Thursday, February 24, 2011
Quick Update
As I was putting my passport in my pocket, I was alerted to the fact that our flight to Dunedin today had been canceled. After some stress and scrambling among the 20 of us who were on it, I ended up in a group of five who found a rental car for about $60 a day, so we're going to road trip it down to Dunedin and then across the island to the west to do some camping and hiking for the week. Others are flying down tomorrow or taking buses today. More improvisation and impulsiveness -- the best way to live!
Earthquake
As most of you are aware by now, Christchurch was struck by a hugely destructive earthquake yesterday afternoon. I would first like to thank everyone who sent me an email, left me a facebook message, or called my parents to check on me. It means a lot.
The first thing to say, then, is that I and everyone I know here is perfectly fine. The second thing to say is how lucky we are. The University of Canterbury is located in western Christchurch, the least badly hit part of the city. The damage out here is miniscule compared to the destruction the news has been showing in downtown and elsewhere. While much of the city still has no electricity, we had both power and water restored last night, and some supermarkets and shops in the area were open this afternoon. So, besides the regular aftershocks, boiling our drinking water and being unable to shower or flush the toilet unless we really have to, the basics of life have largely returned to normal here at Uni.
But that's not to say yesterday was normal. Classes had started here on Monday, so the quake hit on only the second day of the semester. I left my flat at about quarter to one to walk to my first class of the day and second of the week. I was nearly there, walking with hundreds of other students on an asphalt sidewalk through central campus when my legs suddenly started to feel unstable underneath me. I instinctively reached for the chain separating the sidewalk from the lawn to stabilize myself as the ground began to sway more violently. They had warned us at orientation that we would be experiencing aftershocks throughout the semester, but it still took me a few seconds to realize what was going on (it was my first time in an earthquake). I remember my first thought afterwards was wondering if it was safe to be under the big tree I was standing right next to. I then remember looking at a woman who was also holding onto the chain a few feet away. By the time my brain had fully registered what was happening and tried to figure out what I should do, the shaking had mostly stopped. I don't know how long the ground shook, but it felt like only about 10 seconds.
At that time, I (and most people, I imagine) had no idea how much damage the quake had caused. Having never been in an earthquake, I had no idea whether this was a typical aftershock or something out of the ordinary. No windows had shattered, no buildings had collapsed, nobody around was screaming or panicking, and everyone seemed to just be continuing on their way. I thought it quite exciting, actually (the feel of an earthquake under you is kind of cool if you're in a safe place). After exchanging pleasantries with the people right near me, I continued on to class. I ran into one of my flatmates on the way and we exclaimed over the experience. She was going to get coffee, and I walked over to my classroom. A couple other students were also headed there, and though I thought the class would probably be canceled, I wasn't sure. The power had gone out with the quake, though, and the lecture theater was dark. Looking a little more closely, I realized that a bunch of ceiling tiles had fallen and there was debris all over the desks. A student walked up who had apparently been in the room when the quake hit and had had his hand hit by a falling tile. I decided that class for the day was probably canceled, and went back outside to see what was happening.
The flecks are dust picked up by my flash. You can see the fallen tiles.
I found a bunch of people standing around in a parking lot, which I assumed was an evac spot. No one seemed unduly concerned; they were chatting, laughing, talking about where they were. I figured that meant it was a regular drill for the locals and actually went back to the lecture theater to make sure no one had put anything on the door about class and to take the second picture above. When I walked out, the courtyard outside was deserted, so I decided I better go find the people.
I saw a large stream of people walking away from campus, perpendicular to my direction, so I joined them (there was no one walking in any other direction). We walked past the entrance to the main square in front of the library, which was empty, and I saw official looking people standing at the top of the steps. The clock tower in the square was stopped at about 12:52. I decided they had chosen to evacuate the campus, so I shrugged and followed along. I didn't get far.
I was standing a little below and just off the end of one of the big buildings on campus, in fact just around the corner from where I had been for the quake, when the first aftershock hit. It was about as strong as the first, and I grabbed onto the same chain I and concrete posts I had earlier (except around the corner). This time, more prepared, I looked around a little bit. I could see the building to my left moving, and the window on the bottom floor looked like those thin plastic cutting boards do when you grab on each end and push together and move your hands up and down. The entire pane was oscillating in and out by what looked like could be feet. The people on the path right below the building screamed and ran down the tiny, shrub-covered rise towards the path I was on. Meanwhile, the lamp post to the left of the building looked was literally moving like a shaken jelly stick. It looked like a movie animation, not like anything that could be real. As soon as the shaking stopped, a lady in a Canterbury vest started waving and shouting "Go! GO! GO!" (perhaps it was Move).
This was when I first had an idea that this might be worse than a normal aftershock, but I still wasn't sure what was going to happen -- I thought school would probably open the next day or later this week. I walked onto the fields where everyone was gathering, and when I couldn't find anyone I knew I walked back to the Ilam Apartments, where I live. There I found a number of other people from my program. Most had been at home when the quake struck, but everyone was fine. There hadn't been any damage at Ilam either. One of them had already talked to their parents (cell networks were up) and had heard it was a magnitude 6.3. So it was at least decently big.
