 |
| McClean Falls of the Catlins. |
Every natural place in New Zealand looks like it fell out of a
prehistoric time machine. There were times when I was walking alone in the
woods (on a very well marked trail, mother) and I was worried that a
velociraptor was going to rip out of the woods and take me into the deep. That
fear was not entirely founded, however, because I could not imagine how
anything larger than a dog could actually make it’s way through the thick
understory of every single forest that I tramped. All of the above and more
could be said about the Southland.
I never planned on making it to the Southland. I intended to get to
Queenstown and then loop back North, but the travel gods blew me some
unexpected magic. I ended up driving South with two fantastic gentlemen from my
home country. They were headed to the Catlins, so I was headed to the Catlins.
Up until that point on my trip, I had never heard of the Catlins. I also
discovered that not many other people in the WORLD had ever heard of the
Catlins. This left me with absolutely zero expectations.
What are the Catlins, I asked Google as soon as I found internet
connection? “A dramatic and beautiful part of New Zealand.” and “A rugged,
sparsely populated area, the Catlins features a scenic coastal landscape and
dense, temperate rainforest.” and that’s about it. These descriptions could
satisfy almost anywhere on any of the coasts of New Zealand. So once again, I
had to ask myself, what are the Catlins?
A place where you can stumble into a bakery after driving 200 km, only
to find Twinkies and Hostess Cupcakes for breakfast.
A place where you wake up in your tent and it’s in the middle of a rain
puddle (every morning).
A place where you have to fill up on gas in Invercargill or you will
never make it out alive. Only the people who live in Invercargill know that
Invercargill is a real (important) place.
A place where you can stop on the side of the road at any time and
marvel at the Romanticness of the ocean and the jutting ocean cliffs. The rain
never stops, the wind never stops, and the clouds always look ravenous.
A place where the spray from the Tasman Sea will hit you, even though
you’re standing on the top of a cliff.
A place where there are so many waterfalls of so many different shapes
and sizes that you almost (but not
quite) become bored of waterfalls.
A place where a brown smush on the horizon is actually a lush,
prehistoric canopy of dripping moss and roots that wrap around each other to
form tree trunks so thick that other trees grow on them.
A place where yellow penguins sneak out of the surf and everyone
becomes quiet because no one can imagine those little creatures navigating the
vicious rocks and pounding tide.
A place where you watch the tide closely, so you don’t get trapped in
the ocean when you were just trying to touch the giant kelp (that was so large
and thick that Maori used it as fabric).
A place where a hostel is somebody’s house, and somebody’s house is
actually a sheep farm, and that sheep farm lets you pet the baby sheep.
A place where you can see dinosaurs. (Google Tuatara)
A place where you can reach the Southernmost tip of New Zealand, and
you’re still only halfway to Antarctica.
 |
| Slope Point. Housed by the Catlins, this is the southernmost point of New Zealand. Note how there is a relative similarity between the distance to the equator and the distance to the South Pole. |
 |
| A rare yellow penguin in Curio Bay (a petrified old growth forest) in the Catlins. The waves were small that day. |