Gap year

Nestled on the fringe of the Northern shores of Lake Wakatipu is the tiny village of Kinloch. Home to just 8 residents, this remote idyllic location offers the perfect getaway from the hustle and bustle of Queenstown and for us a chance to save some serious dollar over the winter months by WWOOFing (Willing Workers on Organic Farms) and working at the beautiful Kinloch Lodge (YHA).

During the summer season Kinloch comes alive with trekkers, tourists and locals in search of culinary delights and a comfortable bed for the night en-route to one of New Zealand’s premiere walking routes. But with avalanche paths making popular ‘tramping’ tracks off limits to all those but the most experienced of Alpinists over the winter months; and plummeting winter temperatures keeping all but the hardiest of people away, our time at Kinloch offered a much, much quieter experience. Which in my opinion is exactly how this incredible setting is best enjoyed.

But for the majority of guests passing through, the idea that we had chosen to spend over two months without a car in a spot where we needed to cycle 9km to our post box, kayak 30 minutes to the nearest store or hitch a ride 70km drive to the nearest sizable town, made them instantly question our sanity before inevitably asking the question… “But don’t you get bored here??”

What I should have replied with was my Dads favourite line when I was growing up, which was ‘Only boring people get bored!’ But instead I’d just smile and shake my head. Because seriously, how could you ever get bored in a place that offers this…

A picture Perfect Scene

To reach the picture perfect shores of Kinloch you first need to take one of New Zealand’s most scenic drives, the Glenorchy Road to Paradise. Stretching 68 km, this river of tarmac dips and winds its way high above Wakatipu’s waters edge, offering breath-taking mountain Views around every turn and bend.

After leaving the lakeside behind, the road begins to briefly snake inland through rolling green farms to an area of natural beauty so iconic that its gnarled forests, towering snow-capped peaks and sprawling river valleys that it became the setting of much of the acclaimed Lord of The Rings series. But in terms of scenic beauty, this was only the start of things to come.

With Lake Wakatipu and the Humboldt & Richardson mountain ranges as the backdrop to our life in Kinloch, stepping outside away from the warmth of a roaring fire felt like stepping straight onto the strokes of an artistic masterpiece. Except this was no man-made scene. This was a living picture that was forever changing depending on a cauldron of factors which could create picture perfection even on the most unlikely of days.

But Kinloch’s beauty wasn’t confined to just the light of day. Sat all alone over 70kms from the bustling metropolis of Queenstown, Kinloch’s lack of light pollution gave the opportunity to spend crisp clear winter evenings in the steamy depths of a hilltop hot-tub, staring up at a blanket of twinkling stars and the mesmerising swirls of the Milky Way. A spot perfect for catching a glimpse of the illusive Southern Lights dancing across the night sky… if your lucky enough that is (we however were not – sleeping through two major solar storms!!)

A playground for adventure

Kinloch’s lakeside location and proximity to countless walking tracks, including one of the world’s top 10 trails, makes it the ultimate base for adventure. Whether we were exploring the surrounding areas on day walks, venturing out on multi day hikes, paddling our way across lakes to uninhabited islands, or running and cycling around woodland tracks and winding mountain roads, we were never short of something to do. Life at Kinloch offered the perfect opportunity to submerge ourselves in the great outdoors and reconnect to nature in the safe knowledge that a roaring log fire and plentiful meals would be the reward at the end of the day.

Work life Variety

With the hostel operating at a lower capacity over the winter months, meaning less beds to change and thankfully less toilet bowls to clean, the majority of our ‘wwoofing’ hours were put to use preparing the building and grounds for the upcoming busy summer season.

Not shy to getting my hands dirty or doing the odd bit of DIY, I opted for the jobs which kept me outdoors and active. From weeding, to clearing out gutters, chopping wood, tending to chickens, painting, collecting drift wood, cutting back meadows of lavender and gardening in the organic vegetable patch, I was never short of a task that was a world away from my previous working life as a Social Worker.

Danielle however, preferring the luring smell of freshly ground coffee beans and the comfort and warmth of a cosy café, opted where ever she could to make the 30 minute scenic drive to Kinloch’s sister business ‘The Trading Post’ café, in hopes of developing her barista skills and the art of pouring the perfect cup of coffee.

And a good bunch of people

As with most of our traveling adventures, it’s often been the people we’ve met along the way that have made our journeys truly memorable and this couldn’t have been truer for our time in Kinloch. With a notoriously quiet winter season and a growing blanket of icy cold darkness about the place, what could have felt more like an eternity in the isolated realms of Mordor or a date with a death eater instead was transformed into an inspiring experience thanks to the majority of people we had the pleasure to work alongside.

In the wwoofing team there was Chris, a Cumbrian mountain dweller who shares my slightly unnerving love for maps and all things outdoors, and who helped to develop our understanding of how to capture those perfect shots through a lens;

Nadia the blonde Beverian who made a mean hot chocolate and taught us to speak all kinds of German with a fridge and its contents as her aid – what more would you need to know?

Flo the long haired Frenchman who made late night feasting on crepes and homemade salted caramel popcorn a regular feature of wwoofing life and whose innate hatred for all things English couldn’t withstand our. witty English charm;

and more recently Michael, Chris and Laura who we had the pleasure of sharing our final nights at Kinloch with, righting the world over many cups of tea.

