NEW ZEALAND TRIP DIARIES. PART FOUR 

DAY 7 ROUTE

Following our glacier walk, we paused for a meal before proceeding to Wanaka, marking the next leg of our journey. During this time, road authorities had efficiently cleared the paths. The NZ Transport Authority posted an update on its website while we were still at the glacier, a piece of news that brought us considerable relief. Earlier that day, there had been concerns about possibly needing to detour through Christchurch due to road conditions, which would have extended our journey by at least fifteen hours.

Opting for a more direct route could have offered us the chance to enjoy dinner in the early evening, take a shower (a luxury momentarily out of reach due to hurricane damage forcing the village to operate on backup generators, leaving us without warm water), and retire to bed earlier. This would have been a welcome change after enduring two nights of insufficient sleep for most of us travelers.

Only three hours route. In the aftermath, although we departed around 1 pm, we made it only around 9 pm. Twice as much time as planned … Yet again…

STUCK AT THE MIDPOINT 

While on Saturday morning, we were walking around a glacier, I completely lost track of the world outside.

On the glacier. It looks quite … common and small. But if you look carefully above the horizontal rock formation in the middle, you will see a small black dot above its highest point. A dot is a man.

Embracing the experience fully, we embarked on a glacier walk that was nothing short of delightful. Yet, returning to the village, the fatigue of the journey hit me hard. Changing clothes and attempting to satisfy my hunger, I felt the weight of sleep deprivation and discomfort once again. Throughout our New Zealand trip, we’ve covered around 2,500 kilometers, with about 500 of those being somewhat uneventful. The last four days alone saw us traversing approximately 2,000 kilometers, dedicating between thirty to thirty-five hours to van travel. This significantly outweighed the time spent on foot, exploring sights or capturing moments at viewpoints. As the journey progressed, the landscapes began to blur into a repetitive backdrop, making our initial Get out, we shall see approach lose its charm.

In our group of seven travelers, five are showing signs of a virus or common cold, with one among us developing a cough. Despite these health setbacks, the majority of us were keen on pursuing sunrise photography on two back-to-back days. Waking up around five or five-thirty, without having chosen a specific spot or checking the weather forecast, our efforts to capture the sunrise amidst a hurricane proved fruitless. This lack of planning seems to be a recurring theme. Our impulsive decision to go ahead might stem from sheer boredom, pushing some of us to end up photographing sheep or cows instead. During the day, rest becomes a rare commodity for us.

Proper meals are a rarity; it’s mostly just junk food consumed on the go in the van. The chaos of catching the sunrise means we’re cutting our nights short, and during those nights, good sleep is elusive. You can manage with limited sleep for a night or two, maybe three. Last year in Paris, it was a whirl of late-night parties until one or two in the morning, every single day. But Paris is Paris – there’s always something to do, regardless of the weather, and we were stationary, based out of one hotel. The city offered endless opportunities for both indoor and outdoor exploration, or simply savoring the moment without the need for any strenuous activities (apart from perhaps walking down from the Eiffel Tower). It was a mere five hours from home, door-to-door, within the same time zone, and only a three-day trip. The rest at home rule was easy to live by in Paris. However, traversing New Zealand is an entirely different tale.

Our trip, in its current form, deviates significantly from the original concept of a ‘photographic expedition’. It falls short of providing us with a genuine opportunity to connect with the country or enjoy our vacation. Despite taking numerous photos, the selection for the final album will be narrow, cluttered with repetitive shots. Our itinerary, limited mostly to nature scenes and a handful of outdoor activities, lacks elements that would allow us to truly engage with the country’s culture, people, or history – even considering New Zealand’s relatively brief history compared to European countries. For most of us, except for two (myself included), this trip consumes nearly half of our annual paid leave from work. Yet, New Zealand is known for its comfort and accessibility. Our travel is not constrained by a tight budget or challenging conditions. New Zealand promises excellent accommodations, fine food, and clean facilities readily accessible to all. It’s an ideal setting for active rest and enjoyment of life. However, our activities run counter to these possibilities. Instead of leveraging what New Zealand has to offer, we seem to be doing the exact opposite. This is not the kind of experience that sends you home bursting with positive energy. Indeed, three weeks after jotting down these thoughts, I can confirm – my return home was marked by a profound sense of fatigue, not the rejuvenation I had hoped for.

By the midpoint of our journey, the only thought occupying my mind was the desire to return home, rest, and perhaps start afresh at some point in the future. While we still have five days left in New Zealand, the sense of adventure and enjoyment has faded, leaving us to navigate the remainder of our trip without the initial excitement and anticipation.

