There Are No Straight Roads
Sydney to Middle-earth
After weeks of travel through Indonesia, we arrived in Sydney from Bali on an overnight flight, landing around seven in the morning. Our first errand was a walk down George Street to the Apple Store, where we hoped to get Betsey’s iPhone repaired. They did not have the right part, so we did a little shopping, returned to the hotel for a nap and settled for a lovely dinner with a view of the harbor.
Sydney was a short stop between countries, but it gave us a memorable day. We took a ferry to Taronga Zoo, enjoying the views of the Opera House and Harbour Bridge along the way. The zoo was lovely, with sun bears, tigers, koalas, rhinos, giraffes, emus and plenty of birds. After Borneo, though, even a very good zoo had a little “ho-hum” competition. We had fish and chips near Circular Quay, then dinner at the Fortune of War, which our notes call Sydney’s oldest pub.
That evening we went to the iconic Opera House for a concert. The hall was beautiful, but first we had a moment of panic: our tickets had not arrived by email. The box office found them, sent to our old San Diego address. Once we were seated in the second row, center, beside the first-chair musician and conductor, the worry disappeared. The concert, with trumpeter Håkan Hardenberger, was wonderful. The next day we shopped, saw a new Spider-Man movie, and had dinner at Fish at the Rocks before packing for our early Friday flight to Auckland.
Our plan was to rent a motorhome for a month and drive through New Zealand from north to south. New Zealand announced itself with a small travel mishap. One of our bags had been held in Sydney, and the promised shuttle to the motorhome depot never appeared. We walked to another terminal, waited some more, and finally called an Uber. It was a frustrating start to picking up a large camper and learning to drive it on the left, but soon we had groceries from PAK’nSAVE and were heading south toward our first campsite, Opal Springs.
The city gave way to rolling green farmland, cows in every combination of brown, black and white, and white sheep and lambs. That first night the camper’s heater worked, dinner was fresh lamb with Pinot Noir, and we watched a Hobbit movie. We also discovered that we both fit in the bed. This was useful information.
Next day we drove through green hills and clipped hedges to Hobbiton, the film set of 44 hobbit holes, including Bag End. Its beautifully kept gardens were real, with vegetables harvested by gardeners. In one house, everything was built to 60 percent scale; we tried the furniture and quickly saw why it worked only on screen. Our guide, Flavien, from Calais, explained how perspective made actors look taller or shorter. Peter Jackson had found the working farm by helicopter: it had the lake, party field with big tree, and rising hill he wanted. At the Green Dragon we had a beer and steak-and-ale pies.
Volcanoes, Kiwi and Cook Strait
Around Rotorua, the green countryside and farms were only part of the story. A gondola ride gave us a broad view of Lake Rotorua, and our visit to the Agrodome brought us close to the farming life that fills so much of the country. At the kiwi hatchery, we learned how much care goes into protecting New Zealand’s national bird. The kiwi chick is already feathered when it hatches, but it is vulnerable in the wild. Eggs are brought in and incubated, and chicks are raised until they are large enough to have a better chance of surviving after release. We watched the people working there and came away with a new appreciation for how conservation can give a threatened species a fighting chance.
We followed the Thermal Explorer Highway through farmland and a valley of volcanoes toward Lake Taupō, set in a volcanic caldera. Forests and mountains gradually replaced the grazing land. At Whakapapa, beneath the volcanoes, we rode a gondola toward the ski area on a beautifully clear day. Snow marked the distant peaks. On the way down we met two young women working in ski rentals, one from France and one from Canada. Both were on work visas and hoped to stay in the area, wherever they could find work. New Caledonia was one possibility. Long-term travel keeps introducing us to people who build lives in places and jobs we had never thought about.
The volcanic landscape continued on the Taranaki Falls hike, a six-kilometer walk to a beautiful waterfall. We were traveling from about 34 degrees south to 47 degrees south, farther south than we had ever been. Volcanoes, seismic activity, steep slopes and rockslides were not abstract ideas from a museum; they were visible all around us. The country’s green fields were also full of sheep and cattle. We seemed to pass one farm after another, with huge trimmed hedges (10-20m high) marking boundaries and very few indigenous trees left in some areas. Beech forest is slowly returning, while introduced pines and the logging industry remain part of the landscape.
