Th 12/10/98 - This morning I downloaded the forth chapter, the third while on travel, to the website! I guess the system is working so far.
Another slow morning at Megan's. I had wanted to go for a run to the post office although the others asked if I would like to play tennis. Any indecisiveness ended with a rain storm. Eventually we were out in the car doing errands. John posted a package back home of unnecessary items weighing 3.5 kg, costing $NZ105! Urrgh, that is an awfully steep, and I am worried about eventually sending the tent and cook stuff somewhere, maybe home, maybe on to Kenya. Other errands included replacing my dive mask ($NZ20), buying Teva-like shoes ($30), backup batteries for this little Casio (why does it keep killing the mains without saying they are low?!), and a couple of other small items. And then! we kept our appointment for vaccinations and other travel medical issues. I procrastinated with the appointment because of the money we would drop and the hassle of going, but when I returned from the Coromandel John insisted since he wanted to see a doctor about a funny red circle that developed on his leg. He thought of Lyme Disease, but it was ringworm. Ringworm is not a worm, it is a fungus. In discussing it, the doc guessed it came from the dairy farm we visited. He said pigs, other farm animals, and people can spread it.
A couple of months ago I checked the Center or Disease Control (CDC) and my local doc for the recommended shots and meds needed for our trip. I then called the Mariam in Providence and asked for a cost estimate. With consultant visit, it was $US800 or more!! I couldn't believe it. I was sitting there gasping, and thinking that can't be the final answer. I wondered if Auckland may be less, since New Zealand and most other countries' medical support is socialistic - heavily subsidized by the gov. I found the Auckland telephone book on the web, searched for 'travel' and 'clinic', and the results yeilded two travel clinics. I then searched for their names and each had a web site with contact email addresses. I emailed each and they both replied the same day. For the same set of shots as the CDC recommended, the charge was less than half!! I was so proud of my tactics and happy with the quick results. One of the clinics sits, coincidently, five minutes down the road from Megan. The doc there, Marc, was the one who replied to my email. After the shots we talked about those emails and for ten minutes on traveling the world. He's a very sincere, interesting man. The shots.. John was up to date on yellow fever and I am with tetanus. Besides those, we received shots for meningitis and typhoid, and oral polio chased by a sweet. We all agreed that a broad spectrum antibiotic for diarrhea or misc. infection, and a electrolyte restorer would be good ideas. My total cost for the day was $NZ244.. In Australia we will need more poking for hepatitis and rabies. The appointment lasted to and a half hours, a long time spent on learning about the health risks in traveling the areas we intend on seeing, weighing the advantages of different meds, and the necessities of some others. Throughout this session with the nurse, Megan, we were joking and laughing, the more we did, the more stern she became. John was giggly because shots make him nervous, even though he has an Emergency Medical Technician (EMT) license.
John and I stopped at a pharmacy to fill our malaria and John's ringworm med. We then picked up desert for the house, French vanilla, apple pie, and milk chocolate digestive biscuits.
Fr 12/11/98 - John and I were off at 10am in Arf the wonder car for Northland, the part of New Zealand to the north of Auckland, in particular the Bay of Islands. We had a great drive up talking constantly about allot of things, especially why we are the way we are. The kind of heavy conversation you rarely have with a friend you're close to and that but that unequivocally brings you closer. Perhaps it all easily fell out of our mouths because I had been away for four days and it was the first time without Megan. We do have a lot in common, common interests, common pasts, and common thoughts and feelings about life. No details here though, too personal!
Our plan was to use Pahia, the center of the Bay of Islands area as homebase for excursions. Megan's roommate Andrew (not Smith), set us up with his girlfriend Madeiline's mother's bach for $NZ30 per night. That's a deal since a backpacker there costs $16. That plan disintegrated within hours of arriving in the area. We stopped at a information area and interrogated and teased and pestered the help until we knew as much as possible. We were told of a good hike on a peninsula to a remote DOC cabin, and of another fine DOC camp accessible by car with two cool beaches separated by dunes. We were immediately ready to sign up for both, and we did. What this meant though was we couldn't use the bach for more than one night, and later on, after spending a bit of time kicking around Pahia while waiting for the bach keeper to return home, we gave up on it, and drove an hour toward the trailhead over windy gravel roads..
Sa 12/12/98 --- CAPE BRETT TRAMP
We woke early it the Maori campground for a good start on the trail. Arriving at the roads end we found a few houses and a store where trail payment is taken, but the sign read "Open Sunday, 9am". I was cussing, but eventually Ted came down from his house to open the store, he accepted our $NZ15 each for the Maori donation, and $8 each for the hut. The peninsula end is called Cape Brett, the trail called the Rakuamangmanga Track. Ted, a tall huge guy with a huge white sleeveless undershirt stretched tightly across his huge stomach drove us in Arf to the trailhead. Ted warned about the arduous hike, that we shouldn't start quickly up the first peak, that the trail would then go up and down, then would come down to the sea before we reach the hut. Initially I was thankful for the advice, but thinking twice, wondering if this huge man had ever done the hike and how accurate the bit of info was.
I set off first on the 22km, eight hour tramp and pushed a bit. The sky was thick with clouds, and there wasn't a good view for the first two and a half hours. There wasn't a picture worth an inch of celluloid, and I resigned myself into imply appreciating a workout. The forest was only interesting in spots, once where a fire had run through causing a strange thicket of blackened and twisted trees with full healthy heads of green. I tried not to mutter to myself of how the Coromandel was such a better hike, but eventually the skies brightened just a little and the scenery blasted open with big sweeping views of rocky coastline. Wooo whoo! The weather had also cleared up, blue sky gradually penetrating the dull clouds. John was enjoying the hike so much, a bad hiking day. I found him humorous, complaining about the flies, his breathing, sweating, being thirsty, his knees, all within ten minutes. I asked if he wanted to break for lunch, it was 12:30 and we were way ahead of the suggested times, he agreed. We had stopped coming down a long hill of thick grasslike shrub. Ahead was a steep open incline, off left and right were huge seascapes over the 200 foot cliffs. Below is an extraction from the tramps brochure:
"This peninsula takes in seven distinct peaks each said to represent the seven waka (canoes) from the great Polynesian migration descending from Hawaii. At the tip f the Cape is Otuwhanga where man first leaned forward and touched the promise land."
The last peak laid ahead, but before ascending, we stood our toes over the edge of a vertical drop to dark rock and crashing waves directly down. We were awed with nature, again hearing ourselves saying, "this is such a beautiful country". The coastline rippled away from us with the same straight drops hundreds of feet high to the medium blue clear sea below. We pushed over the last peak. Cresting this mammoth, the Cape Brett lighthouse sat below at 490 feet, just beyond the peninsula we saw an equally high jagged piece of rock similar to the Prudential logo, and beyond a bit further a rise of rock from the sea. I started re-evaluating my comparison of Cape Brett to the Coromandel Peninsula - Coromandel has stunning views much more often, but this one view at Brett tops all.
