(Photo opposite: Toetitiku Beach) After coming closer to a wild Kiwi than I ever thought possible, it’s time to get back on the bus with Rob and explore the rest of New Zealand’s South Island. Our next destination is Dunedin; a small city in the Otago region. As I settle back onto the bus, I keep my eyes wide open in anticipation of the next amazing view. It doesn’t take long; we’re traveling along the coastline and although it’s a cloudy day, the rolling waves beating against the grassy shore paint a handsome picture.
Our first stop for the day is a petrified forest. One of the best examples of a Jurassic fossil forest in the world, the gray and black rock platform stretches out into the sea. Silica impregnated bits of trees and logs are scattered on the rocks, looking much like dead coral. I’d never have known that what I was looking at was millions of years old. Who knew fossils could be so beautiful.
The sun pokes its head through the clouds just as we arrive at Toetitiku, the most stunning beach I’ve seen in New Zealand. Shaped like a huge backwards C, the light sand of the beach is caressed by the white lines of gentle waves. Behind it, grass hills make their way towards the road. The only sound is that of endless shutters clicking on digital cameras.
Our final stop before arriving in Dunedin is a little different than typical New Zealand scenery. The Lost Gypsy Gallery sits on the side of the road, on a grassy hill surrounded by trees. I’m not sure what Rob has gotten us into as I approach the eccentric remnants of a caravan. A waterwheel, constructed of seashells, turns round and round as we stare expectantly, waiting for an explanation. There isn’t one – he just smiles mysteriously and encourages us to go in. As I enter, I set off a hidden trigger and I’m sprayed with a water gun. Inside, treasures abound. I can imagine a wild-eyed character in a fantasy movie (think Johnny Depp as Edward Scissorhands) as owner of this place.
Inside, paper money from various countries serves as wallpaper, coins attached to colored, squiggly wires set off toy trains and loud bleeps and blings. Joke books, ancient car bumpers and eccentric photos and stickers keep us entertained. This is the most interesting collection of junk I have ever seen!
(Photo opposite: Jurassic fossil forest) Shortly afterwards, we arrive in Dunedin, which quickly becomes one of my favorite places in New Zealand. Located on the Otago Peninsula, the city of just over 100,000 boasts a strange mix of arts and wildlife. The city itself has a Scottish flair, and I spend the good part of my first day here just wandering around, taking in the sights. I didn’t have time to visit the museums that the city is famous for, like the Otago Museum and the Public Art Gallery, because I was on more of a wildlife mission.
The Otago Peninsula is famous for three varieties of wildlife I had never encountered before – the mighty albatross, sea lions and yellow-eyed penguins. Luckily, one tour allows you a glimpse of each in their natural surroundings. Elm Wildlife, www.elmwildlifetours.co.nz, picks me up right at my hostel for one of the most exciting wildlife spotting tours of my life.
First stop is Taiaroa Head; home to the world’s only colony of Royal Albatross located on the mainland. As a recent self professed bird lover, I was dying to lay my eyes on the huge seabirds. I really had no idea what I was in for. The Royal Albatross Center has amazing displays informing nature lovers on anything and everything there is to know about these marvelous creatures. A life-size replica of one of the birds demonstrates that one of its wings is nearly the size of my body. I am shocked at their magnitude.
We watch a short video that unlocks many of the albatross’s secrets. They can only fly while the wind is blowing – which makes late afternoon one of the best times to visit the centre. The birds usually arrive at the colony in September, where they court and mate until the eggs are laid in November. Its January now, and the birds are still incubating the eggs, which could hatch any day.
The guide leads us to a glassed in viewing area, where I get my first glimpse of the mighty albatross. Although it’s quite far away, the size of the bird makes her easy to see. She is sitting on her egg, hardly moving, completely majestic in her enormity. She is mostly white, but bits of her black feathers, tucked into her side, show against the green hill on which she sits.
The guide directs our attention to one of the video screens in the observation room, and I witness the live hatching of a baby albatross. Talk about being in the right place at the right time. As soon as the chick is out of its shell, one of the researchers examines it, weighing it and making notes. The mother looks on uninterested, completely comfortable with the human touching her brand new chick.
On our way back to the van, I notice a group of people looking up, their cameras pointed at the sky. Sure enough, an albatross is flying overhead, its huge body completely blocking the sun for a number of seconds. I’m not quick enough to get my camera out, but its one of those moments that could easily be ruined by trying to capture it on film.
A short drive takes us farther down the peninsula, with incredible views on either side. Low, rolling green hills, shallow inlets in darkening shades of blue and expansive grassy fields are home to some of the area’s famous wildlife. Our guide points out tiny dots in the sky that are birds I have never even heard of.
We stop at the top of a hill overlooking the ocean. White waves roll onto the rocky beach, and as we walk towards the water, a rancid smell hits my nose. I can smell the sea lions before we’re close enough to see them. And thankfully, we’re not allowed to get too close to the incredible animals. A lookout area provides a safe viewing platform overlooking the rocky outcrop where about thirty of the animals play. They grunt and groan as if to welcome us, while we all cover our noses in disgust.
(Photo opposite: Sea Lions) In a shallow pool of water, a blue penguin floats belly up as a smaller sea lion bats it around. It’s not something I’m happy to witness, but we are smack dab in the middle of nature and faced with the facts of life. The huge sea lions flop around on the rocks almost comically, as if they are awkward in their own bodies. Their brown skin glistens in the sun’s last rays, their flippers slapping against the rocks as they move away from the water.
