Change In Plans

FISH!

Greetings from Fiordland National Park, on the southwest corner of New Zealand’s South Island!  We are aboard the mighty SeaFinn, finishing the first day of a four-day private boat tour around the Doubtful Sound area.

The trip down to the boat was a five-part adventure in itself.  A short taxi ride to a 2-hour ride on large bus (with unceasing driver monologue) to a 45-minute ride on smaller bus, to a 45-minute “fast ferry” ride across Lake Manapouri.  We left the large tour group at the far end of Lake Manapouri, met our captain and host, Chris.  He drove us on a moderately hairy 45-minute van trip on the dirt road over Wilmot Pass.  The road was the most expensive to construct, per linear foot, in all of New Zealand. Finally, we walked down a slippery hill, across a gangplank, and boarded the SeaFinn.   All in, including waiting-around time, it took us nearly six hours to get from hotel to boat.

Based on what we know about our likes and dislikes, this boat trip through the fjords could be a disaster.  India is not able to run or walk or even spend any real time off the boat: the mountain terrain is pathless and too steep.  It is cold outside, and intermittently pouring with rain.  The kids are cooped up on board, with no games, and with only us and Chris for company.  For the first time since we started traveling nine months ago, I am completely cut off from the outside world: no internet, no BlackBerry, no cell phone coverage.  There are no shops or other boats or people or any evidence of civilization.  There are clouds of vicious, biting sand flies everywhere.  We had arrived in Queenstown too late on Saturday evening to buy our own supplies, so there is no alcohol, juice, or even Diet Coke on board.   No chance to remedy the situation and no turning back.

Despite this avalanche of negative leading indicators, we have had a great time on the boat thus far, and I am not quite sure why.  I think it is some combination of the following:

1- having Chris here.  He is a very calm, competent, and experienced captain, defined by his precise movements and easy manner.  It would be unthinkable for us to fight or be disagreeable in his presence.  On a boat this small, his “presence” should be prefixed with “omni.”

2- the magnificence of our surroundings.  Tree-studded hills shoot almost vertically out of the black water of the fjords, rising about 1,000 meters into the low clouds and mist.  Huge waterfalls gush and hiss down the hillsides.  There are literally no other people around, and the wildness is beautiful like nothing else we have seen.

FISHING!

3- we have been too busy to not have fun.  For a long time, as we motored up Doubtful Sound, we just gaped at the scenery.  The first time we stopped, Chris said, “Do you want to fish?”  I said, “I’m not sure I know how.”  He said, “It’s easy.”  He handed me a spinner rod, its big hook baited with a piece of sashimi.  I dropped the line in the water, let it sink 40 meters to the bottom, and reeled in an orange sea perch literally eight seconds later.  Among India, Zola, and me, we caught 30 fish in two hours, keeping a few perch for bait and blue cod for dinner, and throwing the rest back.  I think we were all OK with killing the fish, but we were slightly happier when we caught and released.

FIORDS!

We have been on continuous lookout for dolphins, for albatross, and for feral deer on the mountainsides.  Tallulah has been fascinated with Chris’s cooking (he moves gracefully between the galley and the pilot’s bridge as we motor).  Zola has been fascinated with the GPS, the fish finder, and the depth gauge.  He also enjoyed helping Chris bait and set a trap for lobster.  At lunch, he served more lobster than four of us could possibly eat.  We have all had time to read.

Chris got our full attention as we motored out of the calm waters of Doubtful Sound, and crossed 20 kilometers of “Roaring 40s” open ocean (the Tasman Sea). The swell was “only” 1-2 meters, and  the SeaFinn was absolutely designed to be stable in open water like this.  Still, as we bobbed up and down in the waves, India, Zola and I held hands and stared out at the cold sea.  Tallulah slept soundly in a bunk below.  We were all a little relieved when we motored into the calm waters of Charles Sound.

After eating dinner, blue cod that we had caught and venison that Chris had shot earlier in the week, Chris turned on the DVD player.  We watched an Anthony Hopkins movie called “The Fastest Indian.”  It is a true story about a likeable elderly motorcycle racer from New Zealand, who set a land-speed record on the salt flats in Utah in 1963.  It is the most popular movie ever made about New Zealand, and it was great.

We will see how the next three days go.  All of this good will and serenity may evaporate once the novelty of the trip wears off.  Four days without a glass of wine or the New York Times on line.  Who knows what may happen?  The enforced leisure and on-board austerity may also wear on our nerves, and we could end up bickering like kids in the back seat of a station wagon on a long drive. 

Or, we may be entering a new phase of the trip, where we are embracing travel instead of just experiencing it.  Time will tell, but we are off to a good start.