The Coolest Kiwi Corner: Part III
The night before, my parents and I discussed going on a morning hike, one we'd heard of and looked into, and hence decided was worth sacrificing some sleep for. However, the following morning, it was more than 'some' sleep that was sacrificed, resulting in a ShNaajh that moved like a zombie, too groggy to tell left from right.
Once I finished getting ready, as quietly as possible so that my roommate, aka Harsh, lost no more sleep on my account, I joined my parents upstairs for a speedy breakfast and headed out. The drive to Queenstown Hill was short and mostly uphill, leading us higher and higher, but much to my surprise, still along suburban streets lined with houses. The street where we parked, right opposite the start of the trail, was no exception.
As we stepped out of the car, we looked up at the dirt path that would lead us into the tree-clad mountain terrain. By now the sun had risen, but as we began our steady ascent, the trees blocked most of the sunlight. The path was wet from yesterday's rain, and the first ten minutes were quite disappointing as we trudged along the dirt path, avoiding the sloshy mud that lined the edges of the path, and looking nowhere in particular as we were only surrounded by trees that were still recovering from the downpour they had faced the night before. I was beginning to question whether the hike out in the cold, wet mountain was worth the sacrifice of sleep in a warm, cosy bed. But that was until we came to the first clearing. We didn't spend too long there though, knowing we likely weren't even one-tenth of the way and we had to be back down by 11:00 am at the latest.
The following incline could only be described as pain and sadness. Parts of the ground were mushy, deceptive lumps that slipped from under you with not even a moment's notice. As we hiked up, taking short breaks, legs aching, we reached a gate, one that implied we were at the start of the hike. So our struggle for what I felt was at least 45 minutes - although it was only 15 minutes - was nothing but a prelude to the unbearable agony I feared we would soon face. We kept climbing, slowly and steadily.
As the path stretched on endlessly, winding and rising through the trees, we came upon an impressive colony of cairns dotted with fairy houses and other magical tidbits.
Our ascent continued, and soon we were no longer surrounded by trees. The trail opened up to the views promised by the internet, complete with a sun in a blue sky shining down on a green-and-blue landscape. Our stops grew more frequent as we spun around every few minutes to see what was below and behind us. By then we had walked for about 45 minutes and were at around 750 metres above sea level.
It was a few minutes past 10:00. If we wanted to be back down by 11:00, then we should start our descent in another 15 or so minutes. My mum suggested that we walk up to the sculpture called the 'Basket of Dreams', which, according to Google Maps, was another 10-15 metres from our location. The sculpture by Caroline Robinson was indeed a short climb up a rocky trail with lots of loose stones. It was 10:15 am.
We saw a pair of hikers come up from another side. We'd encountered a fork on the way and took the one on the left. They'd taken the path on the right. They said the summit was probably another 15 minutes, but we were growing more conscious of time and decided to head back. We came down the same way we'd gone up, but in half the time!
The drive back was so quiet that it felt like a post-exercise rehabilitation period, reserved for cooling down and catching your breath.
The others were awake and ready by then, and before long we were back in the car, driving to the Shotover River for Shotover Jet, another iconic Queenstown experience. We walked across the carpark to enter a small building that housed the ticket counter, a cafe and a gift shop. Before long, we took the stairs down from the deck to the rather uninspiring small beach below, bare except for a couple of benches and a small shack with lockers to keep our belongings before the ride. As we made our way through, collecting life jackets, storing our valuables and being briefed on what (not) to do, the boat we were to take pulled up to the jetty. We each waddled on. I was sat farthest to the right, with the rest filing in after.
Once everyone was aboard and a brief safety talk was delivered, the boat sped away. It felt like we were constantly bumping against the riverbed, which was a mere few centimetres below the water, but the jet was only skipping and bouncing on the water; it felt so bumpy because the boat travelled at a speed of up to 90 kilometres an hour.
It was fun at first, each jump like the sudden drop of a roller coaster, but soon I got bored! While everyone else continued to feel the excitement, all I felt from my seat on the edge of the back row was either the icy water spraying my face, or the wind violently whipping my hair, or the invisible grains of sand grazing my cheeks, or all three at once!
When the ride ended, I was only too happy to be reunited with land! We collected our phones etc. from the locker and returned to the gift shop to purchase our photos from the ride and to find some souvenirs worth taking home.
By the time we returned to Queenstown, the main square was bustling with tourists and locals alike, and the line for Fergburger was jaw-droppingly long. For lunch, we picked Fergbaker, which was busy but much less than Fergburger. None of us took any photos of what we got, but whatever pies or pastries we bought were Fergburger-level amazing. After the carb, we craved some ice cream, which led us to another Ferg store: Mrs Ferg Gelateria. The shop was filled mostly with bubbly children who stared longingly at the tubs of gelato and sorbet. There were some unique options for the gelato - like fig, mascarpone and almond, and black Doris plum pie. We each chose something different so that everyone could try a bit of everything. The gelato was amazing, each flavour perfectly capturing what its name promised. The scoops they gave were massive. We weren't even halfway through them when the sun started melting our gelato at breakneck speed! We found a bit of shade and continued eating our dessert, but some of it still turned into soup.
