Romantic Pure in Monowai in Fjordland

On the way to Monowai I was picked up by a man who was heading to Queenstown and wanted to hike for 3 days. As soon as I got out of his car, a man shouted at me if I wanted to ride to Gore. He was a butcher and his business slaughtered 200 cows every day. He was also a deer hunter and knew how to attract and hunt them even during the day. He took me to a friend's house for coffee, who used to be a rodeo rider and now has a huge deer farm and sells the meat as sausages to China. He had similarities to Steve-O from Jackass and when he talked about rodeo and his countless injuries, my suspicion that it was actually him intensified. From Gore I was picked up by an old mechanic. As I walked a few meters and wanted to find a quieter spot to hitchhike, a bus suddenly stopped and a younger man jumped out of the bus and asked if I wanted to join. I ended up between a young group of sheep shearers who had just finished work and were going home. Later, a couple who wanted to go hiking for a few days took me a few meters and suddenly I found myself on a road where a car drove by every 15 minutes. So I decided to walk... and I walked and walked and was already at the point where I had to pitch my tent somewhere on the side of the road. But then an elderly lady with her little dog stopped and took me to a busier road. There, 2 French women stopped, who rented a campervan for 6 weeks for $7000 and dropped me off at the intersection to Monowai, where it was only 7km to my new accommodation. I walked the rest of the way, so that I arrived in my cabin just in time for darkness to fall, where I would spend the next few days alone.

Craig, the children's book author and musician, and as I later found out, composer of New Zealand's most famous children's song called "Wonky Donkey", allowed me to live alone in his cabin and gave me a small to-do list that I should work through. I was supposed to plant some trees, trim hedges, weed, and tidy up 2 corners in the house. I tried to complete the work as quickly as possible so that I could explore the surroundings. Monowai is a small village or settlement, right at the foot of Fjordland. So I used every free minute to get into the mountains or to a river for fishing.

My first hike took me to Eldrig Peak. The actual ascent was short but steep, but to get there I had already walked a good 10km. The weather at the top changed between sun, rain, and snow. And every little effort and adversity was rewarded with a wonderful view. On the tour, I met a man equipped with a large backpack, tent, provisions, GPS device, and gaiters, who was creating a route on his map app. In the New Zealand Fjordland, it is different from the European Alps, for example, where there is a large network of hiking trails and possible tours. The number of "developed" paths is very manageable, and if you want to climb different mountains here, you have to find your own way somehow. I was itching to do so, but quickly remembered my flat-lander Tyrolean existence and mostly stuck to the signposted trails.

Next, I took a hike past Lake Monowai to Green Lake and in a circular route back to my cabin. On this 30km hike from Lake Monowai, I didn't encounter a single soul and was left alone with the sometimes magical silence and wild landscape. The path led through countless streams and marshes, and I had to balance artistically on my very water-permeable shoes. Eventually, I emerged from the jungle and the Green Lake suddenly appeared before me. I treated myself to a refreshment in the icy cold and crystal clear water. The further path led me through short forest passages and large green areas with tall grass, which made it difficult to find the path. After about 30km, I returned to a gravel road, which was supposed to lead me to my cabin. But there were still about 16km left, and my legs were starting to feel heavy, and the sun was already setting in the west. And so, fortunately, an older couple took me on the back of their pickup truck, which must have transported sheep for the past years, for the last 13km to my cabin. After my arrival, we briefly chatted, and it turned out that the two of them recently sold their farm after over 40 years of shepherding and were now taking a longer vacation and exploring their own island for the first time in decades. They had no idea where they would end up or how long they would be on the road. And while the man proudly told me about the experiences and new impressions of the last few days, the woman also told me where they might still go. After the encounter, I briefly tried to put myself in their shoes and imagine what it would be like to explore the country completely free of all obligations and with money in your pocket after over 40 years of the same routines and hard work... It must have felt like pure happiness for them. In any case, I was extremely grateful to them, as I still had the evening hours for fishing.

