Queenstown, Milford Sound, and Manapouri New Zealand

We had no choice in the matter...it was mandatory to get pissed in Queenstown, thanks to the 2 for 1 drink specials sponsored by the hostels for use at various dodgy watering holes. Our decisions were limited to the abundant activities that made Queenstown the adventure capital of the universe, if your idea of adventure is a six second adrenaline rush jumping off of something that was designed specifically to be jumped off from (that's $30/second, a decent wage in anyone's book). Playing the role of cheap bastard, we decided to slog up Ben Lamond peak right outside of town amidst the fully padded mountain bikers. Since I was in the company of a super-energetic Irishman, we polished off the trek in record time, using gravity much to our advantage on the descent.

I traded the bicycle racer for a German expat restaurateur and we were off to quieter locales, namely Te Anau, whose claim to fame is that it happens to have the last petrol station before Milford Sound. The tank filled, we cruised up to the sound on what some have described to be the most beautiful drive in the world, which may be true if it weren't obscured by fog and blowing snow. Regardless, I threw in the towel and committed my first blatant tourist activity by kayaking the sound (or, more accurately, fjord) on an uncharacteristically glorious morning. Having "did" the sound, it was off the beaten path to Manapouri, but not before a piss-your-pants conversation with a German sailor-turned-WWOOFer and Antarctic researcher from the unantarctic Monterey, CA. Be advised: German frigates actually have a speed designated INSANE, for those rare man-overboard moments.

It would have been wonderful to take a cruise out to the allegedly fabulous Doubtful Sound (Capt Cook supposedly considered sailing out of the sound a doubtful proposition), but there was nobody around willing to foot the $240 p/p bill, so we threw down a 20 and rowed a boat across a river and meandered along some muddy, sandfly-strewn tracks. It was my first attempt at piloting a proper rowboat, thereby dramatically increasing the time we spent on the water. I could blame it on the current, but there wasn't any.

Enough nature, on to Dunedin for the last taste of civilization before heading out to the West Coast for the duration...