Well, this'll be my last entry from New Zealand :( I'm in Auckland Airport right now, and I found a free internet kiosk. It's really sluggish, but oh well. Not much to report, I'm still waiting for my flight to be assigned to a gate. It feels a bit weird, because it doesn't feel like I've been here for 9 months. Time flies when you're having fun, I guess. I'll put up another blog or two as a sort of aftermath, with trip totals and such. I'll be arriving in MSP at 8AM on friday. Until then, wish me a good plane trip!
-Ben
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Friday, May 9, 2008
The Cake That Never Grew Up
Hello there! Well, I've gotten tired of writing about the distant pass, so here's the rundown of what I've done recently:
From Christchurch I went North to Kaikoura.
From Kaikoura I went South-West and then West to Hanmer Springs (home of an overly-expensive, "natural" hot-spring which has been completely touristified, which I did NOT go to)
Went over Lewis Pass, stopping along the way at some real, natural, and FREE hot-springs (Sylvia Flat) next to a river (but horrible sand flies).
Went to Reefton, where I met some of my Uncle's work-mates.
Over to Greymouth (actually got a lift there, which was nice).
Stayed there for a night or two (free internet at the library!). There was a bike-race on the day I left (130km?), and I snuck onto the final straightaway on my fully-loaded bicycle during a dull moment. That was exciting!
Went along the coast to Punakaiki, saw the Pancake rocks. Then up to Westport. I really enjoyed this road. Cycled with a Swiss guy called Josua (w/o "h")for a day. Went through the Buller Gorge. Met a Stanford-educated Plumber who was really interesting! Went on to Motueka, where I hung around "Hat Trick Lodge" for a few days, working for 2 hours in the morning making beds in exchange for a room. Ran out of cash, but found a job at a box factory, making kiwifruit boxes (which is just as interesting as it sounds...) I only lasted 5 days, and then I had had enough! I rode my bike wearing my tramping (hiking) pack the 18km into Marahau, from whence I went into Abel Tasman National Park for 5 days. I did the (easy) coastal track in 2, and spent the other three going back along the inland track, which climbs from sea-level to 1000m+, and is much rougher. Rode my bike back to motueka via kaiteriteri. There was a german sitting in the kitchen talking about making a cake, and he said that the cake "never grew up". I loved it, and so stole it as the title.
From Christchurch I went North to Kaikoura.
From Kaikoura I went South-West and then West to Hanmer Springs (home of an overly-expensive, "natural" hot-spring which has been completely touristified, which I did NOT go to)
Went over Lewis Pass, stopping along the way at some real, natural, and FREE hot-springs (Sylvia Flat) next to a river (but horrible sand flies).
Went to Reefton, where I met some of my Uncle's work-mates.
Over to Greymouth (actually got a lift there, which was nice).
Stayed there for a night or two (free internet at the library!). There was a bike-race on the day I left (130km?), and I snuck onto the final straightaway on my fully-loaded bicycle during a dull moment. That was exciting!
Went along the coast to Punakaiki, saw the Pancake rocks. Then up to Westport. I really enjoyed this road. Cycled with a Swiss guy called Josua (w/o "h")for a day. Went through the Buller Gorge. Met a Stanford-educated Plumber who was really interesting! Went on to Motueka, where I hung around "Hat Trick Lodge" for a few days, working for 2 hours in the morning making beds in exchange for a room. Ran out of cash, but found a job at a box factory, making kiwifruit boxes (which is just as interesting as it sounds...) I only lasted 5 days, and then I had had enough! I rode my bike wearing my tramping (hiking) pack the 18km into Marahau, from whence I went into Abel Tasman National Park for 5 days. I did the (easy) coastal track in 2, and spent the other three going back along the inland track, which climbs from sea-level to 1000m+, and is much rougher. Rode my bike back to motueka via kaiteriteri. There was a german sitting in the kitchen talking about making a cake, and he said that the cake "never grew up". I loved it, and so stole it as the title.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Christchurch again.
Well, after staying with the Olympian, I went into Christchurch to look around and replace my now-useless rear tire. Found several bike shops, and got a Schwable Marathon Tire, which (for those of you who don't obsessively follow trends in the bike-tire market) is supposed to be an absolutely fantastic tire. Booked into a backpackers called "Drifters", which was a little odd, but friendly. On the way back to the backpackers from doing a little bit of grocery shopping, I ran into a bunch of people (maybe 30?) with strange bikes (not to mention clothes) congregating in Cathedral Square. Some of them were dressed (and painted) as clowns.
Intrigued, I went up to one of the more organised-looking (?) clowns and asked what it was all about. The gave me a little flyer, and told me everything I already know: Bicycles are good for the planet, cars are bad. They had orchestrated a "Fossil Fools Day" Bike ride through the streets (being April 1st), as some sort of protest against something or other. While I was talking to them, I ran into the guy from the couple I had met at Haast Pass, at Pleasant Flat campground. He was just commuting home (on bike), and had been curious about these people, just as I had.
I ended up riding along with them through Downtown Christchurch for a while (except that I was in the Bike lane for the duration), as some people held banners of some sort, and one guy in the rear rolled along a bunch of speakers in a "Rubbish Bin", blasting (alternately) Gangsta Rap and Folk music. After a while--as the procession was holding up the cars in the streets--a police car could be seen growing nearer. I decided that maybe this would be a good time to slowly increase the distance between me and the other people--which was probably a good idea. There was some sort of altercation (maybe an annoyed motorist?), and the sirens started.
A few people got arrested, and later a paddy-wagon-type thing rolled up and herded some others on-board.
Went back to the Backpackers and cooked a bit of a stir-fry, which sort of worked out. Next day I think I just moped around the library, looking at a random selection of books and learning nothing in particular. I texted the couple from the Haast campground, and spent the night with them. Had a very nice nice dinner, and interesting conversation. Talked about the "Fossil Fools Day" people, and about how they sort of make others LESS likely to want to ride bikes. We came to the conclusion that they were just angry. And liked rebelling against... The MAN.
Intrigued, I went up to one of the more organised-looking (?) clowns and asked what it was all about. The gave me a little flyer, and told me everything I already know: Bicycles are good for the planet, cars are bad. They had orchestrated a "Fossil Fools Day" Bike ride through the streets (being April 1st), as some sort of protest against something or other. While I was talking to them, I ran into the guy from the couple I had met at Haast Pass, at Pleasant Flat campground. He was just commuting home (on bike), and had been curious about these people, just as I had.
I ended up riding along with them through Downtown Christchurch for a while (except that I was in the Bike lane for the duration), as some people held banners of some sort, and one guy in the rear rolled along a bunch of speakers in a "Rubbish Bin", blasting (alternately) Gangsta Rap and Folk music. After a while--as the procession was holding up the cars in the streets--a police car could be seen growing nearer. I decided that maybe this would be a good time to slowly increase the distance between me and the other people--which was probably a good idea. There was some sort of altercation (maybe an annoyed motorist?), and the sirens started.
A few people got arrested, and later a paddy-wagon-type thing rolled up and herded some others on-board.
Went back to the Backpackers and cooked a bit of a stir-fry, which sort of worked out. Next day I think I just moped around the library, looking at a random selection of books and learning nothing in particular. I texted the couple from the Haast campground, and spent the night with them. Had a very nice nice dinner, and interesting conversation. Talked about the "Fossil Fools Day" people, and about how they sort of make others LESS likely to want to ride bikes. We came to the conclusion that they were just angry. And liked rebelling against... The MAN.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
West Coast, then Christchurch.
From Haast, I zoomed down the astonishingly steep hill and put my tent up at a Dept. of Conservation campsite called "Pleasant Flat". While cyclists coming the other way (i.e. heading up the aforementioned steep hill) may think of it this way, I was slightly disappointed at the leveling-out of the gradient. And the sheer quantity of sand-flies. I tried to make a small campfire in the fire-pit, but after several hours of constantly stoking and, er, "bellowing," I conceded defeat at the hands of the absolutely sodden wood.
However, I did meet a nice family from Christchurch while I was huffing and puffing on those dying flames. I talked to Ian and Sophie for a while (they had two boys, one of which was named Ben), and they helped me with the fire for a bit.
I tried my luck at fishing there, but again, no luck! The sand-flies certainly enjoyed me, though. Maybe after having ridden a bike all day the fish can smell me coming?
The next morning, I left as quickly as I could and pedaled for Haast Township. It was ever-so-slightly downhill, and I made fairly good time, stopping along the way in several places to go for short walks. I got into Haast (well, there are actually 3 places with Haast in the name within about 5km of each-other, which makes it a bit confusing) and looked at the great deal of nothing there. At the "supermarket" I grabbed a few supplies and said hello to a couple in an R.V. parked outside. After that I looked at a couple of backpackers, but in the end decided to just head on and camp somewhere that night to save the money for when it was raining.
So, I ended up doing an extra 50km until I made it to Lake Paringa, another DOC campsite, getting there later than I would have liked. As I dismounted and began unpacking my tent, the couple who I had briefly talked to outside the supermarket offered me a Roast Lamb Sandwich. It was very possibly the most enjoyable sandwich I've ever had the pleasure to consume. I guess people don't usually describe eating a sandwich as "enjoyable", but rather: "tasty", or even "delicious". But then again, MOST people don't cycle 100km with 70lbs of bike and gear and get offered a sandwich by a fellow traveler at the end!
That is definitely something I've learned: When traveling (well, it probably applies to all facets of life, actually) always be nice to everyone you meet, and get talking with them if they're so-inclined. You would be amazed at how often those random people turn out to be amazing and wonderful contacts in the near future.
