Phnom Penh

Phnom Penh, and Cambodia in general for that matter, is a fascinating country... tragic, painful, and disturbing at times, but also beautiful, inspiring, and resilient. I spent nearly a week in the capital city, longer than I’d expected, but nevertheless an incredible time.

I caught up with a friend from Antarctica, DA-Richard, who also happens to be from Seattle, and who’s been traveling in SE Asia with his boyfriend Paul since late February. The two of them are a total cut-up… had me laughing most of everyday. They’d established a contact in Phnom Penh, at an orphanage run by an Italian NGO which cares for HIV/AIDS positive and developmentally disabled children. They were going to volunteer there for a couple of weeks, and inspired me to do the same… but not for nearly as long.

The children were sweet, and after getting a little familiar with the new faces, displayed the zeal and resilience for life that seems to be common in children the world over. I volunteered mostly in a classroom of “teenagers”, ages 8 to 15. Basically I just played with kids, and when the classroom instructors would let me, we’d go walk around the orphanage courtyard and I’d get a chuckle out them with my poor renditions of songs that were running through my head.

Mornings were spent at the orphanage, and afternoons were spent seeing the city of Phnom Penh. Crumbling colonial-era buildings, ornate temples, sprawling markets, and a river of motos. I’ve never seen so many motorcycles used so creatively… how they balance what they do, I haven’t a clue.

Evenings had us eating amazing fried noodles from our favorite street-stand, sipping 50cent Pastis (French licorice liquor) at the corner Zeppelin Bar where the owner spun records of anything from the namesake Led Zeppelin to the Yeah-Yeah-Yeahs.

The afternoon rain showers provided a blissful respite from the heat in my $2 room at the Lakeside Guest House. Spent a lot of time relaxing, writing, and reading… something leisurely to counteract the emotionally draining visits to sights like S-21 and the Killing Fields.

When my week was up, I was definitely ready to move on. That said… I couldn’t have wished for better experiences and better company.

...

Yay! Pictures!!!

Non-rush-hour traffic in Phnom Penh.
Richard cruisin' on a moto.
2 people, bag of mushrooms, bag of pasta, misc. groceries, and one wardrobe(?). Amazing.
On the road to the killing fields.
French Colonial buildings and temples... strange mix.
Happy Hour at the FCC (Foreign Correspondence Club). Paul left, Richard right.
Lotus at Silver Pagoda.
5 people is actually the record for most full-grown people I've seen on a moto.
Sun bleached lutus flowers and roof tiles.
Royal Palace grounds.
The corrugated roofs of the lakeside guest house district.

Pain

Most Westerners know that Cambodia is a nation in healing. But the extent of this nation's suffering probably isn't common knowledge.

Since gaining independence from French colonial rule in the 1950's, Cambodia saw two decades of stability until a military coup deposed the president. While in exile, and under Chinese pressure, the former President put his support and power behind the rebels of the Khmer Rouge. At the same time, Cambodia got sucked into the Vietnam conflict. Bitter in-fighting culminated in the fall of the capital, Phnom Penh, to the Khmer Rouge in 1975.

Led by the Maoist lunatic Pol Pot, the Khmer Rouge went about trying to transform Cambodia into an agrarian society of homogeneity. To achieve this "idyllic" society where no one possessed any form of distinction, Pol Pot went about systematically "cleansing" the country of anyone not fitting into his vision. If you were educated (teachers, doctors, writers), spoke a foreign language, or even wore glasses... it's likely that the Khmer Rouge relocated, detained, tortured and killed you. From 1975 to 1979, when the Vietnamese over threw the Khmer Rouge, some 2 million Cambodians died at the hands of Pol Pot. That's genocide folks.

...

Cambodia today bears the scars of the atrocities committed less than 30 years ago. Nowhere is it more evident than in Phnom Penh. The S-21 (Security Prison No. 21), now a museum, was the largest detention and torture center in the country. 20,000 Cambodians went through S-21... only 7 lived... the majority were executed and buried in the mass graves of the nearby Killing Fields.

In the museum, wall after wall of chilling photos depict the faces of those detained at S-21. These mug-shots, so many of them children, are so vivid you want to look away but you can't. The faces burn with emotion... some are frightened, some are holding onto pride, others are confused, and others just say "fuck you" to the prison guards taking their photo. The former prison cells are still littered with torture devices and steel shackles. How did this happen?

