We’ve been friends for decades, since our 20s. Traveling together when we were (much) younger was a favorite memory. But would we be foolish to try it again after a very, very long hiatus?

Well, call us foolish because we decided to spend 21 days together in gorgeous, far-flung New Zealand. We’d have so much to explore and see together, so many daily decisions to make, and maybe also too much time together. 

Would our 40-year friendship survive?  Of course. But not without some bumps. 

Before those three weeks of nonstop tête-à-tête travel came a year of energetic planning on FaceTime. We shared Google Docs and spreadsheets. Friends and family chimed in: “You mustn’t miss Milford Sound” and “Don’t forget to see Mt. Cook,” as well as “Be sure and look me up in Christchurch” and “You won’t see much if you don’t rent a car.” Diane’s skills in deciphering train and bus schedules shone, as did Susan’s tireless research of places to eat and shop.

We were in sync, just as we’d been so often over the decades.

Our Friendship: How It All Started

Our friendship began in 1980, as recent college grads and the two youngest staffers at a regional government agency in Boston. We cemented our bond that year with a two-week vacation: camping, biking, and roaming through Seattle, Vancouver, and tranquil Lopez Island in Puget Sound’s San Juan archipelago.

 “Let’s do it again,” we agreed. Who knew it would take so long, that we’d wind up bridging a four-decade travel gap?

After Diane moved hundreds of miles away, we kept up our connection, swapping tales of our parallel life adventures: graduate school, marriage, children, divorce, house moves, career changes, travel, and retirement goals. We shared confidences, celebrated personal milestones, and commiserated over heartbreaks. Every few years, we’d float the idea of another shared travel adventure. But life interfered. 

Every few years, we’d float the idea of another shared travel adventure. But life interfered.

Now, with graying hair, empty nests, and flexible work schedules, the time was right. 

Mentally spinning the world globe, we despaired at finding a country we both wanted to explore. Then Diane remembered seeing National Geographic photos of New Zealand, with gaping gorges in intense, varying shades of green. Susan was taken by the country’s beautiful mountains, waterfalls, suspension bridges, seaside hiking trails, and even fjords. Sold! We scheduled our trip to avoid the tourist crowds during the Christmas holidays and the Chinese New Year. 

Traveling as Old Friends and Wiser Women

Now for the hard stuff. Who would make the final decisions on hotels, tours, and when and where to eat out? Would our current traveling styles mesh now that we were women of a certain age? We weren’t sure. But isn’t one of the perks of friendship a willingness to jointly navigate challenges? 

We agreed on ground rules. No camping. Clean and comfortable hotels—booked in advance—but nothing fancy. No rental cars. Instead, we’d limit ourselves to the South Island and walk, take boats, trains, and buses.  And we’d make superhuman efforts to avoid getting the dreaded Covid virus en route. As for the all-important issue of when, how often, and how upscale to eat, we hit on a plan for picnic lunches of cheese, bread, and fruit, with the occasional restaurant splurge and wine tasting. And did we mention lots of walking?

We hit on a plan for picnic lunches of cheese, bread, and fruit, with the occasional restaurant splurge and wine tasting.

While we knew we would see postcard-perfect views, we still had a few wrinkles to iron out before we set out for the other side of the world. 

After all, the last time we spent so much time together, we were 25 years old. Since then, we have settled into our particular ways of doing things. Pursuing careers at a time when men’s voices drowned out those of women (especially early on in our professions and especially for petite women like ourselves), we treasured our hard-earned independence. Yet we each also tended to put others’ wishes and needs ahead of our own.  Our goal for the trip: learn to compromise, and roll with whatever came our way.

Yes, We Hit Some Speedbumps

So what came our way? Let us explain.

Standoff: Round 1

On good days we sailed through our adventures. In the rare bad moments, we clashed and scrambled for tools to bounce back. The lotion moment? It seems comical now. But somehow, on a street corner in Christchurch, with us both desperately jet-lagged, a squabble broke out. One of us—not saying which one—opted to place Diane’s just-purchased lotion in Susan’s backpack so we could keep our forward momentum toward the city center. Someone else wanted to detour to the Airbnb and leave the lotion there. 

Somehow, on a street corner, a squabble broke out. One of us—not saying which one—wanted to make a detour and leave some just-bought lotion back at the Airbnb. The other wanted to keep moving forward.

It was a tense impasse, as silly as it sounds. Picture Dr. Seuss’s North-going and South-going Zaxes, neither budging an inch.

