This Side Up

A passion for their country

John Howell
Posted 1/27/15

It’s not what I expected, but then, not everything I imagined about New Zealand fit my expectations.

Chris Riley dove under the fore deck and appeared from the hatch with a bugle. He sounded …

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This Side Up

A passion for their country

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It’s not what I expected, but then, not everything I imagined about New Zealand fit my expectations.

Chris Riley dove under the fore deck and appeared from the hatch with a bugle. He sounded our approach, and on the shore we could spot three people sitting on a rock, two of who would be joining our party. Chris waved, pointing to a beach we could see but was out of sight for them. They understood, lifting their bags and moving along a trail cut in the hillside.

We were lucky. It was a breathless day. High swirling clouds were reflected in the clear waters of Lake Wanaka. Before us was a panorama of mountains and islands. One of these islands, Mou Waho, was our destination.

We hoped to see a weka, a flightless bird that resembles a chicken, and find a weta, a giant insect that lives under rocks. The bird held some interest to Lucy and Eddie, but it was what Chris and his companion, Andrew, had to say about the island that had our party looking forward to our adventure.

There was no sign of human habitation as we scanned the hills surrounding the lake that reached like a finger into the mountains.

Soon after gold was discovered in the 1800s, an enterprising family built sailing ships on Mou Waho that were then used to transport lumber cut from forests to build homes for miners and shore up the mine shafts cut into the rock.

“We’ll climb to the top and there you’ll find another lake,” said Chris, with such anticipation that we all – five of us and the couple we picked up from the beach – were anxious to get started. “Well, then, let’s give it a go,” he said, giving the twin outboards full throttle.

We seemed to have the lake, which stretches for more than 20 miles, to ourselves. Out of sight of Wanaka and its tiny marina, we didn’t see a single boat.

It was not the only time I would marvel at the vastness and openness of this country. The following day, we drove though the Southern Alps and up the west coast of the South Island to Franz Josef Glacier, about four hours, took us through rain forests, across rivers and pasture land that stretched to the Tasman Sea. Most bridges are single lane, requiring traffic to stop and wait for those traveling in the opposite direction to clear the span. There was so little traffic we were rarely delayed.

Of course, it’s a different story in Auckland, a city of more than one million on the North Island, where divided highways move traffic and neighborhoods bustle with life. Yet, when we took a ferry to Waiheke Island – there are islands everywhere – there was a feeling of remoteness even as the city skyline etched thinly on the horizon.

Our destination on Lake Wanaka was a darker green than the rest of the islands. Dense vegetation filled space between rocky outcroppings of smooth schist that glinted in the sun. We tied up to a small dock and climbed a steel gangway to a small overlook to the trail leading inland. No one was there.

Chris scanned the site, describing what it must have looked like when boats were built and huge trees were dragged down slopes and cut into lumber shipped to Wanaka. It took some imaging, but if turning back the clock 150 years was challenging, Chris had us thinking back to another age.

Throughout our trek to the second lake in the heights, where he served hot tea and passed around cookies, Chris described how glaciers carved out the lake, where it left deposits, and how many of those features, including the island, were sacred to the Maori. Along the way, he pointed out different types of trees and vegetation. Andrew carried a bucket with a sapling. While the tree was no bigger than a potted geranium, Chris said it was 12 years old and would grow to be 400 to 500 years old. Chris brings a tree every time he visits the island and estimates he’s planted about 5,000.

He takes pride in operating an eco-tour and, in addition to trees and plants, he worked with the local Lions Club to restore the native weta, which looks something like a cockroach. Beside the dirt path we climbed, we occasionally spotted boxes created by cutting a short log down the middle and hollowing a series of chambers inside to accommodate the weta. Chris opened a couple but didn’t find any weta at home.

On the other hand, the weka was most accommodating.

Resembling a hen but slighter, the flightless bird made an appearance soon after we were ashore. Lucy was first to spot the elusive bird, and we all froze to watch it. Cameras clicked. We spoke in low voices. Chris was delighted the bird made an appearance. It’s fearlessness, or stupidity, was a good explanation of why New Zealand lost so many of its flightless birds. When the Maori arrived in New Zealand about 400 years ago, they brought rats that they used for food on their trips from the Polynesian islands. Other than a small species of bat, there were no other mammals in New Zealand. The rats, along with the later introduction of the Australian opossum fur and the stoat, or weasel, that was introduced to control the overabundance of rabbits introduced for sport hunting, have all combined to decimate the native bird population. Of course, the other mammal that radically changed the scene are humans. More than one guide describes this sequence of species annihilation.

Chris said Mou Waho is free of opossums, rats and stoats. And as we learned from our hosts at bed and breakfasts and emphasized on a Rotorua Canopy Tour in the North Island, there is a campaign to eliminate the pests. A guide said as many as 95 percent of native birds, including the beloved kiwi, are killed before reaching maturity. As part of the Rotorua restoration project for about 100 acres, more than 700 of the pests were killed in the first week of trapping.

Climbing to the island’s summit was a 40-minute hike and offered vistas of rugged peaks and lakes. Chris and Andrew provided answers to our questions and background of the early days of the Maori and today’s conservation efforts.

That evening, we agreed that the enthusiasm, love of the country and knowledge of our guides made for an enjoyable day. I hadn’t expected that. I assumed that conducting so many tours so often would make for a presentation that was factual but colorless. That wasn’t the case. We found all our guides, and most of the tourism workers passionate about their country and about sharing its unique features with visitors. 

It didn’t stop with them. Throughout the trip, I met and talked with many New Zealanders. Collectively, they were helpful and very anxious that I leave with a positive impression. It didn’t stop with New Zealanders either. On the way home, while waiting at baggage claim at San Francisco, I met a traveler from Christchurch. He was on his way to Dallas. I gave him an account of our trip.

When I told him I visited Wanaka, he asked if I visited “the island with the lake on top.” I wouldn’t be surprised if he knew Chris and Andrew, as he was going back to Dallas equally passionate about the place and the country.

This is the third report from John’s trip to New Zealand where he joined his son, Jack, and his family for 10 days.

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