I snapped a couple of more photos, and followed John to the hut two hundred feet down, meaning the hut has a view off the head at two hundred feet or so - my kind of place!! The twenty person hut has recently been reconditioned and looks very clean and attractive excluding the mass of house fly-like tenants in the windows. Only one other was here, and had been for nine days, fishing and not much else. If you don't fish, or possibly snorkel, you need to bring your own entertainment, or really have a real good imagination. we fit the later.
We had arrived after only five and one half hours, at 2pm. We picked out bunks with the best looking mattresses, settled in and sat outside to absorbed this big country. Hard for detail, a familiar boat passed, and I guessed it was a Hole in the Rock boat. The Hole in the Rock is a naturally formed tourist attraction where people pay $NZ55 to be whisked in a sixty person speed boat to see this hole. A couple of other tour boats passed, and I became more convinced that this Hole in the Rock was very nearby, most likely just off the end of the Cape. This was confirmed by the other tenant here, but from our perspective, the hole could not be seen.
You can walk below on an old small scale railway to a old concrete platform standing thirty feet above the water (not deep enough to jump from), then descend steps to a worn platform for offloading boats. There were foundations to old buildings and other signs of structures that were once used to support the big 1906 lighthouse around the whole mountainside. In front of the lighthouse now stands a much smaller aid to navigation, and the big guy is no longer used. I carefully stepped down the steep tracks, and then followed the steps to the blue water. A channel sloshes with tide between the lands end to Rock of Prudential just forty feet on. I dove into the cool water, happy to be in the swim again, and stroked across. Standing on the rock, I was surprised to see a four foot wide ray swimming by. Small schools of blue fish occasionally surfaced, off to my left was a large sized pelican like bird, complacently waiting for something to happen. I surveyed the area for entertainment, swam back over, walked the hill, and sat near John and gave him the options.
Sa 12/12/98 --- THE ROCK AT CAPE BRETT
He grimaced and sighed and slowly shook his head. The options - either scale the sharp cliffs for some Olympic competition level can openers and cannon balls, or find plastic enough to double wrap our hiking shoes, swim across and climb the steep and loose Rock of Prudential. After sitting for ten minutes with little discussion, we were searching for plastic, and then walked down the steep tracks to the water. We wrapped our boots, shirts, hats, socks, shorts, and my spy camera in a garbage bag, then all into another. I jumped in and side stoked, keeping the bag out of the water. John clambered up first and I handed him the bag. We undid the whole package, started to redress, when inspection determined that we were obviously on a little island. Everything went back into the double bags, we crossed and crawled up another rock. Standing there drying, we again found ourselves locked by water from the Rock. In the water again, John passed the bag down, and another short swim. Up again, and damn - we saw that we could have actually waked off the last rock. Not a good omen for the start!
I call this island Rock of Prudential because of its shape - two sides more than ninety degrees apart are shear cliffs of rock to the top, the other side toward the mainland, is a very steep slope of loose rock and areas of dense vegetation including ground palm plants and scrub. Scaling this slope was at best stupid, and of course that adds to the fun. The ground easily breaks away, and a slip in most places would require at least medical attention, but there was a view to be had! I could see John trying to use his hardened climbing techniques, pre-checking hand holds and lay lines, but these didn't apply to the coarse broken surface, and he was nervous. Climbing with John and his friend Dave last year near Cathedral Ledge in North Conway, we had a friction climb, meaning there was a slope instead of a straight up climb using hand and foot holds to ascend. That day John was anxious, and repeated his distaste. So, the Rock couldn't have been to comfortable for him. In my childhood, I spent many days climbing things mostly without good reason, including my mom's roof. Perhaps going up friction like slopes doesn't bother me so, coming down is a bit different though. Ascending the first half, we happened to pick the steepest route, having not planned a route from the other side. More than half way up we were captured by the thick vegetation of ground palms, hearty vine grass, and other shrub. Damn, we were almost there, but didn't want to face another day of welts from scratches and cuts. John voiced a similar opinion. As we ascended, the view at our back became more dramatic, constantly changing our perspective of Cape Brett Light, our hut, and the panorama below. Another thirty feet up was an outcropping of rock, maybe very close to the top, maybe at least with a view. I climbed ahead through the thick while John waited. The plants provided handholds, some places required giant steps to crush and clamber and push through. But, hey!, this veggie life wasn't the least bit hostile on the skin. The rock outcropping needed a bit of fun free climbing, and the perspective from atop didn't yield a view of the summit, but I had to be very close. I asked John if he minded that I keep going, he asked if I was cut up, then decided to join me. I used my small Nikon to snap a three picture panoramic. The peak was soon under us and the view was more than spectacular, well more the climb! We sat on the edge of the Rock, a 400 foot sheer drop to our right and left, the Hole in the Rock Island directly in front, another smaller rock pinnacle to the right. We couldn't see the hole in the Hole in the Rock, but the view was awe inspiring. The weather warm, sky blue!
On the front side of the Rock facing the hut is a terribly loud gull colony, and here below us were hundreds of the white sea pigeons fanatically feasting on fish. They danced on the surface squawking and fluttering about, others flew from a distance to join the mayhem. A few hundred feet away we noticed a large funny rippling on the water, not like a gust of breeze. I wondered if this mass was a school of surfaced fish, and suggested that if that were the case, then one of the gulls flying to the mayhem should spot the school. The third bird flying over this rippled area hesitated and quickly bombed straight into the sea and with equal quickness he rose and flew back towards the colony, while magically the large white intrusion on the sea surface immediately faded away. Here we were on top of the world, suspended hundreds of feet above the fabulous works of Mother Nature, witnesses to the processes of sea life, and loving it!
Just beneath us was a narrow bridge to a small rock tower. I commented that the tower could be used for a picture, and asked John to take one with SpyCam. My legs and voice shook as I slowly made my way across. The drop off was immediate on both sides, hundreds of feet down, and for six feet I only had a foot wide path, then I needed to climb over a rock pile. On the way over, loose rocks fell the distance, and John voiced a reminded that I could follow suit. Once I reached the rock tower, anything but climbing the eight feet to the top seemed anti-climatic, so up I went.
We were able to find our line down the Rock through the scrub and the rocks we climbed up. I was leading when I heard John slip, then stop. With his right foot braced against a piece of ledge, he nervously yelled, "I'm glad I slipped here!". We then followed a gully to the bottom, packaged our belongings, and swam naked back across.
For dinner we cooked up a 2 kilo package of sausages made of lamb, pork, and beef sausages, and a just-add-water package of pasta in cream sauce. Ok we also needed milk and butter, instead we used water and olive oil we found. Since the sausages had been without refrigeration since yesterday, I cooked them until they surrendered. We read discarded newspapers and magazines until dark then laid outside for a star show. I wore my long jacket and shorts, and was too sleepy to retrieve my sleeping bag. I slipped in and out of sleep, and gazed at the stars. Crossing one another were three objects, airplanes and/or satellites. I found that unusual. When I eventually woke, my legs were icy and fairly well bitten by black flies.
Su 12/13/98 - Because we only had five days in the north and we believed the hike was eight hours, we had arranged for a boat to retrieve us at 9am for $NZ30 each. Considering the hike time and the cost I questioned the decision. At 8:30a we walked down to swim and wait. Cape Brett and the hut were such a beautiful place, I pained about leaving.
