Moving to New Zealand--Routeburn Track

..Living the goal..

Boys Weekend Out....
Wanaka | Fly Fishing | Glenorchy | Routeburn Track

With the ladies deciding to take a week to shop, hit the spa, and watch "The Wedding Planner", the guys decided to get away for a little R&R of their own. Packing the essentials, such as a flask of Manhattan Liquor, cigars, and money for beer, we set off down the open road of New Zealand towards Wanaka cruising at a healthy 121 km/hr. Going 20km over the speed limit, I was promptly pulled over. The New Zealand officer was too nice, letting me off with a warning and then advising me that they wouldn't pull me over if I was doing 110km. Um, okay, thanks for the tip. Our trip was already off to a classic start.
   Celebrating St. Patricks Day early, we had dinner--and plenty of beer at the local Irish Pub in Wanaka. Dave celebrated his return to Wanaka with two Guinness. We then gorged ourselves on everything unhealthy and hit the sack looking forward to fishing the next day.
   We met our guide for the day, Scott Little, at around 8AM. After getting the appropriate gear, we headed down the highway towards the West Coast chatting about everything fishing. Now, I've never fly-fished before. I love the sport, but my experience goes back to catching sunfish in my backyard stream. Scott clearly informed us that New Zealand was the "Graduate School" of Fly-Fishing. Great.
    To make a long fishing story short, we started at 8AM and didn't see one fish until 1PM. Dave then put one foot in the water and scared it away. $%^##@!! So, we moved on. In the rain.
    Move ahead, it's now 5:30PM. We haven't seen another damn fish. I'm beginning to think there's something wrong with the rivers in New Zealand. The guide is beginning to think he should have planted more fish in these spots, and Dave is wondering why we didn't bring more beer. Finally, Scott spotted a fish in the smallest stream we had been too. Dave set up his rod, we all held our breath, and he casted. His line snagged around a branch. $%^##! The fish didn't flinch. Dave retied a Fly, casted out, and slam!, the fish took the bait. Our reward for 8 hours of fishing was some sore legs, wet clothing, and a great looking trout. We promptly threw it back in the stream, tried our luck a little longer, and then parted ways with Scott. Off to Glenorchy we spun.
    After passing through the madness that is Queenstown, we saw a sign that said "Glenorchy: Gateway to Paradise". Man, I thought the Fiordlands were beautiful, but seriously, this place is truly amazing. You travel along the lake, talking about why the moon exists, and suddenly these gorgeous mountains appear in the background covered in snow. Below them are these beautiful green fields with, of course, sheep. It just hits you that this is one of the most beautiful places in the world.
     Glenorchy is truly a tiny town. Two pubs directly across from each other are the main attraction and with Rugby playing that night; Glenorchy was hopping. We had more beer, more bad food, and then hit the sack.
     The next morning we traveled up to the start of the Routeburn Track. Our journey took us through two river valleys, up the side of a mountain, and to our destination: the Routeburn Falls Hut. Surprisingly, this hut was very modern, large, and came equipped with gas stoves for cooking. It was also directly next to several beautiful waterfalls.
      Dave and I had lunch, shunned our packs, and continued up the track to more stunning views. About two hours into our trip, we reached a gorgeous alpine lake and turned to face the beginning of the Fiordland National Park. Everywhere around us, snow capped mountains and green valleys filled the scene. Industrial Light and Magic couldn't have done a better job. We'll let the picture speak for themselves, but the day was spectacular. If I use any more adjectives, I think I'm going to be beaten.
      We celebrated our accomplishments with some Manhattans and Cigars and then settled into our dinner of freeze-dried soy chicken. We hiked out the next morning, grabbed some Summer Ale in Queenstown, and regaled our great tales to the ladies as only men can. Truly an excellent weekend.
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