New Zealand: Stories from the Road

Part 4

Whatever the weather

I am, undeniably, British. This means that, amongst other things, whatever the weather may or may not be doing at any given moment is permanently on my mind. Thinking about, checking, and discussing the weather accounts for at least half (but often more) of my activities on the average day. Thus, naturally, after my flight to New Zealand had been booked I had grilled every single Kiwi I met to find out what exactly I could expect in regards to the weather on my visit. Once the data had been collected and processed my conclusion was that I had absolutely no idea. Everyone had told me something different. Some said I would be cold and some said it wouldn’t be too bad. Some said it would rain a lot and some said it would be dry but windy. An absolute logistical nightmare as far as packing is concerned.

It transpired that these mixed reviews were all, somehow, accurate. Spring in New Zealand is a very unpredictable time weather-wise. We would go on to experience blistering heat and below zero temperatures. Bright sunshine, heavy fog, and pouring rain. We even got wind so strong it made international news. No two days were ever really the same and a fair few plans had to be altered or cancelled altogether as a result of the weather. If this trip were a sitcom the line up would be: me as the glamorous and hilarious star, Cam as my devoted partner and co-star, Jucy Brenda as the loveable best friend, and the weather as the erratic next-door neighbour who inevitably makes an appearance in every episode and has no discernible purpose other than to cause disruption. I’ll leave you to imagine the cheesy opening credits yourself but please make them as ridiculous and campy as possible.

In general nature decided what we really needed was some rain. Or, more accurately, an awful lot of rain. Our stop at Lake Taupo in particular was absolutely plagued with rain-related inconveniences. The visits to Huka Falls and Aratiatia Dam were intentionally wet but we had hoped that the rain would have eased off by the afternoon. Alas, as we pulled up to Craters of the Moon, a geothermal park that showcases the area’s natural geothermal activity, the rain only seemed heavier and there was no sign it would be stopping any time soon. I was promised an exciting walk around the park surrounded by steaming vents and bubbling pools. Granted this is what was delivered. I wasn’t aware, however, that I would end up with an understanding of the phrase ‘soaked through to the bone’ far clearer than I had ever had before.

The advantage of this frankly biblical weather was that we had the entire place to ourselves. We were in a world entirely of our own and it was one I couldn’t even recognise. Craters of the Moon, as it turns out, is an entirely appropriate title. We could well have been on the moon for all I knew. Everywhere I looked there was steam rising rapidly from one vent or another. Some with all the ease and gentleness of freshly baked pie just taken out of the oven on a sunny Sunday afternoon. Some with all the energy and vigour of a kettle at boiling point, indicating a delightful cup of tea is in your near future. It was truly magical and, annoyingly, the downpour only seemed to make the experience better.

After a brief and unsuccessful attempt to dry off a little in the van it became clear that the rain still wasn’t going to ease off, but I wouldn’t let this stop us taking in the sights around the town of Taupo. Or maybe I would as it turned out to be too misty to see any sights at all. Since we couldn’t get much wetter I decided we might as well wander around the botanical gardens. The gardens essentially consisted of a loop road along which you could pull up and explore at will. After an initial assessment loop it was decided that the ‘Floral Walk’ seemed the most appealing, the only problem was I couldn’t quite remember where it was. We parked the van near where we believed it to be and proceeded to spend the next hour ensuring our clothes remained as wet as possible and attempting to find the fabled ‘Floral Walk.’ Not only did I fail to find it, I also managed to lose the gardens entirely, and, shortly after that, the van as well. Once the van had (thankfully) been relocated I declared that we had more than served our time in the gardens and that the ‘Floral Walk’ had clearly ceased to exist. We climbed back into the van and headed for our campsite. Can you imagine what we found not 100m down the road? None other than the elusive ‘Floral Walk’ that had reappeared as magically as it had previously disappeared. Despite the many, many challenges and setbacks, this ended up being one of the funniest and most memorable days of the entire trip.

After this day, I accepted I would need to learn to embrace the weather in all its beautiful unpredictability and plans would have to be kept loose enough to be changed as the weather dictated. I could not be upset that Mount Taranaki remained shrouded in clouds whenever I had an opportunity to see it as it only granted me access to the exclusive club for those who have tried and failed many times to see it. I could not be upset that I hiked all the way up Queenstown Hill only to be entirely immersed in cloud and unable to see my hand stretched out in front of me let alone the beautiful view of Queenstown and the surrounding mountains that was promised as it turned out to be very funny. I could not be upset that I got absolutely drenched on the scenic (and expensive) boat ride through Milford Sound as it only meant that thousands of bonus waterfalls suddenly appeared running down every available surface. Nor could I be upset that we had to drive like the wind to get out of Milford Sound before the road was closed due to an avalanche risk as it gave me a fantastic story to tell. All these little things could have ruined my trip, but they only seemed to make it better. If it had been easy it wouldn’t have been any fun at all.

The landscape started it

As you may recall, my bottom remained firmly rooted in the passenger seat following the cow incident towards the start of the trip. The advantage of this, on top of the obvious advantage of not having to do any driving, was it gave me plenty of time to look out of the window and lose myself in thought. Nature has been the muse to many great artists since the beginning of time and will no doubt inspire many more to come. As a great artist myself I am no different. It was all I could do to pull myself back to the real world and avoid getting totally lost in my own thoughts when faced with the most incredible landscapes I could ever imagine. New Zealand truly is nature’s greatest hits all packed into two small islands. You could see vast lakes, snow-capped mountains, luscious green rolling hills, endless white sand beaches, and sparkling turquoise seas all in one day. If you stood in just the right spot you could probably see them all at the same time. Sometimes it was hard to even know what to photograph because it was all so impossibly beautiful.

I admired the mountains with their gentle folds and creases, like the softest, warmest blanket piled up on the floor with the kind of perfection that can only be created by accident. I chuckled to myself at the sight of deforested patches on the landscape that looked so like dogs that had been partly shaved for an operation I almost expected to see the mountain wearing the dreaded cone of shame (I certainly felt a little shameful for finding the humour in such a disappointing situation). I marvelled at the calm, smooth surfaces of lakes that reflected the surrounding landscape more perfectly than any mirror. I delighted in the never-ending spotting of rainbows and waterfalls and lambs and calves and birds and every other wonderful and unexpected bonus nature threw at me.

When the weather allowed, we also embarked on many a challenging and beautiful hike. The most memorable of these, without a shadow of a doubt, was Mount Isthmus. Located nearby to the far more popular Roy’s Peak, Mount Isthmus feels like the forgotten little sister that for some reason gets no attention. Never one to follow the crowd I, obviously, opted to hike Mount Isthmus for sunrise rather than Roy’s Peak, not least because I knew it would be impossible to get a parking spot for the latter. The alarms were set for 4 am at which point I came embarrassingly close to abandoning the idea all together. Thankfully I was not defeated by the ungodly hour and for this nature chose to reward me. Cam and I set out with only the light of our head torches to guide us, luckily we couldn’t see just how steep the path was or just how far it was to the summit. As the sun slowly rose we were greeted by the landscape gently materialising in front of us. Emerging in the half-light as though it was there just for us. The inky blue, star-studded sky gave way to soft blues and pinks and lilacs and oranges as the sun began to rise. A lake emerged, nestling in the valley as the snow-capped mountains were lit up bright orange reflecting the light of the rising sun onto our pink, flushed faces. It was, and still is, one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen and one of the most rewarding things I have ever done.

Lib Howden