So I quickly packed Craig's fishing gear together and sneaked through private property to the nearby Borland River. The river was once again pure romance: with crystal clear water, a rocky riverbed with tall cliffs, surrounded by wild and dense jungle, it wound its way down the valley during sunset. I walked upstream with rubber boots on my feet, and whenever there was a deeper current or deeper spots due to natural blockages, I pulled the spinner through the water. Then my heart rate spiked: the line suddenly twitched, the reel's brake was released, and there was a strong resistance when reeling in. A short time later, I had one of the thickest brown trout that had ever taken my bait in my hand. I freed it from the hook, gave it a farewell kiss, and released it back into the water. Filled with adrenaline, I continued upstream, and a short time later, the scenario repeated itself. This time it was a slightly slimmer but equally long rainbow trout. I also released it back into the water, and it made me realize how cruel it actually is to take these poor creatures out of their everyday paradise. However, as much pity as I felt for the fish and as much irrationality I felt for the act, it also brought a lot of excitement and fun. It's strange how it leads to such ambivalence in the mind and heart and how I come up with justifications in my head for further fishing and thus soothing my own conscience. Well, after a great stroke of luck, I realized that it was slowly time to turn around. Since I wouldn't have made it downstream before darkness fell, I decided to fight my way through a roughly 200m wide wooded-bushy strip. And the forest was dotted with tracks and trails from deer. So I navigated in the direction of the sky with my mobile phone and always tried to choose the trail that was the most passable and would lead me to a field and the man-made path behind it as quickly as possible. Blissfully victorious in the battle against the undergrowth, I arrived at the field. It was about 1km to the path. I came to a spot where there was still a narrow strip of forest between the edge of the path and the edge of the field. And at the corner of the forest strip, I saw a pickup truck and suspected that they were hunters. Since I had to cross the field, which was naturally fenced and privately owned, and didn't want to disturb the potential hunters in their practice, I decided to return to the other side of the forest strip. As I almost reached the path, a car suddenly drove along the path in the twilight and shortly afterward, reversed and drove back up to where they had a view of the field I had just entered. Since I was on private property and there was sparse vegetation next to me, I reflexively decided, also to avoid unpleasant confrontations, to hide behind it. Feelings like in Coromandel or with Ronnek in St. Peter arose in me. The car then stopped right at the gap and directed its headlights in my direction. I tried to hide a bit more, but even without my peanut butter disguise, the narrow trees and sparse grass wouldn't have been able to completely conceal me. So I gave in and walked towards the high beam of the car. As I got closer, I saw the outline of a man, who was leaning against a pole next to his car and waiting for me, asking what I was doing here. I stammered that I was just wandering around and exploring the area. He asked me if I was hunting. He thought I was a poacher, which flattered me a bit in retrospect, since I didn't have any equipment with me that could have endangered a wild boar or deer. I didn't ask further how he imagined that I would go deer hunting, but bluntly denied his question and thus convinced him that I was just an disobedient and foolish German tourist. He told me that they hunted where I came out of the bushes, for which I sincerely apologized, and he and the 3 other hunters sitting in the car then continued on and allowed me passage on the path.

On the last day, I took a little walk through the village when Peter suddenly crossed my path. He has been living in this picturesque town for over 50 years and was visiting his two elderly horses in the paddock, bringing them each a carrot as the highlight of their day. He had an incredible positive aura, and I admired him for his lightness and deep calmness. We talked about wars, atomic bombs, and the misdeeds that the DOC, which is responsible for nature conservation in the country, caused in the region. The silence at the Green Lake hike was their fault when they sprayed toxins over the forests with helicopters to regulate the populations of mice and rats. What happened was that they killed all small animals, including birds. They also fed deer with carrots at a certain spot for 3 days until they poisoned all the carrots on the 4th day, thus killing several thousand deer. With every incomprehension and madness that we highlighted, he had an incomprehensible but heartfelt smile on his lips. Even though it was just a short encounter, I felt like I had met one of the happiest people on this planet, who seemed completely unfazed by anything. It was funny when we met the hunter from 2 days before on the way to the horses. Since I couldn't see his face properly because of the high beams, he recognized me and asked if I had made it home safely. He told me that he and his buddies had shot 2 deer that evening.