THE ROAD TO WANAKA 

Currently, we’re en route to Lake Wanaka, where a two-day respite awaits us. This technical break is much needed. Along the way, we witness firsthand the devastation wrought by the recent storm, observing areas that bore the brunt of its fury. The challenge in this mountainous region became evident: clearing fallen trees and landslides at one site was prerequisite to accessing another with heavy machinery, a domino effect of obstacles. This was the primary reason the road remained closed for about three days. Now, all traces of landslides have been cleared, and the eroded sections of the roadway have been repaired.

Our longest pause took place at an ocean beach, where we had initially agreed on a half-hour break. However, we found ourselves lingering a bit longer. For a brief moment, I watched as my companions shed their shoes and frolicked in the waves, cooling their feet in the salty embrace of the ocean. It prompted me to capture the moment with my camera. It wasn’t until I returned home and scrutinized the photos more closely that I recognized the evident exhaustion in everyone’s posture and expressions… We had been in this ocean-encircled country for a full week, yet this was the first occasion we truly felt the ocean’s presence. I overheard a quiet remark from one of my travel mates: I would stay here longer. And I couldn’t agree more; I felt the same.

The trees around the ocean beach were of a specific shape, contorted by the heavy winds. A view we will see many times yet again on the Southern Island.

The sun was beaming down. At one point or another, I felt the sting of what must have been a fly bite. Overwhelmed by fatigue, I sought refuge and sat down to escape the sun’s relentless glare. It wasn’t until we were back in the van that the itching started to make itself known. That day, I had donned a white, long-sleeved T-shirt and long trousers, which fortunately shielded most of my body from further bites. In my purse, I carried some anti-inflammatory cream, which provided slight relief from the itching. One of my companions shared with us that, unlike the mosquitos back home that pierce the skin, the local flies tend to tear it, resulting in a more intense and painful itching.

Once more, we found ourselves on the road, though we did pause for about an hour at a scenic locale bustling with both locals and tourists. A twenty-minute walk through dense shrubbery, similar to what was captured in the photograph, led to a sight of blue waters. The expectation of capturing numerous beautiful shots proved to be overly optimistic. The true spectacle was watching young people daringly leap from a bridge ten to fifteen meters high into the river below. The area was too crowded for any clear photography. Fatigued, I ventured back ahead of my companions, discovered a path to the riverbed, and settled on a stone. Once again, I found myself in a place where I wished I could linger longer, close my eyes, and just listen to the soothing hum of the waters. But the journey calls us back to the road, again and again, offering merely glimpses of New Zealand’s beauty and limited to two or two and a half hours of viewing through a window. Again, no opportunity for a proper meal presents itself. The itching from the fly bites is incessant, and I’m feeling unwell. The medication I took after descending from the helicopter has worn off…

At last, we catch sight of Lake Wanaka, its shade of blue almost beyond description. It’s a breathtaking spot, one you could easily find yourself sitting by, simply soaking in the view. We toy with the idea of a barbecue, yet our journey isn’t over; we still have over an hour and a half to reach our final destination. The route promises another lake view before circling back to the other side of Lake Wanaka, where our rental house awaits. We still need to drive, then get the barbecue ready, and wait for the coals to heat up. We won’t finish before the sunset. Let’s head to the house and rest. It’s been a long day, we conclude. Nonetheless, we pause briefly to capture another photograph. The blue of the lakes is stunning, a sight that never fails to impress.

On the way to Wanaka

THE FALLING MORAL

Inexplicably, we chose to proceed with the barbecue – a decision that felt more like a joke that no one acknowledged as such. It was an illogical choice. Five out of seven of us are ill, coughing incessantly. We’re all suffering from a lack of sleep, and most of us are dealing with itchy skin. Yet, here we were, embarking on another late-night barbecue in the middle of nowhere. We would have ample time for a relaxed barbecue the next day, given our two-night stay here… Yes, it was illogical. But no one voiced opposition. Who would we be hurting by saying no? Why the sudden change of heart? we pondered. Upon reaching the suggested spot, a companion reminisced, Here, under this tree, is where I pitched my tent five years ago. My eyes widened in surprise. Something meaningful happened to one of us years ago. Perhaps it’s a cherished memory. But does that mean we all need to replicate that experience now, under these circumstances? Can we really expect the same joy with five of us sick and sleep-deprived? No, we cannot. Assuming we would is a classic mistake. Professional reflections invaded suddenly my thoughts.

