"Holy Shit! Would you look at that?!" - Our vertical journey to Mueller Hut

You know what is really relaxing? I mean like, seriously mentally soothing? Emotionally calming? Totally soul cleansing?

 

Not spending 3 hour's pay on a 1-hour massage. And not gogi berry-kale-chia seed extract smoothie cleanses. And for the love of God, it's not Netflix binges.

 

Mountain climbing. To feel truly connected, small yet significant, humble yet empowered, I recommend finding the tallest mountain you can confidently climb, and doing that.

 

Scott and I had planned on trekking to Mueller Hut at the Aoraki/Mt Cook National Park for the last several weeks. This weekend excursion also happened to fall on good old Valentine's Day. 

 

How could I have known that leading up to this trip I would be feeling incredibly overwhelmed and mentally exhausted? I still haven't figured out how to plan when life is going to get crazy on me. But then life handed me a perfect weekend to climb a mountain, which happened to be right at a moment when I needed some fulfillment and clarity. Coincidence?

 

Anyhow! Mueller Hut is a 28-bed accomodation pearched atop a dramatic alpine ridge with 360 degree views of mountain tops and glaciers. Huts such as these are not as unique as this sounds (if you aren't a Kiwi). New Zealand's Department of Conservation (DOC) has an amazing system of huts set up (and has done for over 100 years) for serious mountain explorers, scientists, hunters, etc. There are many apline and back-country routes with huts strategically placed, not to deter one from camping, but to allow for safer and longer adventures. The most basic huts aren't much more than shelter with sleeping mats or bunks, but larger huts include a basin to do dishes (and sometimes running water), a common eating room, maps, emergency supplies, and occasionally in high season a Warden to facilitate/educate/regulate.

The week leading up to our trip I kept a hopeful yet doubtful eye on the weather. I had been warned, if it's cloudy or poor conditions, don't even bother. And, you guessed it, despite our week of late summer sun, the weekend was forcast to be cloudy with periods of rain.

 

With this in mind, I packed the car on Friday night with the equipment to go anywhere. Tent. Food. Chairs. Blankets. Beer. And we decided to decide our route on Saturday morning. But because of this plan, I discarded the idea of actually spending the night at Mueller Hut. (Full disclosure: something's gotta be pretty damn amazing for me to want to spend the night in a 28-bed room.)

 

Saturday morning met us with gloom and doom in Canterbury, but the completely unreliable MetService hinted that things could possibly maybe but not surely be sunnier down south. We filled up on gas and coffee and hit the road.

 

With Mueller Hut being our only big plan, we actually kept things pretty leisurely. A coffee and muffin stop on Ashburton. Ooh, we also bought a new camera, the Canon Power Shot G15 (re: last year's camera majorly on sale, all good for someone still trying to keep up with technology from 2010). I'm not a spur of the moment consumer, but we had done a bit of recent research and the desire...no, necessity for a new camera prompted this on the road purchase.

 

At Lake Tekapo we stopped to grill sausages and onions on the roadside. This is a Kiwi camping lunch people, and in a Kiwi travel fashion. If you intend to backpack/campervan/whatever through NZ, I recommend you buy a camp stove and start enjoying sausages. 

We also played a little with the new camera.

From Tekapo to Twizel, we stopped at a random lake, did a short hike through the high plains, and drove the levies looking for the rare black stilt (no luck). I spent most of this time getting further acquainted with the new camera.

My favorite beer right now. An aromatic (floral) hoppy Pale Ale from Liberty Brewing
in New Zealand, not bitter on the palate or on the finish. Refreshing, yet not boring. A+ guys.

The rest of the day was spent leisurely hiking/walking around Twizel, without photos since the new camera came with a 10% charged battery. Don't you worry though, I based my Valentine's Day date night table choice soley on location near an outlet. (Side note: when in Twizel, eat at Shawty's. Appreciate their craft beer, local wines, and tasty food. You will thank me.)

Prior to leaving Christchurch, Scott had scoped out potential camp sites on Google maps. He found us a lakeside spot on Lake Pukaki, which conveniently required a 4WD vehicle to access. He loves testing the old Subaru's limits.

Despite a few celebratory Valentine beverages, we made the decision to get up at 6am to a) beat the weather which was indicating "afternoon clouds moving in" and b) try to catch sunrise in the Mt. Cook carpark over breakfast. Thus, no photos of our lakeside camp spot.

As it turned out, sunrise was a mere pink glimmer in the sky for about 5 minutes. And, the sky was packed with clouds. Socked in. Not a peep of blue. But once you've arrived at Aoraki/Mt. Cook carpark, you don't really leave. It's a long drive. So despite being told to save the hike for a clear day and despite the foreboding "clouding in" I had read about, we set off. 

