Self-Guided Driving Trips Around New Zealand

Having just returned from one on of the most memorable trips I’ve ever experienced, an 8-night journey with Abercrombie & Kent to Botswana, I get the added bonus of reliving cherished moments this week on my blog. Botswana was my 5th safari and by far the most diverse when it comes to terrain. Much of the trip revolved around water, which was a welcome relief to often jarring game drives on rutted roads. As soon as we arrived in the Okavango Delta, we were greeted with roads that were washed-out with water. That wasn’t a problem with our A&K guide, Kebby, who would drive though the streams like he was atop a duck boat, not a Toyota Land Cruiser. The maze of waterways dotted with palm trees on our first two nights at Stanley’s Camp reminded me of the Everglades. That is, until you spot a leopard up a tree or a giraffe in the distance. At the recently renovated Chief’s Camp (which I’ll report on later this week), we enjoyed meals while watching elephants and baboons cool off at the nearby watering hole.
Drive somewhere to go for a run or bike ride and you are quickly aware of the problem of what to do with your keys. Do you really want them jiggling in your pocket, worried about the keys falling out somewhere along the way? That’s exactly the dilemma facing Kim Overton when she went for a jog one day. But instead of just dealing with it, she invented the SPIbelt, a belt that wraps easily around your waist that contains a small pocket. I love it and have quickly used it on many of my outdoor excursions. It’s so light and non-invasive that I quickly forget it’s there. The fabric of the pocket is thin enough that I can also throw in an iPod and change the songs easily. I’ve also used the pocket to carry my Flip camera when traveling instead of having to hold it all day.
Known as the BG, this 14-mile (one-way) trail is the top destination for cyclists in a city that’s pegged by biking magazines as the best metropolitan area to ride in the nation. Skirting the blue waters of Lake Washington, the BG slices through residential neighborhoods just outside of downtown. At its northern end, you can hook up with the Sammamish River Trail that leads to the wide-open horse pastures of Redmond. But many bikers never make it that far, happy to stop for lunch at the Redhook Brewery in Woodinville.
Those close-up shots of leopards, lions, hippos, rhinos, elephants, and giraffes might have impressed my Facebook friends these past two weeks, but 5 years from now I won’t remember any of those animals. Okay, maybe that one rhino in the Okavango Delta we surprised who ran off in a blur. What I’ll remember is that marimba band playing solely for our group as we arrived for lunch at the Victoria Falls Hotel; my guide, Kebby, clearly enunciating the name of that colorful bird, the lilac-breasted roller; waking up to French-pressed coffee at Stanley’s; all those glorious sunsets, especially the one overlooking the Zambezi on the deck of Sussi and Chuma; heading back to our room at Chobe Chilwero after a long day of game drives and boat rides to find that a bubble bath had been prepared; jumping with young children in hand at the Zambian village of Nakatindi; and all those wonderful stories we shared at dinner with our new friends. These are the special moments I’ll remember and inevitably the driving force behind another trip to Africa some 2 years from now when thoughts about taking that long international flight have faded. I yearn to return to that continent and its people more than any other destination. It’s my spiritual retreat where I feel most alive. I want to thank Abercrombie and Kent for the opportunity this time.
Last week, I spent a couple nights on the southern Maine coastal town of Ogunquit, only a 90-minute drive from Boston. The town is known for its Cliff Walk and long expanse of beach, but one of the highlights of our trip was floating on the Ogunquit River. Several hours before low tide, crowds start to make their way down to the river, boogie boards, tubes, and rafts in tow. The strong current of the river carries people into the Atlantic on the town’s natural version of a lazy river. We didn’t have any beach toys, so my wife and I simply floated on our backs. The water was cool, yet warmer than the Maine ocean waters. We held hands and laughed as we floated swiftly around the bend of the beach, watching the clouds float above us. It was over far too quickly and I heartily concurred with 6 year-old boy next to me who shouted “Again!” when his ride was over.
This week, I’m going to focus on some of my favorite ways to get wild and wet in North America.