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On the Varieties of Nature

a travel blog by Alex Kent


Obadiah Walker, writing in the 17th century, recommended travel abroad to:

"...learn the Languages, Laws, Customes, and understand the Government, and interest of other Nations... To produce confident and comely behaviour, to perfect conversation... To satisfy [the] mind[s] with the actual beholding such rarities, wonders, and curiosities as are heard or read of. It brings us out of the company of our Relations, acquaintances and familiars; making us stand upon our guard, which renders the mind more diligent, vigorous, brisk, and spiritfull. It shews us, by consideration of so many various humours, and manners, to look into and form our own; and by tasting perpetually the varieties of Nature, to be able to judge of what is good and better."

He also praised its ability to break the habit of laziness, disentangle the traveller from "unfitting companions" and reform the vice of drinking. Hmm.

So, I’m setting off around the world in search of rarities and wonders. Much to Obadiah’s doubtless disgust however, I fully intend to laze, drink, and maybe even make some ‘unfit’ friends along the way. Hopefully it won’t ruin my chances of returning more learned, comely and formed in my humours. After all, with the prospect of ‘perpetually tasting Nature’s varieties’, who could resist?!


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Fox Glacier (mint anyone?)

Franz Josef Glacier, New Zealand


Arriving amid more sheets of driving rain and clad in jeans and rain jackets, we huddled in our prospective tour operator's cafe and debated the appeal of trekking for several hours on a large block of ice in the pouring rain and chilly wind with shit visibility and another long drive ahead. Ultimately we decided we shoudl really man up and that we would probably regret it if we didn't go. How often do you get to walk on a glacier after all?

An excellent, excellent decision.

Luke, our guide, a caricature of the youthful ourdoorsy kiwi: flowing golden locks; matching golden tan; calves the size of tree trunks; leather walkabout hat sealed to his head; and boundless enthusiasm, kitted us out with leather boots and waterproof trousers and raved about the glacier when viewed in these conditions; the normally glaring sunlight which turns the ice a blinding white is absent, allowing the beautiful seams of denser ice to glow blue. the run-off, instead of being a small stream, was covering a massive area of the valley floor, adn the air resounded with the thunderour groans of huge blocks of ice being rolled along in its flow. An already enormous cave, never there under normal conditions, was growing on the face of the glacier, and an excitable Luke practically pranced with the anticipation of seeing massive sheets of ice fall from the cave ceiling to the river floor. meanwhile we trekked up hundreds of steps carved from the valley side through the rainforest adn scrambled over treacherous rocky crossings throgh torrents of water until we eventually emerged at the edge of the glacier and strapped on our crampons to begin the ascent. An immediate drop on the ambient temperature saw the whole group scrambling to remove waterproof layers and don warm ones without letting too much rain in, while we all practiced our stamping technique - essential if you didn't want to join once member of our party, on your arse at the bottom of a crevasse feeling pretty bloody silly. As we climbed up ot the top of the ice flow I couldn't help feeling rahter intrepid - a sensation massively hightened by the inclement weather which made everything slightly uncomfortable and challenging, and probably improved the experience. The gritty view through sheeting rain to ice, rocks and river as made more peculiar by its backdrop of luscious temperate forest, and without exception we were thrilled to be up there. By the time we started the trek back we were drenched, andwalking in captive puddles - the knackered leather boots doing a good impression of a one-way valve, but everyone was far too elated to care. Throwing caution to the wind we waded knee deep through the streams, and when one was deemed too dangerous to cross we diverted downhill and reverted to childhood as we scrambled down muddy banks, muscled through trees and bushes, and squelched along ankle deep bogs. Just as we emerged at the valley floor, muddy, soaked and very pleased wiht ourselves, an ENORMOUS chunk of ice peeled off the cave roof and crashed dramatically to the floor, splashing water metres into the air and sending Luke into raptures of delight.

Back in town we dried off, warmed up and wolfed down a much needed pub meal and decided to put more miles behind us on our journey south.

permalink written by  Alex Kent on December 12, 2007 from Franz Josef Glacier, New Zealand
from the travel blog: On the Varieties of Nature
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Where Have All The People Gone?

Wanaka, New Zealand, New Zealand


Amdittedly it was already dark when we set off, but it wasn't particularly late, and we were driving down the main north-south highway on the south island, so it was with increasing disbelief that we eventually counted a total of 9 cars going in the opposite direction ... in over FOUR HOURS of driving!! That's New Zealand for you. To my continuing regret (it always makes me shudder) I managed to kill a possum out for an evening stroll, but luckily was able to safely avoid another and so, dazed and exhausted after a huge day of driving, trekking and more driving, we reached the Lakeside town of Wanaka at about midnight. Having been out of Mobile range for nigh on two days, we hadn't got around to pre-booking any accommodation which rapidly changed from an "Oh never mind" situation to an "Oh shit" one as we ricocheted from one "No vacancy" to another, via a couple of "F*** off it's midnights"s along the way. Eventually the boys found a hotel foyer with comfortable sofas and resolved to sleep there while I took the passenger seat of the car, but a short while after I had got comfortable they re-appeared having located the night manager and negotiated a triple room.

