Sweet As the South Island

« Return to New Zealand

You see, hear and do things in New Zealand that you just don’t do see, hear or do anywhere else. Like the sight of a jet boat carving up a narrow river, surrounded by mountains recognizable from fantasy movies. Or the sound of screaming as you plummet 60m upside down off a ledge into a canyon. Or the taste of lamb and mint potato chips, and warm mince meat pie. Or even the thud of possum road kill, which, if you plan on driving anywhere on the South Island, chances are you’ll experience - but don’t feel bad, you’re doing the country a great service. Having spent 10 days exploring the South Island, it’s hard not to pick up the Kiwi slang for all the above, and all that’s to come below. Kiwis say “Sweet As.” Which begs the question, “sweet as” what, exactly? It’s my third visit to the country, I intend to find out.

It’s over 7000 miles from Vancouver to Auckland, a diagonal line down across the mighty Pacific. It’s not the longest flight in the world - Newark to Singapore is 9524 miles, or 18 hours with a crying baby in the seat behind you - but it’s no walk around the block either. Blessed are the seat back screens on Air New Zealand, for they are operational the moment you board up until the moment you de-board, ensuring nobody is bored and if they are, the large movie and TV catalogue will leave them de-bored too. Further, they have the only airline safety video I’ve ever watched start to finish, because the crew pointing out the exits are 100% naked except for well positioned-body paint. From the country that gave the world the split atom, water sprinklers, jogging and eggbeaters, why not reinvent safety videos too?

My goal is to combine the beauty and adventure of the South Island with a little bit of class and culture. The two need not be mutually exclusive, as AJ Hackett proved when he bungy jumped the Eiffel Tower, illegally, in a tuxedo. So it’s a hurried rush to the domestic airport and into a tiny tubular Beechcraft 1900 for a flight to Blenheim, the capital of the Marlborough wine region. Here, the valley’s dry climate and fertile soils makes it the country’s largest wine district, with endlessly neat rows of vineyards streaking the landscape in perfect geometric symmetry. Wine country always chills me out, and I’m not just saying that because wine country means I’m drunk most of the time. The effort, money and technology used to cultivate a beverage so fundamental to human pleasure proves we’re not nearly as serious as we’d like to believe. For 8000 years, humans have been slugging back fermented grape with gusto, and we can talk about balance and body, vintages and volatile acidity, but anyone who doesn’t get a buzz on after a couple glasses of vino is either missing the point, or needs perhaps counselling for alcohol abuse.

Anyway, my soft landing was at the Hertzog Wine Estate (http://www.herzog.co.nz) one of Marlborough’s elite vineyards, in a cosy little cottage surrounded by rows of Pinot Noir. Smell the bouquet! Swirl the strong, fresh winds in your mouth! Suck it back with a five-course meal in the adjacent restaurant, considered amongst the finest in New Zealand. The all-German kitchen prepared dishes so delicate it hurt just to eat, like the duck liver ice cream, or the salty foam that sat above the wild mushroom mascarpone, or the beef stock carbonara I’d seen Chef Boris painstakingly prepare in the kitchen earlier. Accompanying each course are Herzog wines, as fine as any I’ve ever had, and after five courses, one can appreciate the joy of stumbling to the cabin, mere metres away.
Fast forward a few hours, and there’s a pod of dusky dolphins swimming beneath my feet in the Queen Charlotte Sound. Look, this is New Zealand, a country of breathtaking natural beauty, and while I can easily write about the succulent lamb roast and excellent wine at the Allan Scott Winery (http://www.allanscott.com) who also happen to make the excellent Moa beer too, the dolphins have quite simply muscled their way into my story. Launching the boat from Picton, where daily ferries transport passengers from the North Island, Dolphin Watch Eco-Tours (http://www.naturetours.co.nz) offer a 98% viewing success rate, which means you’d have to be one unlucky bastard not to at least see some dolphins frolicking about. Usually, you can swim with them too, although that depends on what type of dolphin they are (Hector Dolphins are protected and therefore off limits), whether there are any young about (the only thing more dangerous than swimming between a mother and a calf is standing between an All Black scrum and a rugby ball), and if the dolphins are in the mood. After an hour of motoring up the gorgeous seaway, we spot a particularly playful pod, jumping in the air, buzzing the side of the boat with the precision of fighter jets. Our group of five slip on full body wetsuits, snorkels and masks, and hop in. Dolphins are curious creatures, so the more sound we make, the more likely they’ll want to say hello. And they do, gliding around us, rubbing up against us, a fun bit of inter-species play time. Then they take off, so we hop on the boat and follow them, which appears to be their intention. The last time I swam with dolphins was in Venezuela, pulled by rope behind a boat in tiger shark infested waters, while dolphins swam alongside me, and a pilot whale crested in the distance. Both experiences are infinitely more preferable to swimming with dolphins in captivity, because on both occasions, I had little doubt that the second most intelligent creature on Earth was having more fun than the first.

Gonzo Gallery for Sweet As the South Island

view full gallery

Tweet