After Long Last...PICTURES!

In no particular order...mainly scenes from Akaroa, Punakaki and my fave, Franz Josef:

in an ice creavasse

descending the glacier (was NOT easy)

the beginning of the minihaha forest walk

view of the valley from the glacier

dad the conquerer

Karen and I in an ice crevasse

Surge pool at Punakaki

Glacial peaks on Franz Josef

The Brotzman Trio

Pancake rocks...mmm Pancakes

climbing up the glacier

view of mountains from the Cheaky Kea

a misty afternoon in Punakaki

the Franz Josef glacier (that we climbed!!!)

Karen in a blue ice cave

a cloudy day near Punakaki

overlooking the valley down towards Akaroa

the goat/deer thing that almost ate me

the Weka that actually managed to taste me

a blowhole within the pancake rocks of Punakaki

That seems like enough pictures for now. There are many more to come...views of the waterfalls of Haast, our trip up to Kaikoura, and my trip with Craig a few weeks later. Until then, enjoy!

-NMK

Turn You Upside Down

Honest. I must be honest. I have been so confused recently about everything. For a brief moment I thought that maybe, just maybe, I had it all figured out. And then BAM! I realize once again that I don't. Maybe realizing that I don't have it all figured out is a step in the right direction, but it certainly doesn't help me in my direct quest to come to some conclusion about life.

But I don't want to come to some conclusion about life. I want to explore. And wonder. And learn. More.

So maybe this ideal of figuring it out is really just...bullshit.

You see, this experience has become more than simply visiting a beautiful country and delaying the inevitable progression into responsible adulthood. That, of course is what I've claimed the point of this experience has been mostly for the sake of, well, not having to sound too deep. But I think that now is the time to finally go the distance and be up front with everyone, but mostly myself.

Get a job, right? But I am completely incapable of writing anything with certainty as far as this bit of my life is concerned. I have no idea. I've had no idea since I was in high school and I probably will continue to not have any idea as I get older. I am still a little kid inside: one who doesn't want to work, one who is sad that I have been told to take steps A, B and C in order to be successful. And it seems that I am the type of person that taking steps A, B and C to be successful isn't really going to help me. But who am I to want to change the past? No regrets, just learn for next time.

My current job is not where I want to be. It has also been teaching me a lot about life and fairness. Also, deciding between what is legally correct and morally correct. No, I'm not working for the black market selling organs to desperate families throughout the world, but I am having a bit of an inner struggle. Where does one draw the line between what's said in the law and what one feels one needs to do? Where does one lose their self-respect in this decision? To be true to oneself legally or in one's heart go with what one knows is the right move? This is a hard situation for me and even though I can't explain this situation more in depth, I will be giving it more thought and bring some more ideas to the table in the future.

I think the hardest thing about careers and jobs in the our day in age is that one can't just switch from one thing to the other. Everyone has to have a degree or experience or both and that is something very hard to get in many different fields. I know that I'm not the type of person who will want to do the same job for the rest of my life and in whatever jobs I end up doing I need variety. WHERE can a person get these things? And still have time to live? I'm sick of people living to work in this world and I refuse to be one of them. If I work, it's purely in order to live my life to the fullest...not to work even more hours. Ugh.

So that is that. I do want to go back to school someday. Specialize in something. But what? Journalism? Film? Physical Therapy? Education? But that day is neither close nor certain. Just like most other things.

But jobs are jobs and people are people...two very different things with very different meanings in my life.

And sometimes it's weird...just plain WEIRD...that people can pop up when you least expect it. And it's a trip. Every person that has written me or called me, randomly reappeared after months or years of exile from my email's inbox or managed with sincere dedication to keep in touch with me has effected me. And everytime I hear from someone close or distant it makes me smile. And even now, hearing from people back home, I realize how different things have become and how strange they will continue to seem especially when I return home. My life has very little direction or routine right now meaning that I could be here for two more years or ten. That I could be on a plane back to the US in a few months or next spring. And that no matter what I expect when I get there, nothing will be as I left it. Everyone has moved on, changed, made different life choices than I have. And no matter what sort of friendship or relationship I once had with them, it will not exist in the same way. I'm not sure I'm making much sense...but I'm trying.


So imagine this:
Deep sleep. Dreaming hard. Back to swimming. Training. No, racing. Nationals. 200 fly. Familiar faces, but who are they? Familiar feelings. So real that I may as well be back there. Back in the pool with my arms about to fall off. A giant tv screen with blurred images. Cold water. The only difference is that the knot in my stomach is gone. Then. One face, but for a second. Then--Gone.

Awake. Playing the "where am I?" game. An acid flashback for ex-athletes or something. Right??? And a reminder to forget about it. Let it go. It is over. I can't go back, so stop trying to think of ways that I can.

Remember those exiles of my inbox? Yeah, one just showed up.

Turns you kind of upside down.

You know?

-NMK

Rain Rain Go Away

There was once a time when I worshipped the rain, begged it to drench me and my surroundings in puddles and fallen leaves and a squishy wormy feeling that comes from the soaking ground beneath one's feet. Hell, we even did dances with the hopes that we'd darken the skies. And it's funny that it has almost become ingrained in me to actually enjoy rainy days more than sunny ones. Up until very recently it was something I looked forward to, almost like a break or a chance for me to just be, well, lazy. After careful consideration I'm fully aware that this affection for storms was developed during my years as a lifeguard...when a dark sky would almost always clear out the beach...and the occasional lightning that followed would most definitely. Leaving us lifeguards to play and entertain ourselves in ways far less recommended by our boss (and if John is reading this, none of this is true.).

But now that I've been out of the guarding game, out of the swimming game and pretty much searching for new ways to fulfill what had been an ever-increasing boredom, I've come to find that the rain doesn't provide the sort of comfort and excitement it once did. Because riding a bike in the rain isn't as fun as playing blindfolded hide and go seek in a tiny guard shack. And tramping or trying to tramp up 1500-2000 metre peaks during a windy rainstorm, while exciting, is not a fun as making hot cocoa and dragging out week-long card games during a stormy streak.

Why all this talk of rain? Well, I'm pretty sure that's where I'm headed...or at least where Canterbury is headed...and i'm in Canterbury right now.

Craig and left for our trip down the West Coast and south towards Wanaka and Queenstown. Basically these are places that are almost essential for a traveler to explore if down in Kiwi-land. And we had big plans for our trip. We went to Franz Josef and tramped up a very high, very steep track in the rain (but also covered with trees) and realized how much we wanted to try and tackle higher peaks (that coupled with my new obsession with mountaineering really made me crazy for it). But unfortunately, when we got to Wanaka, the days turned to shite and we lost all hope for climbing the prospective moutain. So we returned home and played around Christchurch for a few days, built up my cannondale with some better componentry and have just enjoyed the last few days of break.