Wellington gave us a brief change from the road. At Te Papa, the national museum, we explored the creation of New Zealand, Gondwana and the shifting tectonic plates. The Gallipoli exhibition was powerful, using enormous figures and personal stories to make the campaign immediate. That evening we went to Ortega Fish Shack for oysters and a very good dinner. The next morning we crossed Cook Strait in a windy but beautiful ferry ride. The sky was clear, and snow-covered mountains appeared in the distance as we approached Picton.
Wine Country and the Wild Coast
After a stormy night in Picton, the morning was bright enough for a visit to the Edwin Fox museum. The old ship is in rough shape, but its history is remarkable: it carried convicts and immigrants to Australia and New Zealand and transported cargo around the world. It felt less like looking at a polished exhibit and more like standing beside a working piece of maritime history.
Marlborough brought us into wine country. With Cam, a local guide and wine expert, we visited Allan Scott, Whitehaven and Framingham. Three women from Brisbane and a Texan now living in New York joined us, and conversation grew livelier as the day went on. We had a wonderful lamb lunch at Allan Scott and an outdoor tasting at Whitehaven. Many families own or work at the vineyards, and the region felt personal as well as beautiful. At Astrolabe, near our campsite, we tasted Sauvignon Blanc, Chardonnay and Pinot Noir with blue cheese, goat cheese and sourdough. The vintners’ and marketing manager’s children came home from school upstairs while we tasted. After three bottles added to our camper collection, we realized we had five bottles and probably ought to start drinking them.
On another walk, we climbed through farmland with sheep, lambs and cows along the trail. The view opened over the bay, valley and surrounding mountains. Then we drove to Havelock for green-lipped mussels and seafood chowder before camping near Abel Tasman National Park. The next day we hiked about ten kilometers along the shore, from Marahau toward Cockle Bay. The trail passed beaches and coves, and the tide changed the whole scene: broad stretches of sand appeared, with sailboats resting on the bottom until the water returned.
Crossing the South Island toward the West Coast, we stopped at Buller Gorge to watch the wild river run. While there, we walked across a 110-meter suspension swing bridge over the river and through native forest, where little fantail birds seemed happy to keep us company. The gorge was at the center of the 1929 earthquake, which shifted the ground several meters. The river ran fast, fed by mountain tributaries. As we drove on, narrow one-lane bridges and blind curves became familiar, though never entirely comfortable. Wire fences held in the sheep and cattle, while the road seemed to hang above rivers or cling to a mountainside.
Cape Foulwind lived up to its name. The lighthouse looked out over a rugged, craggy coastline and a powerful Tasman Sea. Fur seals slept on the rocks while waves crashed around them. It was lambing season, and many ewes had a tiny “mini me” following at their heels. Few people seemed to live there year-round beyond the farmers, but all the campgrounds suggested that summer brings a different crowd.
The drive along the West Coast was a gnarly mix of tight S-curves cut into granite cliffs and narrow one-lane bridges. Large tandem trucks seemed to appear just after a bend. At Punakaiki we chose a campsite about fifty feet from the beach. A tall hedge did little to protect us from gale-force wind. After two hours of being bounced and buffeted, we moved to a more sheltered site so we could sleep. The views were worth remembering; the first site was not worth another night.
Rain, Road Closures and the Southern Alps
As we continued south toward Franz Josef and the glacier, through mountains, rainforest and river valleys, the weather was not in our favor. Small waterfalls streamed down rock walls beside the road, and rivers of every size seemed to run from the mountains directly toward the sea. At dusk we reached our campground in the rainforest. Setting up the motorhome in the rain had become second nature.