A note about the Mueller Hut tramp: it starts with 10 minutes of undulating bush walk. That's all the flat you get. You then climb 1,800 stairs- steep stairs- to the midway point where there is a large picnic table with a helluva view. Then you start the Sealy Tarns track, a 1,500+ foot rocky mountain-side terrain with moments of scree scrambling. Where I would recommend it to those who are fit and agile, the DOC insinuates that any tramper (as opposed to "walker") with moderate fitness should be fine! I think Kiwi fitness and everyone else fitness may be on different scales!

Note: all stair photos are completely different stairs... and only the most scenic stairs were selected for this blog!

A short stop to turn around and admire the view thus far. That's Hooker Glacier in the background,
the same one Kim and I hiked to a few months ago. 

What a view!

Before we even finished climbing the last few hundred stairs, we were in the clouds. We couldn't see more than 20 feet in front of us, and we surely couldn't make out where the ridge line was. We were hiking blind! At one point we passed a hiker who was stopped and told us he planned to turn around, as a group of elderly trampers had advised him the clouds weren't meant to lift all day. Though this concerned us slightly, there was no way we were going to just throw away the 1000+ stairs we'd already climbed.

Then the trail turned to this:

After about 2 hours ascent, we ran into a German girl, and a few moments later another German girl, who both excitedly promised us that Mueller Hut was in the sun! Who knew for how long, but when they had left, it was above the clouds!

At this moment we abandoned all exploration and photo opportunities, and we even ate while we climbed. If this thing was going to be in the sun for a limited time only, we needed to get there ASAP.  We sensed we were nearing the top as more and more people were coming down (having spent the night). And though we were still socked in the clouds, we were encouraged by the sight of something on most of their faces/heads: sunglasses!

The rock climb/scree scramble turned to full-on boulder jumping and I smiled to myself thinking again how DOC recommends this hike for any tramper. But I was loving it, and the feel of the sun creeping through the last wisps of cloud and hitting my skin. As we broke through the clouds, Scott exclaimed, "Holy Shit! Would you look at that!!?"... just as we passed a mom and her school-aged daughter. "I mean, look how amazing it is..." he corrected himself, and was met with a dubious look. We scurried the last few feet.

And then, we arrived:

Photos do so much more justice than words in instances like these. 

Aoraki/Mt. Cook

 

We explored, then sat on our own piece of ridge line and just watched. We watched the clouds undulate, burn off from below, and eventually roll in from above. We watched pieces of glacier cleave, listening to and feeling the rumble as the broken bits cascaded down the mountain. We searched for Keas, admired the numerous glacial waterfalls, and soaked up the harsh alpine sun.

We took the time to be present in our surroundings. To feel small. To think big. To clear our minds and hearts. A place like this will do that to a person.

After about an hour we left our spot and checked out Mueller Hut, vowing to come back some day and stay the night. What would the stars look like from this little piece of mountain top?

Camping shelters- not for the faint of heart!

Kitchen inside Mueller Hut

One of 2 bunk rooms, 14 people each.

We ate, and took our time walking back from the hut to the trail. We watched a paraglider whip by, taking in the views from what I can only imagine is the most epic vantage point humanly possible. And then we descended.

The wonderfully frustrating things about experiences like these is that no photo I take is going to resemble the beauty I felt when I looked with my own eyes. As I endeavor to become a better photographer, to share these places and moments with all of you (or just you, mom), I hope to be able to capture just that little bit of extra magic. But I also accept that moments like these need to be absorbed and preserved in the mind's eye, because a camera lens held by the most fantastic photographer in the world couldn't recreate what a place like this made me feel.

Our descent was perfectly clear. We enjoyed the irony of it: that we actually found it less majestic being able to see what's coming next. (There's a life-metaphor if I've ever heard one...) It was an awesome experience hiking up "blind", having no idea how much further or how steep the trail would go. It was like being led to a secret location with a blindfold on, the clouds finally uncovering the glaciers and mountains, as if to say "surprise!". 

We finished the hike feeling battered, starving, spent, fulfilled, and happy.

View from near the car park- not half bad for those who don't have the time or capability for a hike.

Never ones for getting on the road home too early, we took one last detour down on last dirt road to our own private beach on Lake Pukaki. We threw a blanket out and slept in the sun. Hard. Several thousand feet of climbing and descending in one day will do that to you. 