So why all the talk of rain??? Well it's raining again today. And the forecast says it's going to be raining all week. And I wish it weren't. I miss my bike. I miss tramping. I want to play outside and enjoy the blue skies and I can't. And the rain just doesn't give me the sort of satisfaction at turning away desperate patrons as it once did. And I guess I just find it interesting how one's perception of things can change...or even stay the same for a while.

More to come on the wet weather...

-NMK

Hanmer Springs with Bike HQ

Hanmer Springs is pronounced HaMNer Springs. Don't ask me why. But it's a fricken awesome place. Especially when you holiday there with a group of crazy-ass kiwis. So where do I begin? It was only an overnight trip, but it was definitely one of the best weekends we've had here yet. We left around 9am from Christchurch and rode up in the work van with Craig's boss Hamish and another dude. Once we got there, the boys took off for a short mountain bike ride while I and two other girls went off to walk and window shop. After about an hour we all met back and then made our way to the adventure company a few minutes drive out of Hanmer. This is where the fun really begins.

Here we all (well all the boys and me and one other girl) hopped onto some four-wheelers (known here as quad-bikes) and took off for about an hour or so around the dried up river beds, backpasture paths and other interesting terrain. If one drove fast enough through what little water was still in the river you'd get soaked. Drive a quad bike was a lot like driving a snowmobile, only without the snow. I was very grateful for my experience on snowmobiles because it was very hard to keep up with the overenthusiastic boys. But I tried.

We then went back to the house that Craig's boss rented which was one of the nicest houses I've ever seen available to people to actually stay in for a holiday. It was just that...a private house that the owners were renting out for that weekend. And it was such fun. The boys went for another ride while us ladies sat around chatting for a bit. When they got home we all put on our bathing suits (known here as Toggs) and went down to the hot pools.

Hanmer is a very geothermal area filled with natural hot pools all Over the place. But someone decided it would be a smart idea to build a water-park type resort around some of these hot pools, filter them so they are a bit more sanitary, put in a 25 metre swimming pool and some waterslides and charge every tourist five or ten bucks to get in. And even though the idea of capitalising on nature and stuff is kind of sickening and annoying...Well, whoever decided to this was bang on with that idea. And from the tourist end, the money was well spent (especially since a hot pool that is not filtered is remarkably unsanitary and very dangerous to one's health). The mini water park was littered with all sorts of different pools, some hotter than others, some bigger than others, all with signs explaining what sort of natural elements and minerals were in each. The water slides were fun and took me back to my younger days with Colleen and Celeste at Darien Lake, and it was just much too cold for the lap pool so I decided to avoid that. Apparently the place is open year-round; even when there is a foot of snow covering the land. I'd like to go back during that time of year to see what it's like. Who knows, maybe I will. We're only two hours away, if that.

So after the hot pools we went to dinner at the Saints pizzeria and bar. Well, this is the first time in a while that I've felt the itch to party it up...so I did just that. I made a new friend in the process and played some pool. I must add that I played some AMAZING pool actually....I sunk shots that I never thought I'd come close to hitting, ricocheting the cue ball off one wall, and hitting the eight ball into the corner pocket on its way back. I was a little drunk so I was pretty proud of myself...probably more proud of myself than I should have been. Ha.

But it was fun to chat it up and drink it up with some cool kids. We then came back and found places to sleep (we got the six couch cushions which turned out to be a pretty good bed after all). Craig and I woke relatively early, went for a run up and then down Conical hill...a steep uphill where at the top you can see 360 degress around to all the surrounding mountains and houses. Pretty nice view. Then the guys went for another ride (only some of the guys...the others were pretty hungover and decided to stick it out with the ladies). SO the rest of us went shopping, laid down on the quad grass and bathed in the sun, chatting about everything and nothing. The guys returned just as the clouds began to move in and then we were off home again.

It was a pretty jam-packed weekend but fun and relaxing nonetheless...which is always a much needed thing.

The following day Craig and I took off for our little trip around the South Island..which we are still on. So once we return home I'll let you all know how it went. I can say so far that is has been an amazing trip and my love for tramping and mountaineering is only growing. No, I promise I won't ever be attempting Everest, but we're going to try for our first 1500 metre peak tomorrow (a far cry from Everest's 8000+ metres or even any of the highest peaks in NZ at 3000+ metres) but it's still a start and a big deal and should be a lot of fun. So far we've done one at 650 metres near the glaciers, so tomorrow should be a good challenge!

I'll let you know if that air is thinner up there. Haha!

-NMK

The Conclusion to the Brotzman Adventures

Kaikoura and Good-byes

Day 8 started a bit later than originally expected with a yummy baguette for breakfast and a sunny day. We hoped in the tiny Civic for one last trip as the terrible threesome and headed North for Kaikoura, the small resort-like town about two hours above Christchurch. The ride was hilly and twisty, so very fun to drive. We knew we were close to this little diamond of the East when we came out of the valley between two hills and found ourselves driving along the coast. The water was a deep ocean green and the sunlight danced in sparkles atop its rippling surface. Could it have been a more beautiful day???

We lunched in Kaikoura, overlooking the water, since the town runs all along the coast. We then drove towards the seal colony a couple of kilometres outside of town. Now, we expected nothing short of a horde of seals on rocks a few hundred feet away from the mainland...and we were so wrong about how this experience was about to unfold. As we stepped off the man-made concrete steps and onto the sun-dried rocks we saw other toursists with binoculars walking in from the furthest of the dry rocks. The tide was out and we were wandering amongst large, smelling bunches of sea kelp, baking starfish who had been unable to navigate their way towards a wet area during low tide and all sorts of shells clinging desperately to the small pool in hollowed-out rock beds. We looked around, disappointed in the realization that we would probably not see any seals due to our lack of binoculars, but we asked nonetheless, "where can we find the seals?". A passing tourist snorted at us and laughed, "well turn around". A rather arrogant gesture, but very well-deserved. As we spun around to look back at the route we came from, not even ten feet from the parking lot and the concrete steps to the rocks laid a medium-sized seal, bathing in the sun, rolling from side to side and sighing heavily as people stared.

You've got to be kidding me.