As we pulled over and disembarked from the van, the sun had yet to set at least, theoretically. But nestled in the mountains, shadows had already enveloped us, bringing an early chill. Someone popped the trunk open and began to unload the barbecue gear. Two of our group wandered off to scout the location. Barely five minutes passed before they returned, their verdict brief and to the point: It will take too long, they observed. It’s already growing dark. With a mixture of disappointment and resignation, communicated through downcast glances and mumbled half-sentences, the decision was made. This time, we opted to skip the barbecue…

Within roughly twenty minutes, we arrived at the house we had rented. To our pleasant surprise, it was a very comfortable and spacious villa, featuring a large table in the living room… There were multiple bedrooms, two fully equipped bathrooms, a laundry room, and a backyard that boasted another dining table. A fully equipped kitchen was conveniently situated next to the living room, offering everything a weary traveler could wish for. With minimal conversation, everyone pitched in to prepare our late supper. The barbecue was eventually set up in the backyard, and the evening unfolded quite beautifully. However, beneath the surface of this lovely night, there was an undeniable tension. The morale of our travel group was waning. The quiet was profound, too profound…

A TECHNICAL BREAK. CONSIDER AS A THUMB RULE

One of the essential rules for longer trips involving frequent changes of location is to schedule at least one stationary break, where you stay in the same place for a minimum of two nights. This technical break is invaluable. It offers you the opportunity to rest, do laundry, and allow your clothes to dry properly. Regardless of whether experiences during the trip have been positive or negative, utilizing this time wisely is crucial. This piece of advice is one that any seasoned traveler would endorse. I’ve heard it repeatedly and, while I haven’t always needed it myself, after listening to the varied travel tales of my friends and acquaintances, it’s advice I’d extend to anyone. It holds true regardless of the destination or the conditions of travel.

On the second day of our stay in Wanaka, three of my ailing companions embarked early to capture yet another sunrise, followed by a drive after breakfast. Their philosophy seemed to be a refusal to let sickness or the need for a good night’s sleep waste their time. It’s like a snowball effect. The less they care for their health, the sicker we all become, I noted in my diary. Two of us, including myself, chose to opt out entirely. We stayed back at the villa to rest, catch up on sleep, and took the opportunity to do our laundry. Another companion decided to carve out his own path, exploring the surroundings on foot. Meanwhile, the only one among us who hadn’t fallen ill went on a pre-booked canyoning adventure.

Did we make the most of our technical break? As events the following day would sadly demonstrate, the answer is no.

YET AGAIN LOOKING FOR A DOCTOR

On Monday, our collective health took center stage, derailing our travel itinerary. We had initially planned to spend the day in Queenstown, a city famed for its array of outdoor activities and purportedly the birthplace of bungee jumping. However, rather than heading out to Queenstown as planned around 10:15 am, we found ourselves arriving at a local medical center. Two of our group were feeling so unwell that they insisted on seeing a doctor. The earliest appointment available was at 5 pm – a wait that was far too long. Consequently, we devised a new plan: proceed to Queenstown to enjoy our scheduled outdoor activities, while three of us, including the driver and the unwell individuals, would later return to Wanaka for the doctor’s appointment. The 70 km distance from Wanaka to Queenstown, typically a one-hour drive, seemed manageable. We also entertained the hope of finding a medical center along the way or in Queenstown itself that could accommodate us sooner. As it turned out, we didn’t need to return to Wanaka. Fortuitously, we found a walk-in clinic right in the center of Queenstown. Despite this stroke of luck, the search for medical assistance led to numerous adjustments in our plans and resulted in a day that was effectively lost.

Was there something else we could have done? Yes, there was. On Sunday morning, around 10 am, we called our insurance company to inform them that we needed a doctor. The standard procedure involves contacting the insurer, and the call center staff then arrange for a doctor’s visit, regardless of the country. The representative from the call center promised to call us back within half an hour. However, he did not return our call within that time frame, nor did he contact us at all that day. Considering the time difference, it was already 10 pm on a Friday evening in Europe. We finally received a call 24 hours later, informing us that a visit to the Wanaka medical center had been arranged for Wednesday. By then, however, we would be hundreds of kilometers away. Consequently, we decided to find a doctor on our own. One could argue that the service from the insurer’s call center was unprofessional – and it certainly was.

Exactly one week prior, on a Sunday morning in Auckland, we found ourselves in the same predicament. When we contacted the insurer’s call center, the representative on the line said: I take note that you need a doctor. Find one on your own. Given the time difference and your travel itinerary, this will be the best solution. Following her advice, we managed to secure medical attention with minimal disruption, losing only two hours of our schedule while enjoying our first breakfast. The same approach could have been applied this Sunday in Wanaka at a medical center belonging to the same chain as the one in Auckland. Had we arranged for a doctor’s visit on Sunday, we wouldn’t have needed to alter our Monday plans to accommodate the search for an available doctor. This was particularly significant considering that Queenstown, our next destination, has much to offer.

No, we did not make wise use of our technical break in Wanaka. And once again, we ended up wasting another day of our New Zealand trip.

Gorgeous, isn’t it? I made this photo at one of the viewpoints on the road from Wanaka to Queenstown. Instead of focusing on photography and taking time to make shots, we had to hurry up. How fantastic the views were, I realized first as I processed photos weeks later at home.

