Hardwired

Martin, my pilot, and me, ready to take off at Omarama

The day dawned clear and crisp. Jo hugged me goodbye and said I would do fine. Not to worry. “These guys fly all the time and no mishaps.”

I won’t say I was looking forward to my first glider ride, but I will confess to wondering why I had agreed to do it in the first place. Perhaps to prove something to myself: that the cramped cockpit wouldn’t make me feel claustrophobic, that maybe in a glider I would overcome my fear of heights, or that the turbulence would be tolerable and I would learn a bumpy ride could be fun. Who knows? In essence it seemed I had to prove I could do it without freaking out. After all, you don’t fly solo. You have a qualified pilot to steer the glider, but there are only two people in it—you and the pilot. Does that make for better odds? I think not.

I was “handling” the entire idea until Martin, my pilot, said he wanted to go over the safety instructions. Okay. No problem. But when he mentioned how to put on my parachute, my mind froze. Parachute? Why would I need a parachute? A precaution! Still, I went along with the whole thing. “Okay, let’s go,” said Martin. What? Already!

As I followed him out to the glider, his last words from the safety briefing echoed in my ears. “If we need to, when I say jump, jump! Don’t hesitate.” He helped me into the cockpit, snapped on my seatbelt, and secured my parachute. My thought before the prop plane soared into the air, our glider attached to it by a single cable, was, “It’s going to be okay.”

Not long into the flight I heard a loud bang. I tensed, hesitant to ask Martin about it, but when I did, he said, “That’s the cable disconnect. We’re free.” Then I saw the prop plane fly away from us and back to the airfield at Omarama.

Gliding is a misnomer. You spend most of the time searching for clouds and riding their thermals in tight circles to keep the glider within the thermal to gain altitude before gliding to the next thermal. This is known as—you got it—“thermaling.”

I was trying to concentrate on the scenery and ignore how close we were flying to the mountain peaks when Martin said, “There’s your husband.” And sure enough, David and his pilot, Phil, went soaring by just below us, still attached to the prop plane.

The views soon commanded my attention and I turned to snapping photos. We soared over Lake Benmore and skirted the ridges of Mount Sutton. Being in the air was more fun than I had anticipated, and without the big fear factor I had expected.

Actually, the best part of the flight was when we landed—not because I was glad to be on the ground, but because I loved the long glide from the last thermal to the landing field. Despite all of my concerns, it was a wonderful experience and I have a piece of memorabilia to treasure—a certificate of achievement.

I had reserved a thirty-minute flight and David a sixty-minute one, and because I went up first, I was on the ground waiting for him when his glider landed. He introduced me to his pilot and I had to stifle a chuckle. His name was Phil Plane.

For dinner, we returned to Poppies, ready for another delicious meal. We ordered the fish of the day, grilled to perfection, and once again we had dessert back at Matuka Lodge, a slice of fruitcake and a glass of port to sip under a clear, star-studded sky.

All photos were shot with either an iPhone or a Canon SX700HS. Digital SLRs weren’t permitted in the cockpit, and please excuse the glass glare.

The Church of the Good Shepherd on Lake Tekapo, South Island, New Zealand

After breakfast, we packed our daypacks and set out for a day-long sightseeing tour of three lakes—Lake Pukaki, Lake Tekapo, and Lake Ohau. Our plan was to drive to Lake Tekapo first and backtrack to Ohau, which was near our lodge. The three lakes are parallel alpine lakes that run north to south along the northern edge of the Mackenzie Basin.

Lake Tekapo gets its intense milky turquoise color from rock flour, rock that is ground to a fine dust at the headwaters of the surroundings glaciers. The rock flour is suspended in the water and it is what causes the magnificent turquoise blue. To read more about rock flour, check out the links at the end of this blog post.

On the south shore of Lake Tekapo is an iconic stone landmark—the interdenominational Church of the Good Shepherd. Although we arrived early to purposely avoid the tourist crowds, a busload of them were already snapping selfies outside and inside the church, but I did my best to work around them to shoot the photos I wanted.

Before heading back to our rental car, we stopped at Aotea Gifts and I treated myself to a Merino wool poncho, made in New Zealand of course.