As we sipped the last drops of our melted gelato, Baba suggested that we go to the Kiwi Park. Harsh and I were keen to see this flightless bird, along with other native wildlife, so we decided to accompany my parents. Auntie Darshana and Uncle Hemansu said they'd explore more of the town centre.
On our way up to Kiwi Park, we stopped by iFly, an indoor skydiving experience. They were running a beanbag toss at the front, where the prize was a discount on the experience. My dad managed to scrape one point, getting a small discount that we ultimately did nothing with as we continued our journey up the slope, finally reaching Kiwi Park.
The path led us to the visitor's centre, where Harsh and I browsed the souvenirs while my parents bought the tickets. Then we headed out. The weather had settled into a cool temperature, though the canopy of trees stopped the sun from reaching us. There was a bird show scheduled in 30 minutes, leaving us a narrow window to wander around without going too far. We made good use of this time by visiting the Kea! Each one of them was a character! While we enjoyed the company of the sociable birds, my mum stood right outside the enclosure, her bird-free stronghold.
We had to tear ourselves away from the kea to arrive at the presentation area in time. It was a large gallery enclosed by sturdy chicken wire, and rows of wooden seats rose to the back. The ranger also arrived just then, so my ornithophobe mum asked her whether the birds would be flying around the enclosure. The ranger confirmed that there would be some flying, but she could give my mum a heads up before the birds were brought in. My mum decided to sit right by the entrance so that she could step outside at a second's notice!
The place filled up quickly, and the show started. The ranger first told us about the park and its conservation work for endangered and native species. And then, right on cue, in came two Australian rainbow lorikeets and out went my mum. The lorikeets flew between the ranger and her assistant as they were treated to nectar from tiny feeding syringes.
The next attraction? A taxidermied kiwi. The ranger then showed us an X-ray of a pregnant kiwi, where the egg had taken up so much space that the mother's organs were squashed to the side. The ranger said, in the final days before expelling the egg, the mother often starves herself as there is simply no space in her body. It was horrifying, earning a collective gasp from the audience.
Next, we had the honour of a visit from an invasive species - a bushtail possum. European settlers introduced Australian bushtail possums to New Zealand, hoping to jump-start a fur trade but ultimately failing in their business endeavour. The possums then ran free in New Zealand and evolved into meat-eating marsupials!
You could call the next guest prehistoric! A tuatara, a reptile of a long-gone lineage with such a long lifespan that it outlives its researchers. The tuatara takes 35 years to reach adulthood!
For the big finale of the conservation show, an overgrown pigeon flew in. It was a New Zealand wood pigeon. This unique bird is facing a population decline due to what could only be called the bird equivalent of drunk driving. These large birds eat ripe and rotten fruit, which then sits in a special part of their digestive system and ferments, rendering the birds tipsy. In their drunken state, the birds sometimes fall off the branch, or worse, fly into windows. The latter can be deadly.
As the show drew to a close, we lined up for a guided visit to the kiwi. Before letting us into the room, the guide sternly reminded us to turn off the flash features on our phones for the sake of the nocturnal birds and not let our voices rise above a whisper. Our eyes took a little time to adjust to the dark, lit only by dim lights designed to mimic nighttime. As soon as we noticed the two glass enclosures running along the walls on both sides, we flocked to the glass, squinting to catch a glimpse of the elusive nocturnals. I spotted a darker silhouette, and there it was - a kiwi, foraging without a care in the world, unbothered by the many people intently watching. As more kiwis popped up in different parts of the enclosures, the ranger began to tell us about the birds. It continued for fifteen or so minutes until it was time to go, the ranger ushering us out quietly through only a sliver in the door to prevent daylight from entering the kiwis' habitat.
For the next 30 or so minutes, we wandered the park, going from one enclosure to another, seeing a couple of Kākās in action, playing hide and seek with a Buff Weka, and spotting some ducks. It had started to drizzle. We still lingered, taking photos of the decorations and sculptures, savouring our precious time in the park.
Soon enough we found ourselves back at our starting point, this time heading in to find a magnet to remember our visit. I had my eyes on a cool nightlight, but not cool enough for an overseas purchase! We left with magnets in hand, nightlight not in hand, and walked back down the hill we'd made our way up, returning to the city centre, and regrouping in the face of an oncoming downpour. As we found our way back to each other, it began to bucket down, chasing us back to our Kia and out of the city, the rain a bittersweet goodbye to our last day in Queenstown.
We left for Te Anau the next day, driving south and stopping for a final look at the magnificent Lake Wakatipu.
Worth the read.
-Joy
Nicely written by ShNaajh. Feeling a craving for a nice Ice cream 😂😂. -Rakib
Nice work ShNaajh.. very well narrated..
-Prashant
Congratulations to shnaajh on yet another beautiful blog, want to go back to Queenstown with your checklist of things to explore. 🤩
-Bags