South to Stewart Island — 16 February 2001

All buses and trains leave early in this country. We caught the bus — another "oldie" since the newer bus had broken down. This ride was much better — cooler temperatures, cooler driver, cooler fellow passengers. We had a four-hour layover in Invercargill, where we passed the time going to the post office to mail off yarn, CDs and postcards. Then we went to lunch, only to discover that the place we wanted to eat had gone out of business. (Time to give an update to the Rough Guide.) Instead we had some passable fish & chips at the Frog & Fricker, then went off in search of a cybercafe. Unlike our intended lunch spot, which had gone out of business, the cybercafe was not yet IN business — they'd put a sign up, but were painting the walls and still waiting for their computers to arrive! Odd. By this point, it was time to leave, and we took a 25-minute van ride down to the docks at Bluff (the southernmost town on the South Island). Bluff is a small, windswept town, but not without its charms. While waiting for the ferry to Stewart Island, we had the following conversation.

Carl: What are you looking at?
Jen: A shag.
Carl: That's not a shag, that's a duck.
Jen (looking where Carl's looking, a little below where she'd been looking): That's not a duck, that's...that's a penguin!

We saw two penguins — Fjordland crested penguins — casually fishing in the water while boats came and went! We also saw a bunch of mollymawks and shags.

After the penguin excitement, we boarded the modern and sporty Foveaux Express, a cool ferry. The choppy sea provides some fun amusement-park thrills. We had a grand time until about 20 minutes into the trip, as Jen recounts:

"After having bragged about never getting motion sickness (other than that one time over Arizona), I started to feel queasy. (Carl: I thought the cookie she ate at the rather disgusting Food Factory in the train station may have contributed to her distress.) Halfway through the journey, I puked. I was so embarrassed! One of the crew, in a very kind gesture, restored some of my dignity and disposed of the the barf bag for me. (Carl: one of several used by passengers on the turbulent trip). Carl was lovely for stroking my back while I chundered — NZ slang for vomit. The rest of the ride was fine despite the small lingering quease factor. But, it was worth it!"

It was worth a lot, including opting to go through Invercargill rather than over to the western shores of the South Island. Stewart Island is breathtaking, a remote paradise at the southern edge of the Pacific. There's little human settlement, save Oban Township (a tiny business center featuring the harbor, a hotel, a general store, a restaurant, a Department of Conservation Vistors' Center and a few houses). Unique to New Zealand, there are no sheep to be found here! Most of the island is unpopulated and covered in native bush. The absence of sheep and people is more than made up for by the presence of gorgeous beaches, rain forests and hiking trails galore. We walked from the dock to the hotel, and after freshening up, ate dinner in the hotel's pub. Foregoing dessert, we opt to spend the remaining sunlight (the sun set after 9pm) trekking through the beautiful fuschia trail and up to Observation Rock. It was too cloudy for much of a sunset, but still very lovely. We could not believe we were the only ones enjoying this amazing vista! After we took a few pictures, another couple ventured up. We left and gave them some time alone (the spot is incredibly romantic, though less so with a crowd) before it got too dark. We headed back to the hotel, arriving moments before a heavy rainstorm, ate chocolate and enjoyed our night at the southernmost place we'd ever visited.