With most people just milling about, unsure quite what to do (they weren't letting anyone back into their apartments), the group of us Arcadia people decided to take a walk past our local grocery store and down the major commercial road. The roads were jammed with people driving home, but we cruised along the sidewalks. I gave Mom and Dad a call on the way to let them know we'd been hit and that I was fine (they didn't know about the quake yet).
When we got to the store, all the power was out (I hadn't been sure if the power had gone because of the quake itself or because of a UC emergency shutoff). Employees were milling about outside, and someone was attempting to make sure everyone was out of the buildings. We continued walking along, with a stop at the liquor store to see the damage:
One church had sustained some structural damage:
The guy at the farmer's market was putting all the fruit back into the warehouse, so we wandered back towards Ilam and decided Andrew would make noki and we would cook it on my backpacking stove (hooray for camping supplies). Back at Ilam, lots of people were still standing outside, but all but one of the buildings had been cleared for us to return to. I went to my room to pick up the stove and survey the damage. Not bad, just a shelf or two shaken off its proper place and some knocked over bottles:
Our cell phone contacts slowly made us realize the magnitude of the destruction, and we started to worry a little about getting fresh water (though we had water right after the quake, the taps had run dry). To burn time, we played some outdoor games and took another walk around the neighborhood, now eerily quiet and deserted. We did get some water at one corner market where the owner was cleaning up. Andrew proposed making cookie dough (he's quite the cook), so we did that to burn some time and get some calories (I found myself instinctively eating all day, even dry pasta. Maybe that's one of my reactions to disasters). Facilities people came by each of the rooms to check on the bathrooms and water heaters. The quad in Ilam slowly emptied as people returned to their rooms and the local students went home.
Perhaps one of the last pictures taken of Cave Rock (the lump on the right side).
The first thing to say, then, is that I and everyone I know here is perfectly fine. The second thing to say is how lucky we are. The University of Canterbury is located in western Christchurch, the least badly hit part of the city. The damage out here is miniscule compared to the destruction the news has been showing in downtown and elsewhere. While much of the city still has no electricity, we had both power and water restored last night, and some supermarkets and shops in the area were open this afternoon. So, besides the regular aftershocks, boiling our drinking water and being unable to shower or flush the toilet unless we really have to, the basics of life have largely returned to normal here at Uni.
But that's not to say yesterday was normal. Classes had started here on Monday, so the quake hit on only the second day of the semester. I left my flat at about quarter to one to walk to my first class of the day and second of the week. I was nearly there, walking with hundreds of other students on an asphalt sidewalk through central campus when my legs suddenly started to feel unstable underneath me. I instinctively reached for the chain separating the sidewalk from the lawn to stabilize myself as the ground began to sway more violently. They had warned us at orientation that we would be experiencing aftershocks throughout the semester, but it still took me a few seconds to realize what was going on (it was my first time in an earthquake). I remember my first thought afterwards was wondering if it was safe to be under the big tree I was standing right next to. I then remember looking at a woman who was also holding onto the chain a few feet away. By the time my brain had fully registered what was happening and tried to figure out what I should do, the shaking had mostly stopped. I don't know how long the ground shook, but it felt like only about 10 seconds.
At that time, I (and most people, I imagine) had no idea how much damage the quake had caused. Having never been in an earthquake, I had no idea whether this was a typical aftershock or something out of the ordinary. No windows had shattered, no buildings had collapsed, nobody around was screaming or panicking, and everyone seemed to just be continuing on their way. I thought it quite exciting, actually (the feel of an earthquake under you is kind of cool if you're in a safe place). After exchanging pleasantries with the people right near me, I continued on to class. I ran into one of my flatmates on the way and we exclaimed over the experience. She was going to get coffee, and I walked over to my classroom. A couple other students were also headed there, and though I thought the class would probably be canceled, I wasn't sure. The power had gone out with the quake, though, and the lecture theater was dark. Looking a little more closely, I realized that a bunch of ceiling tiles had fallen and there was debris all over the desks. A student walked up who had apparently been in the room when the quake hit and had had his hand hit by a falling tile. I decided that class for the day was probably canceled, and went back outside to see what was happening.
The flecks are dust picked up by my flash. You can see the fallen tiles.
I saw a large stream of people walking away from campus, perpendicular to my direction, so I joined them (there was no one walking in any other direction). We walked past the entrance to the main square in front of the library, which was empty, and I saw official looking people standing at the top of the steps. The clock tower in the square was stopped at about 12:52. I decided they had chosen to evacuate the campus, so I shrugged and followed along. I didn't get far.
I was standing a little below and just off the end of one of the big buildings on campus, in fact just around the corner from where I had been for the quake, when the first aftershock hit. It was about as strong as the first, and I grabbed onto the same chain I and concrete posts I had earlier (except around the corner). This time, more prepared, I looked around a little bit. I could see the building to my left moving, and the window on the bottom floor looked like those thin plastic cutting boards do when you grab on each end and push together and move your hands up and down. The entire pane was oscillating in and out by what looked like could be feet. The people on the path right below the building screamed and ran down the tiny, shrub-covered rise towards the path I was on. Meanwhile, the lamp post to the left of the building looked was literally moving like a shaken jelly stick. It looked like a movie animation, not like anything that could be real. As soon as the shaking stopped, a lady in a Canterbury vest started waving and shouting "Go! GO! GO!" (perhaps it was Move).
