Outside Magazine

Looking at a map, you could be misled by the size of New Zealand’s South Island. As you’re circling the 58,000-square-mile island, packed full of every kind of landscape imaginable, it might be hard to believe that its entirety could nearly fit within Illinois’s borders. On the island’s northeast coast, Canterbury’s tussock-covered plains meet thousands of miles of golden beaches; head west and you’ll hit glaciers hidden among thick swaths of rainforest; to the east, remnants of extinct volcanoes form a rugged coastline holding bright blue bays; and to the south, rare penguins thrive in forests that almost reach the sea. The snowcapped peaks of the Southern Alps run through it all, punctuated by aquamarine glacial lakes. Even if you could technically drive across it in a day—the island is only 522 miles long—you wouldn’t want to. 

Even then, don’t expect a few weeks, or even months, to feel like enough. In more than a year of living on the South Island, I’ve put 12,000 miles on my car yet have barely managed to make a dent in my to-see list. This isn’t unique to me; a common refrain I hear from Kiwis is that you can live in New Zealand your entire life and never see it all. 

A love and respect for the outdoors is entrenched in New Zealand’s history, starting with the Māori who settled on the islands in the 14th century. Within the past few decades, the Māori culture has seen more integration and recognition, from the establishment of Tongariro National Park on the North Island in 1993 as the world’s first World Heritage Site, designated for its cultural and spiritual importance to an indigenous people, to today, with the comeback of many of its traditions, including Te Reo, the nation’s native tongue. This reverence for the country’s roots and landscapes runs deep and drives many of the government’s policies, from education initiatives like outdoor-focused schools to prioritizing climate-change impact.