Lake Paringa was an extremely beautiful spot, with (apparently) excellent Trout and Salmon fishing. Unfortunately I did not toss my line in, as the sand-flies were at their most-vicious-yet. I headed out later in the day after a swim, and continued on along towards Fox Glacier. As evening was drawing near, I started looking for a campsite off the road. From the road I saw four or five R.V.s all parked in a gravel lot, and asked them if I could pitch my tent off the road behind their caravans. I ended up getting a free dinner out of it, which was awesome.
Went to Fox Glacier the next day, and decided to go off the main road to another DOC campsite at Gillespie's Beach. It was 20km one way, with 12km being a steep, narrow, and winding gravel road. It was a nice beach, with, you guessed it, sand-flies. I cooked my dinner on the beach, and met a really nice couple from N. Ireland. After dinner I was walking past two Aussie couples near my tent-site, and they gave me a second dinner, with sausages and veggies. In the morning, the Irish couple invited me over to their camper-van for breakfast (porridge and tea), which was very much appreciated (museli is getting a bit boring). Man, I'm just cruising along getting free meals left and right!
From Gillespie Beach, I cycled over to Franz Joseph Glacier and stayed in a backpackers--at the DOC office there was a severe weather warning, with up to 300mm of rain forecasted, so I decided it would be worth the $20 to stay in a backpackers for the night. I watched "Crash" that night, which is an excellent movie for those of you who haven't seen it.
Of course, because I decided to stay in a Backpackers' for the night, it barely rained at all. I cycled along northwards a bit more, and ended up camping at Lake Ianthe, yet another DOC campsite. That night, all of the rain which didn't come the day before suddenly arrived. At around 10:30pm I decided that my tent wasn't working as well as I thought it would. Maybe the water was getting in through the zippers? So, I semi-packed and ran everything the 400m to the Men's Changing Room over 6-7 trips. I put my sleeping mat and bag on a bench inside the blessed dryness, and fell asleep. I woke up with mosquitoes all over my face. Man, this is a shitty place. What next? So, I pitched my tent (which is free-standing) inside the changing room in order to escape from those vile insects.
So, I was fairly soaked in the morning, but not quite as badly as I could've been. I cycled to Hokitika and stayed in a Backpacker hostel there. It was fairly cheap, and nothing flash. I made Chilli there, which was absolutely excellent for my first attempt. If I do say so myself. There was a fantastic sunset that night (coming to mind is the saying: "Red sky at night, Sailor's delight. Red sky at morning, sailors take warning"? I've been trying to think out how the colour of the sky at different times has such an effect on sailors. I have some crazy theories I've thought up.)
Afterwards I just sat in the kitchen and talked to this couple from Christchurch who were just finishing up a short vacation. They were really nice, and knew quite a bit about the surrounding area. Many days later, as he faced the destroyed rear tire, Benjamin Corner was to remember that distant afternoon when his friends-from-Christchurch told him about Arthurs Pass. Alright, that sentence doesn't quite make sense, but I felt like adding in a literary reference. It was only two days later, and the afternoon when I'd talked to them wasn't very distant at all. Anyways, my rear tire shredded while going over Arthur's Pass, and after I had been off the bike only 5 minutes they happened to be driving by and offered me a lift all the way to Christchurch! I want to reiterate to anyone traveling that they should ALWAYS be nice to people they meet along the way. They can save your ass.
They gave me a bed to sleep in that night, and a meal to eat. As we were talking at dinner, it turned out that the man, Selwyn, had won a Gold medal at the 1976 Montreal Olympics in Field Hockey! I actually got to touch it, which was really amazing. It was really cool to actually meet an Olympian. You see them on T.V. and the newspapers, but they somehow seem like an unreal, fantastic, separate group of people. So that was really neat.
Okay, going to stop for the moment, maybe I'll get to update a bit more in the near-future.
However, I did meet a nice family from Christchurch while I was huffing and puffing on those dying flames. I talked to Ian and Sophie for a while (they had two boys, one of which was named Ben), and they helped me with the fire for a bit.
I tried my luck at fishing there, but again, no luck! The sand-flies certainly enjoyed me, though. Maybe after having ridden a bike all day the fish can smell me coming?
The next morning, I left as quickly as I could and pedaled for Haast Township. It was ever-so-slightly downhill, and I made fairly good time, stopping along the way in several places to go for short walks. I got into Haast (well, there are actually 3 places with Haast in the name within about 5km of each-other, which makes it a bit confusing) and looked at the great deal of nothing there. At the "supermarket" I grabbed a few supplies and said hello to a couple in an R.V. parked outside. After that I looked at a couple of backpackers, but in the end decided to just head on and camp somewhere that night to save the money for when it was raining.
So, I ended up doing an extra 50km until I made it to Lake Paringa, another DOC campsite, getting there later than I would have liked. As I dismounted and began unpacking my tent, the couple who I had briefly talked to outside the supermarket offered me a Roast Lamb Sandwich. It was very possibly the most enjoyable sandwich I've ever had the pleasure to consume. I guess people don't usually describe eating a sandwich as "enjoyable", but rather: "tasty", or even "delicious". But then again, MOST people don't cycle 100km with 70lbs of bike and gear and get offered a sandwich by a fellow traveler at the end!
That is definitely something I've learned: When traveling (well, it probably applies to all facets of life, actually) always be nice to everyone you meet, and get talking with them if they're so-inclined. You would be amazed at how often those random people turn out to be amazing and wonderful contacts in the near future.
Lake Paringa was an extremely beautiful spot, with (apparently) excellent Trout and Salmon fishing. Unfortunately I did not toss my line in, as the sand-flies were at their most-vicious-yet. I headed out later in the day after a swim, and continued on along towards Fox Glacier. As evening was drawing near, I started looking for a campsite off the road. From the road I saw four or five R.V.s all parked in a gravel lot, and asked them if I could pitch my tent off the road behind their caravans. I ended up getting a free dinner out of it, which was awesome.
Went to Fox Glacier the next day, and decided to go off the main road to another DOC campsite at Gillespie's Beach. It was 20km one way, with 12km being a steep, narrow, and winding gravel road. It was a nice beach, with, you guessed it, sand-flies. I cooked my dinner on the beach, and met a really nice couple from N. Ireland. After dinner I was walking past two Aussie couples near my tent-site, and they gave me a second dinner, with sausages and veggies. In the morning, the Irish couple invited me over to their camper-van for breakfast (porridge and tea), which was very much appreciated (museli is getting a bit boring). Man, I'm just cruising along getting free meals left and right!
From Gillespie Beach, I cycled over to Franz Joseph Glacier and stayed in a backpackers--at the DOC office there was a severe weather warning, with up to 300mm of rain forecasted, so I decided it would be worth the $20 to stay in a backpackers for the night. I watched "Crash" that night, which is an excellent movie for those of you who haven't seen it.
Of course, because I decided to stay in a Backpackers' for the night, it barely rained at all. I cycled along northwards a bit more, and ended up camping at Lake Ianthe, yet another DOC campsite. That night, all of the rain which didn't come the day before suddenly arrived. At around 10:30pm I decided that my tent wasn't working as well as I thought it would. Maybe the water was getting in through the zippers? So, I semi-packed and ran everything the 400m to the Men's Changing Room over 6-7 trips. I put my sleeping mat and bag on a bench inside the blessed dryness, and fell asleep. I woke up with mosquitoes all over my face. Man, this is a shitty place. What next? So, I pitched my tent (which is free-standing) inside the changing room in order to escape from those vile insects.
So, I was fairly soaked in the morning, but not quite as badly as I could've been. I cycled to Hokitika and stayed in a Backpacker hostel there. It was fairly cheap, and nothing flash. I made Chilli there, which was absolutely excellent for my first attempt. If I do say so myself. There was a fantastic sunset that night (coming to mind is the saying: "Red sky at night, Sailor's delight. Red sky at morning, sailors take warning"? I've been trying to think out how the colour of the sky at different times has such an effect on sailors. I have some crazy theories I've thought up.)
Afterwards I just sat in the kitchen and talked to this couple from Christchurch who were just finishing up a short vacation. They were really nice, and knew quite a bit about the surrounding area. Many days later, as he faced the destroyed rear tire, Benjamin Corner was to remember that distant afternoon when his friends-from-Christchurch told him about Arthurs Pass. Alright, that sentence doesn't quite make sense, but I felt like adding in a literary reference. It was only two days later, and the afternoon when I'd talked to them wasn't very distant at all. Anyways, my rear tire shredded while going over Arthur's Pass, and after I had been off the bike only 5 minutes they happened to be driving by and offered me a lift all the way to Christchurch! I want to reiterate to anyone traveling that they should ALWAYS be nice to people they meet along the way. They can save your ass.
They gave me a bed to sleep in that night, and a meal to eat. As we were talking at dinner, it turned out that the man, Selwyn, had won a Gold medal at the 1976 Montreal Olympics in Field Hockey! I actually got to touch it, which was really amazing. It was really cool to actually meet an Olympian. You see them on T.V. and the newspapers, but they somehow seem like an unreal, fantastic, separate group of people. So that was really neat.
Okay, going to stop for the moment, maybe I'll get to update a bit more in the near-future.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Queenstown, The West Coast, and Arthurs Pass
Well, just after I finished writing the last blog, I went up to the counter to pay for my time on the computer and the guy behind it gave me $5 off in exchange for me delivering a small package to someone about a block away. So, I got a good deal there!
Headed out of Te Anau, and had a bit of a tail-wind for a large portion of the day, which was excellent! For the last 2 hours I was positively flying down the road, with the combined bonuses of a slight downhill and a tail-wind. That night, I ended up camping just past Mossburn, near the Oreti River. There was a small, rough road going off the side of the highway along the river as an angler's access point. I did a little bit of fishing, but didn't catch anything (again).
