Wanders of OZ

“Yosemite Valley to me is always a sunrise, a glitter of green and golden wonder in a vast edifice of stone and space.” – Ansel Adams

Spring 2018. Fiordland, New Zealand

My nephew had his college graduation this spring, a lovely milestone when one glances back at all things that have led to that moment and looks forward to what lies ahead. I remember my own graduations from years past, as many of you probably do yours. I recall the ‘feeling’ more than the details – that feeling of life unfolding, when the pulse of anticipation propels one into a flight of discovery. In a sense, one can also experience this feeling through traveling, for isn’t traveling just a series of unfoldings and discoveries.

Last April, I embarked on another of these trips of discovery. This time with six good friends from medical school who were all crazy enough to do the 5-day Milford track with me in the Fiordland region of New Zealand’s South Island. The hike has been described as moderately strenuous, remote (no wifi or mobile reception), with unpredictable, often rainy, weather. It has also, been dubbed, the ‘finest walk in the world’.

It seems poetic that one of the symbols of New Zealand is the koru, a fledgling fern on the cusp of blooming. And just like the koru, the unfolding of a trip brings with it promise and excitement. 

This particular unfolding started in our Jucy pods in Queenstown where we spent the night cooped up in our individual cells before boarding a morning bus that would take us to the start of the hike in Te Anau. The bus ride teased us with glimpses of what was in store for us. From our seats, we saw stunning vistas that were beautiful but remote as the glass windows provided a physical barrier and the speed of the bus made the scenes ephemeral.

We had our orientation at Glade House, a charming lodge nestled amidst tranquil pasture and beguiling mountains. Our schedule and plenty of hiking advice were laid down for us. We had time to mingle with the other hikers and guides before retiring to our cozy rooms, dormitory-style. The following morning, we quickly learned what our routine would be for the next few days. Waking up to the scent of strong coffee, scones, and bacon, we prepared our sandwiches for lunch and learned the art of dressing up in layers for a serious hike (base layer and foot fleece included!) 

It was drizzly as we started the hike wearing our raincoats with our ponchoed backpacks in tow.  Gradually we were introduced to gentle  rivers and streams, colorful birds, and lush rainforests, whose verdant scent was refreshing. The foot bridges were enticing  and the canyons, breathtaking. 

Rain brought with it a rush of spectacular waterfalls and raging streams, which we learned to cross with our muddied boots without trepidation or reservation. 

The next day was more challenging as we made our ascent to more alpine terrain through seemingly unending diagonal rocky paths to the peaks of mountains. Lush greenery was replaced  by increasingly bare terrain and freezing climes. Close to the peak, I stopped to put on my gloves as my exposed fingers were turning red and painful. The rain and fog dampened the visibility. The strong wind gusts felt like they could have swept us from the mountaintops. We were drenched, freezing, and exhausted as we reached MacKinnon pass, the highest point of the hike and there in a small cabin we took shelter and had hot cocoa, our sandwiches, and a change of socks.   

We would stay in rustic wilderness lodges as we moved along in the hike, where, at the end of arduous day-long hikes, we relaxed and exchanged stories with other hikers over wine and cheese, hand-washed our hiking garments and hung them in sweltering drying rooms, and took warm soothing showers. We relished delicious 3-course dinners before the electricity was shut off at 10 pm each night as we were left in the darkness to ponder our thoughts.

The last hike was long and relatively flat. At 21 kilometers, it was about the length of a half-marathon. As we descended from the mountaintops, we were surrounded once again by flourishing ferns and rich rainforests. And amidst the luxuriant greenery, we discovered korus. At first, koru sightings were few and far between but the discovery of one led to the discovery of a few more and suddenly, as if magically, a multitude!

We had “graduation” on the last evening of the hike. As our names were called, we walked up to receive our certificates. We beamed from our accomplishment, much like fresh college graduates, and were heartened by old friendships being rekindled and new ones being ignited. 

Scrubbed and rested, we took a cruise on Milford Sound the following morning. As we sailed to the rhythm of its tranquil waters, the serene stunning beauty of the fjord was a surreal ending to a most memorable hike. Amidst camera clicking and warm hugs, the unfolding was satisfyingly complete. 

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My nephew was all smiles as he donned his toga and received his diploma on his graduation day, his eyes bursting with excitement, his mind brimming with possibilities. His whole life is ahead of him. I can’t wait for it to unfold. 

Buenos Aires. December 2011.

The instant I stepped into the subte (subway) on my first day in Buenos Aires, I felt a palpable jolt, a tingling excitement, as I stepped once again into an unfamiliar world; this time into a culture that shares some undertones to the one I grew up with, but is, at the same time, very different. Being surrounded by a language that is vaguely familiar but practically meaningless to me only adds to the sense of excitement. I guess part of the exhilaration one feels when traveling is that initial sense of being lost in unfamiliar territory. Interestingly, the exhilaration seems to intensify as one slowly finds meaning in strange new things. Buenos Aires has brought me such experiences of discovery! Indeed, it is ironic, that it is only when one starts to get to know a culture and becomes, in a sense, less lost, can one also begin to “lose” oneself in a new world.

Serenity…

Cusco. High up in the Andes mountains, 3400 meters above sea level, near the Urubamba Valley, lies the historic capital of the Inca empire. Its enduring people stand guard at the the modern world’s gateway to Machu Picchu.