This was when I first had an idea that this might be worse than a normal aftershock, but I still wasn't sure what was going to happen -- I thought school would probably open the next day or later this week. I walked onto the fields where everyone was gathering, and when I couldn't find anyone I knew I walked back to the Ilam Apartments, where I live. There I found a number of other people from my program. Most had been at home when the quake struck, but everyone was fine. There hadn't been any damage at Ilam either. One of them had already talked to their parents (cell networks were up) and had heard it was a magnitude 6.3. So it was at least decently big.
With most people just milling about, unsure quite what to do (they weren't letting anyone back into their apartments), the group of us Arcadia people decided to take a walk past our local grocery store and down the major commercial road. The roads were jammed with people driving home, but we cruised along the sidewalks. I gave Mom and Dad a call on the way to let them know we'd been hit and that I was fine (they didn't know about the quake yet).
When we got to the store, all the power was out (I hadn't been sure if the power had gone because of the quake itself or because of a UC emergency shutoff). Employees were milling about outside, and someone was attempting to make sure everyone was out of the buildings. We continued walking along, with a stop at the liquor store to see the damage:
Andrew knew of a farmer's market nearby and having nothing better to do we continued down the road. All the streetlights were out, and the intersections were self-controlled. Didn't see any crashes, though:
There was very little damage, so we all figured the quake had been relatively minor and things would be back to normal the next day. Still, we checked out all the fallen over items in shops along the way:
The rest of the afternoon was a mix of cooking, slowly hearing reports from the rest of the city trickle in, aftershocks, and just waiting around talking and playing games. The news reports were what really started getting to us. As I've mentioned, until we got back to the apartments, no one really knew what the quake had done. We knew it was big, but not as big as the September quake, which didn't result in too much disruption.
It was kind of like going back fifteen years; I felt like I was in Egypt or Iran. With no power, we had no TV and no Internet. Thankfully, we did have phones, and over the day we would get pieces of news as people called or texted friends outside the city and we listened to the radios installed on the cells (who ever would have guessed we'd use them?). The steeple on the Cathedral had fallen over. Casualties were expected. A bridge had collapsed. The quake had hit only 12 km away and had flattened Lyttleton, the port town just over a hill from Christchurch. Buses had been crushed in the street downtown. A building had collapsed. Or maybe a few. Power was expected to be off until the next day. Water was potentially contaminated and needed to be boiled. The university was definitely closed the rest of the week. Some of Riccarton Mall had collapsed, killing and trapping people. Downtown was blocked off and on fire. We asked locals who had been here for the last quake what they expected would happen. We boiled the potatoes for the noki over the camp stove (Andrew had to save the full pot of boiling water during one strong aftershock by holding it at arms length with one hand and hanging on with the other). I was in my room for that aftershock, and it felt a lot different being inside. I could feel the building swaying and my door jamb, under which I stood, didn't look quite straight. Beyond that one, most of the aftershocks were quite weak, though an occasional stronger one would come through.
It was interesting to watch people's reactions to the quake. Even though we weren't anywhere near the emergency zone, you could still see the reactions the disaster experts talk about. Most people took it in stride and acted as usual, but there were some who actually got quite scared or upset, and it was true that people didn't react the way you would necessarily expect them to.
As we realized that school was going to be canceled for a while, members of my Arcadia group started searching out ways to get out of town. We were in contact with our program coordinator, and she gave us numbers for bus and rental car companies. Not many responses, naturally. We even asked a guy selling his van if he would rent it for a week first (no). Military DC-6s started appearing overhead as we got word that rescue workers and police officers were arriving from around the country.
Then, about 7:30, an hour and a half before dark, the power suddenly came back on. We turned on the TV in the room we were gathered in and sat in stunned silence as we watched the coverage of downtown. Now we knew our facts for sure. The Cathedral had fallen, along with multiple other buildings. 65 were dead and hundreds more trapped in fallen buildings. Roads were destroyed, emergency services were far too overextended, most of the city had neither power nor water. Downtown was a cordoned-off ruin. We watched until the clip started repeating, then turned away from the TV, not wanting to watch it all again.
The entire day had been surreal, and this only reinforced it. After the initial hours, when the streets had been full of activity, the stillness felt strange. At the same time, however, it felt strange to be living in a just slightly adjusted normal while other parts of the city were a disaster zone. It felt odd that we were in the same city, but really had seen none of the destruction. But there was also the strange feeling of being in a city where such a disaster had happened -- it's one of those things you often read about, but never really expect to happen to you at any given time.
Earlier in the day, it hadn't seemed like anything special that no one had been hurt, but after we saw downtown we began to appreciate how lucky we were. Half our group, myself included, had been downtown for hours the afternoon before. I'd bought postcards at a gift shop on the corner of Cathedral Square. One of my flatmates would have been downtown had she not overslept her alarm and come back after class to shower. One of the Arcadia kids was planning on spending the day there if it had been sunny (it was instead the coldest day we've had yet). We'd all spent Monday evening at Sumner beach, admiring the homes on the hills and climbing on a rock formation apparently called cave rock. Cave rock had reportedly collapsed, and a number of homes had been flattened on that hillside.