The next day I rode along towards Queenstown, and camped about 3km short of Kingston, the home of the "kingston Flyer" vintage train, which I was kindly woken up by the next morning. Here, I met a guy from Australia who had been living in New Zealand for the last 20 years, and who had the second-most unintelligible speech of anyone I've met on my trip (the first was a guy called "Brownie" in Te Puke, of whose spoken words only about 1 of five could be decrypted.) This guy, who called himself "John Dingo", was traveling around by car, but had a problem with it and had broken down beside the highway. Apparently, instead of calling a tow truck or mechanic, he had just stayed in his car for 2 nights, until, he said: "a Christian helped me move my car."
He was an odd fellow, but nice. Next day, I rode into Queenstown, which was fairly uneventful. I stayed in some very confused accommodation, called "Resort Lodge Backpackers". Unfortunately for me, that night it was St. Patty's day, so there were drunk people singing outside all night, slightly limiting the restfulness of the hostel. Queenstown was pretty much what I expected it to be: touristy. In fact, while I was there, I met a grand total of two locals! I did have a very nice pizza at a small restaurant called "The Cow". I stayed another night, and the next day, just as I was about to leave, I met a guy who just happened to live in the Powderhorn neighbourhood of Minneapolis, and who plays Frolf at the course just downhill (obviously) from Highland! That was pretty funny.
So, I headed out to Arrowtown, an old gold-town where the residents have now switched to mining the rich deposits of cash in tourists'wallets. At a suggestion from Dad, I thought I'd try to go up to Macetown, which is 25km up a river gorge and is now nothing but a ghost town. The 4x4 "road" crosses the river 22 times (or so), at fords of varying depths. After spending about an hour ferrying bike and panniers across several fords (at least the river was very low), I had only made it about 1500 meters from the start of the "road". I was getting a little dispirited to say the least, and decided to ditch my bike in the bushes somewhere and just take my hiking pack up, with my camping stuff inside. However, once I had gotten everything into my pack, someone else walked up and said they thought I was almost done with the river crossings, and that I should keep on going. So, back on the bike everything went, and I pushed onwards. However, about half an hour later, another couple in a 4WD stopped and offered me a lift in their car, which I gladly accepted! I hid my bike and panniers in the bushes, and jumped in. Going up, I'm extremely glad I didn't keep on going on my bike, as it would've taken me probably 15 hours to reach the town remains.
They were really nice, and dropped me off at the top. I met 2 couples there who had driven up with everything in their 4WDs. There were two from Queenstown, and two from Chicago. I said hello, and ended up getting a dinner and company out of it! Interesting people, and it was nice to have some interesting conversation as well.
The next morning, they gave me a lift down to where my bike was stowed, and even took my extra bags to a(n amazing) candy shop in town which they owned! That was really nice of them.
I sat around on the green grass in the middle of town for an hour or two, and then decided I really should be getting going. I left town, and chose to go to Wanaka via the Crown Terrace, which happens to be the highest-altitude 'high'way in New Zealand. Of course, I ended up getting a flat about 1km (length, not height) from the top of the climb. Fortunately, a couple with a trailer picked me up and tossed the bike in the back. I had left it a bit late anyways, so it was good to get into Wanaka that night.
I happened to be in Wanaka during the "Warbirds over Wanaka" airshow, and I caught snatches of that over the 2 days I stayed there. Next, left for Haast Pass. Made it up and over that without too much trouble. Time almost up, so:
To Be Continued...
Headed out of Te Anau, and had a bit of a tail-wind for a large portion of the day, which was excellent! For the last 2 hours I was positively flying down the road, with the combined bonuses of a slight downhill and a tail-wind. That night, I ended up camping just past Mossburn, near the Oreti River. There was a small, rough road going off the side of the highway along the river as an angler's access point. I did a little bit of fishing, but didn't catch anything (again).
The next day I rode along towards Queenstown, and camped about 3km short of Kingston, the home of the "kingston Flyer" vintage train, which I was kindly woken up by the next morning. Here, I met a guy from Australia who had been living in New Zealand for the last 20 years, and who had the second-most unintelligible speech of anyone I've met on my trip (the first was a guy called "Brownie" in Te Puke, of whose spoken words only about 1 of five could be decrypted.) This guy, who called himself "John Dingo", was traveling around by car, but had a problem with it and had broken down beside the highway. Apparently, instead of calling a tow truck or mechanic, he had just stayed in his car for 2 nights, until, he said: "a Christian helped me move my car."
He was an odd fellow, but nice. Next day, I rode into Queenstown, which was fairly uneventful. I stayed in some very confused accommodation, called "Resort Lodge Backpackers". Unfortunately for me, that night it was St. Patty's day, so there were drunk people singing outside all night, slightly limiting the restfulness of the hostel. Queenstown was pretty much what I expected it to be: touristy. In fact, while I was there, I met a grand total of two locals! I did have a very nice pizza at a small restaurant called "The Cow". I stayed another night, and the next day, just as I was about to leave, I met a guy who just happened to live in the Powderhorn neighbourhood of Minneapolis, and who plays Frolf at the course just downhill (obviously) from Highland! That was pretty funny.
So, I headed out to Arrowtown, an old gold-town where the residents have now switched to mining the rich deposits of cash in tourists'wallets. At a suggestion from Dad, I thought I'd try to go up to Macetown, which is 25km up a river gorge and is now nothing but a ghost town. The 4x4 "road" crosses the river 22 times (or so), at fords of varying depths. After spending about an hour ferrying bike and panniers across several fords (at least the river was very low), I had only made it about 1500 meters from the start of the "road". I was getting a little dispirited to say the least, and decided to ditch my bike in the bushes somewhere and just take my hiking pack up, with my camping stuff inside. However, once I had gotten everything into my pack, someone else walked up and said they thought I was almost done with the river crossings, and that I should keep on going. So, back on the bike everything went, and I pushed onwards. However, about half an hour later, another couple in a 4WD stopped and offered me a lift in their car, which I gladly accepted! I hid my bike and panniers in the bushes, and jumped in. Going up, I'm extremely glad I didn't keep on going on my bike, as it would've taken me probably 15 hours to reach the town remains.
They were really nice, and dropped me off at the top. I met 2 couples there who had driven up with everything in their 4WDs. There were two from Queenstown, and two from Chicago. I said hello, and ended up getting a dinner and company out of it! Interesting people, and it was nice to have some interesting conversation as well.
The next morning, they gave me a lift down to where my bike was stowed, and even took my extra bags to a(n amazing) candy shop in town which they owned! That was really nice of them.
I sat around on the green grass in the middle of town for an hour or two, and then decided I really should be getting going. I left town, and chose to go to Wanaka via the Crown Terrace, which happens to be the highest-altitude 'high'way in New Zealand. Of course, I ended up getting a flat about 1km (length, not height) from the top of the climb. Fortunately, a couple with a trailer picked me up and tossed the bike in the back. I had left it a bit late anyways, so it was good to get into Wanaka that night.
I happened to be in Wanaka during the "Warbirds over Wanaka" airshow, and I caught snatches of that over the 2 days I stayed there. Next, left for Haast Pass. Made it up and over that without too much trouble. Time almost up, so:
To Be Continued...
Friday, March 14, 2008
Kepler Track, Milford Sound.
Hello. So, let's see where I left off. I had set up my tent at the free campsite in Clifden, near this old suspension bridge. A couple of other cars pulled up, and I went fishing in the Waiau River. No luck, so I went back up to the campsite to cook my sausages. there were 4 Israelis sleeping in a tent which was maybe 2.5 times bigger than mine, and then there were two from Holland who had a mansion of a tent, which easily could've fit my tent in their porch. That's right, their tent had a porch.
There was a fire-pit and eventually we collectively got the fire going--except for the 2 Germans who showed up and decided to be anti-social. It was a nice fire, and it was interesting to talk to everyone there, some of whom had just come off the Milford Track, New Zealand's most famous (and wettest) hiking track.
Next morning, I packed up just in time to partner up with two other cyclists to do (peaceful) battle with the vicious headwind. We slowly crawled forwards, probably averaging around 10 kph (walking pace). I'm not going to go into great detail over those 8 hours of suffering, but by the end of the day (80 km away, in Manapouri) I was tired enough to split a motel room with one of the guys, coming to $40 each. I also had an expensive meal at the pub, to complete my night of luxury.
I lazily went along to Te Anau the next day, simply 20km away, stopping to go fishing in the Waiau River again, this time in the section that was used for part of the Anduin River in The Lord Of The Rings. Again, no luck. Rolled into Te Anau with another cycle-tourist, Bob from Canada. I went around town with him, and then he took a ferry to look at the Glow-worm caves here.
The next day, I messed around town, and found out about doing the Kepler Track, another of NZ's "Great Walks". Bought food, packed my bag and set off the next day @ 7:30am. I decided that due to the awkward spread of campsites along the trail (and the cost of huts being $40), I would do it in two days, and camp. As the total track length is 70km, this led to two fairly long days. However, it was absolutely amazing!
That night, it rained a lot. I woke up, and it kept raining until 12:30pm. Two bridges had been washed away, so we had to wait until the creeks weren't in flood. So, I got off to a much later start than preferred the second day, finishing the track in the evening.
I spent a couple of days just wandering around Te Anau after that. Yesterday was eating breakfast in Hostel when I met someone with an extra seat who was going up to Milford Sound that day. So, half an hour later, I was packed and piled into Jana ("Yana", from Germany)'s car. Got up there (150kms), and walked around. Stayed in a campsite, and that night fought off a gargantuan possum who wanted my bread I had foolishly left outside my tent. I heard something snuffling around at about 1AM, and opened the door-flap to find a big ugly possum there. I hit him with my shoe, and he sort of shuffled off, only to return about a minute later. We repeated this about 5 times, until he finally got the message.