From Tekapo, we took State Highway 8, the scenic route to Lake Pukaki. Ever since our 2014 trip, when we hadn’t allowed time to stop at the lake, I couldn’t wait to return to the region so I could snap a few memories. Now was my chance, and I was excited about the opportunity. I love being outdoors, and who wouldn’t in a country like New Zealand?

Last on our lake list was Lake Ohau. On our way there, we had lunch at High Country Salmon and then continued on after taking a few photos of the salmon hatcheries.

We skipped Lake Benmore, as we would see it by air the next day, for we had booked a glider ride in Omarama. Before our trip Down Under in 2014, a friend who was an American Airlines pilot insisted we visit Glide Omarama. We fit the stop into our original plans but didn’t have time for a glider ride. Now we were back and ready to take our first-ever ride.

Back at Matuka Lodge, we fixed a pot of tea and sat on the deck overlooking the pond, soaking up the sun and watching the ducks skim the surface.

For dinner, we had chosen Poppies Cafe in nearby Twizel, a five-minute drive from the lodge. We wanted a quiet, casual dinner, and from the unassuming-looking photos on their website, we had no expectations of the restaurant. So we were pleasantly surprised. We both ordered the Canterbury Lamb Rack, which was very good and the portions large. We had dessert back at the lodge.

We poured ourselves a port and sipped it in the library while we nibbled a slice of Jo’s excellent fruitcake. I’ve never understood how anyone can detest fruitcake. Every Christmas, my paternal grandmother made a much-sought-after fruitcake everyone clamored for. She found herself making dozens and mailing them as gifts. I followed in her footsteps, and although I look forward to making her rich, dark, moist cake, most of all I look forward to eating it. Now I have Jo’s recipe and can add it to my baking list during the holidays.

Rock flour: https://www.seatoskyair.ca/lakes/glacial-flour-natures-magical-ingredient

View from Matuka Lodge

From Christchurch, we drove to Twizel, a good three-and-a-half-hour drive, but a scenic one. The town of Twizel sprang up in 1968 to house construction workers employed by the Upper Waitaki hydroelectric project.

During our 2014 visit we had bypassed Lake Pukaki and Lake Tekapo, which are in the Twizel area, as we were en route to Aoraki/Mount Cook to stay at the Hermitage Hotel. We simply hadn’t set aside enough time to visit the lakes, and after one look at them with their pristine, vibrant turquoise waters, I was disappointed by the oversight, so on this trip they were number one on my must-see list.

We had booked a stay at the Lakestone Lodge on Lake Pukaki, but a few months after David reserved the room, we were informed that the lodge would be closed for a remodel. We thought this odd, as it was the high season for tourism. Whether they indeed were closed for remodeling—we heard rumors to the contrary—their referral, Matuka Lodge, turned out to be a wonderful second choice. The rumors? A film crew was in town and they had booked the entire Lakestone Lodge.

Matuka Lodge is owned by Jo and Peter, our gracious hosts. The weekend we stayed it was Jo’s birthday and they had elected not to book additional guests, which meant we had the entire lodge to ourselves. Pure bliss. The rooms overlook a large duck pond, but the crowning glory in this vista is the beauty of the Southern Alps.

After the long drive from Christchurch to the Matuka Lodge, I wondered where David found the energy to unpack, change clothes, and drive another hour to the Hermitage Hotel for dinner. We had eaten in the Panorama Room on our last visit, and the experience had been memorable. We hoped for a repeat experience, even though we were told the Panorama Room was closed for remodeling but had a new location inside the hotel.

Aoraki/Mount Cook on the drive to the Hermitage

Their temporary location was a disappointment: noisy and nothing like our quiet dining experience back in 2014. Besides the lack of ambience in the current location and the meal itself—good but not excellent as we had previous enjoyed— all of the smaller tables backed onto a large party of raucous tourists. All forty-five of them.

The only exceptional part of the evening? Our table faced Mount Cook, and the view was indeed spectacular. When the sun set over the summit, more than half of the forty-five noisy guests rushed to the windows to snap photographs, jostling the diners at the smaller tables and gushing loudly about the view. Hopefully, the remodel will be done soon and the Panorama Room will return to its original location inside the Hermitage.