Notes from the North Island

1/31/2010

He said:

As we make the leap across “the ditch”, from the north to south island, and as we conclude our extended stay in Wellington, it seems appropriate to reflect on the overall sentiment and experience we have had so as to have accurate documentation for comparison when we finish our journey. It’s an interesting dilemma to reflect on an experience in a country. On one had, there are certain experiences and visions that any traveler to a country would/could have. Viewpoints, waterfall swims, narrow coastal drives, mountain top treks. These are things which any traveler with the desire, a generic guidebook and the physical ability could experience in a country. And indeed, with some individual variation, for the most part people would report these things in similar ways. A giant mountain will be the same for everyone. A shockingly blue lake will hold its color for all those who lay eyes on it. Of course we factor in weather and other temporal determinants of “fun”, but all in all, these are what I would call “uniform excursions”. So what is it that separates the experiences? Where do we break from the “uniform excursions” and create an individual journey? Because in truth, this is what separates not only trips, but also lives. And in so doing, this is what makes for me the most challenging feelings not only to realize, but to relay to those who might be interested.
Do I want to call this journey fate bound? I’m not sure. But why else did we choose this trip? I am amazed how many Kiwi’s will ask upon learning of our plans: “Why did you choose New Zealand for a year”? After overcoming my initial reaction of “why the hell not?”, each time I am struck by an overwhelming need to rationalize our trip. Like I should have an itemized list of why. And of course, we do have such a list as seems a necessity to justify our actions as humans. But what I really think is that we did it just because. Because life is short, because life is long, because life should be fun, because we can. The longer we’re here, I realize that this journey is as important for me because of what we are missing at home as it is for what we are gaining while being here. And I think those things, we won’t be able to fully realize or recount until our journey is long passed.
But I digress...I feel a word on my vision of kiwi’s of the north island is necessary. This country seems to have two very distinct personalities competing for the face that it puts on for the world. And though this probably happens in every country, the relative tininess of New Zealand makes it very obvious. The aura of the English dominates. With expression, food, and even sensibility, larger city kiwis shadow what I have come to find in a traditional English personality. But holding this city personality up, is a completely opposite and indeed more prevalent backbone of the country that I would describe as “Blue-collar”. If a very British, suited and presumably straight-laced personality dominates my impression of the large cites of New Zealand, then my much more prominent and indeed more endearing vision of rural New Zealand is that of the farmer. When I think of most of the north island, whether it’s central or coastal, farmland dominates. And more often than not this land is inhabited by this quintessential farmer. Standing up while driving an ATV, with any number of well-trained and well loved farm dog siting on the back. Waiting at a moments notice to perform any one of the numerous tasks required of Kiwi dogs and their owners. Incredibly friendly, forthright and trustworthy and very hardworking. And I really like that. There is a frank nature to most Kiwi’s that can be at times frustrating and elusive, but generally is very pleasant. They have an ability to skirt around issues and be defuse in their description of things that we have seen manifested in several ways. Sometimes its asking for driving directions, or trying to figure out what a W.W.O.O.F. host actually wants us to do from the little concrete information they give us. I think this must stem from an individualism that kiwi’s possess. A self-sufficient attitude that you would see from other isolated places that necessitate this quality (Alaska, midwest, etc.), but matched with a friendliness that is world renown. Maybe because it’s so beautiful here? It is important to qualify this distinction however. People often make it sound like every kiwi you ever meet is the friendliest person alive. And indeed many are friendly. Especially the farmers. But when you get in the city, they are faced with the exact same a-holes that live in every other big city. Where we have a sort of frat-boy douche bag mentality in many of our young men, the kiwis have something slightly different. These are the hard partying kiwis you often hear about. Part hooligan, part farm boy, part muscle head, these guys can be seen often in large groups wasted and being silly. But what’s different is that they don’t seem to possess the aggressive tendencies that so many young men in the U.S. have. They substitute fights for serious “broin’ out”. Often hugging and laughing rather then punching and yelling. It’s sort of a nice change. You can identify these “brosephs’” by their sweet attire. They usually have super short rugby shorts for showing of some nice thigh meat, some sort of tattoo of the actual outline of NZ, and finished up nicely with a small, curly, sometimes blond rat tail in the back and short spikey hair on top. It’s brilliant! It’s a Kiwi mullet! And they’re everywhere!
So that’s about it...a bit of everything from our experience thus far. I am excited to see how this will differ from the south. Things have been very interesting and I guess we will let fate show us the next adventure.