I don't know what this looks like now.
To take our mind off it, we made a big group dinner of spaghetti with tomato sauce and grilled chicken. It was one of those times when I was happy to be around other people. After dinner I did have to return to my room, however, and work on the fellowship proposals I'd planned to do Tuesday afternoon and Wednesday. After moving up to the third floor (dinner was on the first), the aftershocks became much more noticeable. There was a little quiver every fifteen minutes or so, and once every hour or two there would be a more significant shake, though nothing big enough to make me stand up from my desk.
Today life has returned largely to normal in Ilam. As I said at the start, we have power and water, though we're still boiling water and not supposed to use the sewer system more than absolutely necessary. Reports today said water might not be back to normal for up to two weeks. We're still getting aftershocks (including a decent one as I write this sentence). My room just rocks a little minute like I'm in one of those mechanical simulators. Internet was out a lot longer than power and just came back in mid-afternoon. One of my flatmates, here with IFSA-Butler, left for good today: her program moved everyone out of Canterbury, and they're going to go to school either in Dunedin or Auckland for the semester. No whispers of that with Arcadia, and I hope there aren't any. I want to stick it out here (and I'm glad I didn't come with Butler!) I finished up all my fellowship proposals and got them finally sent off, thankfully. I drank our boiled water and ate the last bit of my food (dry Cheerios and tortillas with jelly) until the supermarket opened at 4, at which point I got some bottled water and a lamb steak for dinner.
As for the future, school is shut down until at least the end of next week; they have to check and clean every building on campus (my first class on Monday had just started to get me back into a school mindset, but, hey, I wasn't quite ready for break to end anyway). Because Christchurch is going to be a mess for a while, nearly everyone from Arcadia is hopping a flight south to Dunedin tomorrow afternoon at 4:00. With over 10 days off school and the possibility of losing most of spring break, we're anxious to get out. Air New Zealand is offering $50 flights anywhere in the country, so we grabbed one of those. No solid plan for Dunedin yet -- there are other Arcadia students studying there who we plan to stay with initially, then I think the hope is to rent a van or two and tour the southern portion of the island until class starts back up in Christchurch. We'll see. I feel like I've lived my entire time in New Zealand just like this: never really having time or ability to plan more than a day or two into the future, impulsively going places, and never settling into a routine. It seems like enough has happened to fill a semester, and I haven't even been here two weeks yet. Still four months to go. Who knows what will happen next?
I don't know exactly where I'll be or what I'll be doing these next two weeks, but my Internet access will probably be sporadic and limited. I'll take plenty of pictures, though, and do my best to respond to all of you.
Wishing everyone well,
Reid
Monday, February 21, 2011
Arthur's Pass
Oh, the joys of being young.
It's well known that I didn't come to New Zealand for the academics, for the culture, or for the history (at least not primarily). I came for the lifestyle and for the easy access to the outdoors. So naturally, I didn't want to waste any time getting out there. This being New Zealand, and my home of Ilam Village being filled with international students who chose to come to New Zealand, there were others of the same mind, including another student with Arcadia by the name of Andrew.
Andrew is from San Jose and goes to Olin College near Boston, and on our first day in Auckland we decided we wanted to get out as much as possible this semester. To do that, however, we needed some gear. Namely, a sleeping bag, two pads, a stove, pots, a tent, and whatever other miscellaneous camping goods we could think of. After a short afternoon and a very long afternoon getting acquainted with all the employees of the downtown outdoors stores -- conveniently located right next to each other -- as well as with the ATM, we had all our stuff.
The original plan was for all of Arcadia (14 people) to go on a beach camping trip Thursday for a few nights, and that was our plan too. But on Wednesday we learned that Thursday night was the big kickoff toga-techno party hosted by the student association. Enough of our group wanted to go that the camping trip wasn't going to happen Thursday. Andrew and I didn't really see it happening Friday either, so we made an executive decision to get everything we needed to go backpacking on Thursday afternoon and hit the road (to somewhere) Friday morning. Thursday at noon we first met and decided we would try to go to Arthur's Pass, about a two hour drive north-ish. By six-thirty, we had shopped for all our gear, called one of our Arcadia friend's roommate (who had the day before expressed interest in tramping), added her to the trip, and bought food for two nights. The bus we planned on taking would no longer accept online reservations (it was at 7:30 the next morning) and a call revealed that it might be full, but to call back at 8:15 when the final list came out. Thankfully, there were three seats. After splitting up the food and setting a meet-up time of 6:20, we were ready to go.
But not ready for bed. We still had the toga party! Andrew and I attended, while the third member of the expedition (a girl named Taylor) went to downtown Christchurch. Long story short, Andrew hung out with Arcadia people after the party and went to bed at 2:45. I left early, wrote a fellowship proposal to send off and went to bed at 2:55. Taylor got back from downtown at 3:30. But at 5:50, our alarms went off, and at 6:25 we were walking to the bus stop.
Now the reason I chose Christchurch was because it was close the mountains. And indeed it was. Two hours after leaving, we were parked in Arthur's Pass, after climbing up hillsides in our old bus at about 20 kph.
The road out of Christchurch. We're headed for the mountains in the background.
