The tourists are back.
First up, I was pleased to see them go.
Yeah I know, essential for tourism, hospitality, and the financial stability of the country, etc. etc.
But wasn’t it nice to go to that beach you used to love as a kid and find it virtually deserted?
Selfish? Absolutely.
I was able to travel through the South Island last year just before the country opened up and while I felt sorry for the businesses that were struggling, I loved having the place to myself. Sure, a few of the attractions were shut or roped-off but it was nothing a little fence jumping couldn’t fix.
“That big closed sign and padlock on the gate? Jeeze. Sorry mate didn’t see that. I’m blind without my glasses. Who’s speaking?”
They never brought it but would let me off with a warning once they realised all I wanted to do was see a yellow-eyed penguin (big buggers).
It wasn’t like I was out to steal pounamu or club a seal to death.
It wasn’t like I was out to steal pounamu or club a seal to death.
Now, the tourists are back, and you know what? I’ve realised I actually missed them. A bit like that growth on your foot you become irrationally attached to, or is that just me?
I’m currently in Wanaka and am enjoying hearing different accents in town.
I have also had hours of amusement taking photos of all the foreigners taking photos of the Wanaka tree.
Photo by Koon Chakhatrakan on Unsplash
Don’t get me started on that.
Frankly, the tree is a total show pony – ‘look at me, I’m in the water, aren’t I amazing. I’m not like all those other boring trees on the bank.’
What an arse.
Come on guys, put away your mirrorless DSLR with 750,000 megapixels, quantum zoom, in-built tripod and toast-making attachment. The tree is actually a bit scraggly and not worthy of the fuss.
Back to Wanaka’s other attractions. I’m here with a friend who is stupidly-fit, so when I suggested we go for an afternoon stroll to nearby Diamond Lake, I should have realised there would be more in store.
I’d done the walk before (pre-tourists) and was incredibly proud of myself for making it three-quarters of the way to the Lake Wanaka Lookout. Said friend is not someone who does ‘three-quarters’ so I mentally prepared myself to do the whole walk. It’s pretty bloody steep with some lung-pounding stretches of vertical steps on the ascent.
When we arrived, the carpark was chocka and we knew there would be a number of other people on the trail. Slightly annoying but I’d be too busy trying to keep up with my friend to worry about who else was there.
True to form, we blew past the lower lookouts; I looked longingly at the three-quarter mark as it disappeared behind me and we made it to, what I thought was, the top.
As I gulped in air and rubbed my calves (annoyed that my friend didn’t have the decency to be breathing hard), I noticed we were sharing the lookout with a guy of Asian descent, his European wife and their three beautiful children. The kids were aged from three to ten and I can only assume they’d been helicoptered in because there was no way they’d be able to do the trek that had almost killed me.
Wrong. Not only had the whole family completed the entire tramp but they were all beaming with joy and loving the spectacular view (which I was too tired to look at).
We had a great chat and it was humbling to hear how much they were enjoying what we often take for granted.
Uplifted, I regarded the stunning panorama, turned to my friend and admitted how glad I was to have made it to the top.
I received a puzzled look. “Top? This isn’t the top.” She pointed to a majestic, terrifyingly steep bluff towering several kilometres above us. “That’s the top.”
After what seemed like an eternity of muscle-tormenting, heart-stopping, potentially ankle-breaking terrain we finally arrived, oxygen-deprived at the peak.
A group of young English tourists were already there, enjoying the view, eating snacks, laughing and having a quiet toke.
They saw the state I was in and a girl rushed over to offer me some cookies (ordinary ones, unfortunately) and assure me it was considerably easier going down.
As I munched gratefully on the biscuit and saw how much they were enjoying the spectacular location, I realised I actually loved tourists.
My friend, not so much.
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