Only a few miles outside of Phnom Penh, the Killing Fields are the disgraceful tomb for the prisoners of S-21. The 129 mass graves, most of which have been disinterred, are a surreal place to walk around. The deep pits of earth still contain shreds of clothing, shards of bone, and scattered teeth. At the center of the area is a memorial stupa containing shelf after shelf of the victims' skulls. The pain still seems to register on their faces.

...

Why go to see such things, you may ask? I ask myself the same thing. My answer is the same one that took me to Hiroshima while I was travelling in Japan. It's not sensationalism, or a morbid curiosity. It's important, I think, not to side-step the grotesque, brutal, and shameful acts that man is capable of. Unless you comprehend the full extent of the atrocities man can inflict on his peers, you won't fully value the love and kindness that you are fortunate to have in your life.

Pop culture?

Every once in a while during my travels, I find myself reminded just how disconnected I have been from mainstream pop-culture. Not to say that when I’m in Seattle, am “with it” per say, but you know what I mean…

For instance. Sitting at a Bangkok bar, the nearby TV is playing music videos. I watch in amusement for a while, and then the most kick-ass video I’ve seen in a while flickers on the screen.

Have you seen Jamiroquai’s “(Don’t) Give Hate a Chance” music video? Yeah, yeah… it’s probably been out for months, but anyway! It’s like a psychedelic animated version of Daft Punk’s “Around the World” music video. You guys must remember that one, right?

Anyway, I was bored and found this story-board… if you haven’t seen “(Don’t) Give Hate a Chance,” try to find it. It’s AWESOME!

Perspective

I was 7, maybe 8, when I first visited Bangkok. My brother and I (it was just the two of us then) lived in Japan where Dad taught English and Mom was a freelance writer and jewelry dealer. Something came over the ‘rents, and so they took my brother and I to Thailand.

Dad had first visited Thailand in the mid-70’s, if I remember right, during one of his holidays from Peace Corps volunteering in Afghanistan. He was one those scruffy, skinny dudes bummin’ along the Hippy Trail. So cool!

Those young memories are a little vague and mixed-up now, but bits and pieces still surface now and again. I can still remember…

…Mom’s constant exclamations of just how good the food was. Yeah, it is Thailand Mom… they can cook Thai food.
…temples, endless temples. Some of them had monkeys… sweet, monkeys!
…loving the long-boat rides in the canals of Bangkok.
…missing out on the elephant ride in Chiang Mai because I was having a spell of asthma attacks. Stupid asthma.
…fancy hotels and great pools and fruit… so much fruit.
…the inexplicable pride I felt when Thai’s would mistake me for a local and speak to me in words that were neither Japanese nor English.
…trying to catch the geckos that were all over the walls and ceilings of our hotels. Loved those geckos.

Today, as I walk the streets of Bangkok, some 18 years later, I rarely see the 7 or 8-year-old kids traveling with their parents. Probably because my travels this time around are closer to what my Dad’s were his first time around. Mind you, I’m not 1/4th the traveler he was. But still… a $3 guest house and $0.50 street food? Sign me up.

…

It’s not quite 8AM yet, and already it’s hot… and humid. Bangkok is always hot - really hot - oppressively hot - 2AM, sleepless, sprawled out in only my boxers under a feeble ceiling fan hot. At night the heat seems to radiate up from your feet… the concrete jungle of buildings and windy streets acting like a giant heat-sink. My body will adjust, I told myself during my first couple of days. You’re just soft… you’ve been spoiled by the 2 months in the mild climate of New Zealand.

So on the morning of my second day, 8:00 finds me with a fresh sheen of sweat, strolling up Sanan Chai Road, which skirts the temple of Wat Pho. I’d decided to do the Bangkok Temple Crawl, and thought the public ferry down the Chao Phray River would be a pleasant way to get South to some of Bangkok’s famous Wats. And so… my bullheaded romanticism getting the better of my adolescent travel savvy, I accidentally climbed aboard an express ferry… which skipped my pier and let me off about a mile down river. Ha!

