Zealandia, what an outrageous name! That was my first impression of the big greenhouse wholesale business that now employs me.

Zealandia is a plant factory, complete with assembly lines (automatic tray filling and transplant lines), stacks of pallets filled with potting media and plastic pots, and and HR department.

At this point I should start philosophizing about not only the costs of parenthood, but also about the valuable lessons parenthood brings to our lives. The self-less caring for another’s needs, the constant practice at self-control, the minute-by-minute testing of patience….but those of you who know me well will know that’s not what was on my mind when my son demanded the last of the Lemon Yogurt. My Lemon Yogurt. The Lemon Yogurt that I bought as a special treat and have hardly tasted because Milo likes it too. You can see that nice bowl of blackberry yogurt I mixed up for him when we got home from our hike yesterday. He was having none of it.  Now I don’t think it’s a good idea to eat something in front of your kid and tell them they can’t have any (unless, of course, it’s dessert and they chose not to eat their dinner….), so what could I do?  I gave Milo a little dollup to keep him busy, then quickly finished the rest of the container so I wouldn’t have to share any more.  Good thing I hadn’t spent much time ruminating on the character improvements kids bring about in us, or I’d start worrying about my parenting skills!

The garden tomatoes have been both numerous and prosperous, so Milo and I made a batch of tomato soup. I miss my handy dandy Squeezo, but this squishing by hand method reminds me of making apple sauce with Mommom in her old-fashioned squeezo/strainer. And I’m sure Milo liked squishing the tomatoes with the potato masher more than he would have liked turning the crank on the Squeezo.

The constant and INSISTENT buzzing of flies is starting to wear on my nerves. They’re only house flies after all, not people-biting malaria-carrying menaces, but they should NOT be sharing my cooking space. I don’t know if it’s the fall season or the putrid chamois bones outside in our compost bin waiting for this week’s collection, but for some reason the flies have been particularly numerous in the last few days, DESPITE a closed window policy. Milo hunts them with relish, but he’s not been very successful with his dish cloth weaponry up to this point. So Mama slaps at them, Milo giggles, and fly guts get smooshed on windows and door jams. Yuck. Jeremiah says I’d never make it in a third world country, but I disagree. It’s different when you EXPECT major indoor insect life. I’ll never fathom why Kiwi homes don’t have window screening…it’s not a poor country after all.

The Crusaders are Canterbury’s Rugby team, not the National All Blacks team but still quite a serious league nonetheless. We got “take a kid to footy” tickets (good seats, plus a discount) to a game against South Africa last weekend. For Milo, one highlight was riding a BIG Red Bus to the game. Another was the mascot horses that cantered around the arena all in Crusaders Costume. The game itself was just background to the junk food he consumed.

Not only did we bring cookies to share around, but we got “take a kid to footy” goodie bags with potato chips and a chocolate bar. Milo was very serious about his chip consumption.

MMMmm, cookie!

Audrey was a pro at waving the flag, and took her duty as seriously as Milo took his chip and cookie eating. Audrey’s family left today to go back to Alaska. We’re looking forward to seeing them again in August, though when they return they’ll be living 5 hours away up in Nelson instead of the neighboring town.

These lazy lions hardly gave us the time of day, but they were lounging conveniently close to the fence to be great for observation. Talk about a freakishly large cat! A grizzly bear seems a much more “blunt” danger when compared to a cat. Cats just LOOK a lot smarter, like they might nonchalantly stalk you for pleasure, then toy with you as if you’re a mouse. Milo had absolutely no sense of fear with these guys though.

Jeremiah went hunting last weekend, so Milo and I met a friend at the Zoo, a “safari-style” walk through of mainly large African animals. Tristan and Milo are looking at the giraffes from afar, but earlier we had been quite close to them. With their wide heads atop long agile necks they reminded me of dinosaurs.

Wanaka is a cutesy little town on the edge of a big lake, very like Lake George Village. From Wanaka we drove about an hour to the end of a gravel road, past sheep and beef cattle and a surprising number of giant intact bulls roaming the road verges. They just stare impassively when you honk. We don’t see too many “intact” bulls at home, but the beef herds here are “serviced” by the real deal, so these lumbering giants with their massive necks and dangling masculinity on display aren’t too uncommon.

