21.25 For the birds, for the mountains, for the soul, for peace of mind.

Many years ago, Trini Lopez sang a song, “If you want to be happy for the rest of your life,
don’t make a pretty woman your wife.” On the presumption that it may be a true statement, what does
a man say who is married to a woman who makes him happy? It’s quite a dilemma. The only answer I have
is to hide the blog from the editor or hope, as she is well on in years, she ‘s forgotten all about
the song. Which brings me to a comment our friend Brian made a while ago: ‘Jeffrey, all women are beautiful.’
On considering this rather unusual thought, I concur—it’s true and especially about my editor.

Should you wish to capture a spirit of happiness, excitement and delight then we would suggest
you follow the birds, both human and animal (Oops, sorry, Jen). Wherever we come across these winged
creatures, particularly in the mornings, they provide a spirit, a feeling that the world has just been
created and they are the luckiest creatures to be part of it. The chirping, flapping of wings, shaking
of heads and quick flights above and about the area, the occasional rush along the ground, constantly
chirping to each other or just singing out aloud, makes one wonder why we humans don’t adopt that attitude.

Nevertheless, whenever we come way from an early morning session with the birds, we take a little
of that spirit with us. We woke early to view sunrise at Lake Wanaka, watch the birds and capture the sun
shining on the surrounding mountains as well as glistening on the snow-capped peaks in the distance.
The reflections off the lake, both birds and mountains, created a stunning effect. We have often said
and truly believe that when we tune our senses into our environment, we become aware of the daily miracles.
It’s a time when one forgets the mundane aspects that we allow to creep into our lives.





Forming a circle in flight.




The next position of the wings in flight. The reflection of the mountain off the lake provides
some color for the birds...and us.





Some low-level flying at Lake Wanaka very early...before the wardens resume duty.





Snow continues to accumulate each night. The weather is a changin'.




A pair a is beautiful number. These two fly towards Roy's Peak, somewhat easier than walking.





Some shadow flying.





I do believe we have a lift-off.




Mount Roy reflects off Lake Wanaka.





'Too much sun and you'll be roast duck soon, Dewey.'




Serenity to commence or end the day.





'Okay fellas, let's come in low and show the crowd some dare-devil flying.





Let's not get those wing tips wet, young fella.




I'm a gull—not a pe'king duck.




'I prefer to come in from the other side—the water is blue.'




Oh! What a beautiful morning, oh what a beautiful day!


Cheers,

Jenni and Jeffrey

21.24 Wanaka: Roy's Peak, a glorious experience, a tough hike...aren't they all.

Roy's Peak viewed from across the city on Mount Iron, an elevation gain of 4,030 feet.





At the peak, looking towards Mount Aspiring. We viewed this backdrop from Ben Lomond in Queenstown,
100 miles distant, two weeks before.




"Boy-hero" has to try match the editor, usually fails.




Whenever we visit Wanaka, New Zealand, the hike to the peak of Roy's Mountain is a must do. The concern
is that it's becoming more strenuous each time. We're sure the mountain hasn't got any steeper or higher.
The obvious thought is that perhaps it has something to do with us and that's a worry although who likes
to admit it. Nevertheless, as I explained to Jen, who found it tough (and rightly so), at over 4,000 feet
elevation gain in 5 miles (one-way), it has to be a struggle. In addition, perhaps the mood was wrong,
the energy level was low on the day, the kids were a worry, the dogs were restless, the weather was hot...I hope
that's a good enough answer otherwise we're in a little trouble.





In the early stages, grass trail is a treat, Lake Wanaka not too bad either.





Using the goat path as we close in on the peak.





An interesting spot as we made our way down from the peak. Missed it previously.