Mountains getting closer.
Nearing Arthur's Pass.
We had no plan, just backpacks and three days. After getting dropped off, we went to the visitors center and told them our deal: We've been in New Zealand for a week, we just drove in from Christchurch, and we want to take a two-night trip. The lady there didn't blink, instead handing over brochures on the hikes. We found some that looked good, and after consulting with her decided on one that would bring us up one river valley, across a pass, and down the adjacent valley.
The trailhead was about 5 km down the road, and the end of the hike was about 25 km down. So, not wanting to be any less impulsive than we could be, we called the bus company to arrange for a pickup where we would exit the mountains and then stood on the side of the road outside the visitors center with our thumbs out waiting for a kind soul to pick us up. After about 20 cold minutes (it was windy) a guy named Remy waved us into his Land Rover. He was a mechanical engineer who hated managers who didn't know any of the technical stuff their staff did, had two yapper dogs in the back seat (his wife's, he said), had diabetes, was driving to Christchurch because his mother-in-law or some relation had died, and drove really fast on winding roads while keeping half an eye on his GPS and radar detector. Five whip-lash inducing kilometers down the road, and we were ready to start the hike:
It was a river-bed hike, as one might imagine. We started around noon and hiked for four and a half hours up the Edwards River, gaining about 1000 feet of elevation along the way. The quickest route involved river crossing, which is interesting in New Zealand. Apparently everyone here crosses rivers with their boots on and then keeps on trucking with soaking wet feet. Being from Alaska, I ran from wet feet like it was one of New Zealand's non-existent large predators and rock-hopped or bush-whacked my way up, keeping my feet dry. It was a beautifully sunny day, and the walk alternated between gravel river bottoms and a cut trail through the trees.
Andrew and Taylor at lunch on the first day.
A cool waterfall pouring down the mountainside.
There was some serious up in a few parts. My legs were burning. Of course, we also had some serious down, at one point so steep they had left us a chain to hold on to.
Andrew and Taylor. This was the typical vegetation: mid-size scrub. In some places it was grass, which we could walk through easily enough (even if it was sometimes waist high). In others, it was thick woody bushes (like in the right foreground). These were nearly impossible to get through, and gave you plenty of little scratches on your legs.
Our first campsite. They have huts along many of the trails, but we camped about half an hour beyond one. They're really nice, with wood interiors, tables and benches, bunks, and a stove, but they cost a few bucks and we wanted to camp outside anyways (and try the new tent!).
It was advertised as a two-person, but we definitely fit three. This is us going to bed at about 8 o'clock. We didn't have much else to do and were a little short on sleep.
The second day was the long one. It was an eight hour hike up the rest of the Edwards, over a pass called Tarn Col, down the other side, over a much lower pass, and into the Hawdon valley. I believe we crossed three divides in the single day, and our elevation went from about 1000 meters to 1650 meters back to below 1000.
Andrew showing how tall the grass can get.
At the first of the three divides
Looking back down the valley we had walked up. This was the good walking: all above the brush line (not to be confused with bush line -- bush means forest in New Zealand).
A cairn gateway frames the saddle we were soon to climb.
Andrew on his way up to Tarn Col.
Enjoying the view near the top of the saddle.
Taylor once we made it up.
There was an excellent ridge line that in just over a kilometer would bring us to the top of a mountain, so Andrew and I left our packs with Taylor and took off on a side trip. It was quite the hike: there were two sections of knife ridges, where we were using all four limbs and had multiple hundreds of feet falling off gorge-style to either side. It wasn't too bad -- we were probably three, not one, slip from quite a tumble.
At the top. Nothing but mountains to every horizon. Amazing.
A view from the top. Our path led to the little lake in the middle, then down to the forested valley beyond that curves off to the right.
Andrew descending one of the knife ridge sections. The gray in the upper right of the photo is about 1500 feet down.
There were so many beautiful waterfalls on the entire hike. This was one on the mountain face across the valley.
After getting down from the peak, we had to descend the other side of the pass, which was even farther. It was a lot brushier too. This is the kind of stuff we tried to avoid walking through, but sometimes had to.
At last: a view down the Hawdon River valley. We camped just before the river makes the first left turn. It was some serious down to get there, but the forest was stunning and we caught sight of two waterfalls on the way.
Glorious day on the Hawdon River, and a glorious bar to walk down.
Andrew and Taylor demonstrating proper fording technique. The water was crystal clear and not that cold. Because it was the last day, I tested the wet-foot method. It was certainly a lot more freeing, but I'm still not sure it will keep me blister free. And my boots are still soaked.
Cruising along country that reminded me a little more of home. You can see the trail we were following in this picture. The trails were neat, actually. Parts of the route had marked trails through the woods that looked kind of like this, but a lot of the route was over bars or the grassland I have pictures of above, and here the trail would be intermittently (and not regularly) marked by orange posts. Sometimes it was clear, other times we weren't sure whether we were on it. In the scrub brush, the trail was beaten down under the grass, but the grass on each side was leaning completely over it (it would only be a foot wide), so it took some real searching to find it. I thought it was a good mix -- there was a route, but you couldn't mindlessly follow it. It kept you thinking.
A view down the main river (that the Edwards and Hawdon flowed into) from a bridge just off the highway.
