The writer explored 1,125 miles of New Zealand’s South Island in seven days.
“Good girl, Rosie!
That’s a good girl,” exclaims my host, Gareth Renowden.
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He is talking to his seven-year-old beagle, whom he’s wryly nicknamed “The Truffle Machine.”
He sizes it up, almost dismissively, before transferring custody to me.
“It actually has a rather distinct nose.
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But you’d be disappointed.”
I’m willing to take my chances.
About forty miles south of here, I had rented a car at the Christchurch Airport.
Courtesy of Hapuku Lodge & Tree Houses
This is perfectly legal, except where expressly curtailed by local statutes.
It’s a great way for small groups of travelers and couples to explore on a budget.
I foundjustthat two hours up the road in the seaside village of Kaikoura.
Courtesy of Hapuku Lodge & Tree Houses
Sandwiched between Pacific surf and snowcapped crags, I check into theHapuku Lodge.
Climbing down from my fort, I meet with Fiona Read, Hapuku’s co-owner and executive chef.
Rumors of my notorious travel companion have preceded me up Highway 1.
Courtesy of The Marlborough Lodge
A gleam in Fiona’s eye suggests a plan is already swirling.
“How you going?”
she asks, probably rhetorically.
Courtesy of The Marlborough Lodge
The next morning begins with one of the better breakfasts of freshly baked pastries I can recall.
I am reluctant to leave, but today’s a busy one.
It begins with a three-hourwhale watchoff the coast of Kaikoura.
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In any other country this could make for a once-in-a-lifetime sort of day.
In New Zealand, it wasn’t even lunchtime yet.
The impressive modern facility exists as the world’s first Maori-owned winery.
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Winemaker Lloyd Howes is waiting for me in the tasting room, alongside sales manager Dan Taylor.
Another evening in the South Island, another dusk dominated by some dreamlike combination of lavender and orange.
I skirt verdant cliffs, with inlets of emerald sea dropping out below the driver’s side window.
It’s as if Maui’s legendary Hana Highway was re-cast along the shores of Washington’s Olympic Peninsula.
I make it to the coastal town of Hokitika for a quick pit stop at theBeachfront Hotel.
The lobby bar, overlooking the Tasman Sea, provides local ales on tap and hearty pub fare.
My goal for the following evening is Queenstown exactly 300 meandering miles to the south.
But this is by no means a dull stretch.
It’s more like a full stretch of the imagination.
As Highway 6 veers inland from the shoreline, it climbs almost instantly into an alpine wonderland.
Sadly, I have scant time for such indulgences.
It is, quite literally, all downhill from here through the ceaseless tree-scape of Mount Aspiring National Park.
The twin bodies of water sit side-by-side at the base of a wide mountain valley.
Soon I am descending the Crown Range Road the highest main thoroughfare in all of New Zealand.
As recently as 2001, it still held dirt sections.
Before passing signposts into this backpacker’s Brigadoon, another marquee catches my eye:Glacier Southern Lakes Helicopters.
Driving to New Zealand’s starkly scenic and secluded treasure would take at least four hours each way.
Under whirling blades, it’s 90 minutes roundtrip.
And that includes a lunch break atop a glacier.
The offer is too enticing to pass up, the experience too majestic for words to convey.
It hardly mattered in the moment.
I was exactly where I needed to be.
I opened my rucksack to pull out a notepad when a familiar funk tugged at my nose.