On to Furneau Lodge

The next morning was even more warm and brilliant than the day before. I was tempted to just hang out at Resolution Bay for the rest of our stay. But we’d drank almost all our booze, and there was nowhere to buy more until the next lodge, so we had to keep going.

We threw together breakfast using fresh laid eggs from the owner’s chickens (lovely except for the one with the half-formed chicken in it. Ugh. But that’s the price you pay for real eggs, I guess). I made a makeshift frittata using leftover rice, the last of some cumin-seeded cheese from our feast the day before, and fresh cherry tomatoes, and seasoned it all with Manuka-smoked salt.

Properly fortified, and only a little embarrassed at leaving a pile of empty wine and beer bottles behind (could three of us really have drunk all that? Maybe Canadians do drink more than Kiwis), we headed back on the trail.

Our hike was longer than the day before, but less of a climb. The scenery was absolutely breathtaking. At first I felt like I was hiking in British Columbia along the coastline, until I realized that the wild bush in New Zealand looks far more like a jungle, with giant vines and fern trees, than anything I would see in BC. And the little bays and inlets had a brilliant turquoise gleam to them, more like the tropics than anything in Canada. I marveled my way along the trail, trying to discern the strange bird calls and gaping at the giant fiddleheads on the tree ferns—and wondering, are they edible?

A Two-Day Tramp

Early the next morning, we made our way to the water taxi that was going to drop us off at Ship’s Cove to begin the “roughing it” part of our journey. May I note that “roughing it” for us on the Queen Charlotte Track involved packing a whole fish, steaks, various side dish ingredients, four bottles of wine and two six-packs of beer into coolers, handing it to the water taxi driver, and telling him which cottage along the track at which to drop it.

So we were dropped off at Ship’s Cove to complete a not-too-strenuous 5km walk, while our various bags and food boxes were delivered to our destination. We met up with some interesting Americans from Boulder, Co, and as we philosophized our way down the trail (stopping for a Monteith’s Radler at the peak—did I mention it’s legal to drink in public in New Zealand? It just keeps getting better. And by the way, lemon-lime flavoured beer is refreshing on a hike), we were hailed by a British lady, who asked, “And where are you wonderfully philosophical people from?” We later hung onto that exchange, because from then on we had to defend against surly Kiwis who assumed we were American (and in New Zealand, this is not a good thing).

Our arrival at Resolution Bay came quickly. The cottages here, while having no power or any kind of heating, were equipped with gas-powered hot water, fridge and stove. We pulled out our lunch items, dry Italian salami, baguette, roasted red pepper hummus, the last of the fig and walnut roll (yay!) and a variety of cheeses. Crystal and Jeff know we like blue cheese, so they separately purchased blue brie and blue cheddar. This was in no way a problem for me.

While I’d intended the red wines that we’d brought for our steak dinner (not happening until tomorrow), we decided that a beautiful sunny day on a warm deck was a suitable time to open one of them. And besides, there was a pub at the next lodge along the track, so we could always restock tomorrow.

The Te Kairanga Syrah relaxed nicely in the sun, and so did we. We ended up snacking and sipping for a good two hours—and the next bottle of red wine ended up getting opened as well.

We needed to work off the wine and cheese at that point, so headed to the docks to watch the fish below, and then took some kayaks out for a paddle. Somehow that was enough to make us hungry again, so we set the fish to bake, stuffed with fresh lemon balm and parsley from the resort owner’s herb garden, and a fresh lemon picked right off the tree near our cottage.

By the end of the evening, we’d polished off the last two bottles of white wine (of special note was the Kim Crawford unoaked chardonnay—buttery without being heavy like some chardonnays. I think unoaked chardonnays are my favourite dry white wine). We hadn’t solved all the world’s problems, but close.

The Ferry to Picton

Despite dire warnings from our creepy hotel owner about a nasty southerly wind threatening to make our ferry crossing absolute hell, the day stayed relatively calm.

Despite dire warnings from Jody’s cousin regarding the quality of food we could expect on the ferry, I was pleased to have some more Mac’s draft (especially one called “Sassy Red”), and even more pleased to be able to carry my pint anywhere on the ferry. And when the food selection includes a Vegemite and cheese sandwich, what more could I desire? As long as it’s authentic, it doesn’t have to be fancy. I was happy enjoying my little sandwich and some of the freshest tasting Eta brand “crisps” (potato chips) I’d ever sampled.

Speaking of freshness, I feel compelled to comment on the quality of even the most basic candy in New Zealand. Chocolate bars, for example, are made fairly locally, as in Australia or New Zealand. So while the Snickers bar I’m used to is produced somewhere in North America (the New Jersey turnpike, maybe?), New Zealand chocolate bars are made locally, with the fresh and delicious dairy products they produce right here. And you can definitely taste the difference. Kelly’s Snickers bar tasted like no other Snickers bar I’d ever sampled. Ah, when even the simplest pleasures are more enjoyable…

Another quick note on the impressions that Kiwis and Canadians hold about each other’s drinking prowess. Crystal and Jeff’s friend Nick seemed quite impressed with our various stories of growing up in Canada. “It sounds like all you guys do is drink—and I say goodonya!” He thinks Canadians drink more than kiwis. I couldn’t really argue, until I experienced the bar on the ferry. When I stopped in for a bottle of water after last call, when port was only 20 minutes away, I came upon a rollicking good time. I was reminded of a bar in Saskatchewan after last call—except that it was only 9PM, but the ferry was docking soon. Every table that wasn’t filled with people was filled with pints of beer waiting to be drunk by the nearby tables full of revelers. I suddenly felt inadequate, having only enjoyed one pint during the three-hour ferry ride.

We managed one more pint in Picton once we’d met Jeff at our hotel. Sadly, Crystal had to work the weekend. The three of us promised to have a great time on her behalf.