The seals matched so well with the rocks beneath our feet that they were nearly invisible without a good, hard look. So we walked. And as we walked we saw...or rather stumbled over more seals. You see, there is a rule that everyone respectfully follows that people aren't to go any closer than ten metres to the seals. This is a difficult task when you come over a ridge and nearly step on one of these hidden, lounging beasts. We continued to walk the coast, along the temporarily dry sea floor, seeing lonely seal after lonely seal, enjoying his own little spot, avoiding the rest of the colony. We were even unfortunate enough to see a dead seal, one that had dried and was decaying in the intense heat. It was hard to look, but also hard to look away, thinking of all the creature had been through, how it had come so far from it's colony just to die alone. Wondering why it had died. Wondering if all the other single seals, alone near the shore had also left their colonies to die.

And just as we thought we'd see no seals and would have to return before the tide came in, there they were. Dad saw them. An entire colony, flopping around on the rocks less than 100 metres away from us. After considering going nearer, we decided to brave the rocky beds to get a closer look. And of course, continuing with my animal luck, we nearly stepped on three giant seals. These three, quite a ways inland from the rest of the colony seemed to be acting as sentries, guarding their kin and the rest of their mates. Karen came over a small lump of rocks and yelped, seeing one of the largest seals we'd seen yet. He sat up, puffed out his giant whiskers and made some awfully threatening noises. The other two sat up, stationed about twenty or thirty feet away from him, at nearly exact intervals. They watched as we passed their invisible line, towards the colony. They turned and positioned themselves so they could watch our movements. The colony also noticed some intruders and like a wave stood upon their fins and waddled further up the giant boulders they were lolling on. After their retreat we figured it was enough. To see these creatures is a treat, but to disturb them so much wasn't fair. We turned to retreat, and found ourselves nearly trapped by the three sentries. So we carefully made our way back through their line, where I nearly stepped on one of the smallest ones. Once we finally found our way out of seal-land we returned to the car and headed to our next destination.

This is NZ and NZ is the land of sheep afterall. So what better way to celebrate the day than see a sheep-shearing up close and personal. So that is what we did. For ten NZ dollars we were able to witness the upclose shearing of a lovely little sheep, to feed a giant ram dubbed "Ram-man" and pet a friendly little black sheep named "Blackie" (clearly the owners don't have much imagination. Sheep are quite interesting creatures, but there isn't much more to say about them than that. It was very fun to see this whole process up close, to see this guy, with little trouble at all, roll this big sheep onto her back and shear her in nearly a minute. Apparently the record for number of sheep shorn in an eight hour day is 800 sheep. That is insane. And a lot of wool.

We had coffee on the coast afterwards and then left for home. The following day would be Karen and Dad's last day in NZ.

On Day 9 we went to Craig's workshop to see his frame-building tools. Nothing I haven't seen before, but my dad found it quite interesting. We did some last minute shopping in town and then headed out to Ruth and Mark's for lunch and some more time on the farm. On our way home from the farm it began to rain, and we had all though that Princess Karen's luck had worn out. But then we looked skyward and saw most definiltey the brightest and most complete rainbow I have ever seen in my entire life. It spanned across the whole sky and was so bright, the line where each color met the next was perfectly distinct. A fabulous finale to an amazing week.

We then went to the airport and had a tearful goodbye in the rain. It was hard to let go of my Dad, but sometimes you have to do things you don't want to. Having them here definiltey made me realize how much smaller the world is and how it is possible to see people you love, even half way around the world. It will be a long time until I see my family and friends from back home again, but I think I need to be here...a little longer. I am becoming aquainted with this place. Falling in love with it, among other things ;-) and I'm not ready to go home.

That being said I've begun inquiries as to how to extend my Visa...which seems like it should be a pretty easy task as the company that I came here with can help with it.

But let's not get ahead of ourselves. This is the end of the Brotzman Adventures, but only the beginning of mine. Craig and I leave for Hanmer Springs with his boys from work soon and then we'll be off on our own trip around the South Island.

I'll update when I can, because I know there will be lots to tell!

All my love to those back home.

Vive la rue de Brotzman!!!

-NMK

A Break from the Brotzman Adventures

Although there are still two days left in our chronicles of the Brotzman Road three, I have recently had a plethora of thoughts, experiences, and other sorts of interesting things going on that deserve a bit of notice. Don't worry, the Adventures will return for their stunning conclusion in due time, but for now let's focus on the things at hand.

I am on holiday. Yes, holiday as in, I don't have to work this coming week. This is not the same sort of holiday as when my Father came, however. It is a time for relaxation, lazy sleep-ins and reading late into the days. It is for home-made breakfasts, sipping tea and taking time to get ready for a hike or a ride. There is little rush, little worry about the day ahead, and little tiredness due to long work days and busy schedules. Don't get me wrong, it was amazing when my visitors came...but when people that you love come so far to see you, the last thing you want to do is relax. You want to spend every possible minute with them, bypassing extra rest and betraying the true exhaustion that encompasses you. It doesn't matter if it pains you to open your eyes at seven or eight in the morning on a day you'd typically have off...you get up to go to breakfast with them, not because you HAVE to...but because you CAN. When else will I be able to go breakfast with my father this year? When else will I be able to converse over coffee and eggs with Karen? It would be like going to Hawaii and staying in the hotel all day because it's raining. It just shouldn't be done.

But that being said, this is my true holiday for rest and relaxation. We plan to travel, but Craig has become the designated driver of the trip. I just can't bear to drive another kilometre that I dont have to. All trips aside, a lot has been going on in life and in my head.

I have had a lot of time lately to explore new things, new books, new ideas about what to do with myself in the upcoming weeks, months, years, etc. The most recent development has been my newfound ability to knit. And I must admit, I am quite the natural knitting talent. As Karen and I believe, I will someday be the Knitting Champion of the World. I've just started my first normal-sized scarf. A cream-coloured alpaca wool, so soft to the touch and warm as anything. I've even managed to put tassels on the end, and it is just so lovely. Bear in mind, most of you will be receiving various knitted accessories for Christmas, birthdays, holidays, etc. So if you have any requests, send color preferences, wool-types, etc along.

Along with my new knitting habit, there has been a lot of reading going on. And I'm tearing through books like never before. One I've recently read is called "The Dogs of Bedlam Farm". A book about a man from NJ who moved to upstate NY, bought a farm with fourteen sheep and couple of donkeys. He brought his three border collies up with him and experienced what it was like to live a rural lifestyle. In a country so full of farming and sheep and many of the similar things this man wrote about, it was rather fitting. And it makes me think, maybe someday it would be fun to have a little farm with sheep and dogs. Who knows.

