckland to Los Angeles arrived in the early afternoon, but our connecting flight to Newark and then Washington, DC would not leave until 10:30 p.m. We quickly consulted the tourist desk, where Nina noted the proximity of the J. Paul Getty Museum, in Malibu, about half an hour north of the airport. We called to be sure there was parking and availability, which there were in the afternoon. We immediately rented a car, a purple, brand new Pontiac, and headed to the museum (noting the odd sensation of driving on the right side again!). There is absolutely nothing like visiting a reconstructed Roman villa overlooking the Pacific Ocean, with its lovely gardens and priceless ancient Greek and Roman artifacts, and its Renaissance art collection. From there we stopped at the Promenade at Santa Monica, called Nina's family in Florida to announce our arrival 'home,' and found a fine Italian restaurant at which we enjoyed our last 'holiday meal.' We returned to the airport in comfortable time for our red-eye flight to Newark, and arrived in Washington about 8:30 the next morning.
Final thoughts. Now, as I prepare these notes on our trip to VK/ZL, it seems more fantasy and less memory that I contemplate. Did we really take this trip and accomplish all that sightseeing in Australia and New Zealand? I have since returned to my office, which feels more like I never left than it did before I departed, and I have answered or at least opened the accumulation of mail at both office and home, paper and electronic.
Australia and New Zealand are very special places, remote enough even in today's jet age to seem exotic, yet in reality both intriguing and comfortable. The language and customs are just different enough to be novel and pleasant, the people exceptionally cordial and the sights spectacular. Nature is the key, and my concern is that the peoples of both countries retain their resolve to preserve the jewels they have.
I'm not sure now, on reflection, what I expected from my childhood imaginings or my adulthood expectations. What reside now in my mind's eye are fond memories and experiences. As a psychiatrist ham friend of mine once said to me, 'Life is a series of relationships and experiences.' I agree. Australia and New Zealand are now part of my life's memories and experiences, and so are part of me.
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