Milo is able to walk further and further by himself. The track to Aspiring Hut starts at the end of the gravel road and passes through gentle pastures with cows standing in the other-wise pristine blue glacial river.

We stayed two nights at Aspiring Hut, and old hut owned by a mountaineering club, but open to visitors (for a fee!) during the summer. Set at the edge of the beech forest overlooking expansive grassy meadows ringed with snow-topped mountains, it’s an impressive site. The beech forest stops quite suddenly at grass in the valley, though why is a mystery to me. Someone suggested that it had been cleared for pasture in the past.

All that grass made nice bug-stalking territory for Milo. To our astonishment, he actually caught a fly all by himself, and even zipped the door closed. He was so proud!

There was another family with young kids staying at the hut too, Israelis here on holiday. Ella, Milo and Sheera had a blast playing tag and bathing in the river. The hut has two separate bunk rooms, and the hut warden opened the smaller of the sleeping quarters for those of us with kids….ostensibly for our comfort, though we suspect more for the comfort of the other guests. Actually, there were 30 sixteen-year-old girls from a school PE class staying in the hut with us, so we were glad to be in separate sleeping quarters.

The second day we opted to climb to a saddle and return to the same hut to sleep, and this track was no gentle switch-backed incline. The wooded part is more like climbing in the Adirondacks, straight up the shortest route over roots and rocks. Our lunch spot gave this tantalizing view of the clearing peaks, and after lunch we hit the really steep part.

What a sight! Our hut was down in that grassy meadow way below. Yeah, and we’re only about half way up.

I think the glaciers make those fluffy clouds, they appear to be blowing off the mountain tops as they’re made. Steep as the track was, there were rewarding open views the whole way.

While we were hanging out at the top of this ridge we hear the glacier rumble. It sounded like an airplane but no aircraft was in sight, and it started and stopped pretty suddenly. One might compare it to lake ice creaking in a cold snap, except longer and more rumbley. Pretty cool.

Here we are turning to start the decent. Mama and Milo are singing “I got a new way to walk” by the Oinker Sisters (Sesame Street). It wasn’t until the next morning when we woke up with super sore quads that we fully appreciated to that decent, all 1300 meters of it. But it was worth it!

That tall peak in the distance is Mount Cook, the highest point in the Southern Alps. This is as close as we got for this vacation, snapping a photo on a high-way pull off. But we’ll come back some day.

The central Otago fruit and grape growing region, with Cromwell at the center, is between Queenstown and Wanaka. So why not spend half a day en route touring the wineries? That was my argument, and Jeremiah obliged. Besides wine grapes, Cromwell has a concentration of fruit orchards, though we didn’t see any genuine fruit anywhere near the size of those gracing the town welcome sign.

Our first winery stop was a classic tourist trap, but they had nice picnic tables for lunch alone side the buses full of Japanese visitors, so we stopped in to sample their products.

A “belt of viscosity” and “flecks of wet quartz”?!? Wine writers have seriously fanciful imaginations. Otago is known for white wines and pinots, and I guess I liked the wine description more than the actual wine…we have been spoiled by Mendoza, Argentina, having our favorite style of dry red wine in abundance (Malbec!) But it was still fun to taste, and at the smaller places, to talk to the owners about their grape growing practices. Vines are perched on various gravel terraces left by glacial outwash, bright green vines against the dry tan grasses of the craggy hills. Many of the orchards and vineyards are under netting to protect them from birds. Bird netting is so widely adopted that it makes me wonder why fruit growers at home don’t do it more, since they certainly complain vociferously about the damage caused by birds. I guess the dry climate in Otago makes for very few other diseases and insects to compete for the farm pest control budget, very unlike the humid northeast USA.

Jeremiah yawning over the wine tasting….it’s really not his thing, but he was a good sport about it anyway.

And Milo is happy trudging along at the wineries as long as he can play with the camera!

Perfect for Milo!

The Kepler track is one of New Zealand’s “great walks,” with impeccably maintained trails through classic NZ scenery and large plush hut accommodations. It’s a 4-day hike near the Fjordlands that starts out in lowland Beech forest, climbs to tussock-grasslands with sweeping views, then dips back down into the forest greenery. We chose this one in particular because it ends where it starts–no extra transportation necessary. Here we are, packs laden with supplies and ready to enjoy our tramp.

