Adventure Press Clips
We don't like to toot our own horn, so we thought we'd let you read what other people have said about us! ACTIVE NEW ZEALAND has been featured in several publications, ranging from local newspapers to national newstand magazines. We've even had our 15 minutes of fame on TV! Below are a few of our favorite clips:
Austin American-Statesman (March '07)
National Geographic Adventure (November '06) World's 25 Best New Trips Issue
National Geographic Adventure (Feb '03)
Palm Beach Post / The Atlanta Journal-Constitution (Feb/Mar '03)
Los Angeles Times Magazine (Mar '01)
Online Articles
We've also been featured in 'online' magazines:
Real Travel Adventures / Travelworld International (Oct '03)
Austin American-Statesman (Texas)
March 25, 2007
Rugged hike has its beauty by Pamela LeBlanc
NELSON LAKES, New Zealand - Just before lunch, my backpack starts to feel like I've stuffed a circus tent inside it, and my boots and socks are soaked from slogging through calf-deep streams.
That last swing bridge over a raging river, the one with a sign warning that it could support just one person at a time? It made my knees quake. And, our guides have warned, the steepest part is yet to come.
So I am happy when we break for lunch.
Tramping, the New Zealand term for hiking, is challenging but rewarding. It's one of the main reasons tourists come to this country, known for outdoorsy pursuits and adventure travel. And it's why I'm here with my husband - to hike along some of the world's most beautiful mountains and lakes.
It also burns a ton of calories, so I eat a couple of sandwiches, some cheese and a pile of chocolate cookies, then flop on the grass, arms tucked behind my head. I inhale the mountain air. Listen to the water spilling over smooth oval rocks in a nearby stream. Swivel my head in all directions to take in the panorama of snow-capped peaks.
I can't believe I'm backpacking on the other side of the world.
We'd begun our adventure the day before, at one end of Rotoiti Lake, in the Nelson Lakes region of New Zealand's South Island. With two weeks to spend on our vacation, we decided to spend half our time with a tour company that specializes in adventure travel, and do the other half on our own. (Some of New Zealand's wildly popular hiking trails require advance reservations; this one does not.) This trek was part of our guided trip.
We hiked for three or four hours along a mostly flat trail, through a tranquil forest of beech trees that hugged the shoreline, then spent the night at a communal hut, throwing down sleeping bags on giant bunks that ran along one wall of a rustic shelter.
"Nice day to wag (skip) school and go for a tramp, eh?" a teenager said as we settled in for the night.
This morning, we left behind the flat terrain. We climbed through a forest thick with ferns and moss and more shades of green than a leprechaun's hideaway. Our tramp turned from hike to treasure hunt, as the clear path we'd been following disappeared and we began scampering between markers placed 25 or 50 yards apart.
Revived after lunch, we're ready to forge on.
In an hour, we break above the treeline. The mountainside is dotted with shrubs and herbs. We scramble up the rocks, picking our way alongside a glimmering waterfall. Every now and then, we pause for a bite of chocolate or to soak in the scenery, feeling like mountain goats as we creep along.
At one point, a waterfall blocks our path. We have to cross. Our guide helps us through, telling us to face the mountain without looking at the roiling water (it can be disorienting) and sidestep through the icy, knee-high flow.
Safely across, we press on, huffing and puffing as we chip away at the 3,000-foot climb.
Finally, we reach the top. We scamper through a mountain saddle, and the Angelus Hut appears in the distance, looking to us like a luxury hotel despite the green outhouses to one side and the tangle of socks drying on the wooden deck.
We ditch our backpacks at the hut, where trampers from as far away as France and Denmark are lounging and laughing. Out on the deck, we can't believe the view. A tiny alpine lake is glinting in the sun. Temperatures are in the 50s, but this is cause for celebration. Besides, I am sweaty and stinky.
My husband and I walk down to the lake. I peel off my clothes and wade into the water up to my waist. With a gasp, I slosh ice-cold water over my head: hiking nirvana.
Back at the hut, I sprawl on the deck and sip a cup of hot tea. Later, we sup on pasta and nearly fall off our bench when the guide brings in two no-bake cheesecakes she just whipped up. We crawl into bed before the sun sets.
Day three begins with a trip to the lake to gather drinking water for our bottles. We don't waste any time starting the hike along Roberts Ridge, hoping to beat some dark clouds that are building in the distance.
The wind is brisk, and parts of the walk are exposed, with scree fields dropping off on both sides. Now and then I'm slammed by a wind gust that sends me dropping to all fours to clutch the rocks. The route is high and narrow, and the going slow, but the scene that unfolds around us is gorgeous.
We scamper from marker to marker, scrabbling over fields of canteloupe-sized rocks, then boulders the size of hogs, then loose gravel that slides away with a rustle at each step. All I can think, as I waddle along like a crab, trying to keep my center of gravity low, is "one false step and I'll be rolling for miles . . ."
After a couple hours, the slopes smooth out and the rock turns to alpine grass and cushion plants. Our guide tells us that ranchers sometimes mistake these low, spongy white plants for wayward sheep, spending hours to hike up and rescue them.
Unlike lost sheep, we make steady progress down the ridge. We pause for lunch at a wooden lean-to, and march on. We pass an abandoned ski resort. The grasses turn to shrubs. We meet a few trampers on their way up. The shrubs turn to trees, and then we hit the switchbacks.
For an hour, we pace downhill, weaving back and forth in a never-ending crisscross. The lake, once so far below, gets bigger and bigger. And finally, three days after we set out, we stumble into a parking lot.
Funny thing about this adventure: If I'd clearly known what I was getting into before taking my first steps, I probably wouldn't have done it. The wind, the precarious walk out, the close quarters with complete strangers - it all would have scared me away.