We had hoped to take a helicopter flight over three glaciers, but the weather never cleared. Rain and low cloud kept the ice hidden. Heavy rain also closed the road south to Wanaka after water, mud, rocks, trees and other debris came down onto State Highway 6. We stayed an extra few days, wandering through the nearly deserted town of Franz Josef, editing Borneo photos and checking the road status. On one rainy evening we had local beer and nachos while watching a rugby match. We had no idea how rugby worked, but it was fun to watch.
On Monday morning, few of the reported road slips had been cleared. With no helicopter flight and no route south, we backtracked along the coast and turned inland over Arthur’s Pass. The detour became one of the trip’s most dramatic drives. Snow topped the Southern Alps, and sleet hit the windshield. The road twisted above rivers, crossed them on one-lane bridges and clung to the mountainside. We drove under a water chute where a stream passed above the cars. Beyond, the high country opened into huge fields, gorges and tall, square-cut hedges. We reached Mount Somers, a rural village in the foothills, tired and awed.
The following day we stopped back in Christchurch before continuing to Ashburton for the night. Later we passed through Christchurch again and had time to explore the city.
We visited Quake City, a fascinating museum documenting the devastating earthquakes that struck Christchurch in 2010 and 2011. The first, a magnitude 7.1 earthquake in September 2010, caused widespread damage but no direct fatalities. Just five months later, a smaller but much more destructive earthquake struck near the city center, killing 185 people and destroying much of downtown.
Through photographs, videos and personal stories, the museum showed the terrifying impact on residents and the enormous challenges of rebuilding. We learned about liquefaction, when earthquake shaking causes waterlogged ground to lose its strength, sending mud and water bubbling up through streets. Walking through Christchurch, we could still see the effects more than fifteen years later, with modern buildings and open spaces replacing much of the historic city center. Christchurch was a city still reinventing itself.
Pinot Noir & Milford Sound
From Ashburton we set out early toward Queenstown, passing through Geraldine for excellent pork and venison pies. Lake Tekapo was turquoise beneath a cloudy sky, with the Church of the Good Shepherd on the shore and mountains behind it. The wind erased the reflection we had hoped to see, but we ate our pies overlooking the lake anyway. Lake Pukaki offered another sweep of teal water and mountain scenery. The final stretch to Queenstown followed a deep gorge, with sharp switchbacks high above the river. Fractures and sheer breaks in the mountain faces made the region’s seismic activity visible. We felt two 5.5+ earthquakes that shook the motorhome. That night we cooked lamb loins and purple New Zealand potatoes.
Queenstown gave us a day among Central Otago wineries. Pinot Noir was the star. One of our favorites was Macushla 2025, which means “my darling.” We tasted wines at Mt Rosa, a family single-estate vineyard, and stopped at a cave before ending the day with seafood at Finz. After so many days of driving through weather and mountains, the wine country was a welcome change of pace.
Seeing the fiords in Milford Sound required an early start and a three-hour coach ride each way. The road had been closed for three days because of avalanches and tree slides, then reopened just in time for our trip. It was due to close again in the afternoon for more maintenance. The drive passed Mirror Lake, waterfalls and rockslide areas, then went through the solid-rock Homer Tunnel. It was raining, snowing near the tunnel and windy, but the scenery was impossible to ignore.
The cruise took us through Milford Sound, a spectacular fiord carved by ancient glaciers, with sheer rock walls rising almost 4,000 feet directly from the water. Our boat seemed tiny beneath the towering cliffs. Hundreds of waterfalls cascaded down the rock faces, some plunging hundreds of feet, while powerful winds blew the falling water sideways into swirling clouds of mist. The wind and waves rocked the boat, and at times we could barely stand on deck. Near one enormous waterfall, the captain brought us close enough for the spray to wash over the boat — a glacial facial! Milford Sound is one of the wettest places on earth, receiving approximately 23 feet of rain annually, and that day the rain only added to the spectacle. We had hoped to fly back to Queenstown, but the low clouds and strong winds meant another three-hour coach ride instead.
