Fire and Ice, No Mammals! Back Next Home
The geology of NZ is dominated by volcanism and glaciation. The country is one of the seismically most active on the planet, as the North Island is sliding under one tectonic plate and the S. Island sliding over another. Wellington is awaiting the next “Big One.” The Southern Alps are being pushed up by all this pressure, while the volcanic zones around the country spew sulphur and fuel hot springs like Yellowstone’s. Meanwhile much of the landscape on the S. Island is carved by glaciers from the last Ice Age. Ranks of parallel lateral moraines mark the glaciers’ paths. The braided gravel and boulder strewn rivers pouring out of the mountains to the sea show the evidence of these ice rivers’ unbelievable scouring force as they pushed through. We were more or less ignorant of this on the drive down. But through the next two weeks we learned a lot about the geologic history. We got up-close and personal with a lot of it. This is the only place I’ll bore you with it.
NZ is a breakaway part of an ancient southern continent geologists call “Gondwanaland” that originally included Australia, Antarctica, and S. America. Its long isolation from other land masses for millennia after the continent split up through tectonics meant the evolution of unique species of both flora and fauna. When the first humans arrived here all they found were birds and insects. And two mammals, both bats. The birds had diversified into many different kinds of land nesting, flightless species in the absence of mammalian predators. Hence the Kiwi, popular symbol of NZ (the bird, not the Chinese gooseberry that marketers here redubbed “kiwifruit”). Since the Maori arrived here around 1200 CE, lots of mammals have been introduced, decimating the birds and driving some, like the legendary giant Moa, which dwarfed ostriches, to extinction. But the forests are still pretty much devoid of mammal life. Walking through majestic old growth forests without a sign of any chipmunks, squirrels or other familiar forest sights is a little eerie. On the other hand, the birds are wildly plentiful, noisy and unusually easy to approach. Probably the lack of predators for so long, and the presence of humans for so short a time, geologically speaking. The trees are also unique. Ma
ny exotic species have been introduced, of course. The most recognizable is the Monterey Pine, which is farmed for lumber and pulp, and the Norfolk Pine. The latter grows to great heights, totally punking out the potted variety more familiar to us. The fern trees and giant ferns have totally knocked me out. They are exotic to the max and grow everywhere.
The Fellowship of the Rimu
“You look like Active New Zealand people.” We turned in the crowded airport terminal and met our two trip leaders, Neville and Nicola.
Nic and Nev led us out to the bus outside and we met most of the rest of our crew. There were two single guys traveling separately, but both from CA, plus a family of three from Reston, VA. Nev informed us we’d be joined in Queenstown by another family of 5 to complete our group, and we headed off to the southwest toward Braemar Station. Our mates fit none of our stereotypes. Alison is a procurement contracts specialist with a career in government, now private. Her two sons are college students. Our other two mates are professionals in CA. Dan and Winnie are from Kansas City, KS, and their three adult sons are pursuing different careers in different places. We weren’t the oldest, but we weren’t the youngest by a long ways! We were all moderately fit, and fit together remarkably quickly, forming a fellowship that was diverse, supportive and comfortable.
Braemar Station was the staging point for our foray into Mt. Cook National Park. It’s a 50,000 acre sheep station, now also raising cattle, along the shores of Lake Pukaki. Mt. Cook looms at the north end of the lake; Braemar is midway down the eastern shore. We stayed in the sheep shearers’ quarters. This bunkhouse for the seasonal workers who used to come through to shear the sheep when they were farmed for wool was rustic but comfortable. It was a great introduction to the varied types of places we’d s
tay throughout the trip. They ranged from huts maintained on the hiking trails by the government Department of Conservation to swank apartments in Queenstown. We never had a bad stay. No tenting, either. Many were situated in lovely byways we’d never have found on our own. Nic was mostly responsible for food, preparing plentiful dinners full of carbohydrates to fuel our tramping, biking and kayaking. As you can see, we enjoyed some spectacular vistas while dining al fresco.
What follows is not so much a chronology as a selection of impressions and photos from an overwhelming journey. We hope you enjoy it as much as we did!