Just before 9am, a white 24 foot boat with a Yamaha 150 sped towards us, the captain asking, "How was the hike boys?". Ivan, a Maori, was a younger, tall, handsome man with bright eyes, big smile, and a healthy outdoor look. After seeing and hearing all the propaganda about the Hole in the Rock, and being so close, I asked what it would take to see it. Ivan smiled and cheerfully replied, "After that hike, you have to see the hole!". We were psyched and quickly whisked away past the gull colony, around the Rock, towards the Hole in the Rock. It is another New Zealand tourist catcher, but as a freebie with our own local guide, it was less contrived and more exciting. Another work of nature, the ocean has torn a hole fifty feet high and across through this rock island, a huge keyhole. Ivan told stories such as the New Zealand action series anchor women who climbed and absailed into a boat, and of exciting night dives and the strange fish found.
We arrived back the car, bought almond Magnum ice cream bars from the huge guy Ted, and motored north towards Cape Matia. We stopped at a small farmstands, John buying a bag of great juicy oranges, a bag of sweet mandarins for myself.
John followed a sign pointing to a lake. There was a group heavily competing in radio control model sailboat racing, and miscellaneous adults and children about a local schools small sailboats. A fellow I small chatted to suggested that we ask to take a boat out for $NZ5. Within twenty minutes John and I were sailing the mighty Opo on the small lake. Considering the opportunity and cost, we had to give it a go. (I later learned that Opo was the name of a famous wild Dolphin befriended at the Kauri Coast in the 1950's who was taught various tricks. Unfortunately, Opo met his demise during dynamite fishing.) Opo is a 12 foot Sunburst sloop, and the sailing was nothing more than amusing, but still worth the hour and a half we invested. Swimming afterward was a joy, feeling fresh water finally wash the salt off from the morning swim.
Matia Bay is at the end of the long gravel road along the Karikari Peninsula. The DOC campground is huge, having upper and lower campgrounds with each subdivided by twenty foot trees. Only a few tents were up, and we quickly found a spot that seemed to be isolated. John went to scout the area, and I laid down in the tent, but soon heard cars with faulty exhausts cruising the access road nearby. Then voices, "This is where we'll do the cooking", "I'm going to go home for ....". I couldn't sleep and eventually crawled out of the tent. Within a couple of car lengths I saw, literally, the biggest camping tent ever. It was army green canvas, forty feet long, and nearly erected. The wind flapped the sides revealing large support poles in three rows lengthwise. I looked at the cooking area, a couple of cars, a handful of Maori adults and kids. I realized this outing was scaled for many more people and swore to myself. John came back exclaiming that the area was great and how glad he was that we were doing this trip. I scowled, and said I wanted to move, and that I didn't "trust them". I guess I am still burnt and leery about safety. Or, maybe this could be a good thing - it would be great to be accepted by this huge group of locals and hang with them. Quickly weighing the worse possible outcome - kit stolen, we shoved our gear into Arf and selected an extremely scenic spot right on the edge of the upper campground overlooking the beach, fairly close to a "No Camping" sign. We were excited about the location, only three other tents in sight but across the fields.
I walked down the grassy hill to the desolate crescent beach for a skinny in the cool blue water. For dinner we had bought a huge two kilo hunk of lamb (lower leg?) that would last three meals, and cranked up the infallible camp stove for a hand picked can of beans in tomato sauce. The sky was clear, but again the stars were not as numerous as a cold winter night in New England.
Mo 12/14/98 - Many days start overcast then turn clear in the early afternoon, today was the rule. We drove to the area's significant town as described by the Lonely Planet, the quaint inlet town of Mangonui so John could buy a book, and I could mail off postcards. Back at Matia Bay with clear skies I explored the beaches and attempted a workout in a fairly sheltered section doing pushups, and curling and tricep extensions with rocks.
The most notable asset at Matia Bay are the twin bays separated by a small hill and peninsula heavily covered with silver ferns and other trees and bushes. Each bay is attractive with off white sand and clear blue water, but the shapes are unusual - each bay is fairly round, the one further from camp is 270 degrees around! Additionally, we are here pre-Christmas and the crowds are still at home. In general, the end of Matia Peninsula has no towns, and is nearly all pastureland and forest except for the camping area and hidden farm houses. This was a very good setup!
John and I had finished the lamb, and instead of breaking into the spaghetti, John suggested we go back to town for fish and chips as suggested by the information girl back in Whangewera. They chose a couple of pieces of blue nose for each of us and weighed them to price the meal, we split chips, and as per norm paid for tomato sauce (ketchup). That night we sat in the car reading until 11p.
Tu 12/15/98 - Drove the west coast on our return to Auckland. The goal was the Kauri Forest
returned from trip away in Arf
Tane Mahuta 'God of the Forest'
In Maori cosmology, Tane is the son of Ranginui the Sky Father and Papatuanuku the Earth Mother. Tane tore his parents apart, breaking there primal embrace, to bring light, space and air and allowing life to flourish.
Tane is the lifegiver - all living creatures are his children
This is the largest living Kauri tree in New Zealand. I is difficult to accurately estimate the age of Tane Mahuta. But, it may be that Tane Mahuta sprang from a seed around 2000 years ago, during the lifetime of Christ.
Maori's sitting in front talked of Maori history, tribes, and Maoti radio stations.
We 12/16/98 - run/walk to town for errands with John. false start after ten minutes to return to house to call Rachael about airlines tickets. kebab dinner, double chocolate dipped boysenberry and Oreo cookie ice cream, home to cake
Th 12/17/98 - john received massive package with poly-pro and power bars and baked goods.
left for south island, Waitomo Caves first
arrived Palmerston North, David's and Anne's and Megan's and twins
Th 12/17/98 --- BLACK WATER RAFTING
New Zealand, the home of bungy jumping, is full of off-the-wall adrenaline pumping activities. Bungying itself takes many forms. On Quay Rd in Auckland's is the Sky Screamer which is a four person anti-vertical bungy looking like a carnival ride that goes up instead of down. Somewhere there is a horizontal bungy. Also in town rap jumping off a hotel is where you abseil (rappel) face forward, sometimes on a bicycle or other object. Driving south we came across Fly By Wire. Here you lay in a tethered sled when a fan for a rudder. You are drawn back and up eighty degrees and freed to fly on the tether like a pendulum at 120 kph and 3 g's and with the fan steer yourself through the air. John and I went Black Water Rafting.
Since the paragliding idea didn't pan out and I wanted to experience a New Zealand off-the-wall adventure, Black Water Rafting seemed like a good smorgasbord. Our chosen company and package option is billed as rappelling down into a cave, traveling through an underground river on an inner tube, and lunch over a period of five hours. The cost is $NZ125, a heap of money when on a $NZ60 ($US30) per day budget.