Just when I think I can take the smell no more, we are heading on to our final destination – the one I have been looking forward to the most; the yellow eyed penguins. The sun is descending rapidly as we climb down toward the beach on the opposite side of the sea lions. The penguins are returning from a day of fishing, and in the distance, I can see tiny figures stumbling on to the sand, instantly recognizable with their special penguin walk.
Of course, there are rules as to how close we can get to the penguins, and we are ushered up to a special viewing area in the grass. We see plenty of penguins coming in from the water, and wait patiently as they stagger up the hill towards us. They would probably come up to my knees if I were to stand right next to one, but they move as though they stood only an inch tall. I’m breathless as I wait for them to come close enough to photograph.
(Photo opposite: yellow eyed penguin) At long last my wish is granted and a solitary penguin falters into the grass just in front of us. It stops and stares, then proceeds to clean itself, lifting its wings and poking its beak up down its side. The penguin is close enough that I can see the yellow marks around its eyes that give it its name, almost like a mask one would wear at a New Year’s Eve party. Its beak is red and as it darts in and out of the black and white feathers of the penguin’s body, I’m reminded of the joke – What’s black and white and red all over….
My wildlife mission complete, I board the Stray bus the next morning and head for Christchurch. It’s the first time I’m on a bus not driven by Rob, but all the Stray drivers seem to have his love for the job and welcoming persona. On the outskirts of Dunedin, we stop briefly to climb Baldwin Street – the steepest street in the world. My calves are tight before I’m even halfway up and I gawk at some kids who are carrying rollerblades up. It’s going to be a fast ride down!
Before we get to Christchurch, we make another stop at another one of New Zealand’s random roadside natural wonders; Moeraki Boulders. I instantly recognize the sight; huge half circles dot the sand and stick out of the incoming tide. It’s as if a giant cut perfect balls of rock into half and placed them as stepping-stones for his children.
(Photo opposite: Moeraki Boulders) If I had to choose my favorite city in New Zealand, it would be Christchurch. I still believe that New Zealand’s treasures can most often be found in the countryside, but as far as Kiwi cities go, Christchurch is tops. I only spent a few days in the south island’s biggest metropolis, but it was enough.
I arrive in the middle of the World Buskers Festival, and spend several hours wandering the streets of Cathedral Square, watching the various performers. Many are extremely talented at what they do – one character, dressed in a bright green suit, wows the audience with his juggling abilities, while simultaneously belittling volunteers attempts to do the same.
On my first full day in the Christchurch, I make my obligatory visit to the museums and art galleries – typical city activities. The Canterbury Museum, which turned out to be surprisingly interesting, was my first stop. Must-sees include the Maori Gallery and the Antarctic Display. The bird exhibit was my favorite – with a Moa skeleton and stuffed kiwi birds; it leaves nothing to the imagination.
The Christchurch Art Gallery impressed my art-loving mind, especially the modern Korean exhibit. The Centre of Contemporary boasts a fantastic collection of modern art – stuff that I know my Grandma would never understand. My favorite piece is made entirely of mirrors. Last but not least is the Arts Centre, where arts and crafts are sold, and you can watch artists at work.
Just outside the Canterbury Museum, The Botanic Gardens surround the river Avon, and I spend a pleasant afternoon wandering the flower-laden paths. It’s evident here why Christchurch is often referred to as New Zealand’s most English city. As I stroll along the River Avon, watching the punters maneuver their boats down the calm water, I’m transported back to the years I spent living in England. I am surprised at the amount and quality of flowers in the Gardens. A huge, metal rose is one of my favorites, although fake, its sheer size makes me feel like Alice in Wonderland.
I save the best for last – and reserve an entire day for the International Antarctic Centre. Having had a fascination with the Antarctic for several years, I have high hopes for my visit to the Centre. Christchurch, being the gateway to Antarctica, is home to bases for the United States, New Zealand and Italy’s Antarctic programs. The Antarctic Centre is part of the same complex as the bases, and as I step off the bus, I am greeted with the sight of a huge plane that is leaving for Antarctica the very next day.
Inside the center, I’m in Antarctic Heaven. Videos and displays tell me everything I ever wanted to know about the icy continent. I even get to take part in a winter storm, blasting a wind chill of -18 degrees Celsius. Granted, I’m from Canada, so this feels like a typical winter day for me, but watching the other tourists huddle and gasp at the cold was worthwhile entertainment.
During my day at the Centre, I spend time watching Antarctic Ocean life in the aquarium, try on clothes worn by the scientists who live on the continent (all I can say is one word – bulky) and go for a ride in a Hagglund. The ride costs extra, but when else will you ever go for a ride on an Antarctic all terrain amphibian vehicle?
We’re strapped in to the back of the Hagglund, and take off with a jerk. We go up and over mounds of dirt, straight across a deep crevasse and even through a pond of water. It’s a bumpy ride all right, but for 15 minutes, I can imagine that I’m crossing the icy terrain of Antarctica. I think its about as close as I’ll get, for now anyways.
For a closer look at life overseas, check out my e-book, Watching Clocks Sing in Turkish, detailing the adventure-filled year I spent teaching in Turkey!
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