I'm glad I did it, though. The feeling when we reached Angelus Hut, after a day and a half of hiking, was worth every step along the way.
National Geographic Adventure magazine
November 2006
The World's 25 Best New Trips:
New Zealand: Do As the Guides Do
WHAT'S NEW: Ask any group of experienced guides about their dream trips, and chances are they'll rattle off dozens of options. This year Queenstown-based ACTIVE NEW ZEALAND invented a creative way to take advantage of all this
unrealized trip-planning potential: The outfitter inaugurated an annual competition among its guides to design the best trip around New Zealand. The winner, of course, would get to lead his or her entry. The contest's first champion is veteran guide Lynette Warmington, 37, who, beginning in March, will lead visitors on her custom 14-day multisport tear around the South Island, stopping to sample some of the region's finest and least known outdoor offerings.
ON THE GROUND: After trekking in the shadows of 12,316-foot (3,754-meter) Mount Cook, you'll set out on a three-day hut-to-hut hike along Warmington's favorite trail, the five-year-old Hump Ridge Track. Tucked into the southwest corner of the South Island, the 35-mile (56-kilometer) route has two new backcountry mountain lodges and offers stellar views of both Lake Hauroko, at 1,516 feet (462 meters) the country's deepest lake, and the moody mountain ranges of Fiordland National Park. The trip culminates with an overnight cruise through isolated Doubtful Sound, where you'll explore waterfall-draped shorelines populated by seals and gape as the sun dips into the Tasman Sea.
Vitals
Outfitter: ACTIVE NEW ZEALAND (www.activenewzealand.com)
Length: 14 days
Price: $3,499
Difficulty: Moderate
Departs: March
See the article online here.
Best Outdoor Adventure Trips for 2006:
New Zealand -
Circumnavigating the South Island
Price : $2,999
Difficulty : Challenging
During ACTIVE NEW ZEALAND founder Andrew Fairfax's 2,700-mile cycling expedition from Istanbul to London in 2003, he thought, Why aren't we doing this at home? The result of that epiphany is the Weka, a 13-day supported bike trip circling the South Island. It hits all the top spots, like the majestic peaks and gushing waterfalls of Milford Sound and the blue ice of the Franz Josef Glacier, while staying off most of the main routes, worn thin by tourist traffic. You'll log roughly 400 miles on Specialized hybrids that can handle gravel farm paths and other classic Kiwi obstacles like cow dung and stubborn sheep.
Typical day: Pull off the Central Otago Rail Trail, ditch your gear in a renovated millhouse that serves as home for the night, and head to a tiny rural-outpost pub for a Speight's with the locals.
Outfitter : ACTIVE NEW ZEALAND , 800-661-9073, www.activenewzealand.com
When to Go : October-April
See the article online here.
Paper Trails (Where readers send in pictures of their local paper travelling the world!)
New Zealand
Who: Steve and Joan Ringel of Denver
Where: Milford Sound
Best meal: Rotherhams, Christchurch, a small, welcoming restaurant run with gourmet continental choices as well as New Zealand specialties. Wonderful desserts. Be hungry; New Zealand menus include appetizers, mains (a small main course), entrees (a regular main course) and dessert. If you ask for salad or vegetables, you will get them; if you don't, they are not likely to be served.
Best deal: Tour with ACTIVE NEW ZEALAND. Well planned, no more than 15 in a group, excellent guides, efficiently showcases special places by hiking, biking and sea kayaking that on your own you couldn't organize. Reasonably priced. Spartan but scrupulously clean accommodations. Healthy, family-style meals. Beer and lattes under $3 everywhere.
Best time to go: November and early December - late spring, early summer "down under" - just before Kiwis travel for the holidays and best weather.
Best travel tip: Take rain gear - it is supposed to rain quite a bit, although we had only one day of intermittent drizzle on our last day. Take deet for sand flies, and don't scratch if they bite you. An old Maori myth suggests that when New Zealand was created, it was paradise. The gods sent the sand flies to remind humans how easily paradise can be spoiled.
See the article online here.
National
Geographic Adventure
February 2003 Issue
The 25 Greatest Adventure Trips in the World: #9
09:
Kiwi Hot Tracks
Here's why people fly so far to hike in New Zealand:
A third of the island nation is parkland, and it has just 3.8 million residents.
Consequently, hundreds of miles of lightly used trails weave through rugged ranges
and untrammeled rain forests. Active New Zealand's 14-day loop is billed
as multisport, but most clients opt for tramping around the canyons of Punakaiki,
Franz Josef Glacier, the Mount Cook Region, and other South Island beauty spots.
Nights are spent in lodges, B&Bs, and a sheep shearer's cabin on a 63,000-acre
farm.
WHY THIS TRIP: It dodges the predictable Milford Track in favor
of trails loved by locals, and it offers two levels of hiking-moderate and challenging-on
every outing.
Palm
Beach Post
Travel section, February 2, 2003
reprinted
in The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Travel
section, March 16, 2003
Take A Hike by Jim Beriau
Explore New Zealand's pristine wilderness by foot, bike
and kayak. You can even sky-dive. And along the way, you can make some new friends.
Attitude is everything.
It could not have been clearer after seven years
of marriage. Her body language said it all. "Just what on Earth am I doing at
6,000 feet with a 30-pound pack on my back, boulder-hopping on this ridge?" Her
trekking pole slapped some of the small rocks out of the way. She stopped to pick
one up. Must be a souvenir, as if the blisters on her feet weren't enough. I watched
all this from a distance and did what all good husbands should do.
Nothing.
I knew Jeannette well enough to know that she would eventually adjust her
attitude. Sure enough, after falling on her backside in the grass, she did. With
more-focused determination, she was one of the first from our group of 12 down
the mountain that day.
