NEW ZEALAND DIARIES. LESSONS AND DETOURS
From the stormy silence of Collingwood to the dazzling white of Franz Josef Glacier, this chapter of our journey shows New Zealand at its most unpredictable. Cancelled plans, storms, endless hours in the van, and the creeping exhaustion tested us – yet the reward was extraordinary. A first flight in a helicopter, a first step on a glacier, and the realisation that even missteps can lead to unforgettable memories.
New Zealand Diaries. Lessons and Detours | Journaux de Nouvelle-Zélande. Leçons et détours | Neuseeland-Tagebücher. Lektionen und Umwege | Diarios de Nueva Zelanda. Lecciones y desvíos | Diários da Nova Zelândia. Lições e desvios | Diari della Nuova Zelanda. Lezioni e deviazioni | Dzienniki z Nowej Zelandii. Lekcje i objazdy | ニュージーランド日記。学びと回り道 (Nyūjīrando Nikki. Manabi to Mawarimichi) | 뉴질랜드 일기. 배움과 우회 (Nyujillaendeu Ilgi. Baeumgwa Uhwe) | 新西兰日记。经验与绕行 (Xīnxīlán Rìjì. Jīngyàn yǔ Ràoxíng) | يوميات نيوزيلندا. دروس والتفافات (Yawmiyyāt Nīūzīlāndā. Durūs wa Iltifātāt)
A STORM IS COMING. CHANGE OF PLANS
The weather was stormy and the rain unrelenting. On Thursday, 1 February 2018, we set off north from Richmond to Collingwood, where we had booked our next hotel. The drive itself was only about two hours, but the conditions forced us to abandon our original plans, which had been meant to fill most of the day.
We now had to come up with an alternative.
For this day we had originally planned kayaking in Abel Tasman National Park. But after a night of heavy rain and strong winds, the idea of setting out on the water made no sense. We called the tour operator to cancel, and it wasn’t a problem – the money we had paid in advance was promptly returned to our account.
This would not be the last time. Just two days later we would cancel our glacier walk for the same reason, and in Queenstown we even heard a coach driver announcing to his passengers: We are very sorry to all of you who had to cancel because of the rain.
I don’t know if it’s a golden rule or not, but the attitude of every operator we dealt with left me impressed once again by the professionalism of New Zealand’s tourism industry. You can book your activities and pay well in advance, even from abroad. But if the weather turns and conditions make it impossible, you simply call, cancel, and within days the money is back in your account.
No paperwork. No arguments. Just trust and efficiency.
LOCAL COFFEE SHOPS. RECOMMENDABLE
That night we stayed in a hotel with a comfortable living room. Unlike our male companions, who had left earlier, we allowed ourselves a leisurely morning. Around ten o’clock we packed our things into the van and set off.
With the weather still unsettled, the pace of the day remained relaxed. We stopped in Richmond for an unhurried breakfast at a local restaurant, where once again we noticed both locals and tourists lingering over their meals and enjoying the morning.
Yet again a slow and rich breakfast in a local coffee shop. And a delicious coffee. Definitely, one of the advantages, while traveling New Zealand
LOCAL WINE AND CHEESE. ON THE MUST-DO LIST
After breakfast we headed to two wineries to sample the local produce. In total, we tried about fifteen different wines. Their flavour profiles were distinct – noticeably more tart than the European or Latin American wines we were accustomed to.
Out of all those tastings, there was only one wine we could all agree we truly liked.
Wine tasting at one of the wineries we visited
On our fifth day in New Zealand we confirmed, once again, one of our favourite discoveries here – New Zealand cheeses. At one of the wineries we ordered a cheese plate, and it only reinforced our growing theory.
Every time we stopped at a hypermarket we picked up a few varieties and made ourselves a cheese board, whether in a hotel room or by the roadside. Always, of course, with a sip of wine. It might sound like a luxury, but in fact it became our simple travel ritual.
So here’s a recommendation to anyone visiting New Zealand: don’t skip the local cheeses. They are a true specialty – just enjoy them.
LESSON TWO. TOO MUCH WINDOW SIGHTSEEING IS LOSS OF TIME
Our plan for the evening was to check in at the motel in Collingwood and then take photos of Golden Bay, one of the main tourist attractions in this part of New Zealand. On the way we drove through Abel Tasman Park, sightseeing mostly through the van window – as had become our habit in the past days. We stopped at several bays to take photos, yet again.
Boredom, boredom, boredom, one of my companions exclaimed. And yes – after yet another day of this routine, I had to agree. New Zealand is undeniably green and picturesque, but if you are renting a car or a van and moving from one location to another on a packed tourist itinerary, forget about seeking out additional scenic routes. You’ll find yourself on them constantly.
The country has so much more to offer than watching it pass by through a window.
IS THERE A PILOT ON BOARD?
Once again we found ourselves with too much time and ahead of schedule. The idea was to stop at a famous surfers’ restaurant for a hamburger – which, in reality, turned out to be just a food trailer. I passed on it this time.