Thew next morning, I decided to go on a cruise out on the sound, all the way to the Tasman Sea. That was really amazing. I saw seals, and, on the way back, a pod of Dolphins who swam next to the boat and surfed on the Bow waves.
Okay, I have to stop now. Heading to Queenstown next.
-Ben
There was a fire-pit and eventually we collectively got the fire going--except for the 2 Germans who showed up and decided to be anti-social. It was a nice fire, and it was interesting to talk to everyone there, some of whom had just come off the Milford Track, New Zealand's most famous (and wettest) hiking track.
Next morning, I packed up just in time to partner up with two other cyclists to do (peaceful) battle with the vicious headwind. We slowly crawled forwards, probably averaging around 10 kph (walking pace). I'm not going to go into great detail over those 8 hours of suffering, but by the end of the day (80 km away, in Manapouri) I was tired enough to split a motel room with one of the guys, coming to $40 each. I also had an expensive meal at the pub, to complete my night of luxury.
I lazily went along to Te Anau the next day, simply 20km away, stopping to go fishing in the Waiau River again, this time in the section that was used for part of the Anduin River in The Lord Of The Rings. Again, no luck. Rolled into Te Anau with another cycle-tourist, Bob from Canada. I went around town with him, and then he took a ferry to look at the Glow-worm caves here.
The next day, I messed around town, and found out about doing the Kepler Track, another of NZ's "Great Walks". Bought food, packed my bag and set off the next day @ 7:30am. I decided that due to the awkward spread of campsites along the trail (and the cost of huts being $40), I would do it in two days, and camp. As the total track length is 70km, this led to two fairly long days. However, it was absolutely amazing!
That night, it rained a lot. I woke up, and it kept raining until 12:30pm. Two bridges had been washed away, so we had to wait until the creeks weren't in flood. So, I got off to a much later start than preferred the second day, finishing the track in the evening.
I spent a couple of days just wandering around Te Anau after that. Yesterday was eating breakfast in Hostel when I met someone with an extra seat who was going up to Milford Sound that day. So, half an hour later, I was packed and piled into Jana ("Yana", from Germany)'s car. Got up there (150kms), and walked around. Stayed in a campsite, and that night fought off a gargantuan possum who wanted my bread I had foolishly left outside my tent. I heard something snuffling around at about 1AM, and opened the door-flap to find a big ugly possum there. I hit him with my shoe, and he sort of shuffled off, only to return about a minute later. We repeated this about 5 times, until he finally got the message.
Thew next morning, I decided to go on a cruise out on the sound, all the way to the Tasman Sea. That was really amazing. I saw seals, and, on the way back, a pod of Dolphins who swam next to the boat and surfed on the Bow waves.
Okay, I have to stop now. Heading to Queenstown next.
-Ben
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Rakiura Track and the Sausage Capital of New Zealand
I decided that I would indeed do the Rakiura Track, one of New Zealand's so-called "Great Walks". The ferry over to the island cost $110 total, so I was determined to get my moneys-worth out of the island. The night before my ferry left I stayed in a Backpacker hostel in Bluff, the southern-most town on the south island. I met a nice Swiss guy there, and got everything packed into my tramping (hiking) pack for the next couple of days. Headed over Foveaux Straight and arrived at Stewart Island.
I went to the Department of Conservation office to fill out a trip intentions form, and to buy hut and camping tickets. I started off, and made it to the beginning of the track by about 12:30pm. Time for lunch and I haven't even gotten started. I headed along the track, and made my way to Kaipipi Bay (I think that was the name). It was nice, and I decided to try my luck with my collapsible spin-fishing rod. I caught a little fish after about 20 minutes, but it was only about as long as my hand, so I let it go. That was to be the only successful fishing of my island stay, but at least now I felt justified with bringing it along.
I got to North Arm hut at about 5pm, just before the rain started. I set up my sleeping bag, and met two women from the US, who had just graduated from Oberlin and were in NZ doing more or less what I'm doing, except more hiking and no biking. I cooked my dinner, which actually consisted of fresh potatoes, peas, carrot and tomato, which I had been too reluctant to toss in the rubbish. And then I added some couscous and salami to thicken it up and add flavour, respectfully.
We (me and the two from the U.S.) went on a kiwi-hunt at night-time, but to no avail. At one point something fell from a tree, and of course the first thing any of us thought at any sound was: "is that a kiwi". So, I just started laughing far too loudly for kiwi-stalking, because I got this mental image of a kiwi that had somehow made it up a tree, and who had then fallen and tried to flap his wings, only to remember that he was, indeed, a flightless bird. So we didn't have too good a chance of seeing kiwi after that. Besides, I just can't imagine a kiwi casually strolling down the middle of the walking track in the middle of the night, so I don't know what the odds were anyways.
The next day I left fairly late, and had a big climb ahead of me. By now I had realized that I was doing the hike in the opposite direction to everyone else. After lots of fairly un-eventful hiking through bush, I made it to my next destination, Port William campsite. All the while getting rained on. I set my tent up, and promptly fell asleep without any dinner. I woke up at about 10pm and made some instant mashed potatoes, and then fell asleep again.
In the morning, I awoke (probably the wrong word, since to awaken one must be asleep in the first place) to find that over the night my tent had filled with about 3 inches of water. I packed everything up (still raining outside), and tried to wring out my absolutely sodden sleeping bag. My pack weighed a lot more from all of the water, but it was the last leg of my trip so I didn't mind as much.
I made it into Oban, the town on the island, and found a backpackers to stay at for the night. In the morning, some inquisitive Kaka (big NZ parrot) flew around the porch, probably in search of food. I got some cool close-up pictures of them, which was pretty neat.
I messed around in the town for that day, running into some people I had met going the opposite way along the track, and we went to the pub (my feeble excuse being that it was raining at the time).
Later, at around 6pm, I jumped on the ferry back to Bluff. Very different. More like a roller coaster than a boat, it was quite fun, but a little sickening after a while. A bag of Jelly Beans in my tummy didn't help things along, either.
In Bluff, I went back to the same backpackers, and offered them 5 hours of work from me in exchange for 2 nights accommodation, which they accepted. I dried my stuff out, and did the work (paint-stripping and loading things up into a trailer). Left and went through Invercargill, to Riverton, arriving at about 9pm. Set up my tent in some sheltered field and cooked a "stir-fry" just to try something new. Didn't really work because my pot's too small, but it was alright. Also, no good seasonings.
Next day went to Monkey Island, a place just off the road where you can camp for free. There, I ran into this couple who I had also run into in Fortrose, and Brighton, about a week or two earlier. They offered me dinner which I gratefully accepted, and afterwards I went for a bit of a walk.
I found this really cool cave/tunnel up a small cliff, and went up and poked my head inside. It was obviously carved out by humans, but it was fun.
Now I'm running out of time. Really quickly. Next, went through Tuatapere, "NZ's Sausage Capital". I bought some sausages, and went further on until Clifden, where there's a cool bridge.I'll finish this later.
I went to the Department of Conservation office to fill out a trip intentions form, and to buy hut and camping tickets. I started off, and made it to the beginning of the track by about 12:30pm. Time for lunch and I haven't even gotten started. I headed along the track, and made my way to Kaipipi Bay (I think that was the name). It was nice, and I decided to try my luck with my collapsible spin-fishing rod. I caught a little fish after about 20 minutes, but it was only about as long as my hand, so I let it go. That was to be the only successful fishing of my island stay, but at least now I felt justified with bringing it along.
I got to North Arm hut at about 5pm, just before the rain started. I set up my sleeping bag, and met two women from the US, who had just graduated from Oberlin and were in NZ doing more or less what I'm doing, except more hiking and no biking. I cooked my dinner, which actually consisted of fresh potatoes, peas, carrot and tomato, which I had been too reluctant to toss in the rubbish. And then I added some couscous and salami to thicken it up and add flavour, respectfully.
We (me and the two from the U.S.) went on a kiwi-hunt at night-time, but to no avail. At one point something fell from a tree, and of course the first thing any of us thought at any sound was: "is that a kiwi". So, I just started laughing far too loudly for kiwi-stalking, because I got this mental image of a kiwi that had somehow made it up a tree, and who had then fallen and tried to flap his wings, only to remember that he was, indeed, a flightless bird. So we didn't have too good a chance of seeing kiwi after that. Besides, I just can't imagine a kiwi casually strolling down the middle of the walking track in the middle of the night, so I don't know what the odds were anyways.
The next day I left fairly late, and had a big climb ahead of me. By now I had realized that I was doing the hike in the opposite direction to everyone else. After lots of fairly un-eventful hiking through bush, I made it to my next destination, Port William campsite. All the while getting rained on. I set my tent up, and promptly fell asleep without any dinner. I woke up at about 10pm and made some instant mashed potatoes, and then fell asleep again.
In the morning, I awoke (probably the wrong word, since to awaken one must be asleep in the first place) to find that over the night my tent had filled with about 3 inches of water. I packed everything up (still raining outside), and tried to wring out my absolutely sodden sleeping bag. My pack weighed a lot more from all of the water, but it was the last leg of my trip so I didn't mind as much.
I made it into Oban, the town on the island, and found a backpackers to stay at for the night. In the morning, some inquisitive Kaka (big NZ parrot) flew around the porch, probably in search of food. I got some cool close-up pictures of them, which was pretty neat.
I messed around in the town for that day, running into some people I had met going the opposite way along the track, and we went to the pub (my feeble excuse being that it was raining at the time).