she said:

The music is blaring, Jesse is singing, the cool NZ breeze is blowing through the partially rolled down windows of the Honda Odyssey, waking our minds and softening our nauseous stomachs as we cruise through the curviest, narrowest roads I have ever been on. I close my eyes to fight the car sickness that consumes my body but only for seconds at a time, afraid that that one extra second my eyes close I will miss out on the beauty that surrounds us. Remarkable hill country to green grassy plains, lush rain forests to dramatic coastlines. I am still overwhelmed with the diversity this country proudly displays. But as extraordinary as the countryside is, the strip-mall sprawl of the rural towns that dominate the North island(excluding Auckland and Wellington) have left me a bit disheartened. The worn buildings with unappealing store fronts all packed together on the main street has me questioning where the quaint villages i had read about were. Aesthetics aside, this country feels old and young at the same time. It possesses the gruffness of a cowboy and simplicity of a small town but seems naturally intuitive and progressive in protecting its land and people. New Zealand was one of the first countries to provide universal healthcare for its citizens and this is funded with general taxation. Its provides its citizens with publicly funded services including:
free treatment and prescriptions at any public hospital
free treatment at any urgent care
subsidized GP referral visits to specialized fields
free or subsidized treatment for those with chronic conditions
free lab tests and x-rays when carried out at a public hospital or clinic
all services free for pregnant women
subsidized care and prescriptions for children under 6
free standard dental care for school age children
free breast screening for women over 50
Private insurance is also available for those who desire both. The more I hear about their healthcare coverage the more frustrated I become that our nation cannot adopt such philosophies and unite for the common good.
Martin Luther King, Jr. said: “An individual has not started living until he can rise above the narrow confines of his individualistic concerns to the broader concerns of all humanity.” And it seems that New Zealand and its government have a innate ability to act in this way. As well as NZ protects its people, it protects its environment. From the Department of Conservation, with its protection and conservation of NZ’s natural wonders, to the well maintained trails, campsites and camping huts that are plentiful, accessible and cheap. New Zealand provides its people and guests with an abundance of healthy activities and in response this country feels vibrant and happy. This makes the country easy to experience and memorable. From digging underground hot-spring pools to soak in on the beach to watch the sun rise, to climbing/scrambling up 2287m (7150 ft) of loose rock to summit the active volcano, Mount Ngauruhoe, aka Mt. Doom from Lord of the Rings. To swimming under shockingly cold, pounding waterfalls, to hiking for hours without another person in sight. Jesse and I have throughly explored the exquisite wonders of the North island and as our tour comes to an end I am eagerly anticipating the South Island and its “spectacular beauty”. Every person who inquires about our travels will inevitably ask if we have been to the South Island. And before we can answer they all unanimously express such awe and marvel of the South Island it has me questioning if this picturesque land could really get that much more beautiful?

New Pics...December into the New Year!

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Reflections After Two Months in NZ

12/16/09

He said:

Strange how these trips have ways of meandering and leading themselves in directions that you could never predict. Even with the caveat upon leaving that the very nature of the trip is unpredictable, you still find yourself surprised. Our WWOOFing experience has provided confirmation of this. Not that the actual work we have been doing hasn’t been interesting because it has. But the more intriguing piece of the trip thus far has been our host themselves. So...I would like to share a tale of three women.
Before we left for New Zealand, the WWOOFing looked attractive for several reasons. 1.)A great way to travel and see the country in a very inexpensive manner. 2.)A unique opportunity to learn totally different skills from the rest of my life previous to now with what appear to be very willing teachers. 3.)We would have the chance to contribute to the country rather than suck the life out of it as tourists often do. And that is all great. And indeed, I have felt all of these things to be true. New things aplenty, work aplenty and seeing lots of the country. But these things pale in comparison to the most interesting aspects of WWOOFing: our hosts.
I suppose I assumed that most of our hosts would be families or couples. The website often bills hosts as people who have travelled a good deal and now want to share something with the rest of the travel-bug-bitten world. But our hosts have been much different. If you read earlier blogs you will hear about Frances our first host in the Coromandel. But to elaborate a bit more, Frances was/is a completely self-made women. Unlucky in love (two divorces, one deceased), she has the presence and skill of a women who has had to provide for herself. And a life of primarily loneliness has made her maybe a bit “peculiar” hence the pet possums, gerbils, birds, reptiles, etc... But beyond that she has truly incredible talents. Besides being strong as an ox (literally), she has several talents. She has bought rebuilt and sold several houses on her own, can darn and spin wool as well as knit it into useful articles of clothing, is an accomplished cheese maker and teaches classes to this effect and she drinks beer in a fashion that would compete if not destroy most well accustomed drinkers. She has a hardy belly laugh that is infectious and you would not find a more honest and straight forward person.
Next comes Jane in Gisborne. Totally different, but independent and strong in her own ways. Although she does live with a man who provides for her financially, she has had to build her life in other ways as it seems the life of a traditional “farmers wife” has not suited her. So she has, bought and created a piece of property she then transformed into a “retreat”, created miles of well documented, mapped trails for visitors to hike around her property, returned to school and learned some form of drafting so that she can design homes for people in her spare time and she has done all of this while raising a family that seems not only to speak to one another, but to actually enjoy each others company!
Finally we come to Anne...what can I say about Anne? We met Anne in Napier at an old Wool Mill she converted into a house and also an event catering arena. Anne was another woman living on her own after recently losing her husband. Although devastated by the loss of her husband, she managed to pull herself up, get her business back together and attempt a second run at life. Another independent woman, Anne had, since her husband died, run and managed an event hosting business that used to necessitate two to run. And for this reason, she had become very particular about the way it was run. She was hesitant to change any aspect of the business. And as fate would have it, I was the first male to come along who was pushy enough to even attempt such a thing. It came to be that I fell in charge of music for the events we helped host. Unknown to me, Anne had not allowed anyone to do this as it was her husbands favorite job. And so tightly did she hold onto this, that the very sight of me at the computer selecting songs and trying to get people to dance was too much for her. She broke down...it’s weird how you come into peoples lives. For some reason, Summer and I came to her so she could see that it was okay to let go, that she could release the control she had on her business and its efforts to keep a memory of her husband.
But it’s crazy...all of these women have given much to us, been so generous, and it’s so great to know that at least in this one instance we have been able to give something back...

She said:

From docking and tagging sheep, picking heads off rhododendrons, cleaning, weeding, more weeding, garden maintenance, washing dishes, washing more dishes, to working company Christmas parties, I have done it all and happily at that! The work at times can be tedious and boring and other times just plain hard work but I am quickly realizing that it is not the work that is defining my experiences in NZ but the people that we are meeting along the way.
I left for this trip wanting to escape the bland conformity of the American dream, to free myself from the entanglement of expectations, of possessions, and the illusions we create to make ourselves feel complete, successful, and even happy. Stripped of my comforts of home, placed in anxiety ridden situations which have challenged me to confront my insecurities, I have discovered so much about myself and much of this discovery has been fostered from the amazing people I have met along the way. This trip has been full of dynamic, progressive, interesting women (all in their 50-60’s) who have such a zest for life. They all have been women who are accomplished and vigorously live very full lives. I have been truly inspired by these spirited women and have begun to recognize that my need to escape a “bland” existence is not where I go but how I cultivate myself. A lot of this trip has been a wake-up call to me- a reminder that I am in charge of creating my own existence and life is really what you make of it no matter where you are. My fear of being apathetic and conforming to societal norms is really more of a personal fear and an excuse not to take responsibility for myself and recognize what I need to do to grow. With these travels I have broke free from my bubble and have opened myself up to meeting new people and embracing new experiences and with many laughs, tears, struggles, and more laughs.....I have been encouraged to live my life with a new perspective. Thanks to Frances, Jane, Anne and Kate whom all have inspired me in so many different ways.
On a lighter note.....New Zealand colloquialisms:

Sweet As!
Good on you.
Hows it? Ya Good.
When you say Thank you....They say thats alright or thats okay.
There’s a sale on.
Ta- For Thank you
Jandals- Flipflops
thats all I can think of for now!.....Happy Holiday’s To Everyone!!!!