But now I am reading a book titled "Savage Summit", which has proven an amazing, terrifying, and saddening account of the five woman who have summitted K2, the world's second highest and probably most difficult mountain in the world to climb. All five of these woman are now dead, whether having died on the mountain or afterwards. And in fairness, there was recently a sixth woman from Spain who made it to the top after the book had been written. And she is still alive. But this book, these statistics, the stories about climbing are simply unbelievable. There is a quote in the book which states "There is no other sport which requires that its players die." After reading just about a quarter of the book it is abundantly clear that death is one of the well-accepted side effects of climbing mountains. And strangely enough, as I woke this morning and turned on the television to mindlessly eat my breakfast in front of, there was a national geographic documentary following Sir Edmond Hilary's son Peter and his own expedition up Mt Everest. Sir Edmond Hilary (for those who don't know him) was the first man to summit Mt. Everest...with only one other man...and he's from NZ. In fact, he's on the five dollar note I believe. Fitting isn't it? The US had presidents on their money....NZ has men and women of high life achievements.

Anyway, I wasn't sure if this was some sort of pleasant coincidence or a sign (which I highly doubt) or some sort of Princess Karen-type luck, but I watched with wide eyes and full enthusiasm as these men worked, through exhaustion and altitude sickness, inch by inch to the top. Simply amazing.

That being said, I doubt that I will start climbing mountains in my life...on the contrary, I value my life quite a bit. Not to say that mountaineers don't, but I just don't want to risk it THAT much. But, that's not to stop Craig and I from going for a good long tramp today either.

Other news from the Nicole front here in NZ...my job is going alright, but I am hoping to start interning at some sort of local media company, be it in TV, Newspaper, Radio or Photography. If that becomes impossible, I would like to get another job on my off hours in order to a)make more money and b)get more experience in something other than swimming.

Another object of my time has been the Canterbury Film Society, of which I hope to become an active volunteering member. We've been watching a lot of films that most people will never see in their lifetime...a lot of films that I would have watched in my Art of Cinema class back at Hamilton. And my appreciation for movies continues to grow through them. Incidentally the guy who is at the head of the film society is a young kid from Indiana who moved here after a semester abroad at Canterbury University. He's been here nearly five or six years now. Go figure eh?

Last night we watched Secret Window...and I would just like to say for all who've seen it, I so totally called the plot twist the first twenty minutes into the film. Thank you very much.

And Easter is right around the corner. How fun. Craig and I have been munching happily on the little cadbury hard-shelled eggs...definitely not good for the wasteline, but you know what, that's ok. It's Easter. Yum. And I've been running a lot lately...to my happiness my knees have been holding up incredibly well and I hope to continue this little streak.

Winter is also right around the corner down here in Southern Hemisphere World and the nights continue to get colder. Thank goodness for Mums who send goose-down comforters half way around the world to their little girls (aka Kathryn Knapp.) It never felt more like home than it does beneath those sheets.

Finally, we are off to Hanmer Springs tomorrow, the geothermal hot-pool resort of the South Island. Completely shouted by Craig's boss Hamish. (To Shout=to pay for). We're renting four wheelers, doing dinner, hopefully going out to the hotpools and the spas. It should be a fun, raunchy, rather inappropro weekend.

So this has been a rather random account of the past few weeks, the upcoming holiday and basically all that has been going on in my head and in my life. I'm sure it's not that interesting, but I hope that at least one of two of you can find some sort of interest in some of the things I've been doing. So now it's off to get ready for our tramp through the hills.

-Nic :-)

The Brotzman Adventures -Day 7

Return from the West

On this day we woke in Hokitika to the sounds of the ocean and the fresh, salty breeze. After getting our things together and the car repacked for the final time, we drove into town and had a lovely little breakfast at a small bakery. Sitting there on a Friday morning, we wondered how such a place stayed in business. It was peak breakfast hours and we were the only customers. Maybe there were more dinner diners, or maybe it was a slow day, but it really gave us some perspective on how difficult it may be to run a business. Especially a restaurant. Karen was baffled by the "Beans on Toast" option on the menu and just HAD to order it. So while my Dad and I got typical orders of eggs, toast and homefries, Karen was treated with some Watties baked beans, smothered in tomato sauce and drapped all over wheat toast. I know it doesn't sound very good, but in all honesty, it is quite tasty. Trust me.

So we enjoyed breakfast and then headed down the street to enjoy all the interesting shops. There were shops carving NZ jade, paua shell, woodcarvers, glassblowers...all sorts of artistics crafts with a plethora of purchasin opprotunity. Go figure. After a few small purchases we went to the local aquarium and "nature world" to get an upclose look at some more of New Zealand's interesting creatures. When we came into the front lobby, however, we found ourselves confronted by a knit shop and an elderly lady knitting away behind the desk. So, going with the knitting theme of this little trip, Karen bought some wool and we perused the rest of the gifts available in the shop. Then we bought our tickets to enter the miniature aquarium and sanctuary behind closed doors. Only in New Zealand can one find a knit shop and an aquarium all under one roof.

In the aqaurium we were greeted by seahorses, tropical fish, and lots of little lizards and turtles. In the middle of the room, in an enormous tank were adolescent eels. Enormous compared to anything else I had seen they were more than a meter in length and as wide as a strong man's bicep. It was clear that they loved the dark; they all tried to squeeze themselves into the few holes availble to them and, because there were so many, ended up just fitting in their heads. It looked as if a lot of large, grey, wriggly spaghetti was sticking out of these holes, trying desperately to swim further in. Quite disgusting. Would you rather put your face in the eel hole or punch yourself in the face? I'd rather punch myself in the face. Hard.

And just when we thought we had left the eels behind, we came into a second room with a similar tank and upon looking in could not believe what we were seeing. Behind the glass laid a large number of adult eels, enormous in comparison to the eels we had previously seen....in fact, they were enormous in comparison to pretty much anything. If one were to try and wrap their arms around these guys it would be difficult to do. They were as long as a car if not longer, and simply hideous. Each one lay on the bottom, it's mouth opening and closing as it breathed through its gills, it's angry eyes wide and inquisitive to the people staring at it. I began to see images of the tank breaking, the giant eels splashing out towards us, knocking us over, wrapping their giant, writing bodies around us. Eww. So we moved on. Would you rather play with the giant, adult eels or cut your leg off. Cut my leg off, definiltey.