We needed to detour a bit on our way south to New Zealand's caving mecca, Waitomo. Megan optioned not to join because of the cost, so John and I paid up our fees, and joined our two guides, Bruce ad Sheila, and seven others for the adventure. Black Water Cafe looks like a ski lodge, natural light wood throughout, and out back we were handed a mass of apparel and equipment - tops and bottoms to a full 7mm black wetsuit, synthetic pants to protective the wetsuit, short bright white gumboots, red helmet with lantern, green battery pack on the hip, and a nylon climbing belt. The colorful dog meal of an assortment looked outrageous, particularly because of the protective pants which were extremely bold colored with big extra patches of equally bold but contrasting color on the knees and ass. For instance, my pants were purple with orangy-red oversized knee patches and big bulls eye on the droopy butt. We looked worse than stupid, so I ran back to the car for a camera, but Megan was already away somewhere.
The group of aliens from Holland, Liechtenstein, Slovian, and California clumsily packed into a van for the ride to the cave entrance. Before descending we all practiced rappelling on a short steep hillside by taking turns with a rope through the gregory?? on the climbing belts and tensioning the rope behind the waist to limit your speed. The entrance is straight down for 100 feet. Each person flipped on their headlamp, clipped their carabiners into safety lines, walked across a aluminum platform, attached the rope, unclipped from the safety line, and descended into the dark. I have never done a free hanging rappel and it was exciting in itself, but this added a cave for topping. I was second down. Bruce at the bottom held the bottom of the descending rope to arrest a slip if necessary, and once there I had a chance to view the next person and chat. With the limited room, we moved back in the cave to make space for the procession, and after ten or fifteen minutes everyone was down.
Without any advance warning,, the young man ahead from Holland was clipped on a cable that slowly fell away and down into the darkness. All headlamps were turned off and away he slid. He must have been nervous flying through the cave in the dark without knowing when or how he would stop. I had better idea what was happening, but I was also flying along in the dark waiting to find an abrupt stop. The ride was arrested by a tire at the end of the wire, and the landing area was a shelf above the river. I sat back along the cave wall to watch the others. Looking around the limestone cave I saw one hundred glow worms in two clusters opposite. Caves with glow worms are a well advertised tourist attraction in different locations throughout the north island. They appear as pin points of fluorescent blue light. From my vantage point I could see the leg shadows of the others pass through the glow worms in the dark, the legs suddenly shooting upward when the cable termination was met. I smiled as I thought about this wonderful and strange scene - the cave, glow worms, funky attire, people's legs passing through dots of natural light, sitting above an underwater river - not your normal afternoon!
Once we were all down, there was a brief lunch of cheese, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches, then we were given black car and truck inner tubes. The river entry happened with the tube held onto the butt and a leap from twelve feet. The inner tubes hit the water with a loud wham! The actual distance covered by tube was short, maybe ten minutes paddling and laughing and splashing. The limestone cave had a few stalactites or stalagmites, but was mostly a fairly smooth hard orangy-yellow sandy rock. On the trip back we were told to join behind one another with feet in armpits, and turn the lamps off. Sheila walked ahead, towing us all, and immediately everyone went quiet while we stared at the glow worms passing by. It seemed like stars at night or city lights from an airplane. No one made a noise.
The tubes were left at the river entry point and the spelunking begin. We followed the river through the cave, walking higher along the side or splashing along the fairly flat bottom. At points swimming was required, and at another point Sheila pointed the way through a water filled hole that was a chest dragging squeeze, only to find that she was adding to the adventure and hid the easy route behind her. The best part of the trip was ascending a vertical shaft which carried a ear shattering torrent of water down it , an underground waterfall that had to be free climbed. John and I yelled at each other to exchange exciteful comments while marveling at the safe and flood of water.
Apre black water rafting in the cafe with Megan consisted of plain bagels and bowls of tomato soup consumed in large quantity. John and I agreed that the adventure was allot of fun, different, and a good taste of Kiwi adventure. If the group had been smaller the tour would have moved along at a quicker and nicer pace. As far as cost versus gain we sat on the fence because of our budget. Many travelers make New Zealand their only destination for one month and spend loads of money on thrill adventures. Black water rafting would fit right into their agenda.
Th 12/17/98 cont'd - overnight at Megan's brother David and wife Ann.
Fr 12/18/98 - David has fast internet connection. Ann came home early the next afternoon from hospital with twins Frank and Zara. John and I went for run along river to park with playground (a lot of kids rides that would be considered too dangerous in States like big barrels that turn and cable from tree house that kids ride down holding bar that wheels on cable), big rose garden, fern garden, and small ridable train.
Off to Wellington to Megan's Aunt Megan and husband Doug who is just returning from Oz tomorrow. Went out to night to cafe with Megan's off and on boyfriend Tim and cousin Chip and Chelsea who we met in Nadi, Tahiti airport with Nicole. Desert at another cafe - chocolate cheese cake.
Courtney St
Sa 12/19/98 - Six to days to Christmas! There is very little commercialism of Christmas, warm weather, no friends and relatives - doesn't feel like Christmas!! Breakie, slow morning. Did loads of pushups and triceps. Noon before out of house.
Really great new museum in Wellington (New Zealand capital) called Te Papa Tangawera, Museum of New Zealand. Huge building, modern displays, new ideas, could have spent a coupe of days there. Great! Saw an exhibit by New Zealander Brian Brake, 1961 Life Magazine photos from article titled "Monsoon', about cultural affect of the seasons in India. It is a portion of 1989 traveling exhibit titled "In our eyes: World as seen by Magnum Photographers". Other highlights - antique shop with animated objects like books and trains and radio and gramophone - a hundred things I foreground with movie screen showing New Zealand culture including clips of sport, war, bungy, immigration, sheep, and so. Another highlight - section on immigration, Maori exhibits, New Zealand and nature. Great! Great!
Out for dinner with Tim then desert with Jen, Braunlin, ?, and our Tahiti friends Chelsea and Natalie. Dancing at a couple of clubs until 1am to retro 70's and pumping dance music, some Kiwi song I didn't recognize.
Su 12/20/98 - spent morning reading, noting info from Doug's brochure
on South African parks, and talking. Megan's parents, and Gwyneth arrived and then more talking. (Did I already say that Megan's parents the family home and one holiday home and Eric is working in Pap New Guinea for a Christian enterprise? He is an eye surgeon and has a two year contract.) Heard Clinton's was impeached by the house. Read forth night of bombing was last in Baghdad because of Rahada (sp). Lunch with the big group (Megan's cousin Andrew and girlfriend and her baby too), then John and I went to see city from Mount Victoria in town. Drove up then down, and then walked back up for the exercise.
Tonight we took ferry to the South Island, scheduled to leave at 10:30, but was an hour late. The ferry looks more like a conventional ship rather than a Martha's Vineyard ferry, holds 170 cars on two levels, and takes three and one half hours to make the crossing. All people are required on the upper levels during the cruise. First thought there - sinking. We crashed as well as possible, drove off the ferry at 2:30am to a campground in Picton. We read the note left on the office door for us, and found the campsite, but there wasn't enough room, so we drove a few minutes out of town and slept in the car. We saved a few bucks too.
Mo 12/21/98 - Drove back into town after waking, breakfasted. The ride west through Marlborough Sound was really pretty, full of winding sea inlets and high hills with dark green trees from peak to shoreline. n Nelson we stopped for a bank and lunch and groceries for the kayak trip. I asked the butcher to vacuum seal three packages of meat (lamb! and beef) and he obliged. Crackers, bread, cheese, doesn't-need-refrigeration salami, veggies, pasta, sauce, etc.