Wanaka had a lot of autumnal potential - a pretty tree-ringed lake backing on to more mountains, but the following morning dawned grey and drizzly so we pressed on to Stuart Landsborough's Puzzling World, where we spent a fun few hours negotiating mazes; marvelling at all sorts of brilliant optical illusions; and giving ourselves brain ache trying to solve myriad puzzles and games. It was all too much for Alan, who fell asleep in the cafe and started snoring. Comedy.

permalink written by  Alex Kent on December 12, 2007 from Wanaka, New Zealand, New Zealand
from the travel blog: On the Varieties of Nature
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Point Break

Fernhill, New Zealand


From the world of puzzles to the world of outdoor adventures by day and partying by night. Queenstown had been much hyped as most people's (travellers') favourite Kiwi town and I, not being a huge fan of the 'travelling for aprtying' school of thought, was prepared to be disappointed. Not at all. Queenstown's beautiful waterside setting, perched beneath rolling green hills and, more distantly, the moutnian range charmingly called 'The Remarkables' is fantastic - a sheltered harbour mirrors tree-lined beaches and the town buzzes with good shops, fun bars, travellers and locals high on adrenaline and life, and the best burger joint you could wish for. Fergburger, we salute you.

It simply wouldn't do to stay in Queenstown and not throw yourself off or out of something from a great high, and having been denied all ather skydiving opportunities to date by persistent bad weather, I was determined that now was my time. You can imagine my delight therefore, or perhaps you can't, when i awoke one morning to clear blue skies and sunshine and ran downstairs to the booking office to make arrangements. Alan was less delighted when I roused him from his hungover snoring to tell him that in 3 hours he would be throwing himself out of a plane at 12,000ft. Mark opted to do the Nevis bungee jump instead - from 134m giving 8.5 seconds of freefall - the appeal fo which I will never understand. Perhaps it is the sheer distance from the ground at the moment of the jump which makes the risk inconceivable, but for some reason it never for a second occurred to me to be afraid, while Alan was a nervous wreck, desperately trying to find someone else in our group who would empathise. We suited up in devilishly attractive all in one jump suits, goggles and leather flying cap and met our jump partners (instructors who are doing on average 10 jumps a day!) and walked out to our little plane with the obligatory fanged shark painted on its nose cone. Squeezed less gracefully than sardines into its tiny interior, Alan grimaced with every slight turbulance while I excitedly chatted to Scott, my instructor, as he strapped me to his harness. Admiring the gorgeous view, we quickly reached altitude and the pilot nodded his ok to the first party. Now this guy was a qualified solo jumper who had several hundred 'pleasure jumps' under his belt, and looked vastly underdressed in a hoodie and shorts, his tiny backpack chute barely big enough to hold a picnic and no comedy leather skull cap or goggles to his name. To Alan's absolute horror he flung open the door and unceremoniously hurled himself out, leaving a glaringly dramatic space where there had once been a person. Al, of course, was next! Shooting a final look of desperation in my direction and, I suspect, muttering a stream of expletives and blasphemies, he manoevered himself to the door ....

Last to jump, I lowered myself out of the plane door until I was dangling over the void, held in place only by my instructor still sitting on the rim, and had a few breathtaking seconds to take in the rush of air and the immediacy of the enormous view before we rocked forwards, my stomach flew to my mouth and quickly returned, and I was screaming with amazed excitement and pleasure, "Oh my god this is SOOO beautiful!" You are so far away from the ground that you have no real impression of falling as it doesn't appear ro get any closer, but the sheer speed of free fall buffets you like a giant wind machine and drowns out all other noise and, as if supported by the air rather than falling through it, I grinned for 45 seconds and marvelled at the scenery.

After what felt simultaneously like a spit-second and an eternity, my instructor tapped me on the shoulder and pulled the shoot, and just like that all noise was silenced. Gradually I became aware of the canopy billowing gently above me and as we glided (glid/glode?) our way earthwards Scott pointed out various features of the landscape and threw in a few dramatic spirals just for fun. As I picked out the finve canopies below me, the landing site came in to focus, the sound of birds drifted our way and the heat of the day enveloped me. All too soon we were landing, but did so in style, with both of us joggin got a standing halt, earning a round of applause from the other instructors. Awesome.

To be continued ....

permalink written by  Alex Kent on December 13, 2007 from Fernhill, New Zealand
from the travel blog: On the Varieties of Nature
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