What we didn’t pass on, however, were a few extra idle kilometres added to our journey. On the steep mountain curves the brakes began to overheat, forcing us to stop once or twice for several minutes to let them cool down. Watching the time slip away, I thought to myself: perhaps a watch would make a fitting birthday present.
When we finally checked in at our motel and asked the host about walking to Golden Bay, she widened her eyes and said: At this hour, if you go, I’ll have to call the firefighters to bring you down. The tide is coming in.
Yet again we messed it up, I thought. How was it possible that none of us had checked? One of the golden rules when travelling in countries with low and high tides is simple: always know the tide times.
We had to decide what to do instead. The wind was picking up and another storm was on its way, but for now at least it wasn’t raining. So we chose the simplest option – just a walk. No map, no plan, no particular destination.
After days of endless sitting in the van and aimless kilometres, we had all had enough. A bit of fresh air and a chance to stretch our legs felt like exactly what we needed.
COLLINGWOOD
Collingwood felt like the very end of the world. The town was almost deserted, its tiny centre just a couple of blocks with old buildings and many properties up for sale. Only a handful looked new or recently renovated.
On the walls, bits of street art hinted at a livelier past – people in elegant historical dress, frozen in painted scenes. I glanced up at a street sign: Kings Arms. A typical name for a pub in the English-speaking world, though here it looked more like a quiet reminder of what once had been.
Street art. A reminder of past times in Collingwood
The city was silent, almost deserted. Perhaps it was because a storm was approaching, or perhaps it was simply my own mood, worn thin from the constant riding. We turned at a crossing to get closer to the bay. On my right lay the empty streets of the town; on my left stretched the endless horizon.
At the forefront were clusters of colourful wildflowers. I found myself thinking of those who retreat into a monastery for a weekend to disconnect from the world. This place would be perfect for that – only here the silence came with views of the ocean and fresh air drifting in from far across the Pacific.
Suddenly I heard a child’s voice: Hello. I raised my eyes and looked around. A small girl was waving at me through a window. Naturally, I waved back and returned the greeting.
Perhaps the place wasn’t as deserted as I had thought. The moment made me smile to myself.
On one of the streets we noticed a signpost pointing to a historic cemetery, about half an hour’s walk away. (In New Zealand it’s common for signs to show the time needed to reach a place – a very practical custom.) We decided to go.
The cemetery turned out to be abandoned, yet still well-marked and ring-fenced. The old graves were crumbling, but the gravestones themselves were storytellers. We read about a man who had come to visit and accidentally drowned in the river; about a couple who had arrived from England in the late nineteenth century and died within months of each other twenty years later; and finally about a man who died while fulfilling his duties.
The Collingwood historical cemetery
DID WE NOT FORGET SOMETHING?
The visit to the cemetery made me think about New Zealand’s history – so new compared with Europe, and yet full of stories waiting to be told. What must it have been like for the immigrants who arrived at the end of the world? Their lives filled with good times and bad, with hopes and disappointments.
We hadn’t planned for any of that. A pity.
I remembered this again a week later, on the day of our departure. Sick and exhausted in a Christchurch hotel lobby, I sat on the sofa leafing through brochures of tourist attractions. One caught my eye with the word heritage on it – a historical tour through the mansions of two immigrant families, centred around storytelling. That was when I realised we had left a gap in our itinerary.
A fellow traveller suggested later that we visit a historic town along our route. So perhaps I wasn’t the only one who felt we had missed something. We caught only a glimpse of the old times, but it was far too brief – one of the major mistakes in our planning. Not to mention that we had no real insight into Māori culture at all.
Like the night before the Thursday-Friday night was a stormy one. We grabbed a bite (unfortunate choice, however), but quickly returned to the hotel. We spent the evening on processing photos.
A PENNY FOR A THOUGHT, ANY THOUGHT…
The morning began with some of my companions heading out to catch the sunrise at Golden Bay. Despite being short on sleep and not feeling well, two of them decided to go anyway. I, on the other hand, was already fatigued and could feel my immune system weakening. After days of spending barely any time outdoors – always in the van – I had grown indifferent to the ambitious plans of the photographers. This time, I stayed behind.
An hour later they returned completely drenched. As it turned out, taking a long walk during a hurricane wasn’t the wisest idea. I only heard fragments of their story – a field of sheep, the sudden downpour, the rush to find shelter, the grass soft and green underfoot. I pictured the scene in my mind, not realising that the following week I would end up lying unwillingly on that same kind of wet grass… but that is another story.
We packed our things into the van, hanging all the wet clothes across the luggage racks to dry. If I remember correctly, the next day two more of our companions had fallen ill. The misadventure once again made me question our style of travel.
NZ TRANSPORT AUTHORITY
Our journey further south was carefully planned – and it was bound to be a long one. From Collingwood to the Franz Josef Glacier area is more than 500 kilometres by road. The trip took about ten hours, much of it through mountainous terrain. We made only a couple of short stops – one at a supermarket, and later at a coffee shop, which proved not to be the best choice.