We stopped by Megan's old boyfriend Brian's house, met his parents and talked. We left behind our valuables and other unnecessary possessions, then set up tent at Kaiteriteri, a very busy campground near Abel Tasman, twenty minutes from the kayak company. Dinner of lamb in the camp kitchen, walked along the beach and rocky shoreline in the dark.
Tu 12/22/98 - We are here!! About to venture on a five day kayak trip! We needed to lie about our experience, well John and I did, to get singles. Most kayaks are doubles and like John said, he didn't want to stare at my big head for days. We really wanted the freedom to master our own craft, to be able to roll over on our very own and watch everything float away, and looked on proudly and say, "Yup, I did that!".
My total experience is covered by three events. In high school a small group of us in our infinite boredom put a white water kayak into an above ground pool to unsuccessfully attempt Eskimo rolls. The other two was with Gary Krysztopik in Newport, one at a happy hour Gary staged on First Beach. He brought along two sea kayaks and I had a go trying to ride waves into the beach. I paddled a couple hundred feet out, turned around and simply rode a wave in, no problem. Then I frustratingly tried and tried again, only to flip into the surf. The other Gary K experience was spear fishing off Ledge Road. We had loaded up with nets and spear guns and lines and other implements of potential self destruction and set off. There were good sized rollers on that sunny and blue afternoon, and those made me especially nervous of dumping. But, Mr. Spearfisherman did. Cool, he did, I didn't - na na. I really was nervous and since Gary bagged, I could also and still not feel bad, but I didn't.
We arranged kayaks with Abel Tasman Kayaks for $NZ35 per day. The orientation and packing the boats took a couple of hours. We packed up our camp gear and personal belongings into the kayaks. This is a bit of a hassle and takes a couple times to become comfortable with the process. The boats has two compartments. The front has a small eight inch hole with tight rubber cover, the rear a large two foot hole that takes a stretchy cover, then a hard plastic cover held with straps. The rear doesn't appear secure from water. In the front you place heavier items to lower the bow so wind doesn't move it about, but the hoe prevents things from easily entering, and in some cases placing a plastic bag in first then filing it is the only option, such as with my small stack of clothes. On the deck are bungies for a coastal map, flare, and water bottle. Megan carried an extra set of paddles on her rear deck, I carried a pump.
The company owner, a German, led us with along the road dragging the kayaks on carts with large bicycle wheels. By the way we handled ourselves, he obviously knew we weren't over qualified, for we didn't find the way to lower the rudders, kept turning left, and had bad form. By that point I believed they wouldn't pull us out and didn't really care how we looked. After a few brief exercises, the three red kayaks, packed with tons of camping equipment and food were paddling off.
Abel Tasman National Park is west of the town of Tasman, north of the Tasman Mountains in the Tasman Bay which is in the Tasman Sea. Two points are to be made. Firstly, who is Tasman? Tasman who also has his name in Tasmania was this Dutch dude who sailed about for the queen of the Netherlands 357 years ago trying to find the obvious southern continent - of course there was a great continent in the south to balance with Europe, otherwise the world would be off kilter and would spin around and around, eventually going so fast, that everyone would fly off. Ok, the people flying off I made up, but that's it. So, this knarly guy Tasman was the first to sail along New Zealand, first anchoring off Shag Harbor where his two ships sent out in a dory to meet the natives and four men were killed. He sailed on, up the west coast of the North Island, and returned home to a disappointed reception because of the lack of substantial news, discovering Fiji and the Cooks, on the way. .
Secondly, and of far more importance, I have swum in another sea. As far as major bodies of water go, the list includes the oceans Atlantic, Pacific, and Indian. For seas the Mediterranean, Adriatic, and now Tasman.
So, we were off from Sandy Bay for daring high seas adventures in our red kayaks, mine with the catchy name of 44. We wore river shoes, swim shorts, t-shirts, spray skirts, and life vests. The skirts are funny looking, purple dresses with suspenders and an elastic cord a the bottom to wrap around the lip of the kayak to prevent water from entering the person compartment.. The sea was extremely calm like a small lake without wind or rollers or chop. I had a hard time believing this was ocean. The calmness was good though since I was not too experienced, and I am carrying my two cameras, two lenses, and this Casio handheld. I did rent a camera bag so that's a little more insurance over the supposedly watertight storage compartments.
Our orientation guy mentioned a hike on the nearby island name Adele. We landed the boats on a very short beach successfully and clambered around the bush up from a sign marking the trail. There wasn't a trail. I believe this was our first time giving up, but a very steep slog through ridiculously thick trees and scrub, or we could eat lunch. Food always wins these important deliberations and many its not even an option in.
Our first night stop was at the very round Te Pukatea Bay. We landed on the sandy beach that covers the top half of the bay, set up camp just off the beach in the woods along with other kayakers and the hikers who are on the famous Abel Tasman Trail, very popular with Germans, Americans, and English. Dinner was around Megan's stove and our stove of seasoned lamb chops an rice, desert of budget cookies and a bit of Bailey's. Te Pukatea Bay doesn't have a tap for water, but Anchorage fifteen minutes away does, it is a full blown site with fifty or more tents and a kitchen area. We trotted there a couple of times for water. I had my first chance to use the water filter the Craig's and the Prashaw's bought as a going away gift. It's an MSR from Seattle and strains down to 0.3 microns, gardia is 0.5 microns.
We 12/23/98 - Our first full day in kayaks, the weather was clear but the sea was a little choppy and wind blowing ten knots. The scenery here is of small mountains of full green forest meeting the granite coastline worn smooth over the ages, which is punctuated by beautiful sand beaches and bays. The most interesting and unexpected feature is the estuaries, the sandy meeting of rivers to the sea designed by Mother Nature with a French curve and an artistic liking for serpentine lines.
We found this on a morning snack stop in Frenchman's Bay. Just inside the bay a river enters on the right. The water was running slow and shallow, a lazy paddle out of the sea wind, exploring the sand bars, curves of the river, and reeds at the top of the estuaries. We park on a bank and sat and enjoyed our snack time environment in the sun.
Equally intriguing to the estuaries themselves is the drastic change over tide periods in the estuaries and bays. Perhaps the spring tide was a factor, a near new moon wasn't, but the difference from low to high was great compared to Newport, maybe twelve feet. Each half an hour every bay would look different and unique. In Mosquito Bay I was able to snap pics at four hours apart from the same vantage point near the sea.
The shoreline granite is well worn and interestingly carved by the tides, so much I thought it sandstone. Some granite has been shaped into bowls like at the Basin in Franconia Notch, New Hampshire We spotted a number of sea carved caves, and on Tonga Island a handful of truck sized bread slices of granite sat on top one another, curiously fanned toward the sky. Wandering the coastline near Waiharakeke Bay we noticed lines of fancy yellow quartz striping the stone.