We had just concluded a three-day hike into Nelson
Lakes National Park on the South Island, part of our two-week Active New Zealand
tour. New Zealand is made up of North and South Islands. Our tour time was spent
on the South Island.
Active would be a good word to describe this vacation.
We biked along miles of unspoiled scenic mountain roads. We hiked through a rain
forest to a summit overlooking Franz Josef Glacier. We climbed mountains along
the Southern Alps as high as 6,000 feet. We sea-kayaked on a beautiful lagoon
in Okarito and a fiord in Milford Sound.
We visited a winery, we tried
local restaurants. And on top of all that, the sun didn't set until 9:30 p.m.,
which meant we were able to pack in a lot of adventures. This was February, New
Zealand's summer.
To get to the many remote areas of the South Island,
the 12 of us rode together on a small but comfortable bus we fondly nicknamed
the silver mini-Winnie, driven by our guide Kent, along with Jacqui, our cook,
and Brendan, a cook in training. They were professional, personable and, above
all, knew how to have a good time.
Our group bonded pretty quickly.
We met each other after flying into Christchurch, and then on our first excursion
in Kaikoura we swam with seals. For more than two hours, our guide valiantly led
us in our wet suits to waters suited only for marine wildlife. The seals seemed
to be laughing at us from their perches in the safety of the rocks. We didn't
belong there. Later at dinner we would share our experiences and laugh until our
sides hurt.
As I edge closer to age 40, there were many physical challenges.
The next day, we went on a three-day Nelson Lakes hike, a series of treks through
beautiful beech forests and steep, rugged mountains. We walked from hut to hut
and drank from crystalclear streams as we ascended steep rocky slopes. Maybe because
I stopped to snap off a photo or two, or I wasn't in as good shape as I thought,
I always ended up being alone. This was OK, as I urged myself up to the top.
"One step at a time", Kent, our guide would say to me in his Kiwi accent.
He was right. During that 2,000-foot vertical ascent up Mount Angelus, I figured
if I could make it to the top, I could do anything on this trip. Two hours later,
I was standing with my wife on top of the world. I felt a great sense of achievement
as we walked to the hut. That night I ventured outside while everyone else slept,
to find a large, white full moon rising above the craggy mountainous landscape.
I thought I was on a different planet. The stars littered the black sky from horizon
to horizon. I thought, "now this is a vacation."
Music was a large part
of our driving pleasure, and Kent supplied us with a fun mix of new and old. He
was a great DJ by always matching the music to our moods. The Doors' Riders on
the Storm provided the perfect soundtrack to the passing landscape in the rain-drenched
Fiordland National Park. Waterfalls cascaded down from black cliffs that disappeared
into the clouds.
This was all after a trip to Punakaiki, where we spent
a day relaxing. Another short hike, then a four-hour kayak trip into the Okarito
Lagoon. Then another half-day hike into a rain forest, and a look at the Franz
Josef Glacier. All this, then the van trip to Fiordland National Park.
Sky-diving adventure
It's Queenstown next, with two days to relax.
"OK,
when the light in front of you turns green, we are good to go. Keep your head
back, lean into me, relax and have a great time," said my tandem sky-diving instructor.
It was my turn next. Three of us jumped, each with an instructor and video guy.
The light flashed green. I sat on the edge of the plane and looked down. The view
was incredible. I was more excited than scared. Just before leaping out of the
plane, I heard my wife scream some words of encouragement. She had done this before.
Falling at 120 mph is pure adrenaline rush. Your entire body is weightless.
I tried to scream, but the air filled my lungs too quickly and wouldn't allow
it. After freefalling for about 45 seconds, we floated down in silence. This is
the craziest thing I have ever done, but I was glad I did it. Back on the ground,
we were all shouting and dancing. Eight of us from our group jumped that day -
another great bonding experience.
This was Queenstown, the adventure
capital of New Zealand. Surrounded by mountains aptly named The Remarkables, they
formed a stunning backdrop to Lake Wakatipu. We could not sit still. My wife,
along with two others, tried the highest bungee jump in New Zealand, the Nevis,
a 400-foot jump from a cable car suspended by wires over the Nevis River gorge.
They all remained high from that experience for days after. There were lots of
other activities to try in those two days: mountain biking, canyoning, jet-boating,
whitewater rafting and riding in an acrobatic plane. Then in the evenings we all
had dinner together and raised a ruckus in the restaurants and clubs.
The
next morning we departed from Queenstown to Milford Sound, so some of us took
the opportunity to mountain bike the road alongside beautiful Lake Wakatipu. I
hadn't done very much biking, but surprisingly I found this to be a blast. After
a short afternoon hike in Fiordland National Park, we stopped again. Outfitted
in rain gear, several of us biked an aggressive 17- kilometer downhill portion
of the road to the Milford Lodge, where we stayed.
Next on the agenda
was a four-hour extreme kayak on Milford Sound. The rain came at us in sheets
while the wind and waves tossed our bright, bouncy kayaks around like toys. We
were having a rough time of it in our two-person craft. (Those colorful brochures
had made it look so tranquil!) Even through all the choppy waters, Jeannette's
sore wrist and my aching and tired arms, we hung in there for the challenge, remembering
to marvel at the majestic beauty of Mitre Peak plunging into the sea, its tip
shrouded in clouds. In the distance, a waterfall that seemed three times higher
than Niagara Falls was spilling into the fiord.
In the middle of nowhere
The
most peaceful place we stayed during this tour was in Braemar Station, at a sheep
shearer's house on a farm alongside Lake Pukaki at the base of Mount Cook.
We were in the middle of nowhere with stunning views of the Southern Alps.
The golden, grassy landscape was vast, open and quiet. Some of us slept out on
the covered porch. Later that evening, I was so transfixed by the bright night
sky, sleep seemed impossible.
