Amsterdam, Africa and Arusha

Africa, a continual overload. Masses of people standing, walking and sitting at the side of the main road. Bundles carried on heads, on carts, bicycles, donkeys, trucks and two wheeled carts. Piles of grass, sugar cane, bananas, sticks, bags of charcoal, furniture and buckets of water, endless buckets of water. In the city there are hundreds, likely thousands of vendors carrying shoes, shirts, pants, maps, knives, sunglasses, kitchen gear, you name it , it's for sale from a kiosk, bicycle or someone's back.
I've been shy about taking pictures. It seems like some kind of exploitative voyeurism, but how else to describe the riot of colour, the incongruity of items, the sheer volume of everything? And traffic! As we careen down the road, inches from the approaching suv's, cars, trucks, Landrovers, safari buses, transports and the mini buses pulling out, passing on the inside, the outside, between us and oncoming traffic flashing lights and tooting warnings we weave back and forth dodging crossing pedestrians and imminent collisions. Once in the stream no one seems to give way, no prisoners taken and no quarter given.
That's the impressions from the moment. Earlier today we visited the Maasai market, where I did eventually take some pictures after my first haggling experience. Bead work, carvings, drums, musical instruments, baskets, jewelry, shoes, fabric, clothing, bowls and paintings just to scratch the surface. Granted, among the many "stores'"there was a lot of repetition. It all became somewhat overwhelming, every vendor insisting we enter their small space to look... any interest shown in anything ,they are ready to do business. Hungry.

I bought a shirt for myself and some fabric for Elke, she picked up earrings, a beaded choker, a shirt and belt for me and tyre shoes for her son Leland. I looked at and considered many, many baskets, large gourds/calabashes, wooden bowls, beaded bands and earrings, African harps, shakers, mbira and so many different fabrics. Elke tells me to wait till Bagamayo.
This is Arusha, second largest city in Tanzania. We go out for lunch with Seppo our host, his wife Juliet and three yr old son Roni after our shopping experience, then retire to the Arusha Masai Italian restaurant, where Seppo has his Gallery, to sit in the shade and catch up on writing and email. I've had a few meals here since I arrived 6 days ago.

The flight from Amsterdam was much more comfortable, I managed to grab an empty seat at the front didn't watch ANY tv, read, dozed and watched people and the map. (OK so I did watch a screen!) The sun setting over Africa shining through the porthole was quite magnificent. An incredible red stretching across the horizon for about 20 minutes seen from the centre of the plane, took my breath away. The entire traveling was easy other than the time crunched into the seat from Seattle, when I did watch a couple of movies. However I couldn't hear the dialogue. Too bad there wasn't a Swahili language option.
Landing at Kilimanjaro my bags arrived safely, albeit last journey for the red suitcase. US$50 for the Visa, I declared the Gouda I bought for Elke in Amsterdam, stepped through the door and there was Seppo folding out a sign with CM on it. As we walked outside the air, the scents, the temperature embraced me. Africa, I've arrived.

Back to the other reality

Clouds rolled in quickly, the wind came up and it rained again in the night. The water had turned that steel grey with chop that can make it challenging to paddle through. Neither of us were all that enthusiastic about leaving as we ate our breakfast and cleaned up the dishes. All the wood I had carried in was stacked beside the stove and a now dying fire. We stuffed dry bags with gear and the remains of the food. I carried it all down as Matthew effortlessly hoisted each kayak and placed them at waters edge.
Already my hands were cold! The wind blowing from the SE meant we were in quarter seas till rounding Saltspring then straight into it to get home. However, as I paddled away jamming my hands into the pogies there seemed to be little wind at all, and once past Jackscrew the water leveled off and it was an easy paddle to the light on the reef by Saltspring.
Paddling back to Tent Island was easy, more giant jellyfish drifting by beneath us and of course seals everywhere. Pulling up on the beach at the north end I recalled the many times I had been there before. In fact the first time a friend took a picture of Matthew's mother and I with the little guy walking along the beach. That picture made it into the paper.

