On Monday night, Covid-19 lockdown was all but lifted in New Zealand. We’re now in Alert Level 1. And the only thing that remains closed are international borders. The entire country is now a bubble all of its own and life here feels a world away from everywhere else in a new way. Or maybe it’s just me that feels a world away from everyone else. Strangely perhaps, more than ever. I’m not sad. I just feel it. And I’m not quite sure what that’s all about. But if I know anything, I know it will all become clear eventually.
On Monday morning, after a round of jolly and heartfelt goodbyes with the kids and Mr Choc, Mrs Choc drove me out to Christchurch airport to pick up a rental car. A big, shiny, bright blue, All Wheel Drive. Which means I’ll be able to make it through steep mountain passes even if there’s a smattering of snow. And, perhaps more importantly, this great blue beast will be hard for me to lose in a car park. Tyre-chains are another matter. But if the weather gets that bad, I shall be sheltering in place. Especially now that I’ve had practice with that.
I was nervous about leaving. And felt a little like I’d felt when I left London for India back in September last year. It was like starting from the beginning again. I remembered my packing anxiety. I’ve been so organised with my belongings throughout this trip and knew exactly where everything was. And had everything I needed in a minimal and efficient kind of way. But having spent three months with my feet under the table in one spot, I feared I might have lost the travel in me. Especially as I was venturing out into the snowy wilds with a bag full of new kit rather than bumming around dive shops and beach cafes in pretty much the same pair of shorts every day. I wondered about my three day theory and whether that would be an underestimation this time around.
I followed Mrs Choc out of the airport car park and she led me out towards State Highway 1 and waved me on my way. Once again I mistook the windscreen wipers for the indicator but I was ready. Big smile, blue skies, and I was off.
My first stop was Lake Tekapo. Just over 230km and south of Christchurch and somewhere I had already visited soon after I first arrived in the South Island. So it felt like a good place to find my travelling feet again. The three and a half hour drive was breathtaking. And it was familiar, despite having only travelled that route once before some 12 weeks previously. But I had been a wide-eyed passenger then and had gawped and gaped at the newness and beauty of it all. This time it certainly looked more wintry, but I knew it. I guess I had really studied it.
Tekapo was as stunning as I remembered too. That lake is the bluest of blues, bluer than my car, and the recent snowfall on the mountains beyond provided yet more proof that I’m living in a dream. It was quiet there. And I thought I might be the only tourist left in the country. Lots of cafes, shops and restaurants were closed and I imagined they may have gone out of business but hoped that the staff had just returned home to lock down with their families and would be back soon. I took a walk around the lake wondering what on earth I was doing there. I’ve felt that way many times during the last nine months. How did I get here?
On Tuesday morning, I loaded the car up again and set off another 250km further south for Queenstown on Lake Wakatipu. Another breathtaking drive that took me through the mountain roads of State Highway 8 and Lindis Pass. Lindis Pass links the Mackenzie Basin with Central Otago. The actual pass crosses a saddle between the valleys of the Lindis and Ahuriri Rivers almost 1000 metres above sea level. At one point, I got stuck behind a whole house on the back of a trailer and was grateful for the change of pace. The single-lane road was windy and steep and took every ounce of my concentration. I sung loudly when things got particularly hairy and I found my grip on the steering wheel getting a little tight. I also pulled over at every scenic outlook there was. And at one point or other during the journey, I wished that just about everyone I knew was sitting in the passenger seat beside me. It seemed simply too good not to be sharing.
Queenstown is cool. It’s essentially a ski town but I’m here too early and sadly the ski fields aren’t open yet. Although, if I had found myself skiing, it might have just tipped me over the edge as far as my handle on reality goes. Isn’t skiing the opposite of scuba diving? Instead, today I took the Skyline Gondola to the top of the mountain and back down again. And then, once I’d got my bearings, and had coffee and two poached eggs on toast, I went on a mountain hike. Or a tramp, as they call them here. They also call it a hill, Queenstown Hill Time Walk, but I’m calling it a mountain like the Maori do. Te Tapu-nui, translates as, ‘mountain of intense sacredness’. And that is what I hiked today. I felt like I was on top of the world when I reached the summit. But have subsequently wondered if I was in fact on the bottom. I really am turned all around and upside-down by the place I find myself in.
Tomorrow I’m driving another 170km south to Te Anau. Also known as the gateway to the Fiordland National Park. And on Friday I’m going to take a day trip to Milford Sound. Milford Sound was the only place I had decided I really would like to visit before I arrived in New Zealand. In my madness, and optimism, I had hoped to dive there. There is absolutely no way that is going to happen in these temperatures, but still, I’m massively excited. And at almost three days in, I seem to be feeling right on schedule.
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