The next morning we were up early and
ready for our seven-hour strenuous hike up a ridge alongside Mount Cook. This
would be our final hike of the tour - 6,000 feet up to Mueller Hut.
The
weather was perfect. After almost two weeks of hiking, my legs and stamina greatly
improved and I found this hike to be the most challenging, yet the most exhilarating.
The last 1,500 feet or so, we were climbing almost vertically over loose rock
and large boulders. After three hours, we were there. We ate lunch, played in
the snow, took some group photos and hoisted our makeshift flag.
The
camaraderie of our group ensured plenty of good times. We played Crazy 8's by
candlelight in Lakehead Hut. We showered beneath a breathtaking waterfall on a
beach in Punakaiki. We danced like fools at a Latin club in Queenstown.
We
sang songs together as we hiked up steep mountains. We enjoyed sharing great New
Zealand beers and wines at local pubs and vineyards. Conversation was always witty
and full of goodnatured teasing. We encouraged and supported each other in our
personal goals. We shared a unique New Zealand experience and made friends we
know we will see again.
Globe and
Mail
Travel section, September 4, 2004
Slogging through midlife by Catherine Gildiner
It's that time of year when back-to-school rumblings inspire thoughts
of self-improvement. CATHERINE GILDINER forsakes the annual all-inclusive
holiday and signs up to hike glaciers, ford rivers and paddle across Queen
Charlotte Sound on a 'multisport extravaganza' in New Zealand. But she
encounters an unexpected challenge: a bee-fearing, TV-producing kayak
partner named Sid.
CHRISTCHURCH, NEW ZEALAND -- Every September, I have rumblings of back-to-school phenomenon, the longing for a clean slate. It usually takes the form of panic combined with some sort of unattainable self-improvement. Last year, it was that life was passing us by. (No one ever said neurotic behaviour was original.) Grabbing my husband's wrists, so he couldn't press keys on the computer, I said: "We have to lean out and seize the doughnut on the merry-go-round before it's too late." My husband said he needed more information.
I announced that I was finished taking sedentary all-inclusive holidays, where the "all-inclusive" includes the five pounds you gain gorging on buffets. We are in our late-50s and we may only have 10 years left to actively discover the world, I told him. By 65, we might be beached on a chair by the Caribbean or, worse still, on a senior citizens cruise docking up to buy yet another straw hat. We had to get out there while we still could. After 35 years of marriage, my husband had heard a number of my active-vacation meltdowns and had learned to simply agree with me, let things go, and then along comes the February freeze and I cave. We end up taking a last-minute flight to an all-inclusive beach resort in the Caribbean.
This time, he surprised me. He walked in the door the next day waving tickets and said: "Well, I have booked some holidays. We are hiking, biking and kayaking in New Zealand for November, rain-forest canopy jumping in Costa Rica for December and white-water rafting in Bolivia for March." This from a man who had phones put on both sides of the bed because it was "too hard to lean over." The tickets were already bought for New Zealand and Costa Rica. I cancelled the ones on hold for Bolivia. My husband had clearly read B. F. Skinner's principles of behaviour modification. Intermittent reinforcement is the most powerful type. Ignore the rat's behaviour most of the time, but occasionally reward it and the rat will keep pressing the food bar forever.
The New Zealand holiday was ominously entitled "multisport extravaganza." A friend blithely reassured me: "Listen, for the money you're paying in American dollars, they will have 'handlers' to carry the bags, and a bus to poke along behind you and when you're tired, you just cry uncle and climb aboard." I was, however, haunted by the expedition company's "fitness alerts," daily e-mail regimens that would defeat the marines. My antennae went up at the number of times they used the word "challenge" and the line: "We have chosen to stay in more rustic accommodations, so you can access the most remote areas." After that point, the word "accommodation" never reappeared -- only "hut" was used.
After 26 hours of air travel, during which I sat next to a woman suffering from trichotillomania (the uncontrollable pulling out of one's own hair), my husband and I arrived in Christchurch, where we met 12 members of the trip. They all looked like they had just finished filming the TV show Survivor. We were the eldest by two decades except for one woman from Los Angeles, who was 65, had a Jocelyn Wildenstein face-lift, and shrieked, "Hey girlfriend!" for 14 days whenever we made eye contact. The group was typified by Fredrick, 32, who appeared in shorts when it was cold enough to see your breath. In the airport, he was bedecked in climbing ropes and had carabineers dangling from every limb that chimed when he took his Jack-in-the-Beanstalk strides.
One guest, a man named Sid, had disembarked at Auckland, which is on the North Island. We were on the South Island waiting for him. He left the message that no one told him that New Zealand was made up of two islands. Hours later, a bewildered, bald, chunky 39-year-old TV producer from Burbank, Calif., arrived. He had told his secretary to book him a bird-watching holiday and she had chosen this. He later said he should have known she had "latent anger."
Our itinerary, as we made our way around the South Island beginning and ending in Christchurch, was indeed to be an extravaganza of adventure: "snorkelling with seals" in Kaikora (I had previously been unaware that seals could snorkel), kayaking on the Queen Charlotte Sound and Okarito Lagoon, hiking along the sparsely populated west coast, biking through Te Anau toward Milford Sound, which Rudyard Kipling rightly had called the eighth wonder of the world. The journey included a two-day hike near Lake Pukaki and Mount Cook, the highest mountain in the Southern Alps. This trip started with a 16-kilometre mountain climb, with a stop at a hut where we'd sleep in our clothes. Clearly there was no one to carry the bags.
The guides were two ravishingly beautiful women in their 20s, one of whom had long blond dreadlocks that she wore in a schoolmarm bun. The other never once got ruffled, even when we faced a flash flood, an avalanche, the coldest spring in 25 years, and Sid's persistent moaning. They made the meals, drove the bus and carried their own packs, which also held all the food. If you couldn't keep up, you were, they chirped, "left for the possums, mate." Apparently, there are 72 million possums in New Zealand. They have no natural predators.