More amused than irritated with myself, I leafed through my Lonely Planet, and sure enough… there’s and express ferry… and nope, it doesn’t stop at Pier-8. But hey, it looks like Pier-6 puts me at the riverside commercial produce and fish market. Bustling with Thai merchants setting up for the day, hand carts and motor cycles weave through narrow alleys, stacked impossibly high with baskets of this and crates of that. I’m clearly out of place, with no other farang (foreigner) in sight, but the merchants pay me no mind. I pick my way through the orchestrated chaos of the market and come out laughing.

Which brings me back to 8:00, outside Wat Pho, sheen of sweat, etc. I’ve stopped to look at my map, which I later learn is the international sign for “offer me something,” and a nice Thai fellow stops to ask if I need assistance. He’s a local school teacher, young, and speaks excellent English. I tell him I’m visiting Wat Pho, Wat Phra Kaew, and Wat Arun this morning. Ahhh, but Wat Pho is closed until noon because of a Buddhist ceremony, he tells me. And the other Wats won’t open for a couple of hours. He looks at my map and circles a couple of other wats that he thinks are worth checking out, and shows me where I can find a good market for cheap goods. As he’s talking to me a tuk-tuk (open-air 3-wheel taxi) pulls over, and my teacher friend says… here just have this tuk-tuk show you these other sights and bring you back when Wat Pho opens at noon. The teacher and tuk-tuk driver exchange some words in Thai, and the teacher says this driver will show me around for only 20 Baht ($0.50!).

And it’s at this moment that I finally keen in on the scam. No tuk-tuk ride costs 20 Baht. I’d been warned of convincing con-artists who get you in a tuk-tuk, which takes you someplace (the market) for a commission, only so they can cheat you out of large sums of money on fake shwag.

I thank the teacher and excuse myself from their company. I hear the man yell, “10 Baht for you!” as I round a corner.

Sure enough, I find Wat Pho to be open. And so I continue my plan for temple hopping. The semi-close encounter with the scam only leaves a fleeting bad taste in my mouth.

…

It’s sad, and maybe sad isn’t the right word, but it seems inevitable that any traveler in SE Asia will eventually grow weary of having to be “on-guard” all the time.

You have to remember what an absurd luxury it is that you have money and time in such excess, you can actually afford to take holidays. Travel for fun? The concept must seem so foreign and preposterous to the SE Asians who bust their asses all day long just to feed their families.

Sure, tourism certainly provides these second and third world economies with a great deal of its industry. But how can we, in good conscience, not expect the Thais and Cambodians of this world to become jaded by the constant interaction with spoiled Western travelers. It’s a two-way-street… we want exotic inexpensive travels… they just want a piece of our affluent pie.

I’m not going to be so self-righteous as to claim that I enjoy hearing “Tuk-tuk, Tuk-tuk?” or “Hey! You want moto? Where you from?” a dozen times each block. Or the difficulty I have refusing the hordes of children begging for money, because I know their parents are forcing them to do it, leveraging their cuteness, and will take every Baht I give them. I can’t say that a part of me isn’t insulted when I have to refuse solicitations for drugs or “lady tonight?”.

Western travelers like me enable and encourage these annoyances we so vehemently blast.

The thing that seems most important is that while feeling constantly inundated by scammers, beggars, and aggressive entrepreneurs… it’d be stupid to wear blinders and assume every person is out to get something from you.

My time in this beautiful region would be wasted if I gave no one a chance. The first person I met in Bangkok, a Thai woman seated next to me on the airport bus, was the sweetest woman. Wanting only to practice her English and impart local wisdom and advice on the very green traveler sitting beside her, we chatted the entire way into town. You just never know.

…

I love the city of Bangkok. Four days of exploring has only left me thirsting for another visit. The Lonely Planet describes the city as, “hands-down the coolest, grittiest, cockiest capital city in the region.” It’s that and so much more. In no other city could a single day have me…

…on a river boat packed to the gills with monks in saffron robes, business men in suits, street kids in rags, and androgynous youth in the most stylish threads.
…leave an ancient Buddhist temple and 10 minutes later enter an ultra-modern, multi-story, neon-drenched department store.
…stroll past hundreds of Thai’s (men & women, young & old) bouncing and shimmying to hip-hop beats during synchronized aerobics classes in downtown pedestrian malls.
…eat like a king at 20 Baht ($0.50) a pop. Mango and sticky-rice, whole fresh pineapple, the best Pad Thai of my life, barbeque chicken skewers, noodle soup, coconut curries, and sweet Thai coffee.
…get off a pedal powered tuk-tuk and climb aboard an Air-Con Sky Train.
…on Khao San Road.

