It was small, sable colored, with flecks of carrot contained within. I smelled it before I saw it, meaning I had to spend a good 15 minutes later scouring it from the bottom of the my shoe. What a pity it was, for I had just dragged Eric over to my newfound playground, extolling the virtues of my perfect tree climbing tree. I had just set about with a demonstration, newest novel in hand, when it happened. “SOMEONE TOOK A SHIT IN THIS TREE.” And so you have it.

I sort of hate Queenstown already for the little I’ve managed to see of it. It seems to attract a high level of douche, inviting the kind of 18yearold boys who might dare one another to drop a deuce in an otherwise perfectly idyllic lakeside campsite. Combined with a massive, milling population of self righteous pedestrians, and the asshole in the beanie that awarded us with such a casual, almost graceful middle flick, I’m under the impressing that this place just isn’t for me.

Gimme solitude. Gimme the van. Gimme a  hike with a view and I’m satisfied. (And as long as Eric promises not to take a dump in any trees, he can come too.)

-K

^ Our pretty, little defiled campsite on Lake Hayes. One of my favorites yet despite the unfortunate incident. Making myself feel better with a glass of wine, using the camp chair instead for my new perch.

^ Viewpoint from our most challenging hike yet: Mt. Alfred. My thighs deserve lots of ice cream and chocolate cake after that one. Also: CHECK THAT STAFF! We picked up a couple along the way to wave around like Gandalf and pole vault over muddy creeks.

^ Mt. Alfred from the ground + from 1375 meters up.

^ Making out on a mountain top. INTO IT! Activities not pictured: munching on a quinoa wrap + yoga at the top. Getting into the swing of this van living.