In our first "briefing," one guide said, "Tomorrow we
will be crossing a stream. Unfortunately, the water is running high with
all the rain so we are facing white water probably up past our waists."
"I guess we will need our sandals," I volunteered.
"No," she answered evenly. "There will be a powerful current
and the rocks will be slippery, so we will need to wear our hiking boots.
We also have to join arms so no one gets swept away."
"Won't our boots be wet for the rest of the trip?" my husband
asked.
"Welcome to tramping in New Zealand," said the unflappable guide.
(Thank God I had at least cancelled Bolivia.)
We learned not to ask questions. Just put one foot in front of the other and concentrate on the task at hand. In some ways, it was totally therapeutic since you couldn't think of the future because if you didn't concentrate on the task at hand you'd have no future. (First lesson learned.) When we did come to the "stream," we discovered a torrent that made the river in Deliverance look like a Disney film and Sid refused to cross. The guides just continued on, not even addressing his litany of shrieks: "Are you kidding? Do I look like Evel Knievel? I have a life, a job and parents. I'm on the wrong trip!"
We all joined arms and fought our way across, looking like a herd of cattle crossing the Rio Grande in those old cowboy movies. When it finally dawned on Sid that he had nowhere to go and no food, he yelled for us to come back. I said no way was I risking my life twice for him. He then offered the entire group "free tickets to Leno" if we came back. One guide looked at the other and said, "Who is Leno?" The other answered, "I think he is the old guy on TV late night who wears a suit and has a long chin."
Our guide said we all had to cross the glacial water again on this freezing day, link arms and pick him up and put him in the centre of our lineup so he didn't panic and get carried away by the current. I said I wasn't going until he apologized, but our guide said it was no time for vendettas as it took up energy. She was right. I never had another fight for the entire trip, not even with my husband. I realize now that part of the reason I fight with people is because I have extra energy all dressed up with nowhere to go. (Second revelation.)
Fortunately, after that hike, I had taken the kayaking option for four days as had three others. We were going to paddle Queen Charlotte Sound, an area known for its secluded beaches and unusual birdlife. My husband had taken the three-day hiking option in Nelson Lakes National Park, which straddles the northern tip of the Southern Alps and is covered with beech forests and big lakes. I had never bought into the "family-that-plays-together-stays-together." Our kayak instructor, Marie, was a woman who had to cut her tights off at the mid-calf because she had so many muscles (her circulation was cut off if she wore them down to her ankles). She announced that there had been a lot of rain and it was "pissing possums" as we spoke, so the current was strong and the winds were high.
Because of the stormy conditions, we were only allowed out in double kayaks with at least one strong kayaker on each boat. I was labelled a strong kayaker, having kayaked once before, so you can imagine the weak ones. Marie, in an act of extreme cruelty, which she later apologized for, placed Sid in my boat. We donned our ensembles: long underwear, winter tuques, neoprene booties and pogies (mitts that the pole fits through) and rubber short skirts that stuck straight out from our bodies that were held up by giant suspenders. When I saw our reflection in the water, Sid and I clearly had a Babar and Queen Celeste silhouette. I was placed in front to paddle hardest and he was in the back to steer the rudder with his foot. The first thing he did was run full speed into our instructor. I kept screaming, "Turn!" and he later said, "Sorry, I saw a bee." When I asked why he was worried about a bee when it was freezing, raining and we have three-foot swells, he said, "I could be allergic to bees." Even though he had been stung several times and had had no reaction, he still carried a reaction kit complete with EpiPen. "God forbid there could be a first time," he said.
We had to cross four sounds to get to where we were spending the night. It was getting dark and Sid was barely moving. He kept stopping to take pictures of, as he said, "a birdless shore to put in his secretary's document for dismissal." Marie assured him that the waters were too high with rain running from the Southern Alps and the birds had taken refuge higher up. (Birds, unlike tourists, prepare for flash flooding.) Why is it that the least athletic people have the most expensive gear? Sid had a $12,000 binocular/camera that could freeze each frame while I ferociously paddled along. He actually had the nerve to say, "Can you stop jolting me?". As he looked on each side of the cliffs, he said, "Thank God I had laser surgery. If there's a penguin out there, I'll find it. I always get my story." Marie tried to tell Sid that there were only a few blue penguins and although this would be the cold, wet weather in which to see them, they were a rare sighting.
Finally, hours later, nearly comatose after dragging Sid across three sounds using my whole body to paddle, while he did the dog paddle between photo opportunities, Marie paddled back to us and said, "Sid you have got to co-operate. You are a heavy man and Cathy has been carrying you. It is getting dark and we may not be able to find our hut." Sid said, "Does no one get this? I'm on vacation." He then pointed out that his hands were too cold to function any more. She suggested if he moved them they would warm up. When we finally made it to our "lodge," we had trouble getting our gear off as our fine motor system had packed it in. As we grabbed at our booties and tried again and again to pull them off, Sid said, "Oh my God I think this is how MS starts." One thing about travelling with another partner, it makes you appreciate your spouse. (Third revelation.)
"Oh my God -- a blue Penguin," Sid screamed as he looked through the hundreds of digital shots he had taken that day. We all looked and only saw a tiny blue line that could have been a streak of lichen on a rock. He blew up the picture to 200 times its size and the line really did look like a wing. Sid was causing such a ruckus that other backpackers came to our table. One was a German professor in biology who was studying the blue penguin and he started screaming to his team of biologists, "A guy from California [said with Arnold Schwarzenegger intonation] has found a blue penguin." We had to put all the pictures together and Marie, who knows every rock and cranny of the sounds, was able to assess where the picture came from. Before dawn (apparently penguins are early risers), we paddled back. The biologist told us that if we did spot one, they are very shy and we could not risk getting too close or it would escape by water.