Just after noon we again headed west and inland again around a long natural protective sand barrier into the calm water of Sandfly Bay. Sandfly is rather large and I slowly drifted with the wind while John and Megan ventured to the far end. They were a couple of football fields away and I noticed they were onto something. 44 and I quickly caught up and we were navigating a river head. John and I surely held the same thought - fresh water. We passed under a cool swing (foot) bridge, part of the tramp and famous in photos and postcards, and reached the navigable end. The river, filled with boulders and twenty feet of water between, loudly crashed into the estuary. On a tiny spot of sand we landed the three red singles, and excitedly splashed around and jumped from rocks in the numbing fresh water. John was able to easily find his shampoo in is kayak, so we all wash our hair, then set up for lunch on top of a flat rock - tuna, salami, cheese, bread, crackers.
I as type, I realize that this was by far the best day in the yaks. After lunch we again explored inland, this time at Bark Bay. I wish I could be there again! Bright blue sky, sun overhead, about 75 degrees. All shoreline not rocky is clean bright sand, as is the sand beneath the boat. The river varies in depth from eight feet to inches and then there are sandbars. Of course this all changes by the tide, but here everything is bright - the sun, the sky, the sand. The water is clean and clear. We slowly paddled, following the estuary curves created by the shorelines and water depth and sandbars. A small proper island of rock and trees with a small rock column was home to a large seabird who slept with his long neck twisted around so his head and beak was tucked between back and wing. We stared and threw wild guesses at his identity, then moved on towards the sounds of thrashing water. At the head of a shallow estuary finger sat another footbridge across a steep rocky river, and above a powerful waterfall. We parked the kayaks to explore, John and I wanted a shower. The falls landed with its length parallel to the rivers direction. When I crossed the slippery rocks to enter the base I found a bottomless pool and dared not enter further without a handhold. Megan was concerned about our exit to the sea because of the receding tide and went ahead and agreed to pose for a pic in her kayak while I waited below the falls. The river and bridge and the inlet and big bird island and her yak - all of this had to make for a good pic.
Mosquito Bay was our home for the night, a pretty crescent bay with an island that fills the opening, and a high sand bar between the island and shore. This camp is accessible only by sea, so there weren't trampers, which was appealing for the implied solitude. For the third day we saw a fivesome - three middle aged women and two young men. They were part of our orientation group at Abel Tasman Kayaks and we were more chatty with them now. After dinner and a fun adventure of jumping across rocks all around the island and a walk along the coast, I joined them for a game of Donkey in the empty bay, a Frisbee game where you are given a letter for each bad throw or catch. Megan called from near the sea and I joined her. I showed her a cool fifty foot deep cave I found earlier, then we sat and stared at the sea atop a high rock until forced back to camp by the darkness and incoming tide.
Th 12/24/98 - Christmas eve!! Up at 8am, packed quickly, breakfast, and put in by 9:15a. But! The sea was rough and windy blowing over 20 knots. We chickened, and lugged the kayaks back up shore. Of course I would have gone and John too, but Megan probably made the right decision for us. This was the third day the yaks, and the last two have been progressively worse. Just after we pulled ours back up, a young German couple came in on a double and we asked about the conditions. Their English was rough, but there report wasn't comforting. We hung n the beach until nearly noon, watching the tide come up and a few people put in. With the bay filling with tide, we are able to put in away from the open sea, and the effort was greatly lessened, not having to deal with breakers and starting at the same time.
Because we needed to put some kilometers on and the shoreline contained less features we endured a long leg. The comfort level is low in the arms, shoulders, and lower back. After a day I was used to the unusual paddling motion, holding arms up for long periods and pushing the paddle hard through the ocean. Eventually it was fun and the exercise felt good. The back though, was very unhappy. At orientation a couple of the middle aged women had regular bed pillows with them, I do not know if they used them, but I now know way they brought them. The only break from the killer sore back was paddling hard. I was very worried the first day, but was glad to find the soreness immediately left once out of 44.
We passed Tonga Island on the sea side, famous for a seal colony. I spotted eight of these big, blubbery mammals, and heard a few barking away. Just after the island, a seal passed across of the bow.
The ocean was a little rougher each day during our trip. Here the wind was blowing 15-20 knots and six foot rollers were big enough to occasionally hide John from sight when he was only forty feet away. I loved being on a moderately rough sea in kayaks, almost on the water! I missed seeing the ocean from this angle and was psyched and grinning.
We made Awaroa Bay for lunch. John drive his yak hard, reaching beach ten minutes before us because of his sore back. Megan slowed more because of fatigue, I stayed behind for company and safety, trying to ignore my own aching back. The bay has just a little bend in the long , empty beach. At the emptiness, we laughed and imagined the crowds and the roads and vendors this beach would have in the States. Awaroa Lodge was a haul down the beach and along a trail, but the deserts they tried to tempt us with! The party of five were there and we exchanged pleasantries, then ... ok, we had desert. John an afghan, Bob a peanut bar.
John called Rachel, and afterward told me she had a month off for Australia. My reaction, the trip classic saying - "Oh oh". What would this mean to our time in Oz? half of our time there, and in the middle. I had expected two weeks.
I called Meg rich hoping to catch the South Park gang for a possible Christmas special, but received the answering machine.
Re-entering the bay was a little interesting because of waves whose size was increased by the banked beach. Bow first is the only option in this case. Where the kayak is lined up on the waterline is a trade off between the need for stability in entering the boat and the need to be able to get off the beach. To be stuck on the beach is less of a catastrophy than flipping while trying to get in. The answer is to take a bit too much beach and look silly shimmying the kayak down the sand into the water. John and Megan were off without a problem. I had a small wave knock the kayak sideways and being the lazy beast I am, I muscled the kayak straight again instead of attempting to get out of it. Not a train smash, but a definite warning for a rougher entry.
We made Waiharakeke in late afternoon. The kayaking map stuck on the front of the kayaks described Waiharakeke as difficult to negotiate in rough seas because of the3 steep beach. Th beach is straight and long, the hiking trail touches the shore at the southern end. We landed without consequence drag the yaks up two plateaus of sand and tied them of to trees. The camping area is cut neatly into the far side of a small hill and holds ten tents. John was high on the site and the water was still close enough to hear the crashing waves which made me happy. The site was empty and we were even more excited at the prospect of being alone for the night, but after a walk along the beach, four other tents had joined us, a German couple, a German mother and eighteen-ish son, and a older man from Wellington. The Wellington man lit a fire with wood he had gathered from the beach and most of us sat around talking about Christmas traditions while listening to the mother humming holiday songs in her tent.
Fr 12/25/98 - CHRISTMAS!! My first Christmas in the southern hemisphere! That thought is exciting, but without the mass of family and friends around, the holiday spirit is lacking. You may ask about the weather - the day had a cloudy start but turned to bright hot sun by noon!
Megan was woken with her tent shaking and me attempting to convince her that it had snowed. At breakfast over cereal with powdered milk with raisins and crackers with peanut butter, I explained how ":Let It Snow" was my currently my favorite Christmas song, a carry over from last year... "Well, the weather outside is frightful, and fire so delightful, since we've no place to go, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow..."
Coincidently, Megan's sister and her family were camping nearby in Totaruni for a couple of weeks, and she arranged for the three of us to have Christmas there. The original plan was to kayak there and camp for the night, but since we liked our site and we had heard there would be 800 people there and because Megan wasn't keen on the still rougher sea, we decider to let the yaks sit and walk over.
