The turning point

One of my favorite sites has been Television Without Pity, and one of my favorite recappers was Miss Alli (there have been a lot of changes now). Anyway, she would do the recaps of The Amazing Race, and she coined a term: Killer Fatigue Syndrome. She would use it to explain how people who had been good racers and good human beings would just start falling apart at some point. We may have been feeling this a little bit.

There had been many good moments on the trip, but there had also been disappointments, and frustrations, and things that went wrong. Certainly, there was some accumulated tiredness. After all, we had planned a very ambitious trip, being gone for a month and having activities or travel on every day, but when you are flying halfway around the world, you want to make the most of it.

Even though we had loved Tasmania, the stolen wallet made for some problems, and then after leaving there we had our issues with Southern Australia, and Julie and Maria were already talking about changing the flights and going home early. We made it out of Melbourne, and we had some good times on the North Island, but there was also getting soaked and stung in the Bay of Islands, being left behind by shuttles and getting catcalls in Auckland, and getting soaked again (differently) in Rotorua. Things were just starting to build up, and they were really skeptical about whether the South Island would be worth it.

That day did not start out auspiciously. There was a surprise airport fee, then a new change in the flight itinerary where we had to go through Christchurch before reaching Queenstown, and due to a grouchy old lady who seemed to have an issue with her seat on the already crowded plane, we arrived in Queenstown quite late.

Still, this was going to be the stop where we were met by a personal guide holding a sign with our name, and then we had rides and lodging all set. We got of the plane, and there was no sign saying Harris. We went to baggage claim--still nothing. The airport emptied out, and there was no one there.

I had been mostly responsible for creating the entire trip itinerary, so any time my sisters were not having a good time I felt guilty, and possibly hurt. Now they were really irritated, sure we were stood up, and would we really feel safe leaving the airport with some stranger anyway? It was not looking good.

It started to get worse as I realized that the paper I had saved only had email and web information, but no phone number. I had not really been thinking about phoning, because we didn't have cell phone access, and after all, he was going to be there, but there are times when it can be important.

I asked at the desk of another tourism company, and they had never heard of Back to Nature Tours. We asked for a phone book, and they didn't have one, but we found one somewhere else. There was no number. (I think the issue here is that we were in Queenstown and Back to Nature is based in Dunedin.)

Fortunately, they felt bad for us, and the started up the computer so we could get the phone number off of the web site. Armed with a small amount of change, I went to the pay phone, and I got a hold of someone. Chris was in town, but because the flight was late he had gone somewhere, and she wasn't sure, but she gave me his cell phone number. I called that, and it was busy, but I was sure the office was calling him, and if I just waited and tried again, he would answer. I paused, dialed again, and before it could connect a man walked around the corner and asked if I was Gina. Saved! Chris had been told that the flight was canceled, so was really unsure what to do, but he had been in the airport.

Even though I considered this to be a good development, I was worried about my sisters. They were in a foul mood, had just been talking about not trusting the guy anyway, and really wanted to go home. As we loaded into his rental, I was very concerned about how things might go. I was missing one completely important factor though. Chris was a delightful male with a Scottish accent.

Chris has lived in Louisiana, Scotland, and New Zealand, but listening to him it is the Scottish element that you notice, and indeed, all of his family is there. Our captain at the Great Barrier Reef, Gordo, was also Scottish, but at the time we were just thinking about how wonderful guys who flirt can be, and not giving enough credit to the Scottishness, which is extra wonderful.

My sisters were completely won over. Not only was there the accent, but Chris was smart, with a sly sense of humor, had a great knowledge of the area, and could converse well. He was a nice guy too, and I don't think that was just because he was paid to be so.

Therefore, even though we encountered more rain, cold showers, long restaurant waits, getting lost, and falling in mud (all or most of which shall be recounted), they never complained to him, or even very much to me, and it was a wonderful last leg of our trip.

I must give some credit to the South Island itself. It is such a beautiful place, and even the air you breathe is wonderful. I guess it is just very pristine. Everywhere we looked was so beautiful. There were mountains everywhere, and water. We drove from the airport to Te Anau that night, and halfway there we had Lake Wakitipu on one side, which seemed to go on forever, and then just as it ended Lake Te Anau popped up on the other side. Plus there were lambs everywhere, running around wagging their tails. So, really, we should have been able to enjoy it with or without Chris.

That being said, it does not hurt to have an intelligent, humorous guide along, and that goes double if he's Scottish.