On Kiwis, Sheep and Life Without Boundaries

Green meadows and woods stretching out to the horizon, fields and pastures laid out like a chessboard: already from the sky, New Zealand seems orderly and well-cared for - an impression which repeats itself in offices, production spaces, machine rooms and even Pakworld's warehouse. Thanks to its intelligent investments in a Speedmaster CD 74, Prosetter 74 and the first Varimatrix 105 in the country - even in the entire southern hemisphere - the print shop in Christchurch has made itself the island country's most modern packaging specialist.

The narrow streets seem to wind endlessly through the green landscape, lined unceasingly with sheep grazing along the side of the road. Regardless of where you direct your gaze in these beautiful surroundings, the sheep are simply everywhere. Big, small, sometimes black, with short coats and with long coats. If it is not the sheep, which animal then should have received the honor of serving as New Zealand's unofficial national symbol? The kiwi - only active at night and therefore hard to observe - is the origin of the New Zealanders' international nickname. Even though there are still those who believe the name derives from the famous small green tropical fruit, it is nevertheless referring to the flightless bird.

For hours we meet no other cars - and when on a rare instance we do, friendly greetings are exchanged. At some point even the asphalt surface disappears, and the road continues for almost 25 miles (40 kilometers) over gravel slopes, ever further into the picture-book landscape and along small farms - sheep farms, naturally. The countryside seems untrodden and boundless, except for the many fences making up the sheep paddocks running through it. "Cattle stops," iron grills in the road which prevent the sheep from escaping, are the only thing interrupting the bumpy drive over dusty roads in the sport utility vehicle, save the sheep themselves.

These frequently bleat in protest at the travelers and appear indignant at having their peace and quiet disturbed. They thus decide to behave stubbornly, staying in the middle of the road and only clearing the way after much honking. Very, very slowly the f lock begins to take on a rhythmical movement. The concept of hurrying is foreign to these animals - for that they are visited too infrequently. Patience is necessary until the sheep have made their way over the green meadow. After a few minutes the road is finally clear again, and the drive continues.

Relaxation in nature.
At the end of the long trip we reach Glenfalloch High Country Station, standing right in the middle of a panorama worthy of a postcard - including a glacier view and bleating sheep. Jon Flett enjoys such excursions with his wife Mhairi and two children Sophie and Brodie in summer. He feels at home at the remote lodge - his secret tip for stressed-out New Zealanders and tourists. The Glenfalloch High Country Station is close to the base for Methven Heli Ski, and in winter Jon loves to get up into the mountains for skiing - the only true hobby he has except printing.

The lodge is situated on a farm in the middle of the mountains belonging to New Zealand's South Island. The owners of the farm earn a bit of extra income by renting out guest rooms and otherwise live from sheep farming, of course - like so many "Kiwis." The animals' wool and meat go to customers overseas, where its high quality is proverbially world-famous.