What a hike! What an experience. On a perfect day, we reached the top in about 2.5 hours. It is
extremely steep which provides a good challenge, something I particularly enjoy. The path is a fine one,
the exposure to the surrounding mountains and town, the fabulous Lake Wanaka and Mount Aspiring (much of it)
is always on view. The latter is snow-covered and distinctive and visible from about half-way up the mountain.
When we hiked Ben Lomond in Queenstown, another outstanding experience, we had views of Mount Aspiring and
its glacier, too. For the return journey, we ran part of the way down which provides another facet to hiking.
It keeps one nimble, alert, helps the fitness level and quickens the hike—most of the views we have already
enjoyed by that stage.





Mount Aspiring and glacier in 'one's face'.





Seated at the peak, not excited to return the long way down. Hang glider?





A lake view with a massive cloud reflecting off the surface.




There is some flexibility towards the top where one can choose to take the more gradual trail
or use the goat paths—the latter provide a slightly more direct access to the peak as well as a little
thrill. Our calves were bursting as they almost cried out to ease off as we negotiated the steep
inclines. When all is said and done, nothing beats the successful return home, seating oneself and basking
in the incredible feeling of being a little sore, a little stiff, a little tired and extremely uplifted.
How and why this feels that way is above our pay grades but it's nevertheless, a feeling
indescribable and climactic. We'll keep working at it and take it whenever we can.




Jen getting 'a head' with another 1,500 feet or so to go. Who's counting?




Serenity and beauty on the day.



With complete exposure on the track, there are no trees, the car park was in view the whole period.
Whilst we were never far from it laterally, the distance increased mostly vertically until at the peak,
we could see mere specks for cars. At all times, we could see the antenna at the peak—the elevation gain
remaining, but for the closing stages, always felt a little intimidating, and at times, a lot. Along
the way, we saw some interesting crowned birds and only a couple of sheep. On previous occasions,
the lower 2,000 feet section had an abundance of animals. However, all was not lost because they left
plenty for us to remember them by in the form of near-fertilizer.





Okay, okay. We 'wuz' here...big deal. (Car park to right-rear of Jenni's left knee and below a 'little'.)





Dominating the tiny peak in all her glory...well, something like that.




This is a track that appears to be gaining in popularity. Each time we have visited, the number of hikers
has been greater. Once again, there are many European hikers, Israelis and the usual mix of New Zealanders and
crazy-New Zealanders. Clearly, they are a very physical and hardy nation. It is understandable why such a country
with a small population excels in sporting events. Who can forget the conqueror of Mount Everest, what's his
name again?...Sir Edmund Hilary, thank you.




What's a photo from Lake Manapouri doing here? The editor would not hear of it...rightly so although
the picture does something for me. So when we were hanging on an edge, I was pulling up the editor
in a tense situation. I decided that might be a good time to re-ask for permission. Bad boy!



Cheers,


Jenni and Jeffrey

21.23 The Routeburn Track in a word: Raining: (A video from Hawaii follows at the end.)

Jen negotiates a small stream in torrid conditions weighed down with a full pack. Tough girl.


We headed out on another of the 'Great Walks' of New Zealand, the famous Routeburn Tramp. We packed gear, food
and all the essentials but for our swimsuits. How could we forget them? Perhaps because of carrying heavy back-
packs, the editor showed mercy and left them behind. However, if ever we needed them, it was for this outing.

In the hut on the first night, we met a young Welsh couple. We ended up spending most of the time in the communal
kitchen, conversing with them. (The kitchen was filled with hikers, boots around a fireplace, clothes hanging on
every hook, nook and cranny.) When we first noticed Naomi, something struck us as odd. What was Natalie doing in
New Zealand? Yes, the young woman, a little younger than our daughter, looked much like her and displayed similar
expressions, too. It's nice to see Nat elsewhere, especially on a hike. Andy, her husband, partner, boyfriend, mate
...we don't know how to define the multi-relationship types these days. Anyway, he had a striking resemblance to
Prince William of Great Britain. That night we looked in the mirror to see who we were in case the rain had changed
our appearance. Suffice to say, the water did not make us any different nor did we melt. Perhaps we are a little
stronger.