Because of the storms the day before, we had to keep checking the NZ Transport Authority website to confirm which roads were open. Fortunately, the route to our destination had reopened that very day. One detail I particularly appreciated came halfway through the drive: more than a hundred kilometres before our next stop, road authority workers flagged us down at a crossing to warn us about the conditions ahead.
They asked precise questions about the location of the house we had rented. At first, our group leader gave the wrong site, and the man advised us to look for alternative accommodation, convinced we would not reach our original destination. Only after we clarified the exact address – on the other side of the mountains – did he nod and finally wave us on.
Please, drive carefully, he said. Not all debris has been cleared from the road yet. Please, be careful, guys.
DAY 6 ROUTE
Day 6 route was planned as the longest one on a day with no extra activity in the meantime. But in the aftermath, this was already the third day out of six, when most of us made more than 500 km in the van daily.
LESSON THREE. LOOK AROUND AND ASK THE LOCALS
We reached our rented house before sunset. That evening we had a reservation at a well-recommended local restaurant, known mainly for its Asian cuisine but also offering traditional New Zealand dishes.
I opted for a hamburger and asked the waitress to bring me the most typical one for the region, along with a New Zealand beer.
The restaurant was lively, packed both inside and out. Dance music pulsed through the air, and behind the bar a small dance floor was already in motion. Set in the middle of a bustling tourist spot surrounded by mountains, it was clearly the place to be – especially on a Friday night.
Even though I was feeling unwell, I would gladly have stayed another hour, soaking in the music and the relaxed atmosphere that lifted my spirits. But unwillingly, I followed my companions back home, as some insisted on leaving. Given how tired and sick they were after the wet morning walk, it was understandable. In their place, I would have done the same.
In hindsight, leaving so quickly was a mistake. Staying just a little longer – talking to people, taking in the atmosphere, and simply looking around – might have spared us some of the evening’s worries and even allowed us to sleep longer the next day.
I only realised this the following morning, when we returned to the place in the clear light of day.
We were anxious about the next day, as we had booked a helicopter flight to a glacier walk. With the wind and rain, most flights had already been cancelled. When we arrived, our landlords told us there was a chance that helicopters might fly the following day – but our flight was scheduled on the other side of the mountains, with no road access.
On top of that, we worried whether the route further south would even reopen. A landslide nearly a hundred metres long had blocked the road, and local crews were working day and night to clear it, with some 800 tourists stranded on the far side.
Our mistake that evening was not looking around the restaurant or asking any questions. In the buildings right next door there were at least two operators offering glacier walks, with all their contact details displayed in the windows. The locals could have told us the same thing that a kind lady from the road authority explained the next morning: many people had cancelled their flights because of the weather.
A simple call in the morning to one of the operators on this side of the mountains – or even a quick visit at opening time – would have been enough to secure our glacier walk.
MORE LUCK THAN THOUGHT
With more luck than planning, we somehow made it. Running on little sleep, we set out early for sunrise photos. It was a failure – we didn’t find any truly remarkable spots, and in the end it felt like a waste of time and at least two precious hours of sleep. At least our two sickest companions had wisely decided to skip it.
On the way back we stopped at a police checkpoint to ask whether the passage to the other side of the mountains would reopen that day. In the morning it hadn’t. But, following the advice of a helpful lady from the road authority, we managed to switch our glacier walk to a different operator on our side of the mountains. By the time we arranged the flight it was already around eight o’clock, leaving us just enough time to rush back to our rented house, pack, and return to the operator’s office.
The consequence: none of us ate breakfast. I only managed an energy bar I’d stashed away for emergencies.
THE GLACIER WALK. RECOMMENDABLE
By nine o’clock on Saturday morning we were already seated in a helicopter bound for the glacier. It was a first for me – my first time in a helicopter and my first time ever stepping onto a glacier.
The tour operator provided us with all the necessary gear: waterproof jackets, trousers, and sturdy boots. For nearly three hours we had nothing but pure fun. I even drained the battery on one of my cameras.
A walk on a glacier. One of the outdoor activities you may enjoy in New Zealand
The tour was very professionally organised. Before tourists are brought onto the glacier each day, staff members go ahead to prepare the route, carving ice stairs into the steeper slopes. At least twice we had to be escorted across narrow, icy passages, using ropes to support the crampons on our boots.
A few weeks before leaving for New Zealand, I had focused on strengthening my leg muscles, which made the glacier walk easier. Still, there was a moment when I felt stuck between two icy walls. The three guides who accompanied us were a great help – kind, attentive, and always keeping up a good mood.
Lady, I’m not helping you. I just wanted to hold your hand, one of them joked as he steadied me on a tricky section.
Looking back, this stage of the trip was defined by contrasts. Collingwood felt like the end of the world – quiet, deserted, almost melancholic – while the glacier walk was the very opposite: vibrant, challenging, full of laughter and adrenaline.
We made mistakes, of course. We rushed when we should have stayed, failed to check tides, skipped meals, and once again spent far too long in the van. But New Zealand kept rewarding us anyway – with its landscapes, with its people, and with moments that turned our frustration into stories worth telling.