Gisborne, Napier, Rotorua Pics!

Here are some more pics...miss everybody!

http://www.flickr.com/photos/vanderhj/sets/72157622907441771/show/

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New Photo set: Auckland and beyond!!

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Enjoy!!

Our first W.W.O.O.F. (Willing Workers on Organic Farms)

11/26/09

he said:

Soooo.....for future reference, when you’re out on a limb doing something new, throwing caution to the wind, completely picking a place you will go by the seat of your pants may not always be the wisest decision. For example, our first W.W.O.O.F. experience. As we drive up the curvy, cragged and beautiful west side of the coromandel peninsula, Summer becomes quite. At first I’m unsure if it’s the roads making her carsick, or something else. Then I realize, it’s nerves. We both have very little clue of what this place we are cruising towards will hold for us and the reality of this is beginning to set in. After some struggle and numerous back tracks we find the long, windy rough dirt road that carries us to our hosts “house”. It’s difficult to convey what happened here without it sounding overly negative so I won’t try to sugar coat it. As we pull up an early 60’s sturdy looking woman comes out of her one level small house. Surrounding it in every direction are all manner of cages and pens. What these cages contain is difficult to ascertain but will soon enough make itself evident. We sit down for a cup of tea and began to chat with our host. She tells us a bit about her family, her deceased husband(s), and then shows us its newest member. She returns from her bedroom with a baby possum stuffed down her sweater! Apparently our host fancies herself an animal rescuer and so the cages are for the various animals she has acquired over the years. There are many different birds, lizards, guinea pigs, regular pigs, dear, turtles, heaps of cats and yes, possum’s. Although she only has one that sleeps in bed with her, there are several that are living in her cabinets and the cage in the backyard. For those who are unfamiliar with an opossum, they are indeed quite cute. (see pics) But also creepy. You may have at some point, poisoned, shot or run over one, but I doubt you have ever held one or had it crawl on your head and try to clean your ears for you. They also enjoy latching onto your pant legs and attempting to summit you like a possum Mt. Everest. But enough about the possums. To our first working experience. After the fairly mundane and boring first day of shoveling, digging and building a retaining wall, the second day we were greeted with the task of mustering the sheep to prepare them for shearing. Now most times, a farmer will do this with multiple people, some sort of non-foot conveyance (horse, 4-wheeler, etc...)but for our first mustering experience, we are fortunate enough to get to do it with only the two of us and on our feet. This is most likely because there are only nine of them. Simple right? Wrong. After 45 minutes of huffing and puffing up grassy mountain sides and sprinting to chase sheep in the desired direction, we succeed in chasing them to the appropriate pen. Only to discover that one of the gates has been left open and the sheep (as sheep will do), blast through it to the exact same spot they started in!
Well, in another 30 minutes we will able to chase all but two into the pen we had created for them. So our host instructed us that we could spend the rest of our days work “chasing” the other two. Seems easier to catch two then 9 but alas, this too proved harder then it would first appear. This could be because we were chasing them through neck high bush of pine tree like shrub packed so tightly that you can hardly see through it let alone chase sheep through it. But after three hours of no luck, we gave in. And as we did this, guess who showed up? The two sheep we had been hunting for! This time, our determination was at maximum. These sheep were going to be mustered. We chased them into the pen where there was no escape. Perfect! We’ve got them...nope. As I tried to get them to run to the pen we had created, one bolted through a fence. Oh well, he had decided to make himself a future dinner. But the other one, was mine. We squared off. I had enough and so had he. The ram and I, now only feet apart started each other in the eye. (Or I stared at it and it bahhed at me). As I tried to encourage it (with my foot) to turn around, it would not budge. It would head-butt my foot and then charge at me. Only for me to grab it by the wool, spin it around and the game would start again. After what seemed like 20 minutes of this, our host shouted down to me from the house “Just jump on it, and I’ll drive down and help”. So that’s what I did. I plopped myself on top of the sheep and together we hoisted the now playing dead Ram into the back of the truck. Phew!
After they were all mustered (including four mean, hairy, spitting Alpaca), we started in on shearing them. For the most part this was done by our host. But as tough as she was, a sixty year-old body can only take so much abuse and by the second Alpaca, she was losing steam. Being the strapping young man I am, I said “I’ll help out! I’ll grab the body and you take the head”. I didn’t have the body. As soon as I grabbed the Alpaca, it began to buck and kick with me attached. I tried to hold on until it threw me into a metal wall. So I let go...the first thing our host said after I picked myself up was “I thought you said you had the body?” Oh well....
So that was it. After three days, no running water, a broken toilet, no power and no ability to shower, we had enough. We set off to another spot. Sometimes you have to cut your losses. And though it was short, there were great aspects of it. Our host was very interesting, sweet and a true do-it-yourself person. But creature comforts (or lack thereof), outweighed the gains and so we had to move on. Something tells me that although we will have many interesting experiences in the future, none will quite compare with the first.she said:

I will begin this blog with a disclaimer: I am not a sheep herder, farmer, rancher, or really even a gardener, oh, did I say I am not a sheep herder! WWOOFing (Willing Workers of Organic Farming): Our plan and mode of traveling through NZ by volunteering at various farms, immersing ourselves in the country, with families of NZ and hopefully learning something along the way. Our first WWOOF was in the Coromandel Peninsula of the North Island. With little information and unknown expectations we drove up the rocky, curvy coastline of the Peninsula to a dirt road that took us high in the hills of our first “farm.” As we crept towards a house in shambles surrounded by cages and animals Jesse and I both exclaimed, “this can’t be it!” But to no avail it was, as a well-built, self assured woman answered the door and welcomed us to her home. Her home and our accommodations were rustic to say it nicely but the allure of the unknown or perhaps the shock of our surroundings tempted us to stay. “We are here for new experiences, right,” we reminded ourselves as we worked for the next few hours of building retaining walls, placing gates, shoveling dirt and clearing out her shed for preparation for shearing the sheep and alpacas the next day. When the work was over we were welcomed into her cozy house for a wholesome dinner of fresh veggies (picked from her garden), homemade hearty bread, and corn beef. As delightful as this dinner was, the real delight was really learning more about our host. She is a remarkable woman. A no-nonsense woman in her 60’s with a crackling laugh heard for miles, work hands of a man, and luster for life that is inspirational. She is a jack of all trades; a rancher, a farmer, an animal lover and rescuer, a gardener, an amazing cook, a knitter, a cheese maker, a bread maker, a contractor, a mother, a grandmother and a possum fanatic! For 20 some years this woman ran her ranch (now more of an animal rescue farm) with her own two hands building her home, garden, farm from the ground up. Choosing to live a completely self-sufficient, sustainable lifestyle; no electricity, everything solar-powered, no running hot water, all meat and produce cultivated from her land, and use of a generator only when absolutely necessary. A lifestyle that is admirable but one that I am not obviously accustomed to!
I tossed and turned in bed that night, uncomfortable, overwhelmed, and terrified of a possible possum sneak attack in the middle of the night!!! With little sleep, Jesse and I awoke with trepidation of what the day would hold and lets just say it is forever unforgettable! After our breakfast we were sent off to muster the 9 sheep for shearing. Nine sheep, Jesse and I thought, that shouldn’t be that bad, we can do it, as we crept up the grassy steep hill. We snuck up from behind the sheep and actually beautifully corralled all the sheep to the paddock below in less than 30 minutes. Celebrating and impressed with ourselves we proudly marched down the hill only to watch the sheep one by one escape through an open fence to the next paddock! Our host had forgot about the one open fence and the sheep disappeared. “Well, you have 3 hours left, go get them,” instructed our host as Jesse and I sulked off in despair. Pouting and with thoughts racing in my head, “How can we round up all nine sheep that fled in different directions, we are not sheep dogs, we do not have ATVs, we are just two people, running through thick bush and up steep hills chasing sheep,.... this is impossible.” And it was. Sheep run away from humans. But Jesse and I continued to chase and chase them, planning different approaches, tactics, until we finally mustered 7 sheep right into the shed for shearing. The other two were a bit more difficult! They stuck together in the bush for hours. We left them for a bit and went to help round up the alpacas for shearing. Alpacas are smarter then sheep and easier to convince to move with food but no nicer. They spit, kick, and whine. FUN! With our smooth moves, human gate formations and loud noises the alpacas were in the shed and we were sent off to get the last two sheep! This is were the fun began! Jesse and I once again got the sheep very close to the shed but with no fence to keep them there they escaped running right past me as I dove (or some would say I tripped!) to stop them. I went down, knees first, elbows, to hands to stomach. Scrapped from elbows to knees, shocked, sweaty, dirty, and my host exclaiming, “you have to stay on two feet to catch them,” I quit! But a determined Jesse went after them and almost had both before one squeezed its way through the fence and escaped. The other one Jesse cornered and the two of them went at it head to head, literally! The sheep had had enough and so had Jesse. Timidly kicking at first Jesse kept his distance but the sheep did not back down (they typically do except when angry) and this sheep was pissed! Butting his head at Jesse until our host yelled from the hill, “just sit on him,” and with grace Jesse jumped on his back and held the sheep down. MY HERO!!!:) Our work was done with 8 sheep and 4 alpacas in the shed ready for shearing. The guys arrived to shear and Jesse and I received our first experience of shearing. With a few more falls and wrangling of the alpacas and sheep, all exhausted, we were done for the day! We stayed for two more nights and decided it would be best to get back on the road where we could properly clean ourselves, sleep through the night, and not be targets for baby possums to scurry up our legs! Beside the need for a more comfortable accommodation and a hot shower with pressure, a part of me was sad to leave. Frances was a memorable woman that had so much to teach and give and I am thankful for the memories of our first WWOOF!