Ah the spectacle that is Khao San Road. In SE Asia, all roads lead to Khao San. Whether you need it or not, you’ll find it here.

Dread out my hair and get a tattoo at the same time, all while sitting in the middle of the street? Sign me up! Designer and faux-designer shirts, pants, swimsuits, sunglasses… you name it. Need a passport photo, or maybe a crappy fake passport? Right this way. Need a drink? Sure you do… and you’re in luck, every third store-front is a bar packed with sweaty travelers. You’re hungry? Not on Khao San you’re not… food vendors line the street selling the tastiest 50cent food you’ll find on earth. Need a watch? A crazy hat? Jewelry? Souvenirs? A pharmacy? Glasses? Bus ticket to Siem Reap? Plane tickets to anywhere? Recreational drugs? Not so recreational drugs? Whatever you can imagine… spend a little time on Khao San and you’re sure to find it.

It’s not my favorite place in Bangkok, but it sure helps to give the city its unique and amazing character.

…

and finally, some PICS. Sorry I only ended up getting decent photos of the temples only.

Wat Arun...
The famous 50m reclining Buddah of Wat Pho.
Temple grounds of Wat Pho.
Young munks seated in Wat Phra Kaew.
Wat Phra Kaew.
Extensive restoration work was being completed on the murals of the Wats.
Wat Phra Kaew.

NZ signing out...

The long overdue final installation from my amazing 2 months in New Zealand. If any Kiwis are reading my ramblings... you have a beautiful beautiful country, full of the kindest people and loveliest places... thank you.

...

Fittingly, my final tramp in New Zealand was a solo hike, though not entirely alone. On the First Day, I shared the trail with the droves of people who do a day-hike of the Tongariro Crossing. Once I got away from the crowd, only DA-Karen and Jimbo kept me company as I completed the Tongariro Northern Circuit.

DA-Karen (my imaginary motivator)...
"What'd you mean 'But there's snow on top of Mt. Ngauruhoe'? This from the guy who talked me into the polar plunge? Get your butt up that mountain before I drag you up by that Bruce Lee 'Fro."

Jimbo (my imaginary optimist)...
"Seriously Tim, you should get a haircut. So hey, if you bag Ngauruhoe real quick, there'd still be time for the side trips to the Blue Lake and up Mt. Tongariro before we hike to Oterere and camp tonight. And listen to this... if you get up early, you could easily hike the 26km out to Whakapapa by lunch time. Seriously. No problem."

...

This hike was insane... call me a broken record, but I'VE NEVER SEEN ANYTHING LIKE THIS!

Mt. Ngauruhoe (2291m)...
Mt. Ruapehu (2797m) from the summit of Ngauruhoe. Upper and Lower Tama Lakes in foreground.
Contrast of snow on the crater to desert 2000m below.
Slightly crooked self-timed mug shot atop Mt. Ngauruhoe.
Crazy colors of the aptly named Red Crater.
Tramper descending to Emerald Lakes.
The beautiful Blue Lake.
The dawn breaks on Mt. Ngauruhoe (right) and Mt. Ruapehu.
Crossing New Zealand's only desert... again Ngauruhoe looms as ever.
Me trying to be artsy.
The plains approaching Mt. Ruapehu

Quote of the Day

"Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy."

-Benjamin Franklin

Read that on the side of my Pint glass, while sitting at the Brew Moon restaurant & Brewery in Honolulu with my Antarctic buddy Dano. Ironical, yes?

. . .

So this is my super-quick Hawaii post. Didn't end up having much time online at afterall... the last New Zealand posts will have to wait a little while longer. How strange to have this 3-day side trip to Hawaii, which is technically in the USA, but feels like another country all together.

Off to Thailand, Cambodia & Laos...

I'm looking for a book...