And then of cause there was the staff. Emma-Kate and Patrick, an exceptionally talented & creative couple perfectly suited and living proof that my work/ life ideology is more than possible. And finally Caro, an incredible woman who has defied the “norms” of society to literally brick by brick and plant by plant, independently built up her organic eco living dreams all around her.

Unfortunately we didn’t get a chance to get to know the owners of Kinloch as they were off jet setting on their own around the world adventure for the duration of our time there, but their hospitality and thanks on their return made for a perfect ending to the first chapter of our New Zealand adventure.

Yesterday began just like any other day. Sat crossed legged on the straw floor of our bamboo garden hut, we chatted trivially over peanut butter and banana sandwiches about our plans for the day, before waking ourselves up in a spine chilling icy cold shower. It was the average morning of a budget conscious backpacker in Nepal.

Leaving Claire behind to relax in the guesthouse, Danielle and I headed into the main town under a threatening sky, to rummage through the delights of Pokhara’s colourful lakeside stalls.

Inside a dark and dusty shop, stacked high with yak furs and “cashmere” shawls, we stood bartering with a Nepalese man in broken English, a shopping ritual we have quickly become accustomed to. Suddenly the lights in the store flickered on and off, plunging us almost into darkness, before a stampede like rumbling echoed through the open door. Pushing past us mid-sentence without saying a word, the formerly sale-eager owner frantically ran from the shop leaving us and his livelihood behind.

At that moment the street outside burst into a chorus of screams and shrieks from people and animals alike. Locals and tourists ran in all directions eventually forming a sea of bodies down the centre of the road. For a second I stood confused and then as the ground began to tremor beneath my feet, it hit me, this was an earthquake. It was as if my mind had been kicked into survival mode, scanning for falling debris, ground cracks, electric wires, and injured people, I grabbed Danielle by the arm and dragged us into the chaos that now swept the previously relaxed streets of Pokhara. Diving between the masses, we quickly made our way into the crowds and tried to dodge the tangled streams of power lines which now swung wildly over our heads. Our hearts pounding in our chests, we stood huddled together helplessly watching as chaos unfolded around us. It was as if time had stopped. Windows rattled violently in their already crooked wooden frames. Buildings and concrete structures swayed and spewed out bricks onto bystanders below. The unsecured contents of bottle shops tumbled and smashed creating a river of red across the paved walk ways. And then the quake hit its climax. As if standing on the rolling waves of a stormy sea, we were thrown uncontrollably from side to side. The floor visibly shifting in either direction. Random travellers gripped onto us for safety, their faces white with fear.

After what felt like an eternity, the chilling shaking began to ease. Racing back along the main street towards our quaint little guest house where we had left Claire earlier that morning, we passed local men brought to their knees, crying, unable to breathe. Families flocked around women who had passed out, unable to cope with the terror. Groups of hysterical travellers gathered together looking around dazed and in shock. It was a scene I have watched ten times over from the safety of my home in England. But this time it felt real. We were actually amongst it.

Arriving at the guesthouse we were pleased to find Claire and the Nepalese family we are staying with unharmed by the morning’s events. Cut off from TVs; internet and the English language, we sat on a derelict field through the aftershocks with fellow travellers, excitedly sharing stories, completely unaware of the scale of devastation and loss of life that had occurred around us.

Soon after the ground settled, we headed to a Thrakali kitchen in search of Dal Bhat and watched locals glued to hand held radios, but unable to understand the content or ask questions, it was from a local shop keeper that we learnt the true devastation of the quake.

A stomach turning realisation swept over us. This wasn’t a cool or fun experience anymore. This was a serious disaster. People had lost their lives. And we were truly lucky to still be here.

Hours passed before we were able to make contact with friends, family or the outside world. But eventually one by one as Wi-Fi connections were restored, the news began to filter in through the desperate calls and messages of loved ones. ‘7.9 on the Richter scale’. ‘The biggest quake the Himalayas have experience in over 80 years’. ‘Over 1000 dead, many of whom were tourists.’ ‘Avalanches and ice falls have flattened Everest Base camp’.

We were left in total shock. Guilty for feeling thankful that we were safe and well when so many others had lost their lives, and bemused by how a couple of seemingly unimportant, split-second decisions that we had made in the lead up to the quake had been the difference between me writing this blog today or being one of those unfortunate enough to be in the Everest region or Kathmandu at this horrific time.

It’s now just over 24 hours since the first earthquake hit Nepal and the death count continues to rise. We were awakened by a couple more quakes in the early hours followed by a series of tremors, in fact we’ve just had another fairly big one as I write this now. But other than reported road blocks and cut-off water supplies, Pokhara feels unharmed and relatively safe. So for the time being, despite wanting to help with the humanitarian aid in Kathmandu, this is where we will stay.

Our thoughts and prayers go out to all of those who have lost their lives or loved ones in this saddening disaster, to those selflessly risking their own lives to help others, and hoping for the safe return of all those who are lost xxx

Backpacks, Boots & Wanderlust

A winter “WWOOFing” next to Paradise: An unexpected Journey

An earthquake in Nepal: A shaky start to our Backpacking Adventure