A really nice beer: a hoppy red ale (thus, "scarlet") which is actually has sweet, toasted malt notes on the nose.
This combined with floral hop aroma (thanks to Washington State's Yakima hops), makes for a beautiful beer
just to smell! Full-bodied and well balanced, it finishes strong as well, with slightly bitter hops lingering on the palate.

Until next time, mountains. Thank you for everything.

New Zealand's Stunning West Coast

First and foremost, sunny weather makes me a crappy blogger.

Sorry.

More importantly, we recently had an amazing trip to the west coast. New Zealand's west coast (of the south island) is super remote. In it's 9,000 square miles, it's home to only about 32,000 people. Less than 4 people per square mile!

Which is exactly what it felt like when we pulled up to our bach near this beach:

Where is everybody? Wait, I don't care!

Let me take a moment to explain why the photos in this post (and presumably many future posts) are such low resolution and/or directly pilfered from my Instagram: the camera broke.

Well that didn't even take a moment.

Moving on. The desolate beach, looking back at the baches:

Ugly, eh?

Our whole plan to visit the west coast was relatively last minute, so we only had 2 nights. We shot over after a short day of work Friday, just in time to enjoy the Cape Foulwind seal colony. I assume the cape gets it's name from frequent stormy weather... but let me tell you, when many seals get together and you are downwind... the name may be a double entendre.

We hiked well above the seals and enjoyed the views. And some bread and cheese. And the most horrible beer I've ever had in my life. (It was on sale, and from Russia, so I deserved it.)

Anyways, Cape Foulwind:

Isn't New Zealand's west coast already the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?!

We watched the sun set, and grabbed amazing burgers (and GOOD beer) at the local tavern. The west coast is rugged, and so are it's people. Sure there's fancy places to eat (like one), but when in Rome... order a beer and play pool.

In the morning we drove south, on route to a cave hike, but stopped first at this amazing little beach. Well, stumbled upon really.

I hate photos that do no justice. This is doing no justice.

We walked along the beach to a rocky bluff, lured over by the sight of a small bridge connecting two massive outcroppings, like the entrance to a castle.

Ok, not so castle like... but from afar!

Back in the car, we drove south another 40 minutes or so to the Paparoa National Park. Oh, what beautiful mountains... Anyhow, I had read about a hike to Fox Cave in the ever trusty guide book. The page has been folded down for a few years, and there's even highlighter mark presumably from our honeymoon... so it was about time to check it out!

The hike started innocently enough. After about 30 minutes though, we lost the trail. Or rather, the trail went directly into the river, but we followed a small scramble-track for at least 30 minutes straight up the side of a mountain. I can only assume this track is for local hunters or scientists, and it was quite cool, but when we were 110% sure we were on the wrong path (and no longer certain where we even were) we turned back.

This time we took our shoes off and forded the river like good Kiwi hikers on a gentle stroll. (Note to self: go barefoot at all times for tougher soles, riverbeds hurt!)

Back on track, we started ascending again but this time with frequent trail markers. The trail itself started getting quite cool, with big mossy rocks and small waterfalls about.

Yep, you're looking at the trail, not the scenery. Well, both I guess.

Once we reached the cave, I really had no idea what we were looking at at all:

The problem with a lot of the most amazing things in New Zealand (i.e.: Oparara Arches) is they are so difficult to capture on camera, let alone camera phone. The scale of these particular wonders is pretty much impossible to get without mega-equipment, distance, maybe even a helicopter!

So alas, photos that would probably be better left to the imagination. The one above is the "lower cave" ceiling. I loved the moss growing on it, but in this quality it doesn't look like much at all!

Below, the "upper cave". Don't see it? Don't worry, we could barely work out where we were supposed to go until we got there. That rock in the foreground of the photo is actually a path, which leads up to the cave, the crevice in the top half of the picture.

So exploring Fox Cave is everything I love about New Zealand. It was free. It was a little bit dangerous. It was not dumbed down with railings and wide trails. And it was incredible.

This cave is passable for the keen spelunker for around 600 meters. The first 20 meters or so are completely walkable, but after that it's a hands-on experience. Good light and good footwear is imperative. As we got deeper in the cave, the experience was more like bouldering, and eventually it becomes wet. And cave water is cold, let me tell you. 

The one thing about this magnificent place being open to the public is that it is not pristine. Stalactites and stalagmites take millions of years to form, yet human traffic through the cave during the last 50 years has caused immense damage. That being said, overhead and in many nooks and crannies, one can see the beauty of untouched cave decor. It's amazing.

I know you know, but again, sorry about photo quality...

Scott looking back towards the entrance.

Looking up in a small space.

Pitch black cave selfie!

