New Zealand Is Oceania, Too

Not every brown, flightless bird in New Zealand is a kiwi.

We learned this the hard way, questioning every rustle in every bush on two islands. But first, the reason we flew all that way.

Continent six of seven

Jay and I are running a marathon on every continent, and New Zealand was number six. Oceania was supposed to be Australia, until our Kiwi friends recruited us to come here instead of Oz. They promised us the Buller Gorge Marathon would be jaw-droppingly beautiful.

They were right. The whole country looks like a set from Tolkien, or, as Jay puts it, "from those movies NanC FINALLY watched on the many long-haul flights we took to get here."

And for anyone keeping score: yes, New Zealand counts. In 2017, a team of eleven geologists led by Nick Mortimer of GNS Science argued in the Geological Society of America's journal GSA Today that New Zealand sits on a continent of its own, Zealandia: about 4.9 million square kilometers of continental crust, 94% of it underwater. So technically, we ran a marathon on the 6% of a continent that bothered to stay above sea level. Oceania, too.

A town of crew

The Buller Gorge Marathon ends in Westport, a town on the South Island's West Coast with fewer than 5,000 people. On race weekend, it felt like every one of them came out. The marathon turned the town into a festive holiday, and the water stations were bustling with 20 people every 2 km. Twenty! That is impressive.

The course runs up the Buller River gorge and back down the highway into town, and it delivered everything our friends promised.

It was also the first marathon in years that my feet let me enjoy. Eighteen months earlier I had foot surgery for a neuroma, the kind that feels like a marble on fire under the ball of your foot. I crossed the finish line with two feet that both worked. No favoring the left side. Just running.

Special shoutout to our Westport holiday park (think KOA) and its $2 coin showers. Eight minutes of pure bliss after a day of running madness.

Soaks, mimosas and a ring

Post-run, we dipped in the Hanmer Springs hot pools for a refresh, then kept driving. In Christchurch, we traded running shoes for brunch mimosas, celebrating not just our marathon but a brand-new engaged couple, starting their own new chapter in the adventures of life.

The 45th parallel club

Somewhere on the South Island, we worked out what we now call the Rubik's cube of the 45th parallel. Oregon, New Zealand, Kazakhstan, Italy, Chile: the line halfway between the equator and the pole, north and south, keeps producing the same place. Rolling green hills, mountains, vineyards, craft IPAs and bright blue water. Foreign, and somehow familiar. In the evenings, the sky was sprinkled with some of the brightest stars we have ever seen.

In the tiny town of Twizel, we helped rugby aficionados understand the rules of American football during the Super Bowl, which landed on a Monday there. We also witnessed a general distaste for Usher. (Yeah. Yeah.)

Up Mt. Cook, down by ski plane

Next came a helicopter ride up Mt. Cook, a quick jaunt on the glacier, and a ski plane back down. Pure joy, and some of the prettiest memories on this planet.

The Shire, and a reunion

The North Island had more adventures and the gardens of the Shire. On Valentine's Day we reunited with fellow runner Murray, for the first time on land, and his lovely other half, Alana, over cocktails and tapas.

Bodily function or hot spring?

Then came Rotorua, where geysers cloud the sky and steam drifts up out of the ground, and where every rumble raises the eternal question: was that a person, or the planet?

The honest answer is that it is the same gas either way. That rotten-egg smell is hydrogen sulfide, the gas the bacteria in your gut make while digesting protein. Rotorua makes it on a city scale. The town sits inside the Rotorua Caldera, in the Taupō Volcanic Zone, one of the most geothermally active places on earth. Rainwater soaks down into the ground, is heated by magma and hot rock far below, and circulates back up through faults and fractures. On the way it picks up volcanic gases, mostly carbon dioxide and hydrogen sulfide, and lets them go wherever it reaches the surface: vents, fumaroles, bubbling pools, and occasionally the floor of someone's office.

It does not leak out evenly. Researchers who mapped hydrogen sulfide across the city found a corridor of high concentrations running north to south through the center, lined up over the main upflow zone and the faults beneath it, with the prevailing wind smearing a plume eastward. Inside homes, Rotorua averages about 0.02 parts per million. London sits around 0.0001. That is roughly two hundred times the background, which is why the town has smelled of eggs for as long as anyone has been writing about it.

Here is the part that should worry you a little: at high enough concentrations, hydrogen sulfide numbs your sense of smell, so the stink can fade just as the gas gets more dangerous. Stay on the marked paths. The rumble you can blame on whoever you like.

Jester, meet haka

The earth's rumbling mimicked the call of the haka, so we finished with a cultural show. The most famous haka, Ka Mate (the "ka mate, ka mate, ka ora, ka ora" the All Blacks perform), was composed by Te Rauparaha, a chief of Ngāti Toa Rangatira, in the early 1800s.

We learned that Jay can naturally contort his face into this battle cry. I look more like a jester, or a muppet, crossing my eyes accidentally every single time my tongue pops out.

About that kiwi

Back to the birds. Kiwi are nocturnal and getting harder and harder to find in the wild. There are around 68,000 left, and New Zealand's Department of Conservation says unmanaged populations are falling by about 2% a year. The adults hold their own. It is the chicks that get eaten, mostly by stoats, before they are big enough to fight back.

We did, eventually, see a pair at a breeding center. They are so much bigger and stranger than you are picturing.

Brunch all day, and the salad question

The culinary journey: brunch-all-day spots, fish and chips at every restaurant, and a perpetual state of confusion over salads. Jay was RIGHT at home. What even is a salad?

We also lined up, curious about the crowds, for the "legend-ary" Fergburger in stunning Queenstown. Not quite to Gasoline Grill standards (for our Danish peeps), but worth the wait.

Tiny Nancy, big SUV

Then there was Tiny Nancy in her Big SUV, on the left side of the road (thanks, Commonwealth). Jay got some time in the cockpit of a plane. "YOU SHALL NOT PASS."

Sure, sinus headaches and plugged ears tried to rain on our parade. Misery loves company, especially in the South's little paradise.

If you go

• The race. The Buller Gorge Marathon runs on a Saturday in February (10 February in 2024; 13 February 2027 is the next listed date). The full marathon starts at Hawks Crag, runs about 8 km up the gorge to a turnaround past Berlins, then comes back down the Buller Gorge Highway to finish at Victoria Square in Westport. Expect three real hills (Tiroroa, Ohikaiti and Omanu). There is also a half marathon, a four-person relay and a 10 km on the Kawatiri Coastal Trail. Entry in 2024 ran NZ$80 to NZ$100 depending on when you signed up. Book a bed early: it is a small town and the race fills it.
• Bring coins. Holiday park showers on the West Coast can be coin-operated.
• Driving. New Zealand drives on the left. The distances look short on a map and are not, on mountain roads.
• Kiwi. Your best odds are a sanctuary or breeding center that runs nocturnal viewing. In the wild, go with a guide and keep your torch off the birds.
• Rotorua. Stay on marked paths in geothermal areas. The ground and the gas are both hotter than they look.
• Fergburger. There will be a queue.

One to go

Six continents down, one left to marathon-conquer, and the last one is a long way from the Shire. For now, we are basking in the glory of a Middle Earth finish line, and eight hot minutes for $2.

Cheers, mates!