Something had to give, so we agreed that Diane would race back to our lodging, and then we’d continue onward to a museum, where we cooled off—physically and otherwise.

Standoff: Round 2

And there was the time we returned to an inn after an eight-mile coastal walk under a scorching sun in Kaikoura. Susan had accidentally left her sunhat in her luggage. She was hot when we returned for check-in, longing to escape for a cool shower. On top of that, she could not stop sniffling, presumably an allergy, but still. 

Diane engaged the innkeeper in friendly chit-chat during registration. Suddenly Susan interrupted loudly: Could she please have the key to our shared room now? Startled by this outburst, the innkeeper complied. Susan stumbled upstairs to a much-needed shower. 

Diane continued her conversation downstairs and later cautiously entered our room. She gently asked: “Susan, would you mind taking a Covid test?” Guess what: Susan’s sniffles were not a reaction to the Christchurch Botanic Gardens we had visited the day before.

Wha-a-at?  Covid?  So much for wearing a mask on the plane and isolating before leaving home.

Luckily Susan’s worst symptom was her impatience, perhaps not yet a CDC-recognized symptom. She readily found a last-minute lodging reservation at our next destination to isolate.

Alas—it was too late. In keeping with our sisterly solidarity, Diane tested positive two days later.

How did this impact our travels? By the time of our trip, New Zealand had dropped its self-isolation mandate for Covid patients. The walking-tour guide encouraged us to join the five-day trip in Abel Tasman National Park. But did we mind walking at least 20 minutes behind the group?  And masking when making tea in the common space. And eating at a separate table outside, even in the chilly evenings. None of this dampened our spirits. After two days of rest before the tour’s start, we walked up to 11 miles each day, enjoying magnificent scenery at every turn. Grateful to be sharing a room only with each other. Sure, we missed getting to know our fellow travelers. But worse, we were sad to come across as two somewhat aloof Americans.

Standoff: Round 3

We woke to a downpour on the last day of the five-day walking tour. “I’m game for the full walk,” Diane announced. “No. I don’t want to walk on slippery trails,” Susan responded. Diane shrugged her shoulders and then yielded. Susan asked the guide to arrange for the boat to take us part-way to cut our distance in half. 

Then, during breakfast, sunlight broke through the gray skies. “Let’s do walk the whole thing, Diane. I’m game!”  Eleven miles later, we caught up with our group, tired but happy.

The Joy of Time Together, Face-to-Face

It turns out rooming together and hiking miles of trails side-by-side can really be bonding—not to mention jointly choosing picnic fare at the local cheese monger. The same goes for supporting one another. Once it meant Diane encouraging Susan to embark alone on the kayaking expedition at dusk off an overnight cruise boat in Milford Sound’s fjord. Another time Susan urged Diane at the last minute to join the non-refundable five-day walking tour even if Susan couldn’t go because she had Covid.

Sometimes, supporting one another meant encouraging the other to go off on an adventure the other wouldn’t or couldn’t join.

Sometimes the answer was to simply be apart. One morning, Susan enjoyed poached eggs and a flat white at an outdoor cafe overlooking tranquil Lake Wakatipu. Another time, Diane rambled on her own, shopping at craft boutiques for gifts for her sons. 

We enjoyed two scenic train trips: one traversed the spectacular, aptly named Southern Alps, and the other hugged the rugged South Pacific coastline. On each ride, we barely budged from the train’s open-viewing carriages, warming up with tea from the café car as we soaked up the history and geography of the regions from an audio guide. Other times we took a public bus or flew. And did we mention all the walking?

Read more: A Canterbury Pilgrimages: One Woman’s Solo Adventure

Traveling With Old Friends: A New Tradition?

Our New Zealand experience has given us new tools to support each other through shared milestones, confidences, and adventures in the years to come. (It also pushed us to write another joint article after 40 years!) We will lean on each other during our upcoming retirements. We’ll visit more often in person, even if it means masking up and boarding another plane. And years from now we can remind each other about where exactly we crowed at that stunning sunrise.

Years from now, we can remind each other about where exactly we were when we crowed at that stunning New Zealand sunrise.

Some differences, of course, can never be completely resolved, no matter how much you like your travel partner. For our next trip—Susan is lobbying for an inn-based kayak adventure with gourmet meals—maybe back to the San Juans where it all began. But Diane is holding out for walking 100 kilometers along the Camino de Santiago.

Stay tuned.