But then, after the eels, we made our way towards the exit, for what was really the main attraction of this little expedition. The kiwi sanctuary. The kiwi bird is extremely endangered in New Zealand due to the fact that a) it cannot fly and b) a number of predators were carelessly introduced years ago that just love the taste of the little kiwi. Something like only five in one hundred kiwi chicks born in the wild will survive. And they are dying at an even faster rate. But this little place in Hokitika had four kiwi birds they were raising and training and getting ready to release into the wild. Well, three of them at least. One of the kiwis was 23 years old and had lost his leg in a hunter's trap when he was seven. Kiwis walk are bipedal, like any other bird. But without the ability to fly, one would wonder how this little guy got along with only one leg. Well, he used his long beak at his other leg! How cool is that! What a trooper. So we watched him eat and poke around the ground for a little while. The guy was so tame, we were standing within a foot or two over him, looking down into a giant playpen-like creation, without any sort of glass. And he didn't flinch. Just went about doing his thing. I could have reached out to touch him if I had wanted to, but we all know how my luck with animals had been going...plus, that is just wrong! Haha.

Then we moved on to watch the other three kiwis play around. And what a show they put on for us. Running about, pecking at each other, jumping on one anothers heads, eating and just being silly. They were very large, about one and a half times the size of a soccer or basketball. And we were lucky to see them so playful. After the kiwi house we took one last trip to the glow-worm dell to see what it looked like in daylight. Certainly it couldn't have been a natural structure, it had to be man made. But to our surprise it wasn't. It was just a well-kept path with a handrail that led into a small, round, hollow in the forest. Pretty amazing.

Hopping in the car we headed on to Greymouth to leave the car and hop back on the train to Christchurch. We turned in the keys to the car but I'm dumb so I left some stuff in the center consol that I'll have to pick up during my travels with Craig next week. But how cool is that?! That you can leave something in a rental car, call them the next day, have them know exacly what it is and put it on hold behind their counter for you to come get when you stop through again. It's like a really small community, this entire country.

We enjoyed the train ride home, cloudy as it was again. I slept a lot of the way, knitted a little, read the book my mother sent over with Dad and Karen. It was nice to see Tower Junction as the train pulled into Addington station. It was nice to get in my car and drive down familiar streets. But it still didn't feel like home. Any of you who have traveled know what I mean. It was close, but it was still a foreign land, not Binghamton, New York. Not Clinton NY. But it's getting closer, I think.

So I dropped Karen and Dad off at their hotel while I went to get some mexican for dinner. They came over and I cooked up a nice little meal for us all to enjoy in a more relaxed fashion. The big part of our adventures was over, but we weren't finished completely. We still had one more small leg to go the following day.

All in all, throughout our west coast travels, we covered over 900km...and I drove all but 8 of it. Needless to say, when Craig and I go for our holiday he will definiltey be the one behind the wheel.

-Nic :-)

The Brotzman Adventures -Day 6

Ok so it has been too long since my last post about our adventures. Here is the report from the sixth day of our travels:

We woke in Haast and had breakfast at McGuire's the place in our hotel. Then we drove back up the West Coast towards the Fox glacier area to hike the Lake Matheson trail. It's supposed to be the most beautiful trail, one where you can see Mount Cook and all the other Mountains reflecting in the lake. So we got some lunch and went on the two hour hike. Unfortunately it was a cloudy day (one of the only ones) so we weren't able to see the mountains. All in all the lake was gorgeous and peaceful. It was fun to watch all the birds, explore the fauna and simply enjoy the outdoors.

After we returned from our walk we had a small afternoon tea at a cafe in the Fox Glacier area and then headed up to a small walk called the Lake Moraine walk. And I, exhausted from all the driving, took a nap in the car while Karen and Dad hiked it. it only too 15 minutes, so I wasn't missing much.

We then drove north more to Hokitika, encountered some crappy camper-van drivers along the way, but made it safe and sound. We got a fabulous deal at the "Beachside Motel" a quaint little place near the ocean. In our "room" was a kitchen, a lounge, two bedrooms and a bathroom. So we really had somewhere around five beds for the three of us. Spoiled, eh? We went shopping for some Paua jewelry (made of the Paua seashell) and my dad finally found the perfect pair of earrings for my mom. To all of our disappointment, someone stole them from his carry-on on his way home from NZ. I felt horrible since he looked so hard for the perfect pair for her. We're going back to Hoki in a few days so hopefully i'll be able to find a similar pair. We watched the sunset over the Tasman sea for the second and final time of our trip and then toured the neighboring hotel's petting zoo type thing. There were lots of chickens and other birds, wild pigs (not so wild in their pens), llamas, alpacas, other sorts of cute animals that obviously helped draw a crowd to that hotel. We then had dinner at the Cafe du Paris, one of the nicest places we ate the entire time (other than the Blue Ice Cafe). The food was amazing and french and really quite refreshing. I don't think I would drive over to the West JUST to go to that cafe, but I would make it a priority to stop and eat there while visiting that coast.

After dinner we headed to the glow-worm dell. This was very exciting since I didn't think that Karen or my Dad would get the chance to see these little guys. I've seen them in the caves when i went underground but these guys were above ground in this giant circular place. It's hard to explain. it was like walking down a forest path and then coming to a culdusac in the woods...only it was in the dark. And it was hysterical. These three american tourists (yes i still count as one as long as i'm with two other american tourists, going places i haven't been) gripping onto one another and whispering and laughing and running into bushes. When we finally got to the end it was beautiful. Like tiny stars in the sky, they reminded me of my caving experience with Brett. I was so happy to have shared this moment with Karen and my Dad. Such a cool and unique thing.

Basically this day was meant to get us up nearer Greymouth where we'd have to catch the train home. I was definitely going crazy by then as I'd driven nearly a billion miles up and down NZ. But all in all it was a fantastic day and despite the Lake Matheson doom and gloom clouds, we still managed to enjoy it.

Ok...sorry this entry has been less than brilliant. i am beat and off to bed. I'll be back soon with the rest of the adventures.

-NMK :-)

The Brotzman Adventures -Day 5

From Franz to Haast

We let ourselves sleep in after our big hike the day before, but after waking at 7 so often for work and other committments, I found it difficult to stay asleep. When I finally accepted the sound of the alarm, I realized just how trying the previous day's adventure had been on my body. Although I consider myself a person of decent fitness, my legs were aching and my feet sore right to the bone. I still believe every ache was worth it, to see such stunning natural beauty is so rare a thing in today's world.

Karen, my father and I made our way to the Cheaky Kea for another lovely breakfast. It reminded me a bit of college life...buffet style almost, with eggs to order. Except this time we had to pay for it. After a few pictures outside the Cheaky Kea, a quick hello to Troy as he loaded up the bus for the day's morning tour (that is just how small the town is), an amusing final conversation with our hotel buddy Oscar and a short tramp on a local trail called the Minniehaha Walk, we were on our way South. To Haast.