Later, at around 6pm, I jumped on the ferry back to Bluff. Very different. More like a roller coaster than a boat, it was quite fun, but a little sickening after a while. A bag of Jelly Beans in my tummy didn't help things along, either.
In Bluff, I went back to the same backpackers, and offered them 5 hours of work from me in exchange for 2 nights accommodation, which they accepted. I dried my stuff out, and did the work (paint-stripping and loading things up into a trailer). Left and went through Invercargill, to Riverton, arriving at about 9pm. Set up my tent in some sheltered field and cooked a "stir-fry" just to try something new. Didn't really work because my pot's too small, but it was alright. Also, no good seasonings.
Next day went to Monkey Island, a place just off the road where you can camp for free. There, I ran into this couple who I had also run into in Fortrose, and Brighton, about a week or two earlier. They offered me dinner which I gratefully accepted, and afterwards I went for a bit of a walk.
I found this really cool cave/tunnel up a small cliff, and went up and poked my head inside. It was obviously carved out by humans, but it was fun.
Now I'm running out of time. Really quickly. Next, went through Tuatapere, "NZ's Sausage Capital". I bought some sausages, and went further on until Clifden, where there's a cool bridge.I'll finish this later.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Southern Scenic Route
Well, I left Dunedin going south on the Southern Scenic Route, and only made it about 15 kilometers before I stopped. I stayed in a very nice little seaside town called Brighton, which had a fantastic beach! I pitched my tent in the big field there, along with a smattering of RVs and camper-vans. I went for a swim in the sea, which was fun, if a bit cold. Cooked my spaghetti, and went to sleep. The next day, as I was leaving the field, I met a French family of 5 who were all cycle-touring together for a year. There was the mother and father, 11-tear-old girl, 7-year-old boy, and 2-year-old boy. The 2-year-old was riding in a trailer, while the 7-year-old was riding their own bike, and the 11-year-old riding on a tandem with the mother. They had already been all around South America, and now were on New Zealand.
I headed south along the amazing coast, with perfect little beaches every 50 meters or so. I stopped at one to eat my lunch, and saw the French family go past up above me. I sat on a rock which was jutting out, and dangled my feet just over the waves--I'm such a daredevil! Seeing as the tide was coming in, I got a little bit wet in the end.
I clambered up the rocks back to the road, and met a German couple who were cycling the opposite way. We talked for a bit, and gave each-other advice on what lay ahead. Then we went our separate ways. In Taieri Mouth, I crossed the (Taieri) river and turned off to go back inland a bit. I went over a massive hill (which had been a gravel road not 2 weeks ago, but was now paved at least). I got over the hill eventually, and started down the other side.
Its often as I fly down these huge hills with my bike fully-laden, that I think to myself: "Am I really doing this trip? I mean, I'm in the middle of New Zealand, hurtling down a hill on a 20+ year old bicycle, with 40 pounds of gear, and I've been doing it for 6 months." Its always on the downhills that I realize exactly what I'm doing, and I always feel as if its just a bit surreal, or dream-like. But I don't pinch myself, because you need both hands on the handlebars when you're flying down a hill in excess of 50 kilometers per hour!
At the bottom of the hill was the little drive-through town of Lake Waihola, which was by the side of (yep, you guessed it) Lake Waihola. I kept on going to Milton, where I stopped for the night. I stayed in the cheapest fully-equipped campsite I've stayed in so far: NZ$6.50 per night.
While I was sitting in the kitchen, I met a really interesting guy. He was a permanent resident of the holiday park, and was currently working as a milking-shed builder. He has a bit of experience (5 years or so?) doing the actual milking, so his skills and experience are always in demand. He said that because of this he often just quits a job after a good stint, and "Goes bush". Now, in New Zealand this is not a political statement, but rather means that one lives in the middle of the forest for long periods of time, by themselves, unsupported for the most part, sometimes hiding from things. He said that he sometimes goes into Fiordland (an immense National park completely isolated from anything but the occasional helicopter tour or bushman) for 10-20 weeks, living off the land. And I think he was telling the truth. He looked the part, at least.
Next day, I headed through Balclutha to Kaka Point, a nice little town by the sea (there seems to be no end of supply of this type of town in New Zealand), near the popular tourist destination of Nugget Point. In the holiday park there, met a couple--a guy from Austria, whose NZ nickname was "Rangi", and a girl from Somerset who was called Sam. I talked to them for a while, and lent them some cooking oil because they had forgotten to buy any. They were going to go to Nugget Point at 6am in order to get a glimpse of some sea-lions, seals, and penguins, and I asked if I could hitch a ride with them, as it is a steep, narrow, and winding there-and-back gravel road to Nugget point.
So we set off at 5:45am, with it still being dark. As we got closer to Nugget point (and thus closer to the sea), it got foggier and foggier. By the time we got there, it was practically impossible to see anything 20 meters in front of you. We walked the 500m track to the light-house, but couldn't see anything. We could hear the seals barking below us somewhere, but couldn't see them at all. I think that they were actually laughing at us silly humans. We couldn't even see a sunrise, as the only change was that the fog was a bit lighter in colour.
So, we went back to the holiday park and packed up. I found out I had a flat in the rear tire once I packed everything onto the bike, so of course I had to unpack everything to get to the spare tube and replace it. I left Kaka point, and immediately encountered 15 kilometers of gravel road, which I was not particularly keen on after struggling with replacing the tube only 20 minutes prior. I made it unscathed, and by evening I was in Papatowai. I camped in a little green field literally a stones-throw away from the sea, and cooked sausages with instant-mashed potatoes and instant gravy for a little bit of a feast.
When the moon rose in the evening, it was amazing! I was actually setting up my tent by moonlight. I went to sleep. Next day, as I was packing, I met a guy called David who was walking his dogs. He said I could refill my water-bottles at his house, which was just up the road. We talked for a while, and then I kept on going.
On a whim, I decided to stop at a restaurant that was just off the side of the road, as someone had said they had spectacular scones there. Unfortunately, they were sold out. However, I ran into a pair of cycle-tourists from Holland who I had last seen in the very north of the North Island (Paihia), about 3 months ago, who had also decided to stop there. That was fun to catch up with them! It really is a small country. Later on I passed the French family again (I have seen them almost every day so far).
I camped at Curio Bay that night. When I got there, I saw a couple of Hector's Dolphins swimming in Porpoise bay. Later in the evening, I went down to Curio Bay and watched Yellow-eyed penguins come in from the sea to sleep. I also looked at the petrified forest there, and a nice guy from the Department of Conservation showed me a fossilized fern.
The next morning I went for a swim in the ocean (no animals in sight, I'm just too stingy to pay the $2 for a shower), and had a lot of fun messing around in the waves. Then, a seal pokes it's head out of the water about 5 meters away from me and swims around. It was really fun! But then it opened it's mouth and showed me every single one of its yellow teeth, and started swimming very quickly towards me. And this animal probably weighs as much as me. So I scampered out of the water as quickly as I could, to give it a bit of space. Then other tourists came up and tried to jump in the water with it, and scared it off. That was enough excitement for the morning.
I left Curio Bay, and went to Fortrose along some more gravel roads. In Fortrose, I got a flat rear tire--but fortunately it was about 400 meters away from a free camping site! So I ended up staying there for 2 days, putting off fixing the flat. As I had used the last of my new tubes previously in Kaka Point, I had to actually fix this one. Eventually I fixed it (and it only took about 15 minutes). A couple in an RV who were camped there had also been in Brighton on the day I had, so I talked to them for a bit. The guy, Russell, took me out onto the beach to look for pipis and cockles (shellfish) at low tide. We also poked around an old shipwreck (called "Ino).
Later they--Russell and Colleen--invited me over to their RV for dinner--cockle-fritters and sausages, and a veggy dish! It was very nice.
Next day, I headed out towards Invercargill. It was HORRIBLY windy all day, and it was ALWAYS a headwind. While I was struggling along at about 5mph, downhill, pedalling my lowest gear, another cycle-tourist comes from the opposite way, zooming along at a good clip, without even pedalling! I booed him and he laughed at me. We cycle-tourers are so nice!
Later as I pulled over for some lunch, I met another cycle-tourist from Germany who was going the same way. We teamed up and took turns being in front. He could go a lot faster, though, because all of his luggage was in a little trailer close to the ground which was fairly aerodynamic, and he had about half as much gear as me. It was pretty awful, but eventually we got here to Invercargill. We stopped at the supermarket and went shopping (always a bad idea when hungry, and when cycling all day into a headwind positively deadly to the wallet). I polished off a half-dozen Black Forest muffins which were on special, and drank a litre of Apple juice. Stayed the night at a backpacker hostel, and now I'm in the internet cafe across the street.
I am planning to go to Stewart Island soon, but need to plan it out. I may try to do the Rakiura Track, a hiking track there. But we will see.
-Ben
I headed south along the amazing coast, with perfect little beaches every 50 meters or so. I stopped at one to eat my lunch, and saw the French family go past up above me. I sat on a rock which was jutting out, and dangled my feet just over the waves--I'm such a daredevil! Seeing as the tide was coming in, I got a little bit wet in the end.
I clambered up the rocks back to the road, and met a German couple who were cycling the opposite way. We talked for a bit, and gave each-other advice on what lay ahead. Then we went our separate ways. In Taieri Mouth, I crossed the (Taieri) river and turned off to go back inland a bit. I went over a massive hill (which had been a gravel road not 2 weeks ago, but was now paved at least). I got over the hill eventually, and started down the other side.