So I've decided that since I'm lightening my pack when I head to SE Asia (no boots, fewer clothes, smaller sleeping bag)... I'm going to allow myself to carry a book. E-gad!

My friends... I need your help! I'm pretty sure the book stores of Auckland and Honolulu will allow me to find pretty much whatever I want.

Post a comment and tell me what I should pick up and why. Fiction or non-fiction... I'm cool with either. Right now I'm considering The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, or How We Die for my imminent and lengthy flights.

Sell me on your suggestion... maybe you'll also get some good suggestions for that summer reading list.

(Family... I know you're reading my nonsensical ramblings... post a comment for a change! Go crazy! Post a couple! Don't be scared... the blog won't bite)

Can't Stop Listening To...

...Lyle Lovett - pretty much everything... 'Live in Texas,' 'Joshua Judges Ruth,' 'I Love Everybody,' 'Pontiac,' 'The Road to Ensenada'... but especially 'Live in Texas'... not sure why, but Lyle's doin' it for me right now.

...Sun Kil Moon - 'Tiny Cities' - Thanks DA-Richard for all the new music on the ICE.

...Billy Bragg & Wilco - 'Mermaid Avenue' - Just makes you feel good.

OF NOTE... the first music I'll buy/look for in Seattle...

...anything by Jolie Holland... I only have one song of hers on my ipod and it tortures me every time I listen to it. I've heard others... her voice is, simply, intoxicating.

Finding Your Faith

On a recent tramp I found myself enthralled by a conversation with a deeply faithful Christian friend of mine. Now mind you, my friend's identity of self isn't defined by her faith alone - she's a remarkable person in so many ways.

So on this quiet rainy afternoon, as we descended toward our tramping hut, our conversation took the form of my basic (very basic) introduction to Christianity. Mind you, once again, that my friend wasn't preaching or proactively disseminating the righteousness of her faith... she was simply doing her best to answer my ignorant, but genuinely curious questions. You see... I've managed to spend nearly 27 years of my life without even learning the basics of Christianity.

It wasn't the flattery of feigned curiosity, nor the need to fill the silent hours on the trail which drove me to question my friend about her faith. I simply wanted to try and understand the beliefs of a friend I admire for her intelligence, worldliness, strength, and kindness.

I know I don't recall everything she said in the exact words she spoke, and so I hope she forgives me (and corrects me where necessary). But maybe it's best that I can only recall her words in the way that they struck me. I hope, however, that if my selective and failing memory misconstrues, and thus offends... that those folks will comment to correct me.

All disclaimers aside... here's a selection of what I recall about the part of our conversation pertaining to Heaven and Hell:

1. Everyone is destined for Heaven or Hell... no exceptions.

2. Hell is a place of eternal pain and suffering.

3. Heaven is a place too beautiful for us to comprehend.

4. Right now, I am going to Hell.

5. Gandhi, one of the most incredible individuals to ever live, went to Hell for the same reason: He was introduced to Jesus' infinite love and teachings, but chose not to accept them.

6. I am entitled to God's love, and it is presented to me, but right now I am choosing to ignore it.

7. Humans are not perfect, and will sin... we all sin. But Jesus' sacrifice atoned for all our sins, and as long as we believe in Jesus the Savior, we will be rescued from our sins and delivered to Heaven.

8. All other religions , sadly, have missed the boat. No matter how honorable, moral, and noble their lives... they are destined for Hell.

9. To be saved, and thus go to Heaven, is very simple... but not at all easy. You must truly and wholly believe in the teachings of Christ. Not just feign your faith for others to see, but know within yourself that you genuinely believe.

. . .

Okay, so there was waaay more that my friend shared with me. And, as with anything documented (history for instance), my recollection is biased - both in terms of what I've chosen to recall, and how I've recalled. That said, I know that I haven't deliberately falsified or skewed her words.

I chose to recall the points on Heaven and Hell that struck me because they help illustrate the central difficulty I have with Christianity as I understand it.

And that is... it doesn't allow for any other belief of our existence. Either your a faithful Christian or your destined for a place of eternal pain and suffering. Perhaps all religions have a similar system that only permits it to be the true faith. I need to read up on this.

