ChristAfter Christa Christpleasant Christmas Christin Christchurch, I hopped on a bus to Queenstown. Not just any bus. A bus owned and operated by the fabulous "Atomic Shuttles". While the owners, operators, and buses certainly seemed to consist of atoms, the trip was a major letdown. With a name like "atomic", one should reasonably expect a futuristic experience: a smooth ride, sentient ashtrays, freeze-dried ice cream, and chrome chrome chrome. What I got was nauseating driving and cramped seating. These would have been acceptable on their own, but the Official Atomic Shuttles Soundtrack broke this camel's back. We were treated to a selection of popular music so diverse - from the fucking Grease soundtrack to Buena Vista Social Club - that I was annoyed 95% of the time and singing along the other five. In all honesty, I'd rather just be annoyed the entire time. Coming up with an appropriate analogy to express my feelings on the issue is tough. Maybe it's like going to Taco Bell and, having lost your wallet, being forced to eat a few Border Fryz out of the dumpster when you could be getting the tried-and-true Grilled Stuft Burrito (Steak), a Chicken Quesadilla, and a large Mountain Dew - a bargain at $6.52! - then going home to watch Alias. OK, that was less an analogy than a shout-out to Chuck. Anyway, yeah. Better to just steer clear of Taco Bell and Atomic Shuttles altogether.

Queenstown is a tourist trap, and not in the charming run-down way Moab, Utah is a tourist trap. Being a tourist, I guess I should've been in my element, but I just wanted to flee. After a day to prepare for the Rees-Dart, I did just that. But not before taking a picture of this statue, which I found hilarious.

The guy is Mr. Rees, a farmer who settled in the area and enjoyed animal husbandry, if you get my drift. Eventually the government bought Rees' land for use as a tourism pamphlet landfill, a purpose it still serves to this day.

So, armed with heaps of granola bars and a walking stick (my knees were killing me after the St. James), I hopped on another bus that took me to the Rees-Dart trailhead. The Rees-Dart is a four-day tramp that runs up the Rees River, then down the Dart River. It was unfuckingbelievablyawesome. I will tell the tale chronologically through pictures, captions and occasional non-caption blurbs. Ready?.

Go. The tramp starts on a flat running beside the Rees River. Large stretches of this section required slogging through sweet delicious mud. It was...dirty. Especially after the time I failed to prod the suspicious-looking bit of muck in front of me and ended-up waist-deep in the stuff! My shorts will never be the same.

In spite of the mud, the walk was already amazing. All those whitish lines in the trees? Waterfalls from melting snow. They were everywhere. Hella cool.

This one's for you, Japan.

Eventually the trail moved away from The Big Muddy and into ferny groves...

...and picturesque beech forests...

...complete with melt-off rivulets, creeks, streams, brooks, rivers (and their associated waterfalls) of their own! This was the point at which I decided buying the $1100 Sapporo-to-Christchurch flight and enduring the Official Atomic Shuttles Soundtrack were totally worthwhile.

Eventually I emerged from the forest. And the backpacking-humping closet. Mom, Dad, I'm sorry I kept this part of my life from you for so long.

At this point the weather started getting sketchy. The driver who carted me and my fellow trampers to the trailhead claimed that the forecast was for an Apocalyptic Deluge of Death. Hoping to avoid getting soaked - and, more importantly, to avoid a forced confrontation with my keraunophobia - I hauled ass to the hut of the day and managed to make it just as the rain (not nearly as nasty as forescasted) began to fall.

Day Two promised a hike over the Rees Saddle, an ascent of maybe 500 meters, nothing Captain Sissyboy couldn't handle. The weather looked a little dicey, though. This pic is looking back the way I came from.

A bit farther up the track now. When you travel alone, selfies are the only way to fly. Please try to ignore the sexiness oozing off of my then-unshowered-for-four-days body and note the patches of white, snow-like stuff behind me. Huh? Snow?!?!?! No one told me there was going to be snow.

But there it was, and I was getting closer to big heaps of it. Most of the ascent was a gentle climb, but the last 100 meters...yowza. Very steep, very covered with snow, and thus very slippery. Slow going. But fun in that "this is kind of dangerous, I should probably have crampons to avoid falling to an icy death" way.

Alas, icy death falling was avoided, and I reached the snowy 1447-meter summit! And then had someone take a picture of me as I wished for polarized sunglasses and a repetoire of non-stupid-looking facial expressions. It was actually snowing up there, a welcome surprise, even though I wasn't really prepared for it!

After a few granola bars and these absurdly crumbly hummus + cheese-stuffed pitas I made for lunch, it was descent time!

Always time for another selfie. Sigh.