Auckland, the beginning

11.15.2009.

he said:

Ohhhhhhhhh....to be on the road at last! Auckland was challenging (to say the least). After touching down, we took a bus journey to a ferry which took us to a quaint little town called Devonport. Think moms with strollers, and business men with cappuccino's. We stayed with a very sweet couple named Gwenda and Peter at a bed and breakfast called Duck’s Crossing. We were able to use their home as our base to explore Auckland and FIND A VAN! My god...I had no idea what was in store for us.
I should say that Auckland (despite contrary reputation), is beautiful. To compare I would say it is a combination of San Francisco, Seattle and Portland. But with many more bays, sailboats and Maori. But it was interesting to explore. Unfortunately, we did not explore in a tourist capacity. The need to find a van and get out was intense. It felt hopeless and labored. I started to feel like we should just buy the next clunker we saw just so we could make some progress.
After four days of no success with Gwenda and Peter, we moved to our next spot. Our friend Debra and her two daughters were kind enough to let us invade their house for a few days. The first day at their house we went to a car market where we FOUND A VAN! Much to Summer’s chagrin, I convinced her to buy an overly small van...in fact, the smallest van we could find (see pics). We then spent the next three days outfitting and shopping for said van until we wanted to kill each other. We frequented this store THE WAREHOUSE which is the equivalent of Target at least two to three times per day. And when I say it’s like Target it is exactly the same. Except for the complete and utter lack of organization. Other than the categories like “sporting goods” or “automotive”, good luck.
But alas after four days of this business, we were outfitted. With foldable bed made in the back, tons of crap we probably don’t need, and near total exhaustion and frustration, we set out. We escaped Auckland (after initially heading 180 degrees the wrong way), and headed for the small beach community of Piha. This is an Oregon surf town if it wasn’t so dangerous and if the Cascades dove directly down into the ocean. The roads are a new definition of windy and we tested Gloria (our new van) by driving and hiking as much of the area as we could.
It amazes me how here more than anywhere I have ever been, I find myself saying: “This is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen”...only to repeat the exact same sentiment fifteen minutes later. Each gargantuan curve our exaggerated grade brings not only more beautiful landscapes, but also totally different views. The first day was hours of hiking through a stream that we crossed at least twenty times through what was, with the exception of no bugs or excessive heat what I would imagine hiking through Brazil would be like. It was super cool...Dorky as this sounds, that’s the only way I can describe it. Nothing like I expected and everything I have been looking forward to.
Today we traveled across the the width of the north island (no more than 100km, to the east coast and an area called the Coromandel. We hiked through a gorge that was famous in New Zealand history for the gold mining that took place there in the late 1800’s. Over a billion ounces of gold were removed from this area and many of the remnants remain including a vast tunnel system. These are tunnels that would not operate in the states. It’s sad the way we are conditioned to think of the litigious aspects of something that it can sometimes supersede the experience. But this was not the case here. As earlier referred, I had to repeat how amazing everything was enough that it became pointless before we finished. I suppose that’s what I have taken so far. It’s not the hobit’ses that have made the journey so far, but instead the amazing geography and the trees. I guess the homogeneity or just the familiarity of the plant life in Oregon has built up my immunity for what it has to offer. But more than that is the total difference and lack of comparison I have for the trees here. Kauri and ferns, they’re all so green and bright! I’m so excited for each new thing we see.
Which leads to tomorrow. We are deep in the Coromandel’s west side now, and will head further north to a large ranch with hundreds of sheep and cow for our first Woofing experience. I have great trepidation as we do this. We have no real idea of where we are going or what we will be doing when we get there. But I do have a great deal of faith for I know what I will have learned buy the end of tomorrow will far outweigh what I know about farming today...