For me faith is a belief or understanding that you have of the world and your place in it. Faith is the ballast of our lives. Faith allows you to find happiness, which, for me, is the central pursuit in life. Happiness is a generic term here... it means something entirely different for every person. For Christianity, maybe the ultimate happiness is the acceptance of Jesus' love and thus your salvation. That's cool with me. I guess I've always thought of Christianity as a school of thought that explains the world, and our place in it, to millions of people (maybe billions?), but not everyone. Cool with me... millions of happy people, comfortable with their existence. Sweet! Other folk have related more with the explanations offered by Islam, Buddhism, or Judaism... all cool with me. Organized religions to me, are systems of understanding that offer a path to happiness for large numbers of people. So long as the particular faith inflicts no harm on another group... it's all good in my book. But how can a commonly accepted faith allow for the majority of people on earth to go to hell? Billions of people, all non-Christians, are going to a place of eternal pain and suffering. To me, that's tragic... I don't get it.

. . .

So here I am... a young adult, ignorant of pretty much every organized religion, who has carved out his own faith. A faith that allows me an explanation of my place in this world, providing ballast to life, and thus a path to my happiness.

My faith is constantly transforming... it changes as I learn more about people, the world, and myself. And in that sense, my faith is constantly improving and adjusting to the experience I've known first hand. Is that faith? Sure, why not... no one else has to buy into it for me to be happy.

Do I believe in an afterlife? No. I believe in the one very valuable life that I have. After I die, my spirit (or soul if you wish) will not go to a heaven or hell, it will continue to exist in the people whose lives I happened to touch. I believe that even chance and fleeting encounters can have a profound impact. The people who've touched my life... most of them probably have no idea what impact they've had... on my life, my faith, and my happiness. Similarly, I'd like to believe that there are lives out there who've benefited from a chance encounter with me.

When your life is touched by another, you might not know it right away. But you will, unknowingly sometimes, pass that person's spirit onto others you encounter. My friend Ryan's spirit exists within me everyday, and I rejoice in knowing that I share his spirit with others. And so it goes... even though he's no longer with us... his spirit spreads with each fleeting encounter of mine... and the subsequent encounters of those acquaintances of mine... and so on...

I have faith in the general goodness in people... that every person has the potential to touch my life. That makes me happy. I believe that I have a purpose, that i haven't found it yet, but that I needn't rush to it. The road to discovery affords me the opportunities to be inspired and in turn inspire. That too makes me happy.

But Tim, your faith doesn't motivate people to live a moral or just life. Well... sure it does. My faith encourages me to appreciate the life that I have right now - to live as freely and happily as I can. No need to worry about an afterlife... get the most out of this one.

But that still really doesn't push you toward a moral or just life. Ahhh... you mean there are no repercussions (i.e. Hell) if you don't "appreciate the life you have right now" and live it morally. Well, sure there are. Just as my "salvation" lies in the enriching encounters with other people, so to does the "justice" if I don't live a good life. The repercussions of my faith are these: if you don't value your life, its potential, and the people in it... people aren't stupid... they'll know you're a piece of shit. And accordingly, your one very valuable life will be filled with the scorn and indifference of people who could have otherwise inspired you. Furthermore, your spirit will live on in those people you encounter in a terribly negative light... your legacy will be one of ugliness... passed on from person to person. So... not exactly eternal pain and suffering, but still... I can grasp an earthly life of sadness and misery better than something shrouded in a veil of the unknown.

. . .

I try and explain this to my friend, in not so many words I admit, and she counters... "I just wish that you could feel the beauty and happiness of God's love. It's indescribable, and overwhelming, and joyous..."

I think to myself... would I recognize God's love if I saw it? Felt it? What does God's love feel like? I can describe how my mother's love feels... I can recognize it. I need something tangible here.

Maybe I haven't reached the point in my life when I'm ready. After all, the 20+ years of my life before my first "true-love" were very happy. But until I felt that indescribable happiness of "true-love" I would've never known that life was capable of even greater happiness. Perhaps that's it... maybe, in time, my faith will be insipred by God, and when that happens I'll recognize it as I did "true-love," and learn of a different kind of happiness.

Until then... I'll happily carry on with my own brand of faith.

Don't you love it when something actually lives up to the hype?