And yes, it's about as exciting as it sounds.

The name says it all. Haast. It is exactly what I expected the typical, non-touristy West Coast town of New Zealand to be like. You see, Greymouth, although small and kind of dingy due to its coal mining history, still had nearly 3000 people living there. The streets, although few, were wall to wall cafés, clothing stores, bars and other things useful in a town that has the only major rail station connecting the West to the East. And then there's Franz, which is actually a bit smaller than Haast by a few people (like maybe 10), but it feels larger because of the tourist scene. Because it's bustling with activity and comers and goers. But Haast, to use a term very popular in Kiwi-speak, seemed very "little-wee-tiny" indeed. Sure it had fewer people living there than my graduating class at Hamilton, but it felt like less. Like people were hidden away in their homes. For the first time since I've been in this country, I felt as though I had entered into a ghost town. The first place I've been with no stores, no shops...only hotels and restaurants in those hotels. There was an information center, which looked as though it would have cost a billion dollars to make. Right on the water, there was a lounge with an enormous bay window, a miniature museum, bathrooms that looked as though they had never been used and the friendliest people around to help.

The hotel we came upon was one of the nicest places I've stayed in a long time...except for the fact that it was probably the worst scenary in Haast. We did have a nice view of a fenced-in field with two buck elk roaming about, but the rest was dust and dry grasses. We ate lunch at McGuires, the little restaurant at the Hotel and then I took my tired butt back to have a nap. Hours upon hours of driving just wore me out. So my Dad and Karen went down to Haast beach, which proved much more beautiful than Haast "roadside" where we were staying. They returned an hour later and we went off to explore the waterfalls in the area. The Roaring Billy Falls, Thunder Creek Falls and Fantail Falls. We skipped stones across the Haast River (where i almost skipped a stone across Karen's face, long story.), visited with Fantails and admired the waterfalls hidden back in their own unique bits of paradise. We then stopped at the Gateway to Haast, which was basically just a bridge above a roaring river. The sun was setting so we decided to make our final stop the Haast beach to walk and enjoy the sunset, which proved to be gorgeous.

We returned to our hotel, ate again at McGuires and chatted a bit with the waitress. I think I was curious about the size of this town and how there were places of business that actually succeeded in finding workers who wanted to stay there. And many of the people working seemed young, between 18 and 24. During our talks I found that there was no doctor in town, only a nurse, and that if someone needed to see one, they'd have to travel to Wanaka, nearly 2 hours south. If it was a serious issue, they would have to get heli-lifted to Wanaka for surgery. I also realized that there were no grocery stores, only gas stations with small dairies, providing the bare minimum. The residential part of town seemed to be nothing more than a small development like the one back home...only MUCH smaller.

After dinner Dad went to bed while Karen and I stayed up to enjoy the ridiculously nice lounge which had sky Movies on. Spanglish (if you've not seen it I highly recommend it) was playing and we decided to do some knitting in our PJ's while watching. The hotel lounge finally closed so we retired to Karen's barn-sized room to finish the movie and our knitting. And then I was off to bed. Because I was exhausted, and we had a long day coming up with a drive back up towards Hokitika. We had come as far south as our time would allow us and it was time to start heading towards home.

-NMK

The Brotzman Adventures -Day 4

Glacial Adventure

I woke early, earlier than intended, to the bright sunlight shining in through the window in the bathroom. It was spotlighting the alarm clock and I struggled to make out the time, the red digital letters, dimmed from the sun’s natural glow. I was extremely tired still, whether it was from the long driving the night before or an early wake up, I wasn’t sure. And then suddenly notes slowly faded into the room from the little hole in the top of the alarm. Now I was sure...my exhaustion was definitely due to the late night driving from the previous day. After finally getting myself out of bed, into the shower and dressed I allowed myself a step outside. What awaited me I could never have guessed.

I stood on our patio, and staring back at me was the Franz Josef glacier, the white ice sparkling in stark contrast to the bluest sky I’ve ever seen. My lungs were filled with the cool, moist morning air, reminding me of the dew from back home....except it was everywhere. Every car was blanketed in tiny droplets from bonnet to boot, but there had been no rain that night. The plants dripped fresh water off every petal, every leaf. We were officially in the rain forest. And right beside it stood a giant glacier: one of the rarest occurrences in nature throughout the entire world. We only hoped that we would have the opportunity to climb the thing.

Since we had such a difficult time finding accommodation the previous night, we weren’t too certain that we’d be able to reserve a spot on a glacial hike, let alone one that very morning. But our dear concierge (his name was Oscar by the way), the very same man that we had pissed off so very badly the night before, went to great lengths to get all three of us a reservation on the 10:30 3/4 day hike. (Oscar would continue to be amazing the remainder of our stay in Franz Josef when he gave us an amazing deal on rooms for the second night in a row; the question as to why he did all this will never be answered. But it does teach a very good lesson in holding grudges over petty occurrences.)

After we reserved our spots on the 10:30 hike, we went to breakfast at the Cheeky Kea, a place I had read about in my lonely planet...and a testament to just how small Franz is. I think everyone that lived there had breakfast there at some point between the hours of 8 and 11am. And after some food and a little bit of sunglass shopping for Dad, we headed off to the Okarito touring agency to begin our quest.

Things began with taking a number necklace and signing our name next to said number on a sheet of paper, along with giving a list of previous injuries and past medical history. The number was to be worn around our necks for the remainder of the trip. They TOLD us it was in order to make sure they got all of their equipment back. I suspect it was a sort of Dog tag in case we fell down a crevasse and they needed to identify us. Anyway, we entered the equpiment room where they issued us quite possibly the most uncomfortable boots I have ever walked on. It felt as though someone had strapped a wooden board to my foot, but first they put a really itchy, worn-out wool sock on my foot. Then they issued us our ice-talons or cramp-ons. These were given to us in a fannypack to wear around our waist. We still had to hike an hour before even getting to the ice, so there was no point in wearing the spikes on dry ground. Then we got our rain coats, and skipped the mittens and hats since it was a gorgeous day. Afterwards we went into the main lobby and met our guide, Troy.

Troy began the day by telling us, plain and simple, that if we failed to listen to him on the glacier we could die. Yes die. And we didn’t even have to sign a waiver. Nothing of the sort would have ever happened in the United States. Regardless, after our mini lecture on not dying we hopped on the bus and headed up towards the glacier. Ten minutes later we were there and on the move towards the ice.