I absolutely loved the green mossy beech forest, studded with ferns. It’s what I imagine the Elves inhabit in Tolkien’s worlds. I think I love it so much because the greenery above and below feels like home. I’ve heard Kiwis speak about the open tussock lands with the same affection I feel for the green forest, because it’s their home I suppose, like Oklahoma is home to some Americans. But I certainly don’t identify with that barren exposed wind-swept brownness. To me, comfort is the green deciduous forest. The catch is that I don’t think beech trees are deciduous here!

It was 9-10 miles to the first hut, and my feet were glad to get there! Big, posh (for a DOC hut), with gas cookers, running water, and mattresses on the bunks, these accommodations were handsome.

Giggle! Two happy faces, playing on the beach.

Milo spent a good long time the first evening arranging the lake-side drift wood in the sand. Pizza was the creation of the evening, probably because we had just cooked and eaten some nice pizzas for dinner. I find watching him quite interesting, he’s getting very dextrous with his fingers.

Aw, what a happy portrait!

Milo always starts out the day walking, and one way we try and motivate him to continue making forward progress (past all the fascinating sticks and rocks that could be picked up and thrown) is to play hide and seek. This morning I was running ahead and hiking behind various trees and rocks, calling Milo to find me.

“I want to do it myself!”  Yes, we’re in that phase. Mama crossed without Daddy carrying her, so Milo wants to walk the log too.  Preferentially without holding Daddy’s hand, but he did compromise on that point.

We did suggest that if he wants to do things himself, he might like to carry Daddy’s BIG backpack….but after the photo shoot, he decided that he’ best leave that task to Dad.

Almost at the second night hut, but and M&M break and map check was necessary. As parents concerned with our son’s health, we tried having Milo eat 5 raisins for every one M&M, which does work (the nuts in the GORP get rejected out of hand). But the side effect that evening was the world’s messiest diaper, so we gave that up, opting for a constipated chocolate-stuffed child to a sloppy-poop one, at least while tramping,.

Another trail diversion, insects! We managed to snap a photo of this cicada before Milo thoughtfully shooed it off my shoulder.

Running to catch up to Mama and Daddy is another favorite trail activity for Milo. He’ll actually pause, motion us ahead, then run to catch up. Perfect trail for that, almost handicap accessible, with no tricksy roots or rocks.

Peekaboo! This hollow tree was still very much alive. I started to explain to Milo that trees are only alive on their outsides, but the detail was lost on him still.

We were glad for the screened windows on this hut, set in a meadow with thousands of “sandflies” (a type of biting black fly). Most people were hiking the track in the opposite direction as we were and had just come down a big hill to arrive at the hut. They looked at us carrying Milo, raised their eyebrows, shuffled their sore feet, and warned us of the steepness…..We would have been more concerned if they had all been young and fit, but since they were mostly in their 40s, 50s and beyond, we kept our rude thoughts to ourselves and managed the next day’s climb without incident. Getting old must stink….hopefully it’ll be so gradual that it isn’t a shock.

Milo loves wielding the camera, and sometimes his perspectives are interesting. I forget what it’s like to see everything from knee height. The Aussie guy in this photo was super kind and carried out Milo’s dirty diapers for us, since he was going the opposite direction and was only one day from the end of his hike. Phew, quite a generous offer!

We figured the climb was almost over once we popped out of the forest into the tussock tops (it happens in about 2 steps, no gradual transition but I haven’t yet figured out why). Actually, that cool ridge track was so steep in places that it was punctuated with over 200 steps.

We lunched at a shelter at the top of the ridgeline. It must be about the mid-way mark on the trail because it was the lunch spot of choice for folks headed the other direction too (the majority of the crowd). It’s fun to chat with them all, see their outfits, hear their accents, and exchange pleasantries. The young fit Germans arrived first, followed later by the older folks. We see “heaps” (as the Kiwis say) of Germans on the trails. They’re all cheerful, young and spry, with good gear. Completely not my stereotype of a stodgy sausage-toting “Herr Schneider.” That’s good, breaking stereotypes is a positive side-effect of travel. And the formation of new stereotypes is fun too, as long as we don’t take them too seriously.

Milo demanded some time out of the backpack (WAK!) so he trucked along for a few minutes after lunch, completely oblivious to the views but happy to be walking himself.

He may be oblivious to the views, but he still gives the thumbs up on cue!

