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Outside Magazine September 2004

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Destinations: New Zealand
Godzone Quest
There's something about New Zealand—and it's not just the soaring mountains, the red-hot culture, or the world-class Kiwi wines. STEPHANIE PEARSON goes in search of the adventure gene that inspires four million enlightened souls and makes NZ's islands a heaven for travelers.

By Stephanie Pearson


	Special effects not required: the Gates of Argonath, on the South Island's Hokitika River (Graham Charles/Hedgehog House)

WE'RE SKIMMING A FEW HUNDRED FEET over the Hawkdun Range, on New Zealand's South Island, strapped into a 25-year-old Hughes 300 helicopter powered by a 190-horse engine more commonly found in small tractors. The chill autumn air blasts through the doorless passenger side as we swoop over cliffs and ridges, following the brown Otematata River Valley until we reach the top of the range. Hovering on high, cocooned inside the muffle of earphones, I realize that, like a kind of harmonic convergence, the stunning vista encompasses three icons of Kiwi civilization.

To the north is one of the most recognizable contemporary movie locations on earth: the wide-open, tussocky flats of Twizel, site of the climactic Battle of Pelennor Fields in The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, the final

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installment of Wellington native Peter Jackson's epic trilogy. (If we landed the chopper and went to the nearest pub, chances are the bartender would be an orc.) Beyond Twizel is the snowcapped spine of the Southern Alps, where Auckland's most famous son, Sir Edmund Hillary, forged his ambition on the unforgiving cornices and crevasses of 12,349-foot Mount Cook. And milling directly below us is a herd of 20 merino sheep—emblems not only of New Zealand's pastoral heritage but of the country's alchemical genius for spinning natural resources and entrepreneurial grit into gold. The sheep break into a jog when they hear the thwap, thwap, thwap of the helicopter blades.

These crumply-nosed, curly-horned, taupe-colored, kinky-haired merinos are the toughest of New Zealand's 40 million sheep, enduring high elevation, scorching summers, and brutal winters. (Last April, a wily merino the Kiwi media dubbed Shrek became famous when he was found hiding out in a cave, having evaded a shearing for six years. The woolly fugitive was lugging around 60 pounds of fleece—about 50 pounds extra—before he was apprehended and trimmed.) The reason I'm flirting with hypothermia in 46-year-old rancher Hugh Cameron's doorless helicopter is because the fleece of these Otematata Station merinos is destined to be raw material for some of the hippest technical garments of the new millennium. It was back in the mid-nineties that Jeremy Moon, a canny entrepreneur from Wellington, figured out that the soft, smooth merino wool could be transformed into the ultimate all-natural, insulated, breathable fabric. Today Moon's company, Icebreaker, is the largest manufacturer of outdoor clothing in Australia and New Zealand, and exports its all-merino products to 17 other countries, including the United States.

I first met Moon, 35, at a swank dinner celebrating the world premiere of The Return of the King last December, in Wellington's harborside Museum Te Papa Tongawera. He regaled me with tales of the wild, remote landscapes and rugged chopper-pilot farmers that produce his wool. Later I flipped through Icebreaker's catalog—a high-concept visual feast selling organic style and exploration—and opened it to a photo of a woman splashing under a waterfall and the words "100-percent pure" and "It's about our relationship to nature and to each other." It dawned on me that Icebreaker's alluring blend of authentic value and clever marketing is a remarkable reflection of what New Zealand has come to represent to the world.

If you've ever met a Kiwi, you'll understand. At the risk of stereotyping four million people, most Kiwis have a laid-back, endlessly optimistic "she'll be right, mate" way of attacking challenges. "We're mellow and down to earth, with a wicked competitive streak," Allan Uren, 40, one of the country's top mountaineers, told me. "And we're pretty nice, because you can't be an asshole in a country this size." Kiwis are game to give virtually anything a go, whether it's perfecting a grape varietal, climbing Everest, or taking a two-year OE ("overseas experience") hiatus in their twenties to see how the rest of the planet lives. From sport and travel to business and culture, New Zealand's traditional strengths have been infused with 21st-century verve and advertised with a global reach. Now everyone wants a piece of the Kiwi magic. I went on a monthlong mission to find out why.

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