into te anau

Driving a left-side car is not quite as difficult as it could be - it's more unnerving than anything, and a bit comical to watch us flounder, like an Amazing Race team trying to get out of a parking lot. Turning isn't even the most difficult, really - often, we could just follow the car ahead or, no joke, keep an eye on the sticky Hertz affixed to the car in front of the speedometer to "keep left." It's hard to keep track of the boundaries - we hit a curb pretty hard when pulling up to it, and as the passenger, it's my job to tell Susan when she's too far over left and nearing the shoulder or a parked car. No incidents yet, though we did spring for the extra insurance. If we paid for it, might as well use it.

And having a car, in addition to the novelty and flexibility, has already proven its worth in freedom. Tonight, our scheduled tour to see the glowworm caves here in Te Anau was cancelled on account of flooding (we've rescheduled for tomorrow, after our Milford Sound day - pray for more climate weather). Unfortunately, Te Anau is no Queenstown, or even Franz Joseph. There is essentially one street, with good restaurants but few shops (why no wool, Te Anau?) and no nighttime activities whatsoever - after we did one pass, we were done with town, really. But it was still light out, so we hopped in the car and headed for Manapouri, 20 km away.

When booking trips, we (OK, I) kept having crises of tourism - Milford Sound is what everyone comes to see; the pictures and postcards are spectacular, and the many dozen daily tour buses can't be wrong. But on the other hand is Doubtful Sound - similarly beautiful, but far more remote, less visited, harder to get to - image no sound, no other people, just majesty. Of course, it's also three times more expensive to go there than Milford. I finally decided Milford was going t be more than enough and that I needed to quit pining.

Well, Manapouri is where the first leg of the Doubtful trips leave from, so we got a little taste of it. The lake is crystal clear and cold, and on a chilly, almost-rainy night, it feels impossibly remote. The silence as we stood on the rocky beach was extraordinary - the occasional lap of the water, or droplets from the earlier rains falling from the trees behind us, but no insects, birds, man or machine. Just silence and calm. It was the best sunset possible, and we never saw the sun.

Tomorrow is when I try to drive. As I leave on that scary note, also bear in mind that I am doing so in an area where cows can finagle their way through the fence and go trotting by - and in - the road like a wayward stray. This happened on the way to Manapouri, and Susan had to do a bit of unexpected herding with the Ford Focus. So I have to: stay left, not too far left, and watch for cows. And sheep! Yeah, this could go poorly.