We spent 20-30 minutes clambering in the cave before we reached deeper (not too deep, but too cold!) water and decided to turn back.  Walking out of the cave felt like walking out of the grocery store on a summer day, let me tell you! The world is a hot, humid place compared to the guts of a cave!

Guarding the entrance

Following the cave adventure and then some wine on the beach, we drove back north. We stopped briefly about a place I'd read about in the guide book as being a cool spot to stop. 

Joyce Bay and Constant bay are "twin bays" near Charlston, NZ. On the map, it looks like the cartographer (map maker) accidentally hit copy-paste on the coast and plunked the same bay down twice. Anyways, we checked them both out. They were both very pretty. And difficult to tell apart.

Which bay is she? Constant? Joyce? Constant? No, Joyce. Bays that understand #twinproblems.

Part of our original plan had been to go out at dusk on the search for a great spotted kiwi. (Did you know that the great spotted kiwi, the largest of all kiwis, can grow to be 45cm tall and weigh 3.3kg - over 7 pounds! Who knew?!)

As the time came, we sort of realized with the kiwi population being what it is (scarce) and our utter lack of knowledge of where to even look (besides the obvious: mountains, forest), and being that we were currently on the beach thus facing and hour or more drive at dinner time.... we scrapped the plan.

I'd like to note that the plan is not permanently scrapped, and there is a company that will take you out in the wild to a known kiwi breeding area so that you can spot one in the wild (well, 91% of the time, allegedly). So the plan is on hold, with better... planning.

Our revision was to return to Cape Foulwind where we had seen signs for little blue penguin crossing. Penguins are most commonly spotted at dusk or just before, cruising up to their burrows, sometimes several hundred meters from the ocean.

Perfect, we though. Except. It's penguin-molting season. And apparently, when they molt, they never actually leave their burrows.

So, foiled again. But we looked anyways, and enjoyed the sunset and another moment which felt so similar to several others on this trip: like nothing could be more beautiful in the world. At least, at that moment.

I know you were worried... there hasn't been one mention of bikes! No, no, we'd never leave the kids bikes at home! What if they missed us?

On our last morning we revisited Denniston Plateau, a place we went last time we were on the west coast, but were forced to abandon due to poor weather.

This time we had great weather. Unfortunately, the trails are a bit difficult to find. We were on and off several different ones (color coded, "how did we get on red?" "Were we going for blue?" "Why has that sign got a rainbow on it, what does that mean?"). So we spent a fair amount of time wondering if we were missing the good stuff, but we still had good fun.

I took a few photos of Scott on some unexpectedly gnarly sections of trail:

Ok, way steeper in person than it looks here!

Ok, also way steeper in person- but look at that "trail!"

And he took one of me during our brief time on Mars:

After our ride and lunch, time started chasing us. We both had to work early in the morning, but had no desire to leave. It was arguably the nicest day we'd had yet (ok, every single one was perfect) and we felt no rush. We drove in a leisurely way down the coast towards Greymouth, where we would have to turn inland. We stopped several times, and on one stop I snapped this:

Camera phone or not, is this not the most beautiful place you've ever seen?! I know!!!

Now I just need to be philosophical for a moment here.

There are hard things about living abroad. Missing family and friends goes without saying. Missing places, food, certain ways of life. Leaning new cultures, etc. There's challenges, but a lot of it is why you move.

But the hardest thing for me about living in New Zealand is this: the longer I live here, the more I realize that I can never see it all. And this is a place you want to see all of. Or at least I do. I will never tire of the ferns, the rivers, the glaciers. I can't see one too many dramatic mountains, hear too many native birds, or tire of the smell of the beech forest.

Every time we travel, whether it be an hour-long drive to Akaroa, or across the island, we see signs. They're usually yellow, and always point down a dirt road. Waterfall. Gorge. River. Outlook. Scenic Route. (This one always kills me, because every road is the scenic route.) We're always enroute to somewhere, and though we can occasionally stop and explore, we often can't, and we certainly couldn't see them all.

We've been in New Zealand for two years and I've realized this: I'm never going to get enough. I don't know how long we're going to stay here, and I get excited about all kinds of other opportunities around the world. But be it 2 more months or 2 more years, or a lifetime... It would be impossible to see it all. It's something I have to learn to be okay with, as a part of my heart now belongs to New Zealand's little side roads.

This road popped up on our left just a few moments before we needed to turn inland and end our journey. We were chasing sun and pressed for time and it was gated off. But this time we stopped anyways, and walked, and threw rocks in the river, and marveled at the cliffs, and chased dragon flies and enjoyed a moment of unplanned happiness.

And then we happily drove home.