Again, Sid spotted the bird in the same spot. There, standing before me on shore was a small, midnight-blue penguin. We got close enough to almost touch him. We agreed later that, given the shyness of his species, he must have been an exhibitionist. (There are some in every species, right?) Everyone snapped away and the biologist and Sid said it was the greatest day of their lives. I had to admit it was pretty Dian Fosseyish. When we rejoined up with the rest of the group, who had not seen any unusual birds, in the tiny coastal village of Punakaiki, we puffed our feathers and strutted our shots of our penguin varieties, our seals and our one sperm whale tail.
To cap the two-week adventure, we all had to choose a sport for "daredevil day" -- like I hadn't had enough with the flash flood and the near-hypothermia. The choices were bungee jumping, parachute jumping off cliffs and ski gliding. Sid, saying he was insured and feeling suicidal, chose parachute jumping off the side of a cliff, as long as someone pushed him. He was relieved when he was rejected for weight. (That was after he ate all the chocolate that was supposed to be energy bars to help 14 members climb Mount Cook.) As the Kiwi who weighed him in said to my 6-foot-1 solid-chocolate kayaking partner, "Sir, gravity takes its toll."
My "extreme sport" was going with Sid to buy his mother a sweater in Queenstown. We started out with small and got to extra large. By the end, I wanted to jump off a cliff and didn't need any encouragement. It is interesting to note, however, that no matter how annoying someone is, if you are coupled in dangerous conditions for long enough, mysteriously you bond. You will do whatever you need to do physically and psychologically to survive. (Revelation number four.)
And in one of those strange twists of fate, Sid saved our lives. About halfway through the trip after a wet, futile attempt at hiking on the Franz Joseph Glacier, we sat on a patio in the beautiful resort town of Queenstown, enjoying our first dry moment and a cappuccino. We soon learned from the newspaper that an avalanche had killed two hikers on the glacier the same afternoon we had been there. Our group's hike had been delayed at the foot of the mountain as Sid held us up yet again, refusing to sit in the wet runoff to put on his crampons. While Sid procrastinated, a ranger came along with a mallet and hammered into the ice a large orange sign that declared the mountain closed due to avalanche warnings. "Thank God, we can get back on the bus," Sid said.
When I returned to Toronto, and walked into my local breakfast diner, my exercise buddies all looked at me as though I was one of those kamikaze pilots who had just wandered out of the forest 20 years after the war. The waitress said, "Who did your nails, Howard Hughes?" Someone asked if I'd used meat tenderizer on my hands and face. I heard myself saying that I'd had the best trip of my life. I also told them that I'd made some good contacts. I even told them about the Franz Joseph Glacier screenplay I'm writing with a guy named Sid from NBC. His agent is calling mine.
Catherine Gildiner is the author of the memoir Too Close to the Falls and her forthcoming novel Seduction is coming out in January of 2005.
Can't decide between rafting, biking or
camel riding on your next adventure? Who says you need to?
Kathy Singleton took one look at her itinerary for a three-week trip in New Zealand, and her eyes popped out of her head. The 46-year-old Colorado resident had unwittingly signed up for a multisport adventure outing and discovered that her trip's menu of activities read more like the scorecard for an adventure race than a vacation: trekking, mountain biking, sea kayaking, whitewater rafting and horseback riding, with a little caving and glissading thrown in for good measure. "I love the outdoors," Singleton recalls thinking, "but I'm no triathlete."
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A week after returning home, Singleton now laughs at her pre-trip jitters. "It was an amazing experience. So much variety. I still can't believe how much we did, and we never felt rushed." Not only did Singleton and friends enjoy all the sports their Active New Zealand tour promised, but they even started creating a few of their own. "We were kayaking in Milford Sound when a pod of dolphins showed up," says Singleton. "We started riding the wake." Dolphin surfing became a bonus activity during this eventful swing through New Zealand.
Multisport trips, which combine several activities into one action-packed tour, are the latest phenomenon in adventure travel. It's the answer for anyone who wants to squeeze every ounce of experience and electrolytes out of their vacation. If numbers are any indication, it's the right answer, too. Multisport journeys have become one of the fastest growing segments of the industry. At Backroads, the adventure giant, multisport departures increased by 60% in 1998 - and the company has since added 12 more of the trips to its new catalog.
What's the appeal? Variety, for starters. With the help of a precision timetable, a slew of high-tech gear and expert leaders (and maybe an extra cup of coffee every morning), a multisport adventure delivers far more diversity in a short amount of time than, say, a typical trekking or biking tour. As in Singleton's case, a three-week trip can become a smorgasbord of once-in-a-life-time activities. "One day I was rafting down the Clarence River; the next day I was pedaling through a flock of sheep in the mountains and galloping on horseback down a secluded beach," she says. "I couldn't have done half the things we did if I'd planned it myself."
The smorgasbord approach multiplies trip highlights for any given destination. On a Backroads Wyoming outing, for instance, travelers are treated to a taste of the best road and mountain biking, river rafting and hiking in Yellowstone and Grand Teton national parks. And the logistics of getting all these pieces together are out of your hands. "It's more complex from a gear and scheduling perspective, but it's well worth it," says Backroads guide Christopher White. "I love leading the Yellowstone trip because it's so exciting for everyone. We get to do the best of everything for a week."
For most travelers, it's the only way to take their favorite sports on the road without the hassle of schlepping gear all over the world. "We do a lot of biking, rafting and hiking at home," says Rob McAlister, who decided to take his family on a trip to Belize, "so we definitely wanted an active trip." They got one. On a nine-day tour with Slickrock Adventures, the McAlisters went biking through a tropical rainforest, hiking to Mayan ruins, rafting a Class IV river, paddling an underground stream and sea kayaking, snorkeling and scuba diving along the world's second largest barrier reef. McAlister could have added windsurfing to the list, but he opted for a training session on a hammock instead.