Time to go home. Our bus was a little late, but not so bad. I sat next to a guy who was riding to Christchurch for a Don McLean concert. He was an outdoorsy guy who rode around on a bike with a trailer (he's never had a car; hence the bus). I talked to him about outdoor things in New Zealand, which was enjoyable. He gave me some good advice about places to go and how locals handle the outdoors.
And with that we were back at the University of Canterbury and it was time to clean my room, unpack my gear, and get ready for classes. I hope to keep getting out like this, though. The landscape is comparable to Alaska, which isn't something I can say about many places. And it's all so close! Andrew and I were wondering if we could make it the semester without a weekend in Christchurch. Unlikely, but I wouldn't be disappointed were that the case.
It's well known that I didn't come to New Zealand for the academics, for the culture, or for the history (at least not primarily). I came for the lifestyle and for the easy access to the outdoors. So naturally, I didn't want to waste any time getting out there. This being New Zealand, and my home of Ilam Village being filled with international students who chose to come to New Zealand, there were others of the same mind, including another student with Arcadia by the name of Andrew.
Andrew is from San Jose and goes to Olin College near Boston, and on our first day in Auckland we decided we wanted to get out as much as possible this semester. To do that, however, we needed some gear. Namely, a sleeping bag, two pads, a stove, pots, a tent, and whatever other miscellaneous camping goods we could think of. After a short afternoon and a very long afternoon getting acquainted with all the employees of the downtown outdoors stores -- conveniently located right next to each other -- as well as with the ATM, we had all our stuff.
The original plan was for all of Arcadia (14 people) to go on a beach camping trip Thursday for a few nights, and that was our plan too. But on Wednesday we learned that Thursday night was the big kickoff toga-techno party hosted by the student association. Enough of our group wanted to go that the camping trip wasn't going to happen Thursday. Andrew and I didn't really see it happening Friday either, so we made an executive decision to get everything we needed to go backpacking on Thursday afternoon and hit the road (to somewhere) Friday morning. Thursday at noon we first met and decided we would try to go to Arthur's Pass, about a two hour drive north-ish. By six-thirty, we had shopped for all our gear, called one of our Arcadia friend's roommate (who had the day before expressed interest in tramping), added her to the trip, and bought food for two nights. The bus we planned on taking would no longer accept online reservations (it was at 7:30 the next morning) and a call revealed that it might be full, but to call back at 8:15 when the final list came out. Thankfully, there were three seats. After splitting up the food and setting a meet-up time of 6:20, we were ready to go.
But not ready for bed. We still had the toga party! Andrew and I attended, while the third member of the expedition (a girl named Taylor) went to downtown Christchurch. Long story short, Andrew hung out with Arcadia people after the party and went to bed at 2:45. I left early, wrote a fellowship proposal to send off and went to bed at 2:55. Taylor got back from downtown at 3:30. But at 5:50, our alarms went off, and at 6:25 we were walking to the bus stop.
Now the reason I chose Christchurch was because it was close the mountains. And indeed it was. Two hours after leaving, we were parked in Arthur's Pass, after climbing up hillsides in our old bus at about 20 kph.
The road out of Christchurch. We're headed for the mountains in the background.
Mountains getting closer.
Nearing Arthur's Pass.
We had no plan, just backpacks and three days. After getting dropped off, we went to the visitors center and told them our deal: We've been in New Zealand for a week, we just drove in from Christchurch, and we want to take a two-night trip. The lady there didn't blink, instead handing over brochures on the hikes. We found some that looked good, and after consulting with her decided on one that would bring us up one river valley, across a pass, and down the adjacent valley.
The trailhead was about 5 km down the road, and the end of the hike was about 25 km down. So, not wanting to be any less impulsive than we could be, we called the bus company to arrange for a pickup where we would exit the mountains and then stood on the side of the road outside the visitors center with our thumbs out waiting for a kind soul to pick us up. After about 20 cold minutes (it was windy) a guy named Remy waved us into his Land Rover. He was a mechanical engineer who hated managers who didn't know any of the technical stuff their staff did, had two yapper dogs in the back seat (his wife's, he said), had diabetes, was driving to Christchurch because his mother-in-law or some relation had died, and drove really fast on winding roads while keeping half an eye on his GPS and radar detector. Five whip-lash inducing kilometers down the road, and we were ready to start the hike:
Andrew and Taylor at lunch on the first day.
A cool waterfall pouring down the mountainside.
There was some serious up in a few parts. My legs were burning. Of course, we also had some serious down, at one point so steep they had left us a chain to hold on to.
Andrew and Taylor. This was the typical vegetation: mid-size scrub. In some places it was grass, which we could walk through easily enough (even if it was sometimes waist high). In others, it was thick woody bushes (like in the right foreground). These were nearly impossible to get through, and gave you plenty of little scratches on your legs.
Our first campsite. They have huts along many of the trails, but we camped about half an hour beyond one. They're really nice, with wood interiors, tables and benches, bunks, and a stove, but they cost a few bucks and we wanted to camp outside anyways (and try the new tent!).
It was advertised as a two-person, but we definitely fit three. This is us going to bed at about 8 o'clock. We didn't have much else to do and were a little short on sleep.
