To Christchurch

“Now, we enter the Plains of Despair!” I say. We’ve left the mountains and are have to cross about a hundred miles of very flat farm country before Christchurch. “I really wish you would stop calling it the Plains of Despair,” Colleen says. “Los Llanos de Triste.” “God,” Colleen grunts. “You’re depressing me.” “But I … Continue reading To Christchurch


Milford, Doubtful Sound and Fiordland were out— we came to a pretty easy consensus on that. The last couple weeks in high and dry Otago had been so nice. No sandflies, fewer camper vans, almost no tour buses. And going back over to the fjords would be diving back into the wet, itchy, selfie-stick nightmare. … Continue reading Southland


We’re having some beers with a group of Kiwi guys and their Australian friend at the campground in Wanaka. “Well, I’m sorry to tell you this,” says one of the guys. People are never sorry when they say that. “But, in IQ tests of all the people in the world, Americans consistently score near the … Continue reading Otago

West Coast

The cards fly past Colleen’s head, she ducks. “Ooh, sorry bru. Been trying that one seven years, still can’t get her right,” says our new friend. He’s smelly, dreads, shoeless but wearing a shirt that has a picture of a gumboot. Just came down from some music festival out in the bush in Karamea. We’re … Continue reading West Coast