If
this all sounds like a trip for Type AAA personalities only, as the McAlisters
learned in Belize, smart operators schedule enough hammock time (or an equivalent)
so that travelers won't need a vacation when the vacation ends. "We never
had to get up at four a.m. or finish late at night," says McAlister. "Everything
was set up so it was easy to go from one activity to the next."
The combination of go-go-go and rest-rest-rest can result in a somewhat schizophrenic balance of hard play and hedonism. A long day on difficult single-track might culminate with a stay at a luxurious jungle lodge complete with cocktail hour and five-course dinner. This philosophy of extremes has struck the right chord for travelers who like the rewards of a rigorous day with a soft landing at the end of the trail.
Susie Anderson and Mike Richardson found the combination a perfect balance for their honeymoon trip. They didn't want the typical newlywed beach package ("We'd get bored."), but neither did they want to rough it on a trekking or camping tour. They settled on a multisport trip to the Yucatán. "It was the right amount for a relaxing, active vacation," reports Anderson. "Hiking and biking allowed us to get off the road and see the country the way we wanted to."
Multisport trips fall into two general categories. Some, like the New Zealand and Belize jaunts, specialize in variety, stacking half a dozen different activities into a typical itinerary. Other outings, like the Backroads Yucatán trip, take a lighter approach. By toning down the activity load, these trips aim to provide a little more time for each of them.
"We want each ingredient to be at the absolute top end of what's available," says Glenn Rowley, director at KE Adventure Travel, which offers a Nepal tour with three activities. The 20-day package includes an ambitious trek in a little-visited Himalayan region, a white-knuckle whitewater descent of the Marsyangdi River and a mountain bike tour above the Kathmandu Valley. "It's just the right mix," reports Los Angeles-based Patricia Christie, who joined KE for the inaugural trip. "You get into a groove at something and you get to keep doing it, but you also see a lot of varied geography by switching sports."
Naturally, the physical demands are a consideration when planning this sort of trip. You don't need to be a fitness instructor, but it's worth checking out the particulars. Find out how many days are spent on each activity, what sort of equipment is included, and if you have to pay extra for rentals. Find out how many miles are covered per day. Are there qualified instructors for the technical portions of the trip? Are rest days scheduled? What are the options for participants who need a break or want to skip Class IV whitewater? Then ask yourself what your fitness level really is. Be honest.
Most multisport adventures are tailored to the moderately active, and, while it's best to do your own homework, operators usually go to great lengths to match clients with the right activity level. Some may go even further. Latitudes - a San Francisco based tour operator specializing in Asia, New Zealand and Australia - is collaborating with a local gym to create customized training programs for clients who sign up for a multi-adventure trip.
The constant change of pace itself may turn out to be a benefit for freshman multisporters. Kathy Singleton found the daunting variety of activities on her New Zealand tour to be a blessing in disguise: "We were constantly working different muscle groups so I never got very sore," she says. " It was like cross-training."
Of course, this can be an expensive way to cross-train, so remember that what you're paying for are experiences you can't create on your own. Look for outfitters that not only provide a late model mountain bike - in your size - in the deepest jungle, but can also offer offbeat activities that add to the overall diversity. For example, on a Burmese journey, Latitudes includes a unique sailing segment. You can also strap into a climbing harness for a rainforest canopy tour in Costa Rica (Active Journeys), saddle up for camel ride in Morocco (Backroads), or paddle an underground river by headlamp in Belize (Slickrock Adventures).
A whirlwind of activity awaits you, but it's all part of a simple theme. As every traveler knows, it's not just where you go, but how you get there.
Los Angeles Times Magazine
Sidetrips:
March 18, 2001
Scar Treks: Trips for Those Who Can's Sit Still (Excerpt)
We all know people who refuse to slow down: workaholics, workout fanatics, compulsive overachievers. It used to be that these stress addicts hated taking vacations, but now they've inspired their own travel trend: multi-sport adventures. This breed of package tour is designed for those who can't sit still. While many of these trips are best for those who have a steady relationship with their gym, itineraries adn activities are sometimes flexible enough to accommodate travelers of all abilities. Here is a list of trips designed for the leisure-impaired:
ACTIVE
NEW ZEALAND (www.activenewzealand.com, 800-500-3398) describes its adventure
packages as "not lazy vacations, but you'll finish our trips more rested
than if you'd spent two weeks in bed!" If you believe that, try the "Rimu,"
an exploration of the South Island that includes backpacking through national
parks, sea kayaking Milford Sound, cycling the Hollyford Valley and glacial hiking
in the southern Alps. Bungee jumping off a bridge and mountain biking are optional.
Ann Worthington, a work-at-home lawyer and mother in Capistrano Beach,
Calif., rarely breaks away from her telecommute and Teletubby routine.
So what was she doing last spring, sans husband and child, bungee-jumping
off New Zealand's Kawarau Bridge? No, she wasn't caving in to domestic
pressures. She was just embarking on a multi sport vacation, the latest
adventure-travel trend. Leaving her husband at home with their toddler,
Worthington spent the rest of her week hiking, biking and sea-kayaking
across New Zealand's South Island.
Why such a frenetic vacation?
"I want to be moving at all times," she says.
Join the club. Worthington is just one of a growing number of people using
vacations to test their limits and new muscle groups while traversing
rain forests and mountains, rivers and the open sea. According to Adventure
Travel Society statistics, active vacations have been increasing for decades,
and now multi sports account for up to 14 percent of specialized adventure
trips. Why would anybody want to cram so many sports into a single vacation?
