I rode my first mermaid today! Hanmer Springs is a good way off the beaten track in the centre of New Zealand’s South Island. The way there leads along lonely roads past abandoned farms through golden hills. In Hanmer there is an overpriced thermal spa, a few hotels, pubs and the Dutch hostel owner Tristan.
After almost two weeks without a suitable wind, I’m completely under-kitted. The wind forecast in Kaikoura wasn’t right either. Instead of good wind, there was just a tornado, which put a second roof on the church. I studied the maps, but the lake that hostel owner Tristan was telling me about was so far off the beaten track that I couldn’t possibly find it.
The gravel track to Lake Tennyson first leads up to an alpine plateau over 1,000 metres high. This is followed by 42 adventurous kilometres across Molesworth Station, New Zealand’s largest farm at 180,000 hectares. Endless expanses, the occasional cattle. A wild river cuts through the windswept tussock tundra. Snow lies on the highest peaks, the sky is endless. A car every half hour, and after a whole hour even one without four-wheel drive. This is my idea of Alaska.
The piste is borderline. I rarely grit my teeth. But by the end of the day, I have sore muscles in my cheek. Tutukaka has neatly ironed out some overlooked deep potholes and small rocks. There are warning signs in front of some river crossings: Stop spread didymo! Use bridges instead. We are happy to do so. One and a half hours, four pasture gates and three cow grates later, we are at the end of the world, surrounded only by sky, mountains and steppe.
One last bend. In front of us, in a majestic high valley framed by snow-capped peaks, lies the source of the river. We have reached Lake Tennyson. Crystal clear water, green grass, grey rock. I unpack and put the cam in the kite. Then I go out onto the ice-cold lake. The wind is strong, but it’s rideable. The panorama is indescribable. After just half an hour, I have icicles on my legs. Mermaids just need a bit of time to warm up.
In the evening, Tristan confirms what I suspected from the journey: I was definitely the first kiter up there. I happily plop into the thermal baths, top up on food and let the golden sun sink behind the mountains. Oh it’s such a perfect day…
Frank Woelky, born in 1973. Kitesurfer since 1998. Since 2006, I have been combining kitesurfing and web design on trips lasting several months off the beaten track.