Little Flightless Friends

My next excursion was on the Otago Peninsula, extending 30-40km south east from Dunedin. I had been very lucky in booking accommodation and managed a spot at the Penguin Place Lodge, reserving only the day before. Fully packed up, I walked the short distance to the main road onto the peninsula and stuck out my thumb. It wasn’t long before my first ride of the day pulled over and offered me a ride to a better spot down the road. This was the first of four locals on the peninsula, each taking me around 5km down the road. I eventually noticed the regularly spaced bus stops and was informed by a driver that I indeed could have caught a bus almost the whole way down the peninsula for some $3-4, but hey, where’s the fun in that!? My last ride was with a German backpacker (again, the Germans come through for rides) who took me up the road to the Penguin Place Conservation Centre where I would spend the evening. For a whopping $27NZD, I got a private room with shared facilities. Better yet, because of a large nature photography group who was staying there and because they preferred a room with two twin beds (the one I paid for), I got their room with a double bed for no extra price. Remember that hostels here are around $20-26 on average. Talk about affordable luxury! Dropping my stuff, I set off down the road for the rest of the 5km to the point of the peninsula. I was fine with walking without the burden of my full pack, but I was picked up after a kilometre by an older couple who saw me hitching earlier and stopped without prompting. Their son was hitchhiking at the same time in  Europe and they were hoping on karma to send him some rides. At the point sits the Royal Albatross Conservation Centre, a couple beaches, and lots of fascinating wildlife. Anyone willing to pay around $40 (forget the exact sum) can do a guided walk in slight proximity to albatross colonies and observe a nest from inside a building. The entire point is fenced off and as the people at the centre explain, it is to protect the albatross’ environment. What they won’t tell you at the desk however is that only the cliffs and very edge are used by the albatross, the rest is fenced off to block any unpaid views of the colonies. Older reviews on TripAdvisor mention that the conservation centre is overpriced, and that the free views from the neighbouring field suffice for most viewers, but the field is now within the fence line and the price has only gone up. I’m all for paying to get a better view than those who don’t pay, but completely limiting opportunities for free viewing restricts a major demographic of travellers from experiencing some of the things that make an area special. Feeling slightly dejected, I walked to the nearby Pilot’s Beach and tried my eye at nature spotting, also hoping I might spot some albatross from there. Descending the hill I noticed Blue Penguin burrows and getting closer I was able to observe a few of them in their nest – my first opportunity to photograph a Blue Penguin. After observing some lazing sea lions and curious oystercatchers, I walked the 5km back to the penguin conservation centre – the whole distance this time – catching sight of a few albatross in flight in the far off distance.

Back at the conservation centre I paid the $40 for the tour of the penguin colony and was quickly directed into the briefing room. The company has a quirky resemblance to a military operation, and as I sat in the briefing room being told about the colony and how I will observe it through a series of camouflaged hides and trenches, I felt like I was back at basic training. While the staffs’ passion for the penguins definitely lends to the intensity of the experience, they are friendly and personable and help make the experience quite special. The centre has a colony of Yellow-Eyed Penguins and takes very good care of them. All of the property is privately owned, and the conservation centre runs off of the funds gathered through tours and the farm which was the original purpose of most of the land. Boarding an off-road capable bus my group (only 3 which is lucky but not too uncommon) was driven over the middle of the peninsula to the other side, to a beach which several penguins have currently made their home. The rarest species of penguin, the yellow-eyed is not actually the most endangered but still a treat to spot. The conservation is taking care of these penguins with an intensive trapping program, getting rid of such pests as stoats, possums, and rats. Feral cats are dealt with more directly, any sighting prompting a staff member to rush to the colony with a gun to...deal with it. Our luck started wall, watching one male returning after a day of fishing, pausing to take a swim in the pond, a rare occurrence. From there we rounded a corner and were immediately shushed by our guide, only two metres away from two chicks napping while waiting for their returning parents. Slowly bringing up our cameras we realised they weren’t that bothered by our presence and were happy to continue their napping while we snapped away. We observed them for a while before moving on to see other penguins, but no views were quite as spectacular – or as cute – as our super close up experience. As we re-boarded the bus to the other side I felt my money was quite well spent after all the amazing views and photo ops. The conservation is a great chance to see the penguins up close, but the staff truly makes the experience great. On TripAdvisor someone commented that they were appalled that the guide had their camera with them and were eagerly snapping away with the rest of the tourists. For me, that they still have so much enthusiasm after running this tour hundreds of times shows that they are well suited to the position and are the perfect guides.

The rest of the night was quiet, with a bit of conversation with the members of the nature photography group. A few of their number were quite dominant however, and wouldn’t tolerate the intrusion of a young’un, blatantly blocking me out of conversation. No matter, most of them were pretentious anyway.

The next day I packed up and started walking back towards the city, knowing I wouldn’t get a ride until I had some town behind me to supply the cars. It took one short ride to a town mid way before I caught a ride with a young...man... and his girlfriend heading all the way into the city. Why was it hard to say...man...? Let’s just say he liked to rev his engine...a lot... I was dropped near the holiday park I had spent my previous evenings in Dunedin, but decided on the one on the other side of town for its proximity to the highway for the next day. I walked the 8ish kilometres across town and settled down for a day in the park of typing, enjoying the sun, and being utterly lazy.

