Rotorua To Queenstown

Before we left Rotorua Wednesday, we made a goodbye pic with our good-natured, informative North Island driver Selwyn. Over the hours and hours spent together on the bus, Selwyn drove competently, provided amusing and informative tidbits, and one day tolerated a punchy tired group singing a song from every US state, mostly out of tune and accompanied by raucous laughter. (I mean, can you name a song about Connecticut?)  

This genuine kiwi gave us all small gifts to welcome us aboard and renamed his coach the Love Bus after Marc and Leah's engagement, arriving the following day with a bottle of wine for them. We will miss him!

Thank you, Selwyn

We lifted off from Rotorua at noon and made a quick stop in Christchurch before flying the hour southwest to Queenstown, everything unspooling smooth as silk.

People make the difference, on the ground or in the air. This charming Air NZ flight attendant asked if I'd like him to take my camera up to the cockpit to make a few pix. Absolutely.

The Christchurch to Queenstown leg is jaw-dropping. My pictures are marginal, but you get the idea. Flying over the Southern Alps, your heart just lands in your throat.

Aoraki/Mt Cook, like a pyramid on the horizon

We arrived in time for sunset over Queenstown, checked in, and went out and ate (more) fish. Here's the back of the hotel room door.  I'm eyeing a parson's table that doesn't look big enough for both Art and me. That is not a joke. Tomorrow we depart early for Milford Sound, taking a new small coach around the lake and back into Fiordland National Park. Just anticipating it makes me smile.