We gathered our belongings needed for the day. John and I had our day packs with us, Megan put her things in double trash bags, tied it to a stick, and walked along with it on her shoulder like a hobo. Just down from the camp site entrance, a winding river cut the beach. The other two wore there river shoes, I had my New Balance running shoes and I was too lazy to remove them so instead asked little Megan for a piggyback across the ten foot gap. She gladly humored me, I hopped on, but after a few steps she exclaimed that she was sinking. I screamed dramatically, "No! No skiing allowed!", and we fell into the river. We all had a big laugh and carried on.
I was glad to walk a bit of the trail, just to check it out. From Waiharakeke to Totaranui the trail starts along the beach, runs through bush, back to the beach, and to bush again. The trail through bush is really good. It is cut along a very steep hillside, a flat four foot ledge following the mountain curves, thick with forest such that the norm is to have trees overhead as well. It is flat enough to easily run, and varying enough with different trees and vine and vistas to be interesting. Parts are a hundred feet above sea level.
The walk was done within an hour, we were directed by the information desk to Megan's sister's site, and was soon in the middle of a warm weather camping Christmas with a young family. Megan's sister is Carolyn, her husband David, and the kids Ben (7), Jonathon (5), and Sienna (2). John and I were immediately taken back by the kids running around and screaming and whining and generally misbehaving, but they eventually calmed down and our tolerances increased. Ben is a funny kid, a miniature John Candy with a good appetite, a round face, light hair, goofy facial expressions, and a real but smart ham. Sienna is really cute, with huge blue eyes and a great knack for wandering off everywhere and never with a fear for her well being.
Sue had mailed a package to the Child's in Christ Church which arrived before they left for Totaruni. Days later she also mailed a card. Both made it, I'm a lucky boy! The package from Sue was a Christmas and care package, contents including a bag weighing1 pound 4 ounces of Oreo cookies (hey! Oreo's!), Neosporin, ear buds, floss, Band-Aids, news clips, Christmas ornaments, a letter, and nineteen plastic grocery bags for padding. Everything was in zip lock bags, and a few more were added in. Thanks Sue! What a bud! The card she had passed around at and signed at John Murray's Christmas party. Thanks signees!
We had a really great day with the Child's family, talking about everything, laying on the beach, and eating too much. At the beach we were howling when the boys tried to ride their boogie boards by running and jumping on them from the shore. The first time Ben tried, his board flew out and his feet went straight up until they were higher then his head. It was great entertainment! Megan and I visited the ocean side of the lagoon for a nippy swim, a bit colder than Newport, but warm enough to be able to grow accustomed to..
Christmas dinner was a Barbie (bbq, barbecue, braii) cooked on a gas grill at the tent, but eaten in the setting sunlight. David and Carolyn prepared lamb kabobs, marinated chicken, sausages, salad, and more. Desert - mince (fruit) pie, custard, and Christmas (fruit) cake! The whole group sat around the picnic table, each pulling on a Christmas cracker and wearing the paper hat found inside with a little plastic prize. The food was great and I was thankful for it ad the company, grateful to be able to celebrate the special day with a family on the far side on the earth.
We didn't start home until all the marshmallows were cindered over the open fire, about 10pm. We walked quickly through the campground and into the dark woods by the dim remaining light. Once on the beach, we could see well enough, but the second set of forest required our torches. Once into the dark recesses, Megan pointed out a few glow worms, the tiny points of blue/white light. I had been staring at the ground trying to avoid the few roots but more importantly the edge and very steep drop-off. But now I felt obliged to glance right for glow worms also. A little further on, my head went thunk against a low branch. Now I was obligated to look down at my feet, left for the drop-off, right for the glowworms, and up for the low branches. I was sooo confused, but really it was fun. Looking ahead in the dark with the torch was reminiscent of a tunnel or cave, you could actually feel that the forest wall was to the right, that the forest was overhead, and the ground was there too. Of course, then, the drop felt endless. Halfway along this stretch we passed a couple without light who were walking all the way to Totaruni, a stupid predicament to be in. At night with less than a quarter moon and in the thick forest meant feeling ahead for each footstep.
Sa 12/26/98 - Still Christmas back home until 6pm today! We were to kayak to Onetahuti (Tonga Bay), but Megan didn't like the look of the sea (I would have gone, John was on the fence because he didn't walk to get a sore back again. We decided to wait a few hours and re-evaluate our situation, so started off on another hike to Totaruni for Christmas phone calls. Ten minutes down the trail I realized that I only had one hour to catch Sue before she was off to work, so I ran the trail I liked so much, only to wait in line for the phone. I was so frustrated, and then more so when I found the Voicenet 800 number unreachable because of the line load. I then bought a $NZ20 prepaid card and waited in line again. Fifteen minutes to go, the women ahead could obviously see that I was impatient and on a mission from god and allowed me to sneak in by her. I needed to talk to my Mom and brother Johns first, to say Happy Christmas, and to get Sue's Mom's number which she left there. I was only able to exchange a few words with my Mom before the card was half over. Then found Sue and soon the card was done. It was very frustrating, but that was the best that could be done.
We were able to see the Child's family again. I played Pictionary, drew with Ben, talked about his inventions, played bat and ball, and partook in other fun kid activities. We had a quick lunch and were off to frolic in the sea before Sea Spray (?) would be by to collect us and the yaks.
We had phoned Abel Tasman earlier, and although Waiharakeke was not a normal pick up point they would try. I thought that trying the rough surf could be fun and a constellation for not paddling back. We were told to be ready by 3pm, but when we arrived on our beach, the white speedy boat was coming toward shore. I tried to converse with the captain from shore, a huge wave bounced it's break onto my chest and dry T-shirt, so I swam out to the boat. The deal was that we get ready as soon as possible and they would be back in ten minutes. Megan was behind walking with the Child's, so John and I ran up to the camp and grabbed all the gear and started stuffing the yaks. The boat was back in ten, and asked where Megan was. I looked to see her running down the long beach with the family behind. We finished packing the yaks, and in our swimsuits, pushed them trough the surf and to the waiting boat. They dragged our yaks
and placed them on their sides on a railing at the back of the boat. We waved our final good-byes and were skimming a long the sea.
We hadn't an idea how fun this trip would be. Not only did we see again the beautiful coast, but the operation of the kayak retrieval was more than interesting . By the time we picked up the last customers, there were fourteen people and five double and four single kayaks jammed onto the boat. Six kayaks were on their sides in the back on the rail, and our three sat on top. Even though two ropes held these mass together, the tower looked unstable and us all nervous that it would collapsed on top of someone or a kayak would end up in the drink and the items inside would be wet. We laughed at this sight, but it got better. After arriving at Sandy Bay, the captain drove the boat onto a waiting trailer drawn by a blue Leyland 262 tractor. We sat there in our life vests riding down the road in a boat on a trailer pulled by a tractor!