The second day was the long one. It was an eight hour hike up the rest of the Edwards, over a pass called Tarn Col, down the other side, over a much lower pass, and into the Hawdon valley. I believe we crossed three divides in the single day, and our elevation went from about 1000 meters to 1650 meters back to below 1000.
Andrew showing how tall the grass can get.
At the first of the three divides
Looking back down the valley we had walked up. This was the good walking: all above the brush line (not to be confused with bush line -- bush means forest in New Zealand).
A cairn gateway frames the saddle we were soon to climb.
Andrew on his way up to Tarn Col.
Enjoying the view near the top of the saddle.
Taylor once we made it up.
There was an excellent ridge line that in just over a kilometer would bring us to the top of a mountain, so Andrew and I left our packs with Taylor and took off on a side trip. It was quite the hike: there were two sections of knife ridges, where we were using all four limbs and had multiple hundreds of feet falling off gorge-style to either side. It wasn't too bad -- we were probably three, not one, slip from quite a tumble.
At the top. Nothing but mountains to every horizon. Amazing.
A view from the top. Our path led to the little lake in the middle, then down to the forested valley beyond that curves off to the right.
Andrew descending one of the knife ridge sections. The gray in the upper right of the photo is about 1500 feet down.
There were so many beautiful waterfalls on the entire hike. This was one on the mountain face across the valley.
After getting down from the peak, we had to descend the other side of the pass, which was even farther. It was a lot brushier too. This is the kind of stuff we tried to avoid walking through, but sometimes had to.
At last: a view down the Hawdon River valley. We camped just before the river makes the first left turn. It was some serious down to get there, but the forest was stunning and we caught sight of two waterfalls on the way.
Our second night we actually camped just across the river from another hut, again mainly because we wanted to camp out, but also because there were other people we'd passed on the trail who were staying there (the only people we saw on the entire trip except for the last two miles). The last morning dawned bright and clear, just perfect for our lengthy but quick walk out to the highway.
Our second campsite. We did go to bed after dark this time, and would have even later if it hadn't started raining a little. Speaking of rain, apparently these rivers can flash flood. I never would have guessed, but the ranger at the visitors center had been very sure to tell us not to try to ford rivers if they were flooding. If they get enough rain, these relatively docile streams can become quite the raging torrents, stranding trampers. We kind of wished to get stuck, but then again, not really.
Glorious day on the Hawdon River, and a glorious bar to walk down.
Andrew and Taylor demonstrating proper fording technique. The water was crystal clear and not that cold. Because it was the last day, I tested the wet-foot method. It was certainly a lot more freeing, but I'm still not sure it will keep me blister free. And my boots are still soaked.
Cruising along country that reminded me a little more of home. You can see the trail we were following in this picture. The trails were neat, actually. Parts of the route had marked trails through the woods that looked kind of like this, but a lot of the route was over bars or the grassland I have pictures of above, and here the trail would be intermittently (and not regularly) marked by orange posts. Sometimes it was clear, other times we weren't sure whether we were on it. In the scrub brush, the trail was beaten down under the grass, but the grass on each side was leaning completely over it (it would only be a foot wide), so it took some real searching to find it. I thought it was a good mix -- there was a route, but you couldn't mindlessly follow it. It kept you thinking.
A view down the main river (that the Edwards and Hawdon flowed into) from a bridge just off the highway.
Time to go home. Our bus was a little late, but not so bad. I sat next to a guy who was riding to Christchurch for a Don McLean concert. He was an outdoorsy guy who rode around on a bike with a trailer (he's never had a car; hence the bus). I talked to him about outdoor things in New Zealand, which was enjoyable. He gave me some good advice about places to go and how locals handle the outdoors.
And with that we were back at the University of Canterbury and it was time to clean my room, unpack my gear, and get ready for classes. I hope to keep getting out like this, though. The landscape is comparable to Alaska, which isn't something I can say about many places. And it's all so close! Andrew and I were wondering if we could make it the semester without a weekend in Christchurch. Unlikely, but I wouldn't be disappointed were that the case.
Welcome to Aotearoa
I've now been in New Zealand for ten days, and they have been a full ten. In short, I had three nights worth of orientation (actually just traveling around and doing cool things) with the study abroad program I came with, Arcadia. This included one night in Auckland and two in the tourist hotspot of Rotorua -- and I mean hotspot literally. The main draw is their thermal hot springs. The 26 of us in the group had a great rapport going, and we were sad to split in two last Sunday, with 14 of us, myself included, flying to Christchurch and the other 12 departing for Wellington. This week in Christchurch has been a full one, including international student orientation; exploring the campus, the nearby grocery stores, the more distant malls, and the city center; shopping for and buying large amounts of camping gear; registering for classes; and a two-night backpacking trip. Instead of a blow by blow, which will wear you out as much as me, we're going to break this down into a tidy list titled "Things About New Zealand."
Things About New Zealand
The beach we went to our first day in Auckland to do a little swimming at. It was a wonderful way to relax after our 13-hour flight.
The view of downtown Auckland from the hill above the beach.
Shire, anyone? This was on the drive to Rotorua.
I told you so.