Many travelers are simply put off by the thought of spending a full week
riding a bike, hiking a mountain or God forbid lying on a beach. "They
want a little bit of everything, rather than just one week of one sport,"
says Debbie Shroeder, a travel agent specializing in adventure trips.
"People don't want to feel they'll get bored."
Adventure outfitters are making sure there's no time for boredom. Active
New Zealand, which arranged Worthington's trip, runs a two-week marathon
that starts with three days of kayaking Queen Charlotte Sound or hiking
mountainous terrain in Nelson Lakes National Park. The rest of the trip
almost seems like Olympic training: canoeing, long-distance bike-riding
and glacial hiking (they provide the crampons). But it's all optional,
insists company founder Andrew Fairfax. "This is a vacation,"
he says. "We're not pushing people [into] anything."
In fact, multi-sporters tend to push themselves. Kellie Markovcy, an electrical
engineer from the Washington, D.C., suburbs, considered taking a week-long
kayaking trip. But she opted instead for an adrenaline-pumping itinerary
offered by Outer Edge Expeditions' Borneo Sports Spectacular. "I
like to be challenged," she says. Markovcy's two-week trip included
spelunking, white-water rafting, sea-kayaking and a two-day ascent of
Southeast Asia's highest peak, 13,454-foot Mount Kinabalu. Bill Barrios,
a Pittsburgh graphic designer who also survived the Borneo adventure,
hinted at the toll of the trip's pace. "It was horrible at the time,"
says Barrios, laughing, "but afterwards you wanted to do it again."
Not every trip is designed to be daunting. Dan Austin founded Adventures
Plus three years ago to offer multi-sport trips for vacationers "who
may not have been on a bike in 20 years." His tours to Alaska, Montana,
the Grand Tetons and the Canadian Rockies combine instruction, short distances
and plenty of pampering, including snack breaks of sliced melon served
on silver trays. "We can introduce people to activities and they
don't have to commit a full week," Austin says. They also don't have
to participate in every activity .
These trips aren't cheap. But for Lynn Wall, a Minnesota letter carrier
who went on an eight-day Adventure Plus trip to Montana, it was well worth
the $1,700 fee (for meals, lodging and equipment, but not airfare).
"I never could have planned it myself," she says. "I wouldn't
know where to go or how to get around." That's the selling point
of increasingly complex itineraries such as Untamed Path's two-week backpack,
mountain-bike arid white-water-rafting trip that
begins in the Andes and ends in the Amazon, with stops in remote villages
and lectures on local customs scheduled to break up the breakneck pace.
"People in the working world may be fairly active but they don't
have the time to put together a two-week trip," notes owner Jen Hamar.
"We know what to do if the van breaks down."
But the vacationers often don't know what to do when it's time to pack
up and go home. Ron Locklear, a regular runner, hiker and biker, left
Tampa, Fla., in July for a KB Mountain Adventures trip in Colorado to
"prove something" to himself on his 40th birthday. After a week
of Outward Bound-style action, the Harley-riding construction manager
proved he was a softie, bonding with his "bunk" of fellow vacationers.
"We met in a lobby Monday morning as strangers and by the end of
the week we're in tears because we have to leave one another," he
recalls. Somehow, the adventure guides never talk about this final hurdle:
the emotional hangover .
Copyright (c) 2000 Newsweek, Inc.
Real Travel Adventures
International Magazine
Nature's Best: October, 2003
also appearing in Travelworld International Magazine
No Worries In The Other Land Down Under by Linda Ballou
In
New Zealand, a country that embraces tourism like no other, the outdoor
loving Kiwis have made nature's treasures accessible to all. A network
of trails from mild to wild, are well marked and maintained by the Department
of Conservation. Numerous outfitters are happy to take visitors hiking,
biking, kayaking, snorkeling, whale watching, birding and more. Just bring
a fit body, plenty of sun block, and a sense of humor to the other land
down under. You will be amazed at the variety of terrain from the snow-crowned
Southern Alps with glaciers descending into lush rainforests, to rugged
valleys carved by wild rivers rushing to sun-washed shores.
New Zealand consists of two major islands -the North and the South- and many smaller islands, including Stewart Island, recently given National Park status. Three-quarters of the not quite four million people that call themselves Kiwis live on the more temperate North Island. The South Island has the most spectacular scenery with nine National Parks dedicated to preserving the splendid native forests. The isolation of the landmass that split off from the South Pole eighty million years ago has engendered flora and fauna that is totally unique. Over 250 bird species are found nowhere else but New Zealand. Giant trees, ferns and mosses endemic to the region seem other-worldly.
The best time to visit is in spring (November) through fall (March).
The temperatures these times of year are mild, averaging about 70 degrees
with a tantalizing breeze, and the days are long with sunlight until about
nine at night.
I met Kyle, my guide from Active New Zealand, in Christchurch, the largest
city on the South Island. This London knockoff is the start and end point
for most outfitters and independent travelers as well. He picked me up
in the van that would be my home away from home for the next two weeks.
We collected the other five guests; a telecommunications whiz kid from
Dallas, a systems analyst escaping from the deserts of Qatar, and a mature
gentleman with his "thirtyish" daughter and son-in-law. Soon
we were barreling up Highway One, a two-lane road that makes a giant loop
around the South Island with unlimited opportunities for side trips to
adventure.
I chose this moderately priced Kiwi owned tour group, because they offer the closest thing to independent travel available with the comforts of lodging, food, toys and transport in an all-inclusive carefree package. The popular multi-sport adventure I selected from their list of options is an action-packed holiday. It proved to be so eventful I can only detail a few of the highlights of my incredible journey that included trekking, kayaking and biking through magical terrain filled with beautiful surprises.
Click here to read the rest of the article. A similar version of this article also appears in Travelworld International Magazine - click here to view this version of the article.