Through forest and bush and up miniature hills then down...and we were spat out on the edge of what looked like a giant dried-up river bed. Come to find out, it was the basin that the glacier had dug out, and once the glacier receeded, all that was left was a huge expanse of rock and dirt. And there it was...the glacier. Standing right before us. And what an illusion it was. In reality, the thing was still 2 plus kilometers away from us...a good hour’s walk through a rocky desert (reminding me much of our ocean swim in Hawaii years ago...when the shoreline seemed so close but it was oh so very far away). We passed a few waterfalls along the way, which constrasted nicely against the barren stretch of land that passed through the center of two enormously lush hills...a sort of “red carpet” of nature, leading us to the main show.

When you’re really excited about something, it feels as though it will never come. As we walked along the dirt path, I was so impatient I wanted to burst. The heavy boots weighed me and the rest of the group down, and we trudged on, with determination, but slow speed. But then, before we knew it we were climbing under “restricted area” ropes and the dirt was beginning to have some ice in it. And then more ice...and less dirt. And finally Troy told us to sit down so we could put our ice talons on. What a brilliant creation those things are. He also told us the Maori legend about the glacier.

In short, a woman lived on the glacier and loved it..spending all her time climbing up and down it. Once she went down into the valley to get food or something and met a man, fell in love and decided to stay down there with him (so typical). Then one day they decided to go climb the glacier together (sounds like fun right?) and he fell into a crack and died because he sucked at climbing glaciers. Well, this broad was soooo sad that she cried and I guess someone froze her tears or something to keep the entire world from drowning. And that is probably so wrong it’s scary, but yeah. Why she’d want him back after he proved how un-manly he was at climbing glaciers I’ll never know.

And then we were off. The ice was so steep in places that Troy had to cut us steps in order to climb it. And the steps are continually melting and changing so he had to continue to cut into steps that had already been cut earlier that day. There were ropes to hang onto to prevent us from falling down cracks. Now, the thing that amazes me is that they were just ropes to HOLD ONTO. Not like we were clipped into a harness or anything. And oh, right to our left is a 100 meter drop that, incidentally, Troy doesn’t have a rope long enough to reach us if we plummet to our death. Darn. There were bridges, and little pools in the ice, weird formations and plenty of other tourists teeming like fleas on the back of a poor dog. Considering that the Franz Josef Glacier (and Fox glacier for that matter) move nearly 1-2 meters a day (most glaciers only move 1-2 meters a year), I was surprised that we weren’t thrown into oblivion or something. Ha.

We stopped for lunch half way into the day (nearly three hours), and munched on some food we had gotten at the Cheeky Kea. Despite how hot we had been while we were climbing, the wind picked up and with our butts sitting on the cold ice we quickly cooled and had to start putting on all the layers I had been dragging around the entire day. We got some pictures and then started heading back on up the glacier where things began to get very interesting. Blue ice caves, fantastic formations, smoother ice, cleaner ice. Many of the formations looked as though an ice-sculture had come to carve them specifically for the tourits. From time to time Troy would hack away at a peak of ice that looked ready to fall onto the walking path down below. We were all glad that the chunks he chopped off shattered directly onto the ice below nstead of onto our heads on our descent.

And then before we knew it, we were heading back down. Some of the same steep steps we had come up, we were now coming down. And in some places it was much harder...especially on my knees. We also had a very long wait while Troy and some other guides carved out a path in order to actually get us down. Strange to think that the path had changed so much that the path had disappeared. Or that they weren’t really sure which route we were going to take to get down.

And then, we were done. We were off the glacier...and despite the feelings of delirium that had set in, we were alive. We removed our ice-talors and were on our way back to the bus. My heels were split and killing me, my boots felt much heavier than they had on the way out and the ice talons were digging into my hip. But as we looked back at what we had accomplished, what my father and Karen had done at their ages (sorry guys I had to say it), I think we were all a bit proud. You see, they tell you before you go on the trip that if you can handle a 6 hour hike anywhere in the woods you can handle this. No. This is wrong and false and just...wrong. This was much much harder and more intense than any hike I’ve ever been on...even the ones when Craig had us lost and bush-whacking on the top of the Port Hills. First of all, if I ever fall on a hike, unless I’m like, hiking up a cliff which is really climbing, I don’t die or slide all the way back down or...die. And I don’t have to wear heavy-ass boots with spikes in the bottom to make sure I can actually walk. Anyway, you get my point. I think they need to be a bit more specific of the difficulty. Not that I would have passed this up...but what if I wasn’t sure of my fitness and they said “oh if you can walk for six hours you’ll be fine.” HA!

So we went back to the company...headquaters (i guess that’s what it’s called), handed in our stuff...and our numbers and said adios to the Okarito company and Troy. We went home, showered, and they quite appropriately when out to a fabulous dinner at the Blue Ice Cafe. Mmmm. I can say for certain that I slept well that night. And the next two days I would be as sore as if I had gone running for the first time in a year.

So if you ever come to NZ, please, if not for yourself, for me...climb the glaciers. They are the most amazing natural wonder I have ever seen up close. The most unique and simply stunning things to be on and feel and say that you were once a part of. So, if your fitness level is up to it....try it!!!

Oh and on this day in history I learned to purl...which is definitely more press-worthy making me wonder why on EARTH I bothered to tell you about all that glacier non-sense. What’s glacier-hiking compared to knitting??

-NMK

ps pics soooooon!

The Brotzman Adventures -Day 3

Pancake....Rocks?

It has been a while since we last saw Team Brotzman in action...a full week in fact. Although computers and internet were more than abundant, even amongst the bush of the West Coast, there was simply too much happening for Team member Nicole to find any extra time for a detailed account of the experience. So today, now that the dust has settled and all is falling back into its normal, everyday place, she shall begin where she left off: recalling the amazing tales, the great feats and the pure abnormality that was THE BROTZMAN ADVENTURES.

On day 3 we left from Addington station in Christchurch for Greymouth on the West Coast via the Tranz-Alpine train ride. Rated number six in the world on the list of most renowned rail experiences, we were not disappointed. We passed from Christchurch and through Arthur’s pass. We were moving slowly enough so that the scenery did not pass unnoticed. The flat lands of Christchurch became hills; the hills became bigger hills; and before we knew it, the bigger hills were mountains, jutting high above us against the grey sky. (yes it was an overcast day unfortunately, but spectacular nonetheless). The grasses were a grainy yellow and trees were scarce. We passed along bridges that looked high over river-carved gorges, the water still running through them was a deep blue. Sheep, cattle, horses, and all the other prerequisites for a farming community stood with such perfect placement, as if someone had chosen exactly where to put them in order to deliver the full New Zealand experience. And then it all went black.