After Queenstown, our journey was winding down as we headed toward Christchurch. On the way, we drove through Wanaka, with its beautiful lake, by way of the Crown Range, a steep, white-knuckle road with sweeping views of snow-capped mountains. We camped beside Lake Tekapo, famous for its milky turquoise waters. Unfortunately for us, the sun wasn’t shining, so we didn’t get to see the lake’s brilliant colors at their best. Finally, we returned to Christchurch in pouring rain and spent the day doing laundry. We returned the motorhome the next day, journey complete. On the way back to our hotel, we visited the International Antarctic Centre, an interactive science center complete with a ride in a Hägglund, an amphibious Antarctic all-terrain vehicle, and an exhibit of rescued little blue penguins. It was a cool way to end the trip.
By then, the camper that had felt so awkward on pickup had carried us through farms, vineyards, beaches, rain, snow, gorges and more one-lane bridges than we could count. The motor home was great, though tricky on the narrow, curvy roads; we had many a nice dinner of local salmon or lamb with a pinot noir. We missed the glaciers and had to reroute across the Alps, but the detour gave us a drive we would never have planned for ourselves. New Zealand had become the heart of this part of our journey.
New Zealand also brought an unexpected reunion. At the end of our Borneo trip, Mark had left his favorite hiking boots on the drying rack at Danum Valley. They had climbed Kilimanjaro, trekked through the Amazon, crossed China and Europe, and returned to Moshi again and again for repairs by the same sidewalk cobbler. We thought their long journey might be over. Instead, the boots were shipped on to New Zealand and reunited with Mark there. In a country of rain, rough tracks and mountain roads, they had one more chapter in them.
Fiji and Singapore - Journey Back
With another teaching session in Tanzania ahead of us, we broke up the long journey back with two stops. First came Fiji, where a few days of relaxation sounded especially appealing after nearly a month on the road in New Zealand. Our resort, the oldest in the country, occupied its own little island just off the coast. At low tide, a sandy path emerged, connecting the island to the mainland. The sprawling grounds, tropical gardens, beaches and swimming pools seemed ideal for doing absolutely nothing. Unfortunately, the weather had other ideas. Instead of the warm tropical paradise we had imagined, we found surprisingly cool temperatures and a persistent wind that seemed to follow us everywhere. The water was too chilly to tempt us into swimming or snorkeling, so we settled for leisurely walks, reading and a few rounds of putt-putt golf. After weeks of navigating New Zealand's winding roads, doing very little was not such a bad alternative.
Singapore was our final stop before returning to Tanzania, a chance to break up the long journey from the South Pacific and spend a few days in one of Asia's most fascinating cities. Singapore's transformation from a colonial trading port into a modern metropolis was visible everywhere. The grand Fullerton building, once the General Post Office, and the National Gallery, housed in the former Supreme Court and City Hall, recalled its British colonial past. Nearby, the historic Cavenagh Bridge, built in Scotland and shipped halfway around the world, was another reminder of that era. Yet just a short distance away, the streets around the Sultan Mosque were filled with the colors, shops and aromas of Singapore's Malay and Arab heritage. The contrast between the carefully preserved historic buildings and the gleaming modern skyline was striking.
Singapore was especially memorable after dark. At Lau Pa Sat, the grand old Victorian market transformed into a lively food center, with the smell of grilling satay filling the air and crowds gathering around long communal tables. Gardens by the Bay offered a completely different spectacle, as enormous illuminated Supertrees came alive with music and changing colors. At the lotus-shaped ArtScience Museum, an immersive undersea exhibition took us on a journey from the ocean's surface into its mysterious depths. Even the crowded, maze-like aisles of Bugis Street market added to the city's remarkable mix of old and new, traditional and futuristic. Singapore was a fitting final stop on our long journey through Asia and the South Pacific.
From Singapore we continued to Tanzania for another teaching session in Moshi. After weeks of exploring new places, we were looking forward to returning to the schools, reconnecting with the teachers and students, and continuing our work with Stawi. The camper was returned, the boots were back, and it was time to get back to the classrooms.