Its often as I fly down these huge hills with my bike fully-laden, that I think to myself: "Am I really doing this trip? I mean, I'm in the middle of New Zealand, hurtling down a hill on a 20+ year old bicycle, with 40 pounds of gear, and I've been doing it for 6 months." Its always on the downhills that I realize exactly what I'm doing, and I always feel as if its just a bit surreal, or dream-like. But I don't pinch myself, because you need both hands on the handlebars when you're flying down a hill in excess of 50 kilometers per hour!
At the bottom of the hill was the little drive-through town of Lake Waihola, which was by the side of (yep, you guessed it) Lake Waihola. I kept on going to Milton, where I stopped for the night. I stayed in the cheapest fully-equipped campsite I've stayed in so far: NZ$6.50 per night.
While I was sitting in the kitchen, I met a really interesting guy. He was a permanent resident of the holiday park, and was currently working as a milking-shed builder. He has a bit of experience (5 years or so?) doing the actual milking, so his skills and experience are always in demand. He said that because of this he often just quits a job after a good stint, and "Goes bush". Now, in New Zealand this is not a political statement, but rather means that one lives in the middle of the forest for long periods of time, by themselves, unsupported for the most part, sometimes hiding from things. He said that he sometimes goes into Fiordland (an immense National park completely isolated from anything but the occasional helicopter tour or bushman) for 10-20 weeks, living off the land. And I think he was telling the truth. He looked the part, at least.
Next day, I headed through Balclutha to Kaka Point, a nice little town by the sea (there seems to be no end of supply of this type of town in New Zealand), near the popular tourist destination of Nugget Point. In the holiday park there, met a couple--a guy from Austria, whose NZ nickname was "Rangi", and a girl from Somerset who was called Sam. I talked to them for a while, and lent them some cooking oil because they had forgotten to buy any. They were going to go to Nugget Point at 6am in order to get a glimpse of some sea-lions, seals, and penguins, and I asked if I could hitch a ride with them, as it is a steep, narrow, and winding there-and-back gravel road to Nugget point.
So we set off at 5:45am, with it still being dark. As we got closer to Nugget point (and thus closer to the sea), it got foggier and foggier. By the time we got there, it was practically impossible to see anything 20 meters in front of you. We walked the 500m track to the light-house, but couldn't see anything. We could hear the seals barking below us somewhere, but couldn't see them at all. I think that they were actually laughing at us silly humans. We couldn't even see a sunrise, as the only change was that the fog was a bit lighter in colour.
So, we went back to the holiday park and packed up. I found out I had a flat in the rear tire once I packed everything onto the bike, so of course I had to unpack everything to get to the spare tube and replace it. I left Kaka point, and immediately encountered 15 kilometers of gravel road, which I was not particularly keen on after struggling with replacing the tube only 20 minutes prior. I made it unscathed, and by evening I was in Papatowai. I camped in a little green field literally a stones-throw away from the sea, and cooked sausages with instant-mashed potatoes and instant gravy for a little bit of a feast.
When the moon rose in the evening, it was amazing! I was actually setting up my tent by moonlight. I went to sleep. Next day, as I was packing, I met a guy called David who was walking his dogs. He said I could refill my water-bottles at his house, which was just up the road. We talked for a while, and then I kept on going.
On a whim, I decided to stop at a restaurant that was just off the side of the road, as someone had said they had spectacular scones there. Unfortunately, they were sold out. However, I ran into a pair of cycle-tourists from Holland who I had last seen in the very north of the North Island (Paihia), about 3 months ago, who had also decided to stop there. That was fun to catch up with them! It really is a small country. Later on I passed the French family again (I have seen them almost every day so far).
I camped at Curio Bay that night. When I got there, I saw a couple of Hector's Dolphins swimming in Porpoise bay. Later in the evening, I went down to Curio Bay and watched Yellow-eyed penguins come in from the sea to sleep. I also looked at the petrified forest there, and a nice guy from the Department of Conservation showed me a fossilized fern.
The next morning I went for a swim in the ocean (no animals in sight, I'm just too stingy to pay the $2 for a shower), and had a lot of fun messing around in the waves. Then, a seal pokes it's head out of the water about 5 meters away from me and swims around. It was really fun! But then it opened it's mouth and showed me every single one of its yellow teeth, and started swimming very quickly towards me. And this animal probably weighs as much as me. So I scampered out of the water as quickly as I could, to give it a bit of space. Then other tourists came up and tried to jump in the water with it, and scared it off. That was enough excitement for the morning.
I left Curio Bay, and went to Fortrose along some more gravel roads. In Fortrose, I got a flat rear tire--but fortunately it was about 400 meters away from a free camping site! So I ended up staying there for 2 days, putting off fixing the flat. As I had used the last of my new tubes previously in Kaka Point, I had to actually fix this one. Eventually I fixed it (and it only took about 15 minutes). A couple in an RV who were camped there had also been in Brighton on the day I had, so I talked to them for a bit. The guy, Russell, took me out onto the beach to look for pipis and cockles (shellfish) at low tide. We also poked around an old shipwreck (called "Ino).
Later they--Russell and Colleen--invited me over to their RV for dinner--cockle-fritters and sausages, and a veggy dish! It was very nice.
Next day, I headed out towards Invercargill. It was HORRIBLY windy all day, and it was ALWAYS a headwind. While I was struggling along at about 5mph, downhill, pedalling my lowest gear, another cycle-tourist comes from the opposite way, zooming along at a good clip, without even pedalling! I booed him and he laughed at me. We cycle-tourers are so nice!
Later as I pulled over for some lunch, I met another cycle-tourist from Germany who was going the same way. We teamed up and took turns being in front. He could go a lot faster, though, because all of his luggage was in a little trailer close to the ground which was fairly aerodynamic, and he had about half as much gear as me. It was pretty awful, but eventually we got here to Invercargill. We stopped at the supermarket and went shopping (always a bad idea when hungry, and when cycling all day into a headwind positively deadly to the wallet). I polished off a half-dozen Black Forest muffins which were on special, and drank a litre of Apple juice. Stayed the night at a backpacker hostel, and now I'm in the internet cafe across the street.
I am planning to go to Stewart Island soon, but need to plan it out. I may try to do the Rakiura Track, a hiking track there. But we will see.
-Ben
Friday, February 15, 2008
T3h H4Xx0r--Using Library internet terminals to blog.
Hello! Well, my last blog post was made from a little internet cafe in downtown Dunedin. Since then, I've found out that the Dunedin Public Library has free internet for browsing, with a $6/hour charge for accessing email, or your favourite social-networking site. Just for fun, I decided that I'd try logging into my blog account--and it worked! So now I can spend as long as I want (until the library closes at 8pm, that is) updating my blog.
Two days ago I gave busking a whirl, in a neat corridor between two of the main shopping streets here. I asked a cafe which was nearby if it'd be alright, and they were fine with it. So, without any more excuses to put it off, I got myself set up. I had my bike with me, leaning against the wall just to my right, fully loaded with all of my gear (I thought that maybe people would be more inclined to give money to a traveller). I set my helmet out (with a towel in it to stop any coins from dropping through the ventilation channels), and arranged an amount of seed-money to prompt people to donate by showing them that "others" (myself, but they don't necessarily know that) had felt I was a cause worth donating to.
I was using my Tin Whistle, and playing various traditional Irish and Scottish songs--most of which I learned at Friends School of Minnesota, Russell will be happy to know. I got off to a bit of a shaky start, which probably landed me a bit of pity money. After I got into a song it would be alright, and I'd enjoy playing it. In fact it was really weird, because I remember thinking at one point: "I have NO IDEA how the rest of this song goes..." but then somehow (must be that muscle memory people talk about) I just kept on playing, and as soon as I played it I remembered that that was how the song went. Which doesn't make any sense, except possibly to those of you who perform (music or otherwise), or do some other sort of tricky physical manipulation on a routine basis. However, once the song had finished, I'd realise in a slight panic that I needed to think of what I would play next--complicated by my not being able to remember which songs I had most recently played, and which songs were due for a replaying.
Here are the songs I was playing:
1. The Slide
2. Farran Boat Song
3. Swallowtail Jig
4. The Foggy Dew
5. Ship in Full Sail (one of my favourites)
6. Skye Boat Song
7. The Britches Full of Stitches (I think that's the name? 32132313-3213235 for FSM kids)
8. Planxty Irwin
More or less in that order; The only thing I really kept conistent was trying to go from a fast song to a slow song. I am working on (slowly) learning "Wayfarin' Stranger," "Mysterious Number One," "The Temperance Reel," (an Irish song, believe it or not!) and a couple of other songs which I liked the names of. In addition to this, I'm trying to remember "Jug of Brown Ale," "The Irish Washerwoman," and a number of others which I've forgotten.
Now, I'm not exactly sure how much money I made, as I unfortunately forgot to count how much money I started it off with. However, from my estimates, I probably made something to the tune of (sorry) $7-$8 for an hours worth of work. Enough for dinner, but not instant riches. I have a bank account which has (hard-earned cherry-packin') money in it, so thankfully I'm not completely dependent on busking as a source of income.
At one point, this big Maori guy with lots of tatoos (no Moko, just tats), a guitar slung over one shoulder (and a 6-pack of Speights over the other), and very dark sunglasses on came up to me and we had a bit of a chat. I think he said his name was Tony. He was a nice guy, and was mostly just wondering where I was from, and where I was going (in a non-creepy way). He was a busker, too, and he'd been doing it for a while. After a couple of minutes he said: "Well, enjoy your time in Aotearoa, boy," and made his way down the road. Later, I went past him while he was playing, and stopped to have a bit of a listen. He was pretty good, and had a fair amount of money (how much of it was spectators', I'm not sure). I gave him fifty cents (I'm stingy, alright), and wished him luck.
