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Te Anau is a lovely little town two hours south of Queenstown that is travel-famous for two things: sitting on a pretty lake of the same name, which is the largest lake in the South Island, and being the tourist stop to the fjord of Milford Sound.
We decided to make that our stop for the night before hitting Milford Sound next morning. Trusting the reliable Lonely Planet guide, we settled on their “top pick” budget accommodation – a quaint house-turned-hostel named, unassumingly, Bob & Maxine’s.
The herd of cows outside the “hostel” grazed lazily. When the car’s tires crunched the gravel in the parking area, they lifted their big heads and looked at us with mild curiosity. Bob, the owner, a charismatic middle-aged man, warmly welcomed us in. It was the country of the country, with the appropriate charm. We settled in, cooked dinner and sat by the fireplace in the huge living room full of beanbag chairs, plush rugs and couches. Then one of the other guests (only about six in total) suggested watching a movie. For the next two hours, Bourne Identity captured the attention of our little audience.
Then everyone else went to bed, but I didn’t feel like sleeping. I poured myself another glass of the tasty Pinot Noir and settled back by the fire, warm and comfortable. Taking advantage of free Wi-Fi, I Skyped with home, answered emails, and made myself concentrate on further travel plans.
Next time I noticed the time, it was 3:30 am. I was drying my socks and shoes by the flames, which were still smoldering. There was still some Pinot left in my glass. (It was a big glass.) It was very quiet. There were no cars passing by; no sounds at all emanated from the outside. Cuddled on the couch in the darkened living room, my bare feet buried in a soft fur rug, I was content as a cat. Save for the brightly lit Google page on the Macbook, it felt like the world outside did not exist.
But it did, of course, and I knew I’d have to make up my mind. I decided to travel some of the North Island, solo this time, since my travel companions would be going separate ways. I wanted to take the ferry across the Cook Straight to Wellington, then take a few days to drive up to Auckland, stopping at whatever strikes my fancy on the way. From Auckland, I’d travel to Sydney for a few days, check out Australia’s east coast with one of my travel companions, and then return home to the states.
I couldn’t have asked for better surroundings that night to think about what to do next – both with travel and with work. I knew that this harvest was the beginning of something. I knew it altered my further wine interests. I knew I’d be restless as soon as I returned. I just wasn’t sure yet how to execute it all, and didn’t want to think about it until I had to get back to home routine.
With self-imposed finality, I picked two travel dates: one for Sydney (May 26th) and one for Boston (June 8th). The credit card wobbled on top of the wine glass. My fingers hovered over the “enter” button for a second longer than necessary, and then it was settled.
Lake Te Anau
