Timetravelling in Arthur's Pass

If you could travel through time, would you prefer to see the past or the future? That is a question that can be quickly answered or lead to a lengthy wine-fueled discussion. I would find it exciting to see how some times and events really were compared to the stories told today. And perhaps my wish comes true a little bit here - in Arthur's Pass, I feel somewhat transported back in time.

Not only because this hotel, the craziest I've ever stayed in, has been continuously filled with stuff for the past 100 years. I'm sure there is more to discover than just the sights of New Zealand. Once the fuse blew. Gollum keeps watch over my unfortunately troubled sleep again. I secure my room with a screwdriver contraption due to the broken lock. That's better than nothing because I definitely want to lock it. There is also a massage chair here that feels like it’s from the 90s, but trying it out leads to my first real uncomfortable encounter with another traveler, who questions me: 'Are you traveling alone? Do you want to join me? What room are you staying in?' That too feels like being back in time.

Fortunately, that’s more or less the only thing I don't like. Still not fully recovered, I decide that I've had enough of hikes over 1000 meters of elevation gain and I don’t walk up to the Avalange Peak on the first day (even though there is currently no real avalanche danger, it is too windy). I take the Arthurs Pass Walking Track with a few offshoots and come back to my car precisely on time, as the afternoon is rainy. I allow myself to snuggle up in bed with my book. The next day, on my way back from Arthur's Pass to the last stop before Christchurch, I hike the Bealey Spur Track and arrive back at my car exactly on time, as it is also raining in the afternoon. I grant myself the pleasure of hiding away with my book and a Chai Latte in a café. Perhaps this is also a glimpse into the future: a Katie who allows herself more slowness, just as Arthur's Pass encourages me.

The landscape is a bit like another world, so untouched, so little altered. Here, not only grass grows over everything, but also moss, lichens, and indeed slowness. While hiking, I hardly encounter any people; instead, I see a rabbit and a bird that lands right next to me on a branch. Information boards show that here, nearly 100 years ago, not much of the current infrastructure existed, and the hotelier tells about the times when he traveled through the pass by horse-drawn carriage.

The whole atmosphere has a bit of a pause button feel to it. But it also has something of limitation. The mountains to the left and right of the valley, the clouds falling into it, the very limited range of movement, all of that can also be oppressive. I choose for my time the focus of the pause button, of being out of time, of feeling without a sense of time what is present. A glimpse into a future pause space that can become part of me. I like that for the two days I am here. And I am also grateful when I can knock against the hourglass and the sand begins to quietly flow again as I drive away.