The next afternoon I was walking around in downtown when I went past the little corrior I had busked at, and saw aother guy busking there. He had a cookie-tin of some sort in front of him, and was standing there, clapping his hands. And--as far as I could tell--there weren't any particularly unique qualities associated with his clapping. Just clapping. And he was making a LOT of money!
Yesterday I went to the supermarket to get some stuff or lunch, and there was a guy wearing clothes fashionable 150 years ago who was completely covered, head to foot, with white paint. He was a living statue, and was standing absolutely stock-still. But this wasn't any ordinary living statue, for he had a duck (also completely white)! However, I don't believe the duck was real. The guys who had to fix the supermarket's sliding door were a little puzzled by this... thing, which was stationed directly on the other side of the door from them. Now HE was making real money. And every time someone put a dollar or two down, he'd startle them out of their wits by moving jerkily, robotically, to tip his hat at them. If you're ever thinking about getting into busking, heavily consider being one of these living statues--no witty repartee needed, and you get paid for doing nothing. However, I'm sure it's not nearly as easy as it looks (in fact, I'd probably be in agony after a quarter of an hour), maintaining the same position constantly.
The thing that really puzzled me was figuring out just how he periodically collected the money people threw onto a blanket at his feet, next to the duck.
Read on for an absolutely RIVETING account of my thought-processes while buying a rain-coat:
The other thing that I've done is buy a decent raincoat. My old one was big and yellow, and not particularly good, to say the least. My main gripes with it stemmed from the facts that it:
a. Made you sweat so much that you got soaked in your own sweat,
b. Had a variety of holes in it, along with big patches which had lost their repellant coating,
c. Was growing at least 7 varieties of mold on the inside.
So, yesterday I bought one from Kathmandu during a big clearance sale. Now, Kathmandu is one of those outdoors stores where you pay a lot for the brand-name, and where they often sell many fairly/completely useless novelty products mixed in with the quality items. So I spent a while looking at raincoats there, and in other stores. I found one which usually retailed for NZ$499, but was on sale at NZ$225. I was a bit suspicious, because that seems like it would be a huge drop in cost for a product which works, leading me to believe that it, conversely, didn't work. It was made with this Gore-Tex material called PacLite, and is a very light jacket. I did some research on the internet, and found out that the material has gotten very good reviews, the main negative comment being the usually very-high price. So, the long and the short of it is that now I have a very cool raincoat which rolls up to fit in a nifty little stuff-sac they conveniently included (about the size of a water bottle). And it's RAINING! I've never been quite so happy to see rain. I plan to start heading south fairly soon (tomorrow, maybe?), towards the Catlins, Invercargill, and Stewart Island.
You see, I'm making a whole bunch of blog entries now so that I have an excuse for a lack of such prolific publishing later.
-Ben
Two days ago I gave busking a whirl, in a neat corridor between two of the main shopping streets here. I asked a cafe which was nearby if it'd be alright, and they were fine with it. So, without any more excuses to put it off, I got myself set up. I had my bike with me, leaning against the wall just to my right, fully loaded with all of my gear (I thought that maybe people would be more inclined to give money to a traveller). I set my helmet out (with a towel in it to stop any coins from dropping through the ventilation channels), and arranged an amount of seed-money to prompt people to donate by showing them that "others" (myself, but they don't necessarily know that) had felt I was a cause worth donating to.
I was using my Tin Whistle, and playing various traditional Irish and Scottish songs--most of which I learned at Friends School of Minnesota, Russell will be happy to know. I got off to a bit of a shaky start, which probably landed me a bit of pity money. After I got into a song it would be alright, and I'd enjoy playing it. In fact it was really weird, because I remember thinking at one point: "I have NO IDEA how the rest of this song goes..." but then somehow (must be that muscle memory people talk about) I just kept on playing, and as soon as I played it I remembered that that was how the song went. Which doesn't make any sense, except possibly to those of you who perform (music or otherwise), or do some other sort of tricky physical manipulation on a routine basis. However, once the song had finished, I'd realise in a slight panic that I needed to think of what I would play next--complicated by my not being able to remember which songs I had most recently played, and which songs were due for a replaying.
Here are the songs I was playing:
1. The Slide
2. Farran Boat Song
3. Swallowtail Jig
4. The Foggy Dew
5. Ship in Full Sail (one of my favourites)
6. Skye Boat Song
7. The Britches Full of Stitches (I think that's the name? 32132313-3213235 for FSM kids)
8. Planxty Irwin
More or less in that order; The only thing I really kept conistent was trying to go from a fast song to a slow song. I am working on (slowly) learning "Wayfarin' Stranger," "Mysterious Number One," "The Temperance Reel," (an Irish song, believe it or not!) and a couple of other songs which I liked the names of. In addition to this, I'm trying to remember "Jug of Brown Ale," "The Irish Washerwoman," and a number of others which I've forgotten.
Now, I'm not exactly sure how much money I made, as I unfortunately forgot to count how much money I started it off with. However, from my estimates, I probably made something to the tune of (sorry) $7-$8 for an hours worth of work. Enough for dinner, but not instant riches. I have a bank account which has (hard-earned cherry-packin') money in it, so thankfully I'm not completely dependent on busking as a source of income.
At one point, this big Maori guy with lots of tatoos (no Moko, just tats), a guitar slung over one shoulder (and a 6-pack of Speights over the other), and very dark sunglasses on came up to me and we had a bit of a chat. I think he said his name was Tony. He was a nice guy, and was mostly just wondering where I was from, and where I was going (in a non-creepy way). He was a busker, too, and he'd been doing it for a while. After a couple of minutes he said: "Well, enjoy your time in Aotearoa, boy," and made his way down the road. Later, I went past him while he was playing, and stopped to have a bit of a listen. He was pretty good, and had a fair amount of money (how much of it was spectators', I'm not sure). I gave him fifty cents (I'm stingy, alright), and wished him luck.
The next afternoon I was walking around in downtown when I went past the little corrior I had busked at, and saw aother guy busking there. He had a cookie-tin of some sort in front of him, and was standing there, clapping his hands. And--as far as I could tell--there weren't any particularly unique qualities associated with his clapping. Just clapping. And he was making a LOT of money!
Yesterday I went to the supermarket to get some stuff or lunch, and there was a guy wearing clothes fashionable 150 years ago who was completely covered, head to foot, with white paint. He was a living statue, and was standing absolutely stock-still. But this wasn't any ordinary living statue, for he had a duck (also completely white)! However, I don't believe the duck was real. The guys who had to fix the supermarket's sliding door were a little puzzled by this... thing, which was stationed directly on the other side of the door from them. Now HE was making real money. And every time someone put a dollar or two down, he'd startle them out of their wits by moving jerkily, robotically, to tip his hat at them. If you're ever thinking about getting into busking, heavily consider being one of these living statues--no witty repartee needed, and you get paid for doing nothing. However, I'm sure it's not nearly as easy as it looks (in fact, I'd probably be in agony after a quarter of an hour), maintaining the same position constantly.
The thing that really puzzled me was figuring out just how he periodically collected the money people threw onto a blanket at his feet, next to the duck.
Read on for an absolutely RIVETING account of my thought-processes while buying a rain-coat:
The other thing that I've done is buy a decent raincoat. My old one was big and yellow, and not particularly good, to say the least. My main gripes with it stemmed from the facts that it:
a. Made you sweat so much that you got soaked in your own sweat,
b. Had a variety of holes in it, along with big patches which had lost their repellant coating,
c. Was growing at least 7 varieties of mold on the inside.
So, yesterday I bought one from Kathmandu during a big clearance sale. Now, Kathmandu is one of those outdoors stores where you pay a lot for the brand-name, and where they often sell many fairly/completely useless novelty products mixed in with the quality items. So I spent a while looking at raincoats there, and in other stores. I found one which usually retailed for NZ$499, but was on sale at NZ$225. I was a bit suspicious, because that seems like it would be a huge drop in cost for a product which works, leading me to believe that it, conversely, didn't work. It was made with this Gore-Tex material called PacLite, and is a very light jacket. I did some research on the internet, and found out that the material has gotten very good reviews, the main negative comment being the usually very-high price. So, the long and the short of it is that now I have a very cool raincoat which rolls up to fit in a nifty little stuff-sac they conveniently included (about the size of a water bottle). And it's RAINING! I've never been quite so happy to see rain. I plan to start heading south fairly soon (tomorrow, maybe?), towards the Catlins, Invercargill, and Stewart Island.
You see, I'm making a whole bunch of blog entries now so that I have an excuse for a lack of such prolific publishing later.
-Ben
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Dunedin
So, I've made it from Alexandra to Dunedin. Along the way, I rode on a 15km stretch of the Otago Rail Trail, and ended up camping in a little shelter along the way so I didn't have to set up my tent. The rail trail is a bike path (gravel, not sealed) along the former route of the railway, running more or less parallel to the main highway. I got woken up by sheep nosing around thee outside of my little hut, and flew into Ranfurly with a strong tailwind, and a gentle downward gradient. After that, I went by the road called the "Pig Root" (which makes even less sense than "Pig Route"). It was hilly, and raining the whole time. And, finally, I got a flat just as I got to the top of a horrible hill, looking forward to a nice, long, downhill (note for aspiring cycle-tourists/bike riders: flats always happen in the rain, and when you're at your furthest point away from civilisation). But, as I was merrily trudging along down the hill, with rain pouring down, clad in a raincoat which magically makes the wearer wetter than if they weren't wearing it, someone stops their car and offers me a place to stay for the night! That was very nice. The next day, they even gave me a ride into Palmerston, the nearest town, maybe 15kms away. They were going to the annual Palmerston A&P show (they parade cows around, and things like that, I think). I headed into Warrington, a small seaside town where I stayed with a family friend. He has a hedge which is about 25 feet tall, and it's hollowed out near the bottom to make a little shed. What's more, you can even climb up the inside of the hedge and get a magnificent view from the top! Aside from this, I also helped with various tasks, including some gardening things, and spending a day cutting a path through thick gorse to a patch of native bush at the bottom of the valley. Gorse is a horrible plant, with spines an inch long, and it completely takes over.