After only a day in Dunedin I was back on the road, continuing north in my last 22 days in New Zealand. My next stop was Oamaru – hopefully. I stuck out my thumb on the main road towards Christchurch and waited a surprisingly long time on the well trafficked and slow moving road. But by long I mean 40 minutes and eventually I was picked up by a British couple who were able to take me as far north as I liked, and fortunately, they were doing the touristy thing – always fine by me. The major attraction between Dunedin and Oamaru is the Moeraki Boulders, large spherical boulders on a beach, shaped by thousands of years of waves and on display for free. We parked and got our photos with the boulders, but I have to admit I had a good laugh at the thousands of tourists that stop here daily to see the boulders. I guess they are different, the size they are and shaped as they have been, but they’re just boulders and to someone who grew up in Nova Scotia, I wasn’t exactly awed. The next stop on the road was Oamaru, a small town where I would be staying the night.

I’m not sure how I decided to stay in Oamaru of all places. It doesn’t have a major draw, and while it is small it isn’t small enough to be on par with Omarama for absolutely dead pace of life. But stay I did at the Red Kettle YHA, so named because of the red tin roof and apparently for a red kettle on the lawn which I completely missed. The town itself was created post mid 1800’s with a naturally safe harbour ideal for farming as it was already devoid of trees. The lack of trees meant other building materials had to be found, and a nearby source of limestone was quarried for the town’s major buildings. As the harbour’s small size became impractical for the turn of the century’s steamers, the town was almost completely abandoned and left to sit for half a century. Opportunistic tourism tycoons saw the lure of Oamaru’s limestone (or as it’s called locally, Oamarustone) buildings in the late 50’s and almost overnight the town was back in business. The town isn’t quite a bustling tourist hot spot, but has its charms and is a good day stop. Travelling with a car, I could have seen the town in a day but hitchhiking as I am it was a good overnight, middle of the road destination. Favourite stops were at the whiskey store house where hundreds of casks of whiskey sit as they did the day the now defunct distillery went out of business. They remain for sale (by the cask) and a tantalising sight for any whiskey fan. I enjoyed a quick stop in at a local radio station, talking to an older gentleman who has been DJ-ing for some 12 years, helping to keep the all volunteer radio station going. My final stop of the day was over the hill to a beach where for free you can observe Yellow-Eyed Penguins coming in from a day of fishing, crossing the beach to their nests. Unfortunately the viewing is from hundreds of metres away and even a camera with powerful zoom fails to bring the subjects close enough for good photos.

One day was perfect in sleepy Oamaru and I packed up the next morning for Christchurch or beyond, hoping to get past but knowing I would probably end up spending a night in the sleepy city. Hitchhiking this leg was more difficult than usual, providing far more of a challenge than expected. While Oamaru might not be a big destination, like many New Zealand towns, the main highway runs straight through town. I walked along the main road as Oamaru became the neighbouring town, and the town after that, hoping the “main street” would end and the highway would begin. But after walking backwards for what I estimate as 5km, I was finally picked up by a local who took me to the next junction out of town where the highway forked, and traffic would slow a bit as it merged. Unfortunately, while there was tons of traffic, none of it seemed interested in stopping. I got my music out pretty quickly and stood on the side of the road with my best smile on, hoping for a ride. After consulting with the nearby gas station attendants I learned that it was a common hitching spot and people usually didn’t wait too long. After an hour I got out my pad of paper and wrote out “Please?”, hoping manners plus my backpack’s Canadian flag might score me points. But I waited another hour until a car finally stopped with two parents and their 19 year old son. From the Canadian prairies, they own a farm and the son has been practicing his skills in New Zealand to support some time backpacking. They were kind to have stopped and they seemed interested in what I was doing, but it was telling that the ‘men’ sat up front and wanted little to do with what the mother thought of anything. The son seemed arrogant and rude, spending most of the conversation telling his father how stupid everyone is; his co-workers, peers, and employers. After a short period of interest in my travels, they resumed talking and I was ignored. Fortunately I had some reading to do in my Lonely Planet anyway, and I was happy for the time to check out destinations past Christchurch should I get that far by night. The dropped me off a couple hours down the road where I waited only 15 minutes before a Kiwi lady picked me up and took me all the way back into Christchurch. She was an interesting lady with an interesting job, working at the Antarctic centre in Christchurch, dealing with the technical and administrative problems that come with sending expeditions to the Antarctic, having visited a few times herself. We shared tales of our travels and work, and she gave me plenty of good advice on New Zealand and some tips for Christchurch, although I wouldn’t get a chance to use many. She was going as far as Christchurch and I thought it was a good idea for me to stay the night there, late as it was by this point. I went to the iSite and found a hostel with availability and took my tired self there before wandering to an internet cafe. I got in touch with Suzanne, a backpacker I met on Doubtful Sound and we decided to meet the next day in Nelson, at the top of the South Island. I set a pretty ambitious hitchhiking goal for myself going Christchurch to Nelson, but the reward was worth it as I would have a travel partner for a while and see some sights I wouldn’t otherwise on my own. But more on that later! The Stonehurst Hotel and Backpackers turned out to be a bit of a factory, processing and churning out guests. The room heated like crazy overnight, my 4 person room had 5 occupants (figure that one out for yourself), there was terrible noise outside the window at night, the facilities were sparse, the kitchen was dirty, and the staff were wholly unfriendly. I was quite prepared to walk to the iSite the next morning to tell them to stop recommending the Stonehurst, but laziness kicked in and I focused on getting out of the city instead. Next stop, Nelson: a six hour drive. How long does it take David while hitchhiking, especially considering my last luck? Tune in next time for the exciting conclusion!