ARROWTOWN

With the cloudy weather, I doubt that any of the photos we took on the road from Wanaka to Queenstown will turn out to be masterpieces. However, our search for a doctor led us to an unexpected detour to historic Arrowtown, near Queenstown. Adding just six kilometers to our route, the plan was to possibly visit a local doctor and take the opportunity to explore the town. Unfortunately, the local medical center we found turned out to be a surgical center, not suitable for our needs. Nevertheless, they provided us with useful advice to try the walk-in clinic in Queenstown.

So, we made a stop in Arrowtown. Personally, I was quite pleased with this, as after an unplanned visit to the Collingwood cemetery, my interest in New Zealand’s settlement history had been piqued. However, the decision was made to stay only for thirty minutes. The rationale given was: cars are parked all along the main street; no good shots are possible. Besides, we must find a doctor. It was disappointing, but it wasn’t the right time to argue.

I quickly toured the city center to capture some photographs of the old-style buildings. In the side streets, there were numerous charming coffee shops and restaurants – a contrast to the busy main street. Arrowtown struck me as another place where I could have spent more time. It would have been an ideal spot to compose a blog entry complete with photos and some historical facts about New Zealand. It also seemed like a perfect place to sit quietly and enjoy a meal. But, duty called, and we had to hit the road again.

Arrowtown

QUEENSTOWN

Finally, around 2 pm, we arrived in Queenstown and located the walk-in clinic. Our two unwell companions were told they’d have to wait about forty-five minutes for their appointment. The rest of us needed to find a way to occupy our time. But honestly, what significant activities can one start after 2 pm, even in a place as vibrant as Queenstown? One of our group had a jet boat ride planned long before our trip to New Zealand. I hadn’t even considered such activities that morning, but with another day turning out less thrilling than hoped, I quickly decided to salvage what remained of the day. Another fellow, also feeling spontaneous, decided to join in. So, we headed to the tourist office to purchase our tickets and reserve seats for the jet boat. The tourist office turned out to be more of an outdoor entertainment hub, offering a wide range of activities. Among the options, helicopter flights over the fjords and mountains caught my eye as something I’d be eager to try. We bought our jet boat tickets, but then we faced another waiting game: an hour and a half until we needed to return to the office to catch the coach to our adventure.

With an hour and a half to spare before our jet boat adventure, we joined our companions in the van and decided to grab a bite to eat. Spontaneously, one of our group suggested taking the gondola ski lift to one of the nearby mountain tops, and another decided to join. Without much discussion, the rest of us followed suit, and we all purchased tickets. We reached the top in about twenty to twenty-five minutes. Atop the crowded panorama view platform, we managed to snap some photos, but our time was limited. We had to return to the city center. For a brief moment, I watched people racing go-karts down a sled track, thinking how fun it would be if only we had more time. Unfortunately, we didn’t.

One of the quickly made shots from the mountain. As we spent only short minutes on the platform, and I was drained, I was not putting any attention to what I was photographing. The beauty of the panorama I realized as I was processing the photos at home. In the aftermath, a piece of advice to everybody: Queenstown is an exciting place for outdoor activities, but do not forget to contemplate the views. Of that what we saw or photographed, and it was pretty much most of the country, the Queenstown area was one of the most interesting ones.

While the twenty-five minutes of exhilaration on a jet boat didn’t fully make up for the daily time losses we experienced throughout our New Zealand trip, the ride itself was undeniably worthwhile. Racing through a canyon, I found myself genuinely laughing and squealing with delight throughout the entire ride. It was a moment of pure joy that briefly lifted the weight of our previous frustrations.

Taking cameras to the ride was forbidden because of safety reasons, but I managed to photograph the group, who departed before us.

The entrance to the canyon. The whole jet boat ride route was pretty much like this one on the photo.

The next stop was a Mexican restaurant. Exhaustion had set in, diminishing our interest in seeking out local cuisine. Even our other four companions, who had spent the interim shopping, opted for this familiar choice. Did I travel to New Zealand to dine at a Mexican restaurant? Certainly not. It was already half-past seven, and we still faced a two-hour drive (approximately 180 km) to reach our next motel. The journey and the choices we made along the way were taking their toll, drifting further from the authentic local experience I had expected.

On the way to Te Anau, the views along the scenic route are truly spectacular, even overwhelming. However, as darkness sets in, the opportunity to capture these sights in photographs slips away; the images wouldn’t do justice to what we see. Fatigue has overtaken most of us, with several fellows asleep in the van. There’s a sense of urgency now, a rush to reach our motel as quickly as possible. We arrive after ten pm. There’s just enough time to sit down for a brief rest, perhaps take a shower. Our journey, marked by moments of beauty, has ceased to be a pleasure…

DAY 8 ROUTE

A three and half hour route on day eight. In the aftermath – proper planning. But the wrong organization on the spot made most of us lose another day.