The next day, we decided to change plans as the rain was even worse than the day before and the forecast
was terrible. So we turned around earlier than we had planned and completed the fourteen kilometers in good time,
arriving at the car, soaked, cold, without feeling in the hands but surprisingly, in good spirits. I think we
must like this 'hiking business'.

Two days of hiking and there are very few photographs of this memorable experience. Sometimes, it goes that way.

We have included a video of the color from Oahu, Hawaii following the Routeburn display.




The Earland Falls is impressive by any standard.





Prisoner number 28...hiker warm and comfortable after listening to a snorer for eight hours.
Our bunk in Mackenzie Hut.




The spray from the Earland Falls as we cross it exacerbates the soaking we 'enjoyed'.




The water barrels over this more than 1,000 feet fall.




Fellow reaches over for a glass of water hoping for something stronger.




Jen stretches out as she sees a hut come into view while the rain keeps on pounding.





We interrupt the rain for feeding.





The water just keeps on coming and coming...





Caught in the headlamps like a deer, a little less fleet-footed as I negotiate my way out of bed
and into the rain. Are we having fun yet?




To end on a bright note, we walked along Lake Te Anau to absorb warmth and color and in case we
did not get enough...water, too.


Video follows below:

Click on screen icon, right lower corner, for full screen.


Cheers,

Jenni and Jeffrey

21.20 Manapouri: Circle trail to mountain top: 21.21 Rainbow Reach, part of Kepler Track: 21.22 Lake Te Anau walk and some fun, plus New Zealand arrival narrative continued.

We finally get all our ducks in a row except for those we didn't. Alternatively, "when the ducks come
marching in..." or, left, left, left right...hey, you in front, 'vat die pas, jou bliksem'.





Trying to say 'G'day, Mate' to a New Zealand robin.





More color on the trails although the stoats are destroying birdlife.





We left Hawaii, a state that is at war with the mainland over fruits. However, because we were leaving
for New Zealand via the Island, we passed through a special area in which we were not checked for dangerous
fruits. Hawaii could not care whether we infected any other country. Such is brotherly love amongst nations.

Our flight of nine hours took us across the international dateline meaning that we lost a day,
twenty-three hours to be precise. It’s quite confusing when that happens, particularly when relating to people
living in different time zones. This meant we did not live through a Thursday—a day in our life had been lost.
People say that when we return from whence we came, we will pick up the lost time. That’s all very well.
However, if we return and pick up, say a Monday, is that fair? It means a Thursday is lost forever and as
Mondays are more often than not, down days, we would have traded a day close to the weekend for one post
weekend. That’ll make you think. (Continued at end)





A view overlooking Lake Manapouri from a mountain above Pearl Harbor . We rowed across the river to reach
the trailhead, hiked and then returned to the jetty and rowed back. Simple. Nice, too.
In certain countries, we might expect the boat to disappear in our absence.




Four seasons in a day—welcome to New Zealand, never a boring season at Lake Manapouri.





At the peak. Doesn't look like there's much below the surface. The tree has adapted, I hope Jen, too.





Editor takes the swing bridge. Jen hates these crossings, so being concerned for my safety, (see below),
sends me across a solid section over the river.




I've heard of walking the plank but crawling...this is ridiculous...an editor dare.
We are pleased we are responsible adults!





The art/science of being a good husband...doesn't work too well. (The hiking may be the problem—couldn't be
the husband, could it?)




Preparing the boat so her ladyship can board comfortably and be rested when she reaches
the trailhead across the river.





Resting comfortably while crossing the river. Note writing on lifejacket. This is where
the song "Michael rowed the boat" originated. 'Call me Mike'.





The job of a husband is to be...on good days, a mule...other times, a donkey. This was Jenni's
method in avoiding the swing bridge. (Maui, Hawaii.)