Incredibly good-fortune and generosity put me on the Milford Track from April 5th to the 8th. My friend Edith, with incredible foresight, booked two reservations through the DOC website while she was still in Antarctica. Her friend who was to join her couldn't make it to NZ, and so it was that Edith gave me an incredible gift... the greatness of which I only realized while on the track itself.

The Milford Track is, perhaps, the most heavily marketed and regulated of New Zealand's numerous walks. More than once, I heard the phrase, "World's Finest Walk." It's mandatory to do the tramp in 4days/3nights, to stay in the designated Huts (no camping), and complete the hike in the one permitted direction. No Exceptions. These restrictions tend to rub the experienced tramper the wrong way. Nevertheless, the 40 available spots for each day during the summer season will get booked up 3 months in advance.

Having just come off the glorious solitary freedom of the Dusky Track, Edith and I knew we were in for a different sort of experience. It only took the short ferry ride to the trail-head to tell us just how different. The boat, and later the Clinton Hut, was full of a hiking demographic we had yet to see on a tramp. On average, Milford trampers were slightly older, couples, a little less fit, more Kiwis, less experienced, and all together friendly. Spending 3 consecutive nights together in close quarters almost necessitates that you get to know the other 39 trampers. Some of my favorite memories are of candle-lit discussions after dinner, hearing the stories of people I'd never expected to meet, and likely will never see again. Thanks to an older couple from Invercargill, the Annapurna Circuit (a 300km trek in the Himalayas of Nepal) has found a prominent spot on my 'list'.

With the knowledge of our cushy amenities on the Milford, both Edith and I splurged on - what else? - food! No tent, sleeping pad, stove, or fuel means good eatin'. I went with fresh produce (3 apples, 2 peppers, 3 tomatoes), a huge bag of gourmet G.O.R.P. and a bottle of cabernet (which I transferred into a plastic squirt bottle of course).
The first two days of tramping were pretty, but nothing all together spectacular. Climbing the Clinton Valley, I was impressed with the massive valley, and trickle of waterfall now and again.

The third day might have bumped Day-1 on Cascade Saddle from its perch of "best day of tramping in New Zealand". The day started with cloud cover high enough to reward our ascent to Mackinnon Pass with grand views down both the Clinton and Arthur Valleys. At the high point of the track there was Pass Hut, possibly the best idea DOC has ever had. Furnished with a gas burner, we all enjoyed hot tea along with shelter from the rippin' winds. Not 5 minutes after leaving Pass Hut and beginning our descent from Mackinnon Pass, the skies opened up with Milford's legendary rain. Not just rain... try buckets of it, with some hail in there to spice it up, and lightning with nearly simultaneous thunder. It was like Mother Nature was showing of... putting on a display of power, intent upon humbling those of us who dared to walk in her domain. Barely 15 minutes after the storm began, the valley walls sprung to life with countless waterfalls.

It was like she took a giant paintbrush and slashed ribbons of white down the steep rock all around us. I lost count of how many times Edith and I stopped, looked above and about us, looked at each other, and just started laughing as rain pelted our faces. Don't get me wrong, I was soaked to the bone and cold, but those discomforts were almost unnoticeable... we were too busy reveling in the moment. It felt like we were walking through a painting... one of those old realist ones... a grand landscape made more emotive by a slight haziness.

The climax of the day, our side trip to the Sutherland Falls, had us running up the small river that had once been a trail. Splashing through puddles ringed with hail balls, and without the burden of water logged packs, we were like kids playing in the rain at recess. Soon we found ourselves at the foot of the 660m Sutherland Falls. The downpour of the last hour had the falls pumping out an incredible volume of water... the roar was deafening. There was so much rain, hail and mist I could scarcely take a photo. No matter, the vividness of the moment: falls roaring, hail stinging, Edith laughing, and the layers of valley wall disappearing into misty nothingness... will always be with me.
Later that night, having filled more journal pages than usual, I thanked Edith and told her, "You know? It just might be The World's Finest Walk."

Day 4 was much like the 3rd. It had rained through the night, and showed no signs of letting up. The abundance of rain and waterfall, rather than desensitizing us, lulled us into a dream-like state of blissful sogginess. Never once did we hesitate to stop and stare in awe through every break in the trees.