We had arrived back at Abel Tasman Kayaks around 5:30p, once again pulled our belongings from the kayaks, but this time loaded our packs, then the car. We made a game plan for h next thirteen nights over fish and chips. The current plan is to spend a couple if nights an hour south in Nelson Lakes National Park, then a couple on the west coat, New Years in Queenstown, two around Wanaka and Mt. Aspiring, two near Mt. Cook, then three in Queenstown before starting our three track tramp.
We camped at a generic private trailer park and campground in Moueka, near Abel Tasman Park - with grass!
Su 12/27/98 - Driving south, we passed through the large town of Nelson, and spent an ordeal of hours coming to terms with the 'Tim is coming and won't fit spectacle'. Megan and Tim had restarted their relationship, and our threesome trip quietly turned into a foursome. I learned Tim was joining us on the Routeburn Track via John, then that he would be traveling with us for the twelve days before the track when I ask Tim when he was coming over while we were in Wellington. The issue was how do you fit four people and their packs and camping gear into a four person car. We had filled the car up with three. After kicking around different ideas between us and a slew of businesses we excluded renting a rooftop luggage carrier (they don't have them in New Zealand), renting a trailer (Megan doesn't have a hitch and they are costly), renting another car, telling Tim to meet us at the Routeburn on the 8th, buying a simple rack and strap the bags (not really secure), and so on. I was frustrated enough at the predicament I thought of going single for the time. Megan, then called Tim again, who was on the ferry from the North Island, and told him to meet us at the trail. We went to a Pizza Hut buffet for lunch, and talked about it, and decided that we would try to put together something on the roof. We drove back to an automotive store and Megan bought a simple roofrack for $NZ165, and John and I bought four hoseclamps for $7.50, then we tooled over to the transfer station where they sell useful things that people drop off. In the back of the yard we scrounged through a stack of old fashion roof racks, ones made of pipes. They are like an basket with the top open, and have legs that at one time held suction cups. We picked out the cleanest, cut of the legs and clamped it on... qed. Megan called Tim back.
We made a DOC information center around 5:40p at Lake Rotoiti, one of the two large lakes in Nelson Lakes National Park. Megan had never been here, and I guess she chose it so Tim could catch us. The grounds were good, nothing exceptional. The area in general was good, not outrageous.
Hey, have I mentioned the sandflies yet?! They are a huge nuisance and have been swarming around us since Cape Brett. At Brett I ended up with the same red scabbed legs I have seen others with in New Zealand. Long clothes and repellant with DEET is the only answer. Here, at Nelson, once again they we dive bombing, as in Matia Bay, and Abel Tasman. And why do I seem to be bother the most? John says it's because of all the Marmite he eats, and actually I would agree - with breath like that anything would stay away.
We set our tents up in site 82 and went for a recognizance mission. Dinner in the camp kitchen was of .... lamb again.
Mo 12/28/98 - John big 35th birthday. He downplayed it all day although we wouldn't let him forget it. I don't think he did, often seemingly reflecting, maybe I was paying more attention that usual. After our usual breakfast of cereal, banana, yogurt, and bread, we started out on the local recommended day hike, which is up Mt. Robert. The trailhead was a ten minute drive away.
The trail snakes through a Silver Beech forest, really cool with off white bark on knotted and twisted thin trunks and branches that are nearly completely covered with black and dark green fungus. Hanging from branches are very thin bright green moss and in pockets of the trees leafy plants grow. Climbing above the treeline the vistas open. Five kilometers away and down is Lake Rotoiti, the top in the shape of a kidney bean, the southern end running into a valley. Running along the east side of the lake and extending further in both directions for about fifty kilometers is the Angelis Range, a series of peaks reaching over 2000km, the upper quarter above treeline and barren. Huge rock slides spot the range from the peaks like long narrow grey tongues (yes, trust me on that one) extending far beyond the treeline. The trail zigzagged steeply upward past a couple of simple hiker / skier shelters.
Eventually we crested Mt. Robert (1500m) and we were on the crest of a ski basin, Mt. Roberts Ski Fields. In wintertime, enthusiasts hike the hour and a half with ski equipment and use the four or five cable tows. Considering the effort and the apparent short runs, I believe only diehards would attempt this. The landscape is great - desolate high alpine, the basin filled with granite and lichen and moss showing overall patches of black, red, green, and grey. During winter it must be equally attractive although a totally different look.
Enjoying this view were five young men from Hamilton, dresses stangely in kilts and Dr. Suess hat and other holed clothes, a colorful lot with dreads too.
We were nearing the all important lunch time and I suggested climbing further to the next peak at 1960m, which we did. Hidden from behind the wind by a pile of rock, we sat and laid and enjoyed the vista and tuna and salami sandwiches. Not a soul in view through our lunch.
The descent was uneventful except for a nap we stole in a deserted hut, then my falling flat on my chest on the trail and later John making a marvelous recovery after losing his footing. At the camp, Tim was laying and waiting. Dinner ... Mongolian lamb followed by card games of Hearts and one taught to John and I called 500.
Tu 12/29/98
packed car with new mate, Tim, loaded stuff onto rooftop carrier in plastic bags. drove west then south through Murchison, Inangahua Junction, through Buller Gorge to Westport. The weather started to drizzle then eventually came down more seriously, our first rain since before Wellington, maybe twelve days ago. Had a brief stop
As we neared the coast I was reading the Lonely Planet about the areas we would drive through in the next few days, and trying to fight off motion sickness on the moderate (for New Zealand) winding roads. The rain was coming down more heavily and I anguished at the thought of camping and noted the descriptions of backpackers. Tim then mentioned a town called Blackball that had recommended lodging. We have been camping for ten days straight and spoke about how wonderful a mattress would be. Megan commented that her parents as a rule take one night per week in decent accommodation.
We stopped at Punakaiki, a sight of sea worn limestone in pancake shaped stones. These rocks cover a large area on the sea, fifty feet high. The location has been made into a tourist stop, albeit free, with a cafe, tourist information, souvenir shop, and walkways over the rocks. Because of the rain, we ran from the car and hid in the information building, and with a little relief from the sky, ran down to view the rocks. The were interesting as was the stormy crashing sea and other towers of rock in the distance. The rain cranked on again and we bolted to the cafe for hot chocolate and ice cream..
Greystone is the largest city on the west coast with a population of less than 8000. With the fuel gauge in the red, we stopped at a Megan's preferred Shell there, then checked out the only local film theatre, and drove through the rain to Blackball, about 17 minutes northeast.
I read about the Formerly the Blackball Hilton in the Planet, and anticipated this old town's hotel opened in the 1920's. Blackball was a services center for gold diggers in the mid-1800's and more recently a coal mining hub. The Hilton was everything we hoped for - an old hotel with pub and restaurant and with loads of character. Even more, lodgers can use the kitchen facilities, so we had access to real stoves, frig, dinnerware, and tables and chairs. At $NZ15 each for a room we didn't share, we were living the high life!
We cooked dinner of dry barbecue spiced sirloin, real potatoes, mushrooms, and onions. The others thought about driving to Greymouth for a flick, but decided otherwise and enjoyed this old hotel charm.
We 12/30/98 -
took pic of general store and inside Blackball Hotel
toast!
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pole - Scott an shackleton
shots for ____ and ____