Does anyone remember Slim Goodbody? He had this song about the digestive system that went "Down, down, down, downdy-down" a zillion times and that was pretty much the song. Good shit! (Ha!)

The lovely Mt. Cook Lily, nowhere near the lovely Mt. Cook (the tallest mountain in NZ, I think). The spiky-looking plant behind the flowers reminded me of yucca plants. It certainly stabbed me as painfully as yucca have in the past. But apparently it's called Spaniard. Which just makes me wonder: how in the fuck did Gladiator win an Oscar for Best Picture?

Eventually we reached a nifty swing bridge that led to the swanky Dart Hut, of which I took zero pictures because I am dumb.

No two ways about it, Day Three was the Best Day of Hiking Ever. I did a day trip to see the Dart Glacier and the Cascade Saddle. After about an hour and a half of moraine, I got a nice view of the glacier. Incidentally, I could not have asked for better weather on this day, and really, the entire tramp. The South Island's west coast is usually very rainy, and I barely saw a drop. Lucky lucky lucky.

After some glacier-viewin', the trudge up to the Cascade Saddle began. Steep, snowy, and slippery. Not really dangerous, just hard work, and, not having been blessed with the work ethic of my parents, I thought about bailing a few times. Thankfully, I didn't. The view was ridiculously cool. This picture was taken by a Swiss guy who was completely insane - he literally ran and pranced his way back down the trail without so much as a stumble (did I mention it was steep and slippery?) like some kind of wacky extinct snow gazelle. Just watching it made my knees hurt. Oh, I think that's Mount Aspiring behind me. Yay, mountains!

The view down from the saddle.

The Dart Glacier, viewed from the saddle, included only to make this page take longer to load.

Nifty But Wideish Picture! Clicky!
Panoramic view from the Cascade Saddle.

After soaking up the natural amazingness, I made my way back down to the glacier-viewing spot, where I ran into four Kiwi gals eating lunch. Kinda beat, I sat down and chatted for a bit. Then we heard a freaky rumbling. Sounded kinda like an earthquake. Eventually we realized that it was an avalanche happening near the glacier. Talk about right place, right time. Holy shit. We sat there for a good half-hour talking, snacking, and watching avalanches without a care in the world. Best Lunch Ever. This is a pic of the best of the avies; that river of snow wasn't there 30 seconds before I took the pic. Kinda hard to capture on film, but it was pretty incredible to see.

Because the terrain was pretty rocky, the trail was usually marked by cairns. Most of them were standard, small, 5-10 rockers like the one in the lower-left here...

...but some folks were more ambitious. Jenga, anyone?

You may want to stop here, the rest of the hike was fairly tame. Day Four took me across Cattle Flat. No cow pies here, though. The Dart River is on the right. Oh, Day Four also happened to be New Year's Eve. I chilled the lone beer I brought along in the river, enjoyed it at about 8PM, ended up ringing in the new year in sandfly-infested Daley's Flat Hut playing Asshole with a Netherlander, three Germans, and two Kiwis. Wow, that sounded filthy.

God Bless the individual who came up with timers on cameras. Without it, evidence of my impeccable fashion decisions would be lost forever. I wear short shorts.

And then it was done.

Back to Queenstown, back to Christchurch on accursed Atomic Shuttles (complete with identical fucking soundtrack), a night in Christchurch at my beloved Vagabond Backpackers Hostel where I watched Amelie on video and decided to learn the accordion and move to France, back to Seoul where this Engrish gem revealed itself:

(Ah, the mystery!), and back to Sapporo, knees destroyed but otherwise happy. Not the most epic of journeys, but a mighty fine time.

woah, slim goodbody! I was trying to reminisce about him in class last month and no one knew what I was talking about. Wrong age, or wrong part of the country? Who knows. They also have no clue what broomball is out here (makes me sad.)
Anyhow- The 'tramps' look luscious. Good job on playing Asshole with some Kiwis- traveling by yourself can get lonely, no?

I was also a HUG Slim Goodbody fan! Here are a few ditties that may bring a smile to your face:

http://www.slimgoodbody.com/Downloads/SlimPoster.pdf

http://www.slimgoodbody.com/KidStuff_SlimSays.htm

http://www.slimgoodbody.com/KidStuff_AmazingBodyFacts.htm

I think the reason Gladiator won is that the Oscars have transformed from honoring the best performances and productions of the year into a big, steaming pile of crappy popularity contests.

Or maybe it's just that Russell Crowe is so dreamy...

As I looked at your panormaic photo from the Cascade Saddle, I was keenly aware of the sounds of the refrigerator behind me. I have always thought its motor sounds like a glacial wind. I got chills.

Also, I am so glad to know you got to be in Seoul for a short while. Kimpo airport?

Fantastic photos!! Makes our recent trip to Zion seem like another planet.