she said:

As our plane touched down in Auckland excitement consumed me as I awoke from the deep slumber of island life to a world I know. The city. The noise, the sounds, the stimuli. I felt content to be frantically finding our way in a new city again. With our atrocious huge bags Jesse and I found our way through Auckland to the ferry that took us across the bay to the North Shore and the quaint village of Devonport, our home for the next four days. Our home was the lovely B&B of Peter and Gwenda. Little did we realize that their gentle encouragement, sound advice, and comforts of home would quickly become our reprieve from the desperate and aggravating searches for a campervan. Every morning Jesse and I would awake to a hearty and delightful breakfast and then set off into the city in search of a campervan. We soon discovered that we were entering the high-season for traveling New Zealand and our “original” idea of driving through NZ with a campervan was well, unoriginal. Old clunkers and beat up vans were abundant and sold in masses by shady characters. We walked through these parking lots in haste as our hearts sank. The search had to continue and our overly ambitious quest of getting out of Auckland in a few days was squandered. With thoughts and hopes of “everything happens for a reason,” we met Deborah and the rumors of the generosity and friendliness of the Kiwis came into fruition. We stayed with Deborah and her family for 4 nights and again their warmth and home became our reprieve from the frustrating, painful days in search for a van, getting lost in the suburbs, and then finally outfitting our van at the inescapable infinity of the Warehouse. In less then a weeks time we were finally ready to embark on our journey. With graciousness in our hearts and our sprits high we were “on the road.” The road headed west, curvy and stomach turning to the low-key surf community of Piha. Piha gave us our first experience of staying in a camp ground, setting up our van, sleeping in the van and the realization that this was all part of what I going to be doing the next year! With a momentary freak out, slight emotional breakdown and surprisingly good night sleep in the van I woke to a readiness and willingness to accept what this year was going to bring. (Kind of!) The next four days flew by as we finally ventured out into nature and the splendor of New Zealand. The scenic contrasts of the dense sub-tropical vegetation to the rolling vibrant green hills spotted with sheep and cows to the black sand beaches are breathtaking and we were only 45 minutes outside Auckland! Our “tramps” in those four days were equally breathtaking and unique; from the black sands and jagged shoreline cliffs of Whatipu Beach, to the “lite canyoneering” trek of Goldie Bush, criss-crossing for hours in ankle deep streams to the Karangahake Gorge where we found ourselves hiking through cliffs full of tunnels created in the late 1800’s for gold mining. Everyday we have found ourselves in awe of the beauty and the diversity of this country.
As quickly as the weather changes in NZ so has my emotions. Extreme highs to extreme lows. I am realizing that the struggles and challenges that lay ahead of me are what I make of them and should make for an interesting year!! Off for our first WOOFing adventure tomorrow on a remote farm in the Coromandel.....wish me luck!!