We had super fine weather for the ridgeline part of the Kepler track. It can get windy, rainy, and downright nasty at times, but we strolled along with unhindered views and a light breeze.

The tiny alpine flowers and berries are a reminder of how harsh the weather can be up here–hunkered down low to the ground to let the worst of the wind pass them over.

Once upon a time this lake was a glacier, and somehow this outcrop survived the pummeling to stand as a magnificent viewing spot for generations to come.

Luxmore hut, set up on the tussock tops, was probably the most luxurious of the trek accommodations. It sleeps 54 trampers, and has big windows that afford panoramic views of the lake below. Milo certainly enjoyed it, and set about charming everyone he rubbed elbows with.

Here’s Milo, staking out his spot on the bunk. “Me, me, me!” he says as he pats his chest. Yes Milo, that’s your corner for sleeping.

There are caves near the hut, this one specially marked out for hikers to take a casual look. Milo was pretty nervous going down there, which surprised me. When did he learn to be afraid of a dark damp place?

Water dripping through the rock left white limestone deposits, and a few ornate stalactites. Thinking back on it now, I can’t remember why there were some years in my life when I found caves fascinating. Since then I’ve most definitely become a creature of the light, and the lure of strange formations and white creatures of the caves is completely gone.

This is such a Kiwi attitude. They believe anything non-native is bad. I guess I don’t love stoats, they’re the bad guys in Wind in the Willows after all. But face to face, they’re cute little ferrety buggers, and if they eat native bird eggs, it’s only what they do to survive…..same as people clear land and plant crops. Native birds are naive enough to make nests on the ground, which is only what they do because they didn’t evolve with predators, and haven’t learned any better. But now people are going to great effort to reverse the evolutionary trend and keep the kiwi and other native birds alive by massive predator trapping and poisoning programs. Seems like an uphill battle to me, but New Zealanders believe it’s worth fighting.

First spot of rain during the night and early morning, but it made for an interesting sunrise.

We’re suited up and ready to go, keeping the little guy warm and dry.

This hut even has a helicopter landing pad! “Hut” seems like a misnomer. It’s more appropriately termed a back country lodge.  Though unlike the back country huts in Argentina, you can’t purchase a bottle of wine and dinner up here.

A few hours down through beech forest and we reached the lake where we ate lunch. The sandflies were so thick that we tucked our pants into our socks and didn’t linger over the meal.  There’s a campground down there, but I’m glad we didn’t tent there!

Finished with hiking the Kepler track, and we’re all still smiling! It was a magnificent hike.

Last week we headed down to the southern part of New Zealand’s south island for a week of hiking. The “highways” are all what we’d term state route roads, windy two-lane jobbers with hairpin turns, passing through the occasional small town and plenty of farm country, including the bastion of Merino Sheep stations and Icebreaker’s source of wool. Down on the low lands we see various other sheep breeds for meat and coarse fibered wool, but apparently the drier high lands are home to the Merinos because they don’t get foot rot up there….it certainly looks quite dry and brown on these hills!

Look at this cool cat! Milo actually did super on the long car ride to Queenstown, 6 hours from Christchurch. Only one throw-up, and I finally mastered the technique of catching it in a cloth diaper to keep it mostly out of the car seat. We all learned our Raffi songs and listened to Rumpole stories when Milo napped.

Queenstown is the adventure sport capital of New Zealand, where the commercial bungy jump was invented. We stopped in to watch the adrenaline-addicted junkies dive off this bridge, but we didn’t indulge ourselves.

Here’s the womens’ toilet sign at the bungy lookout….and we actually did see one woman jump with a skirt on (over leggings, thankfully). The dress doesn’t stay that tidy little triangle when you jump! And the bungy is handicap accessible–or so I suppose, since the handicap bathroom sign had the wheel-chair figure hanging by a bungy as well.

We got to Queenstown in time to take the gondola up to a sporting and look-out complex perched on the mountainside above the town. Milo thought the ride was cool, of course!

The paragliders take off from up here, sailing out over the town and up the valley on windy days. Queenstown is snugged alongside a big deep glacier lake, 50 miles long and almost 1400 feet deep. Makes Lake George seem small in comparison!

Yes, that’s Jeremiah hooked to that paraglider! He splurged and enjoyed an exhilarating ride down the hillside, came back very happy.  I’ll get to go some day….could have been this day if I wasn’t so darn cheap!