As I'm sure you're well aware, New Zealand is full of sheep. Bet you didn't know there were this many types, though. The big poofy guy at the top of the pile is a Merino, the kind all the fancy New Zealand wool garments are made out of. This was at the sheep show we went to. This guy sheared one right in front of us.
A geyser at Rotorua. Pretty sweet.
We had two people in our group who knew how to spin fire. Basically, it's kerosene soaked balls on the ends of 24-inch chains, held in each hand, that you spin around. This is a couple second exposure.
One of the grassy areas in Ilam Village, where all us Arcadia students live, surrounded by many other internationals and some Kiwis (that would be local New Zealanders). I live on the backside of the building at the far end, on the third floor.
The view from my window.
The cathedral in downtown Christchurch.
Things About New Zealand
- Time: So you have a reference point. New Zealand is GMT +12, which means we are the first to see the new day. This puts us 22 hours ahead of Alaska and 18 hours ahead of the East Coast. Or, more simply, we are two hours behind Alaska and six hours behind the East Coast -- all you people stateside are just a day behind.
- Money: New Zealand uses the New Zealand dollar. Just like ours, only the money is more colorful and they cost 75 cents. In other words, the exchange rate is about $1US:$0.75NZ. So if you withdraw $500 NZ (as I have unfortunately already done multiple times), Wells Fargo tells you you've only withdraw $380. It's like magic. Also, when I reference ever reference money in the future, it means New Zealand dollars unless I specify otherwise.
- Lingo: New Zealanders have an accent, and they also have words different than those in the states. I'm working to pick both up. "Mate" is regularly used in greeting (think "man" or "dude"). "G'day mate" is a common way to be greeted. Tramping means backpacking, hiking, etc. Flat is any sort of apartment. "Sweet as" is an the equivalent of a "sick" or "sweet" back home.
- Maori: On the North Island more than the South, there is significant Maori influence. But even here, the international orientation began with a traditional Maori welcome, and you regularly see it alongside English. Also, many street names and geographical features retain their Maori names. Aotearoa is the Maori name for New Zealand -- hence my title.
- Alcohol: Legal drinking and purchasing age is 18, so it's like getting my birthday four months early. Watch out, though: it's pricey. Even at a saver supermarket, finding a beer for under a dollar is an exercise in the impossible. $1.50 is typical, and if you want Corona and Heineken, be prepared to pay upwards of $2 a bottle. Hard alcohol comes in liters, and you won't find those for under $35, and usually not below $40. Cheap drafts in bars are regularly $7+.
- Sun: First, it's summer. Second, the ozone layer kind of sucks down here. Result: really easy to get sunburned, especially for all us northerners coming from midwinter. Wear your sunscreen. Sometimes, that's not even enough.
- Rugby: New Zealanders are crazy about rugby. As in crazy crazy. The world cup is here in September, and there's a countdown board in downtown Christchurch. They already reference their impending victory in about half of their opening speeches for any given event.
- Grading: Ds fail in New Zealand. But you only need a 50% to get a C, and 80-100 is an A. But, points are awarded, not deducted. Kind of like those rubrics we used for a while in middle school. You don't get points off your paper, you earn points by doing things well. Oh, and more lingo. Paper is a class; essay is a paper.
- Driving: People drive on the left down here. No one in our group has been hit yet, though we regularly see driverless cars and went to the wrong side to board the bus.
- Dying: Everything in New Zealand kills you. At least according to our program coordinator and the orientation leaders. Every one of their example stories about what we shouldn't do ended up with someone maimed or dead. For example: share water bottles, get meningitis and die. Go out in the sun, get skin cancer and die. Use trademe (think craigslist) and die. Try crossing rivers and die. Basically, despite the complete lack of large predators and poisonous animals and the significant lack of criminals violent or petty, the only thing we can do is stay in our dorm rooms. It's a running joke in our Arcadia group.
- Humor: Ever watched Flight of the Conchords? New Zealand humor is actually that dry. It's often hard to tell if people are joking. I'll get used to it sometime. Just have to watch the faces more closely.
- People: there aren't very many of them, especially on the South Island. About a million in an area a little smaller than Florida.
- And of course: Lord of the Rings. It was filmed here, and parts of New Zealand certainly look it. We drove through the shire, and we aren't terribly far from Edoras here in Christchurch. Plenty of comments about this as we drive and hike around.
The beach we went to our first day in Auckland to do a little swimming at. It was a wonderful way to relax after our 13-hour flight.
The view of downtown Auckland from the hill above the beach.
Shire, anyone? This was on the drive to Rotorua.
I told you so.
As I'm sure you're well aware, New Zealand is full of sheep. Bet you didn't know there were this many types, though. The big poofy guy at the top of the pile is a Merino, the kind all the fancy New Zealand wool garments are made out of. This was at the sheep show we went to. This guy sheared one right in front of us.
A geyser at Rotorua. Pretty sweet.
We had two people in our group who knew how to spin fire. Basically, it's kerosene soaked balls on the ends of 24-inch chains, held in each hand, that you spin around. This is a couple second exposure.
One of the grassy areas in Ilam Village, where all us Arcadia students live, surrounded by many other internationals and some Kiwis (that would be local New Zealanders). I live on the backside of the building at the far end, on the third floor.
The view from my window.
The cathedral in downtown Christchurch.
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