overlanding

To call the rolling grassy hills picturesque, broken up as they are by winding fence, bits of rock, small tufts of trees, and everywhere dotted with sheep, to call these hills picturesque sells short the landscape I find myself moving through. From time to time, our train runs parallel to the road, and the colorful menage of vehicles that keep pace with our locomotive help to define the locale: pick-up trucks weighted down with the tools of the land, antique cars reinforcing the nostalgic atmosphere, and the odd motorcycle gracefully hugging the winding dirt road. Everywhere there that grass grass can grow, there are sheep, and the grass seems to grow everywhere. In broad strokes it paints the hillside, while in narrow slivers it follows the contours of clifsides and riverbeds. There are 60 million sheep in New Zealand, and I can hardly imagine an environment better suited to theses well-insulated fluffy lawnmowers.

Green fields and pastures.

Where streams and little rivers cut into the green earth, a dramatic display of elevation in the miniature scale contrasts against the great peaks and valleys of the background. All around me is beauty.

As I rode the train, the sunny day gave way to a spot of rain, which turned to snow as we reached into the higher elevations. But this bit of precipitation, and the corresponding cloud cover, would quickly vanish as we steamed our way north. I was on the Overlander, New Zealand's most famous rail line, which connects the political and cultural capital of Wellington with Auckland, the country's metropolitan hub. While both cities are on the North Island, Wellington and Auckland are situated at the southern and northern extremes respectively. This distance, coupled with the occasionally sluggish speed of the train as it steamed up the mountain track, makes the overland journey an all day affair. Now that budget airlines have taken up residence in New Zealand many are wondering if the 12-hour long Overlander service will be able to attract enough customers to stay viable. The line was already shut down some years back amidst a fury of local indignation. New Zealanders seemed adamant that the Overlander should keep running, and they asserted this by buying out all available tickets on the Overlander in the final weeks of its operation. Initially, this did not seem to be enough, and the line was closed for a number of years before resuming service. The Overlander is still on shaky ground, so I was glad for the chance to avail myself of it before services is shut down for good.

Sheep-dotted hills.

For my part, I share in the extreme disappointment felt by New Zealanders faced with the close of their historic rail line. The train ride may not be the most economical way of getting from Wellington to Auckland, or visa versa, but the experience of riding through the New Zealand countryside is so fantastically memorable that I would have likely paid for the ride even if it rain in circuit. Of the many unique amenities provided by the Overlander, one of the best is the observation car. This small, open air deck exposes brave, camera-wielding passengers to panoramic views of the countryside. Those seeking a smilar experience, with all the comforts of indoor living, can recline in the rear-facing lounge whose all-glass rear wall affords generous views of the surrounding landscape.

More greenery.

I was generally more disposed to the open air observation car, and I would alternate my time between capturing scenic vistas in the open air, and relaxing in the totally-empty front carriage. I suppose I can understand the budget crisis faced by the Overlander when an entire carriage is left without paying customers, but I certainly enjoyed having all the room to myself. Ordering a mince pie and a beer from the dining car, I took my light lunch to my private carriage (as I saw it) and enjoyed the classic Down Under meal while sunlight streamed through the train windows.

Mince pie and beer... delicious.

About four hours into the trip, we stopped at a small skiing town, all but abandoned as the summer months crept ever closer in New Zealand. It was a nice break to be able to walk around outside and explore the town, which simply choked of nostaligic wintersport appeal, but soon the train's whistle blew and I climbed back on board for the continued journey.

Tracing a river.

Every once in a while, one of the cheerful train conductors woudl get on the public address system and point out what was meant to be an interesting landmark. These addresses were made when passing along record-breaking bridge expanses, or tallest mountains, but also pointed out in our journey was New Zealand's largest coal-burning power plant, a variety of gardens the conductor found particularly appealing, and choice places to relocate if you were considering a move. I was admittedly charmed to bits that anyone could dote about the size and capacity of a coal-burning power plant, and soon I was listening for the crackle of the PA system, eager to learn another bit of Kiwi anecdote.

Nearing the end of the line.

And that is largely how I spent my day. I would take a few pictures from the observation car, retreat to my carriage to do some light reading, nibble on snacks while listening to the conductors, and generally take in the astoundingly beautiful scenery. Soon the sun began to set, and as I saw the skyline of Auckland appear on the horizon, I knew the journey would coming to a close. We pulled into Auckland right on time, and I stepped off the Overlander, the last passenger to do so, having more than enjoyed my day steaming through New Zealand.