Selection of mule (donkey) is a good start. (Indian Gardens, Grand Canyon.)





Fetching the kayak for the Memsaab...nice but this is going perhaps, a little 'overboard'.





While the donkey is at rear rowing like an engine, the Missus works...diligently...? Note the
vigorous paddling and disturbed water. MacDonald Lake, Glacier National Park, Montana.



We are not superstitious people but we might become that way inclined because one of us made
a poor mistake. We arrived in Auckland, the big city of the country, positioned on North Island. The plane
was late which exacerbated our already late-night expected arrival. We had to collect luggage, deal with
the environmental police, arrange transport and reach our hotel for the night. An early morning flight
for Queenstown, arranged for Friday 13th, put on the pressure. After very little sleep in a room the size
of a small carton—one of us slept on the bed, the other underneath—we returned to the close-by airport.
In fact, it was in walking distance but between the luggage we were carrying, being unsure how to find
our terminal, we opted for the shuttle. Fortunately, we arrived early as we were expecting luggage problems.
The airline on which we flew has strict requirements regarding size and weight for items in the cabin.
We had already purchased extra-weight coupons for the luggage going into the hold.

By the way, on leaving Hawaii, we had a problem with Jenni’s ticket for reasons never explained. It seems
when a computer does not want you to fly, you don’t. After a supervisor overrode the somewhat miffed computer,
both the plane and Jenni were cleared for take-off. As dictated by the system, we were checked through security,
twice before entering the plane and looked clean. As the doors were being closed, an airline employee
demanded to see Jenni’s ticket for the third time, threatening if she did not check it immediately, Jen would
be hauled off the plane. We still don’t know what that was about but noticed someone forgot to tear off
the stub. These days anything can happen. Some passengers show a telephone which allows them through the gate
(we never see them tear off part of the ‘phone) while most other tickets are scanned. Who knows?

We made a one-way reservation from Auckland to Queenstown last September. Our intention was to begin the trip
in the latter city, hike in various places on South Island, making our way back to Auckland over five weeks.
This means we’ll cross the Cook Strait by ferry when due to return to North Island. Back to the airport.
The attendant was experiencing trouble printing our ticket. She then asked for an itinerary. After more finger
tapping, she pointed out that the reservation was indeed for Friday, 13th. We wondered what the joke was—perhaps
some New Zealand humor. The issue was that I had booked for the incorrect month—March rather than February.
(I was only a month off, big deal!) Off we went to customer service.

After a while of more keyboarding, the attendant closed shop and said she had to confer with a supervisor.
Before leaving, she said we would incur a penalty. Fair enough. Although this was one of those innocent mistakes,
stupid but in good faith, I had made an error; we should pay for the mistake. For the one-way ticket, we had
originally paid $205 for a pair. In order to allow us to fly on the same flight, she announced a penalty of
a further $380. Original ticketing - $205; revised charge plus original—$585 for a one-way pair of tickets.
The penalty was nearly double the price of the original tickets. What choice did we have? Then we were expecting
baggage issues as we did have quite a lot of weight for the cabin, a backpack each and computers. It wasn’t the
beginning of a great day but it was a beginning. Fortunately, the baggage must have looked light and compact
but it felt anything but.

We collected the rental car from the airport, loaded it with our six pieces of luggage, remembered that we should
ride on the left side of the road and turned the key. Nothing. Our attendant, a young girl, seemed quite embarrassed
that she passed us onto the Scottish manager. A friendly guy, he was, and brought out a new battery. We had negative
feelings for the car and so he allowed us to swop it for a car that started first time.

Welcome to New Zealand. At time of writing, we have had thus far, a time of wonder and some fascinating experiences
on the slopes, met people from so many different countries as well as become close friends with so many locals.
To each of them, we are their mates already. Hello, Mate, sorry, Mate, have a g’day, Mate.

Cheers, Mates

Jenni and Jeffrey