We were passing through the Southern Alps, through a tunnel nearly 15km long. The darkness sent people back to their seats, encouraged them to close their eyes, forget the world outside this abyss. And suddenly light.

It was as if we had traversed an entire continent rather than a tiny island. The world before us had completely changed. Before us lay a landscape that can only be described as an artist’s work on canvas. As if some brilliant painter had been given the most vibrant palette and he had created a picture of paradise. The greenest jungles stretching high atop mountains, the deepest turquoise waters rushing along beneath us, around us, beside us, and towards the end, the bluest skies awaited.

While on the observation deck of the train I struck up a conversation with a man who seemed rather knowledgeable about photography. I say that he seemed rather knowledgeable because he was wearing quite a flash camera around his neck and taking great care in his photographs. Well, this man turned out to be from Texas, while his wife was from Syracuse! After a brief chat about cameras, journeys and life in upstate New York, I decided that buying a high quality digital camera may be the best route to go for a beginning camera enthusiast. (more to come on this later).

We also encountered a group of German tourists who ordered about 7 rounds of alcohol right as the train pulled away from the station in Addington. Funny that the rest of the car was ordering breakfast at the very same time. Needless to say they were pretty rowdy by the time we reached Greymouth. Who knows, maybe in their time zone, it would be night and time to drink. Or maybe they just like drinking...a lot.

Once we reached Greymouth we got hold of our rental car and made our way to a local cafe for lunch and trip planning. The silver Camery was a treat to drive as it’s probably 20-some years younger and simply a much smoother ride than my Mighty Honda. It was also automatic transmission, making it easier to navigate the winding, steep roads along the West coast. After finishing lunch we headed to Punakaki, some 100km or so north of Greymouth.

Punakaki provided us with a close-up view of many natural New Zealand...things. The first was a cheeky little Weka who found my finger to be a great delicacy. I was amazed at how tame this little creature seemed, but after researching the species found that the Weka are more bold and adventurous than tame. The fact that we found him near a tourist spot probably made him more courageous though and I’ve concluded that extending my hand, food-less, to Mr. Weka in a place that he’s probably been fed before was a very stupid thing to do. The nip didn’t hurt, but I yelped, more out of shock, and he fled into the bush behind the carpark. This would be the beginning of my uncharacteristically awful experience with animals throughout the remainder of the trip.

But the pancake rocks, the pancake rocks...oh the pancake rocks. They were fantastic. Bits of rock, layered one on top of the other. Like many geological formations they were created through erosion and mineral deposits over millions of years. The giant pieces of seaweed looked like huge brown sucker-fish clinging desperately to the rocks as the sea tried in vain to pull it down into the depths. Along with the pancake rocks were blowholes...yes folks, blowholes. And as the ocean came crashing into the rocks it would rocket out of these hidden hollows sending buckets of water into the air, much like when a whale shoots water out of his spout. And although the tide was low, we were lucky to get even a small demonstration AND because of my natural talent with a camera, capture it on film. So we watched in awe at this natural spectacle (a word I will use often throughout these blog entries) and guffawed at the fact that it all felt man-made. Like some sort of Dinsneyland attraction. It was all set up much like one, with winding roads leading to the big show, a beautified path that took you through well-kept jungle, but not too well kept to suggest it was fake.

After the pancake rocks we had another cup of coffee (something that became essential towards the end of the trip) and decided to make our way to Franz Josef. In reality we decided we would try to make it as far as we could...and by we, we meant I, since I was the only one driving. So we took off. And I drove. And drove. And drove. Vroom goes the Camery!

We chatted about life and love and global warming and how three little Brotzman-roadians could save the world from environmental devastation, George W. Bush and racial discrimination. And just before dark we pulled off to stretch our legs, surprisingly at a place I had been the last time I had come to the West Coast with my wretched ex-flatmates nearly 5 months ago. Here is where we had animal encounter number two. A fiesty little goat, chained to a tree with a very strange collar around his neck fashioned much like a historic picture frame. Well, with all my luck lately with animals I thought it a good idea to pick some yummy long grass and feed Mr. Goat. He appreciate it greatly...until I made the mistake of patting him on the nose. And as I, ever so gently, tried to express my sympathies for his current position in life, he semi-reared and retreated back to the tree he was tethered to. His sudden movement, once again, made me yelp and stagger backwards, nearly onto my ass. And this should have been my second and LAST issue with any sort of animals the rest of the trip, right? Yeah...right.

We continued on, my double-shot mocha fueling me much like the unleaded petrol that fueled the camery, only stronger. And despite the nay-sayers in the back (not so much nay-sayers but just, polite doubters with comments like “if you’re tired you can stop.”) I made it all the way to Franz. We stopped at the first place we could to find food and upon walking in the door felt a rush of rustic, country hospitality. The smell of beer was in the air, a large screen TV sat at the front of the bar set at the Sky Sports channel and a group of locals sat laughing and hooting (yes hooting) just like a stereotypical bar. Adelle, the woman who apparently owned the joint and the hotel associated with it, sat at bar knitting (how convenient!!!). We spoke candidly and ordered quickly as they would be closing soon (soon being an hour). The meals came out rather quickly, and over a few mugs of Monteiths we ate probably the best fish and chips I’ve ever had. The taste of the beer reminded me of summer back in Binghamton, crazy parties with the CVSP crew, late-night bonfires and ridiculous drunken antics. After dinner we asked about accomodation and found that the hotel we were at was closed, but it’s sister hotel was open down the road. The name of the hotel chain sounded a bit familiar and I found that my assumptions were correct. The Scenic Circle hotels are one of the nicest chains of hotels owned and operated by New Zealanders. Way over our budget. So to make a long story short, we drove around town, searching desperately for a place to rest our heads and found nothing. Finally we came upon Chateau Franz, a mix between a backpacker’s and a motel. And after a very strange encounter with the motel attendent, one that I don’t care to recount, we decided to stay there. The rooms were fabulous...warm, cozy, a full kitchen in the Knapp room and a gorgeous view of the glaciers as we came to find the next morning.

We fell asleep quickly that night....it had been a very long day, and an even longer day was to come. And since this entry has been exceedingly long, as most entries will be from this journey, it is time to say goodnight and until next time my faithful blog-readers.

-NMK

ps I really don't feel like doing pictures tonight...but there are many. About 300. that's probably the reason I don't feel like going through them. Anyway, they will be coming soon. Some for each day, I promise. :-)