Next, I moved on to Dunedin, the city where I was born. I've been staying at the Dunedin Holiday Park mostly, but packing everything up onto my bike each day in case I decide to leave city on a whim. Except for one dark and stormy Saturday night, when I felt particularly disgruntled about paying $14 for a patch of grass for my tent. So, under the cover of darkness, I stole onto the golf course just behind the holiday park, setting up my tent underneath a copse of trees. I cooked some sausages, and was about to go to sleep, when: Oh SHIT! The sprinklers turned on. It was mostly just the shock of being blasted with freezing water in the middle of the night, but I hurridly jumped in my tent. Thankfully, I had the fly up, so it was really just like an unexpected rainshower.
But, the fun wasn't over yet. As it was Saturday night, which I had failed to realise, all of the hoons were out en masse, being drunk and loud and zooming around in their abnormally loud cars. So, I spent the majority of the night trying to decide whether they were getting closer, louder, or (probably) both at the same time. When the noise finally dropped off around 4.30am, I snatched a couple hours of sleep--only to be woken at 7am by a curious Swish...Thwack! noise which seemed to repeat at rather odd intervals. Of course, it was Sunday, and people were out for an early-morning round of golf to start their day. The golfers must have been rather surprised to see a person on a fully-loaded touring bicycle dart out from beneath the trees halfway through hole sixteen. So, needless to say, I've been staying at the holiday park since.
Yesterday, I got my busking license from the Dunedin City Council. Busking, for those who don't know, is the art of looking pitiful and performing on the street so that people give you money. I hope to give it a go once I am done here on the computer. I'll be playing my Tin Whistle. I've been scouring the library for sheet music, in order to expand my repertoire, and have a few new songs to learn as a result. "Wayfaring Stranger" is one I felt was appropriate. Well, this is it from me for the moment.
Next, I moved on to Dunedin, the city where I was born. I've been staying at the Dunedin Holiday Park mostly, but packing everything up onto my bike each day in case I decide to leave city on a whim. Except for one dark and stormy Saturday night, when I felt particularly disgruntled about paying $14 for a patch of grass for my tent. So, under the cover of darkness, I stole onto the golf course just behind the holiday park, setting up my tent underneath a copse of trees. I cooked some sausages, and was about to go to sleep, when: Oh SHIT! The sprinklers turned on. It was mostly just the shock of being blasted with freezing water in the middle of the night, but I hurridly jumped in my tent. Thankfully, I had the fly up, so it was really just like an unexpected rainshower.
But, the fun wasn't over yet. As it was Saturday night, which I had failed to realise, all of the hoons were out en masse, being drunk and loud and zooming around in their abnormally loud cars. So, I spent the majority of the night trying to decide whether they were getting closer, louder, or (probably) both at the same time. When the noise finally dropped off around 4.30am, I snatched a couple hours of sleep--only to be woken at 7am by a curious Swish...Thwack! noise which seemed to repeat at rather odd intervals. Of course, it was Sunday, and people were out for an early-morning round of golf to start their day. The golfers must have been rather surprised to see a person on a fully-loaded touring bicycle dart out from beneath the trees halfway through hole sixteen. So, needless to say, I've been staying at the holiday park since.
Yesterday, I got my busking license from the Dunedin City Council. Busking, for those who don't know, is the art of looking pitiful and performing on the street so that people give you money. I hope to give it a go once I am done here on the computer. I'll be playing my Tin Whistle. I've been scouring the library for sheet music, in order to expand my repertoire, and have a few new songs to learn as a result. "Wayfaring Stranger" is one I felt was appropriate. Well, this is it from me for the moment.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Drowning in Cherries
Hello! So, to skip through the last couple months in a, er, rather abbreviated fashion:
Worked for two weeks in Te Puke doing kiwifruit work.
Moved up to Katikati and stayed with some family friends for a couple of days.
Headed north along the east coast of the Coromandel Peninsula.
Went to Hot-Water Beach, Cathedral Cove.
Went up and to the West, over to Coromandel town.
After being rained on ( and having some "Maori kai" with a middle-aged rugby team who were also occupying the holiday park--some guys who apparrently grew up with a Minnesota Viking called Dave Dixon or something), (wow, that was a fairly lengthy and nonsensial parenthetical comment!), I took a ferry over to Auckland in order to avoid the horribleness that is the MOTORWAY.
Stayed in Auckland for a week or so with my cousin Kathryn.
On way out of town find that my pedals have basically self-destructed.
During search for a pair of pedals under $80 (eventually found great $20 pair) met a very cool cycle mechanic called Gus who offers me a place to stay for the night.
---Okay, I'm going into more detail than I intended---
Up the west coast of Northland, through Dargaville, Matakohe, up to Kaitaia.
From Kaitaia took bus tour up to Cape Reinga for the day. Here I experienced sand-toboganning for the first time (see pictures on flickr account)
Headed south along East coast, stopping in some fantastic beaches along the way.
Back through Auckland, took train through main metropolis part, out the other side.
Stayed at Normandy Farm, with some people that I have an extremely confusing connection with--involves co-ops, geologists, spouse, french people, and a farm--and had a very good time poking around there.
headed along towards Rotorua, along Hauraki Plains (think that's the name). Along the way I Find 5x 1 Liter bottles of Pink Grapefruit juice with seals intact (must have come off a truck!), drink nothing else for 3 days. Slowly becomes more and more fermented. But still slightly yummy.
Met Mum in Rotorua...Sat in cabin listening to Prarie Home Companion--had to check we were actually oin New Zealand still, and not in MN.
Did Tongariro Crossing with mum.
Drove to Havelock North for christmas with the Corner family. Interesting. Crazy. VERY crazy. And more food than I've ever seen. We had both an x-mas turkey, AND an x-mas ham (which was sooo big it didn't even fit in the oven!). Along with one or two other dishes, maybe closer to twenty.
headed down to Wellington, stayed with Auntie Susan for the night, took ferry over to South island next evening.
Drove for several hours until about midnight, where me and mum both slept in my 1.5 man tent, about 15km from Kaikoura.
Headed down to CHristchurch, Timaru, Oamaru, Warrington, stayed with Chuck (friend of my mother's).
Spent New Year with the Hessons in a tiny place called Cluedon. Found a hedgehog about 30 minutes before midnight! Awesome!
Cycled down to Alexandra, where I've been working in a cherry packhouse ever since. Very cold inside.Just finished work forever (at this packhouse). Now will head towards Dunedin (where I was born).
Hope you're doing well!
-Ben
Worked for two weeks in Te Puke doing kiwifruit work.
Moved up to Katikati and stayed with some family friends for a couple of days.
Headed north along the east coast of the Coromandel Peninsula.
Went to Hot-Water Beach, Cathedral Cove.
Went up and to the West, over to Coromandel town.
After being rained on ( and having some "Maori kai" with a middle-aged rugby team who were also occupying the holiday park--some guys who apparrently grew up with a Minnesota Viking called Dave Dixon or something), (wow, that was a fairly lengthy and nonsensial parenthetical comment!), I took a ferry over to Auckland in order to avoid the horribleness that is the MOTORWAY.
Stayed in Auckland for a week or so with my cousin Kathryn.
On way out of town find that my pedals have basically self-destructed.
During search for a pair of pedals under $80 (eventually found great $20 pair) met a very cool cycle mechanic called Gus who offers me a place to stay for the night.
---Okay, I'm going into more detail than I intended---
Up the west coast of Northland, through Dargaville, Matakohe, up to Kaitaia.
From Kaitaia took bus tour up to Cape Reinga for the day. Here I experienced sand-toboganning for the first time (see pictures on flickr account)
Headed south along East coast, stopping in some fantastic beaches along the way.
Back through Auckland, took train through main metropolis part, out the other side.
Stayed at Normandy Farm, with some people that I have an extremely confusing connection with--involves co-ops, geologists, spouse, french people, and a farm--and had a very good time poking around there.
headed along towards Rotorua, along Hauraki Plains (think that's the name). Along the way I Find 5x 1 Liter bottles of Pink Grapefruit juice with seals intact (must have come off a truck!), drink nothing else for 3 days. Slowly becomes more and more fermented. But still slightly yummy.
Met Mum in Rotorua...Sat in cabin listening to Prarie Home Companion--had to check we were actually oin New Zealand still, and not in MN.
Did Tongariro Crossing with mum.
Drove to Havelock North for christmas with the Corner family. Interesting. Crazy. VERY crazy. And more food than I've ever seen. We had both an x-mas turkey, AND an x-mas ham (which was sooo big it didn't even fit in the oven!). Along with one or two other dishes, maybe closer to twenty.
headed down to Wellington, stayed with Auntie Susan for the night, took ferry over to South island next evening.
Drove for several hours until about midnight, where me and mum both slept in my 1.5 man tent, about 15km from Kaikoura.
Headed down to CHristchurch, Timaru, Oamaru, Warrington, stayed with Chuck (friend of my mother's).
Spent New Year with the Hessons in a tiny place called Cluedon. Found a hedgehog about 30 minutes before midnight! Awesome!
Cycled down to Alexandra, where I've been working in a cherry packhouse ever since. Very cold inside.Just finished work forever (at this packhouse). Now will head towards Dunedin (where I was born).
Hope you're doing well!
-Ben
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