PICS:
Mackinnon Pass Edith laughing, hail stinging...

Can you see the streaks of hail? Arthur Valley
Snow covered Fiord from Sandfly Point - the end of our tramp. Do you see our little ferry?

Total Bliss at $11.80/hr

It's funny sometimes when my frugality decides to surface. It usually happens when 1). I'm spending a lot of money, and 2). I feel like I'm paying too much for what I'm getting. I'd be fine with just 1)., but when 2). is involved... I become one cheap bastard.

So it was, when I found myself standing at the booking desk for an overnight cruise on Milford Sound. My friend Edith and I heard about a $160 special from our Dusky Track buddies Bob & Kathryn. A little sticker-shocked at first, Edith and I were convinced, over the course of a 5-day tramp, that it was worth it. All you can eat... free sea kayaking if you feel like it... views of Milford Sound during different times of day...

I'm not a huge fan of "packaged-trips," but I figured what the hell. So now... try to imagine my contorted face when Edith and I learned that the special has in fact ended... the cruise is actually $211. The two of us deliberate... tell ourselves that it's only money... who knows when either of us will be back to Milford Sound? And with that, we decide to book our tickets. But oh wait... "Do we need transportation to the Sound?" asks the booking lady. We have no cars, so yes. "Then that'll be $260 for each of you's?"

$260? Two-Hundred-And-Sixty-Dollars?!? Shit.

And thus, my cheap bastard self comes into full view for all to admire.

Edith decides she's still going for the cruise. She sympathizes... acknowledges that she only has another week of travelling before returning to the states. We all tend to get a little less thrifty as the travels come to an end... we eat better, take buses instead of hitching, sleep in hostels instead of camping at Holiday Parks... and spend large sums of money on what is sure to be a great cruise. But a $260 cruise? That's... that's like $170US... I could travel for 2 weeks in SE Asia with that kind of money. Which, by the way, is exactly what I'm thinking at that very moment. I still have 2 months of travelling left.

Edith and the booking lady are somewhat amused by my indecision, and very outward inner-monologue. Why wouldn't they be... from the outside I appear to be in actual physical discomfort... squirming, swaying, head-scratching, finger-drumming. "I'm being ridiculous," I tell myself aloud, and with that I hand over my credit card.

...

At 2:00, we leave Te Anau for the 120km ride to Milford Sound. Approximately 1 hour into the bus ride, I completely forget about the money I spent to only a few hours ago. Money? What money? My face is pressed against the glass of our moving bus; my neck contorts to try and catch every possible moment. It's raining out, heavily, and with that rain, the waterfalls of Fiordland have sprung to life. Like white ribbons painted down the steep valley walls, countless waterfalls tumble their way down, seemingly straight from the clouds. At every bus stop, we dash out of the bus and into the downpour... I can't help but risk some water damage to my camera.

We board our small boat, with bunks enough for 50 passengers. We leave the dock at 4:30 and return at 9:30 the following morning. Such a short period of time... less than a complete day... and looking back... I can't believe what experiences were packed in to that short window...

... countless waterfalls spilling water straight from the clouds into sea. Dashing between my cup of tea in the galley, and the photo-ops outside.

... paddling around in sea kayaks in the middle of a torrential rain storm. Surrounded by water, feeling the awesome, and cleansing, power of mother nature.

... all you can eat dinner! Great food too. Seconds on everything... including chocolate brownie with ice-cream.

... epic Scrabble match with Edith (which I lose on the last turn... doh!), while drunken backpackers in the next booth play "I Never...". Feeling older than my age as...

... waking early enough to catch the faintest colors of the sunrise. That's right... the rain storm blew over, leaving us with a clear skies... how quickly the weather can change here.

... sheepishly asking the skipper if we can take a swim in Harrison's Cove before we pull up anchor.

... taking a the cool plunge despite the amused skepticism of our crusty and charming skipper.

... all you can eat breakfast! No muesli this morning... eggs! bacon! toast! hashbrowns! yogurt! hot damn!

... cruising around Milford Sound and out to the Tasman Sea. How different it looked from the day before.

Day 1 pics...




Day 2 pics...

Leaping pics...Ha!