Matthew, impressed by the profusion of Arbutus berries, snaps a picture capturing an eagle. Two more follow checking out what the gulls were feeding on in the channel. Apparently not worth their interest, they returned and perched in a big fir making conversation.
The venting steam from Crofton indicated only a slight breeze so we took our time and Matthew got some shots of the guano stained sandstone on the west face of Tent.

Quite a different colour now that the birds have gone and the rains have come. I find it hard to describe or express the magnificence of the sandstone etched, carved and smoothed by the elements. One of the reasons I find kayaking here so compelling. The physicality of our environment is like an amazing taste of ambrosia or the unexpected touch of one's lover while focused elsewhere.


Meanwhile it was time to go home. Across Stuart Channel, then back under the bridge, the tide high ( I have spent a few occasions dragging my boat through inch deep water cause I didn't check beforehand!). We powered past the men in pfds still loading logs to go offshore. By now the deck was piled high. They found us a strange sight I think, as they stared long and hard while we slipped by towards the boat launch.
Matthew collected the van as I emptied the hatches, so grateful for the adventure and impressed at my lack of soreness. I bought us each a hot drink at the bookstore cafe, tempted as I was by the stacks of unread books, I didn't dare. Back to civilization; traffic, storage lockers, computers and the warm embrace of familiarity, home and community.

Father son retreat

The bed is short, what a surprise. I sleep diagonal and wake up a few times stepping out in the cool air to relieve myself. Stars shining brightly and lots of them, not much light pollution here. Seabirds of unknown identity making their morning sounds, water like glass.
Morning comes and I am inspired by the eastern light seeping upward into the sky over Wallace. I love a good sunrise and this one bears the tidings of a great day to come. Matthew sleeps through it, I think he stayed up later than I reading by candlelight and (I hope) his headlamp.
If only I had had one as a kid!

I get a good fire going for our tea, and write my morning pages.
Seems like we will need more wood, so after a fruitless search for gloves we go at er. I have my camera and am constantly distracted by the abundance of fungi, yellow coral, witches butter and some numerous large and completely blackened mushroom carcasses, they turn out to be the Black and White Russula, Russula Albonigra .

Matthew has it in hand, mycillium encrusted fir rounds and a maul. He has a good pile going when I step in to relieve him. I split a few and he tells me he wants to take it all. What I see is the slope and humus piling up behind the half buried row of rounds creating a nice example of permaculture terracing. Seems like an opportunity to give something back to the land and increase the soil. We disagree and I decide to go for a walk, cameraless.
My explore takes me south along the beach then across the island onto some moss encrusted ridges. This island was logged maybe 100 years ago so the remaining big trees have had some time to grow. There are mushrooms galore, no shortage of diversity here. I see abundant Lobster mushroom, looking a little old but still attractive. Arresting! That bright orange is remarkable.

When I return, I am drenched in sweat and decide to jump in the ocean, removing my clothes first of course. The sun is shining after all. Man that water is refreshing whooee!
Make some lunch, we have a glass of wine and make peace.
While the water is so calm we carry the fiberglass canoe down to the water. I suggest circumnavigating the island clockwise. A new experience for Matthew, he has always done it the other way. Amazing how familiar territory looks different when approached from the opposite direction. The water is clear, no breeze, it is an effortless exercise. We pull in at the south end and follow the deer trails into an open area where we collect a relatively fresh Lobster mushroom and spot a not so fresh Eagle carcass. Me I'm game to pull some tail feathers or a wing and wow that head/skull would be awesome! It is all attached still and besides I haven't dealt with the feathers I mailed myself from New Zealand.... I leave it.
As we round the point and head back an Oyster Catcher is close by and out come the cameras.

After stowing the canoe we head off across the island. The trail is unfamiliar to Matthew, I am hoping we can locate some of the mushrooms I saw earlier. He is like a goat, clambering over the slippery rocks. This time I have my camera and get some great shots of Lobsters, Lactarius, clusters of some I don't recognize on a fallen fir, an Oyster growing on dead Arbutus and a large bracket high up in a Willow. We collect more lobsters for dinner and head back. Crank up the stove, chop veggies and combine it all in a stir fry extraordinaire. I get out the headlamp and eventually find the reference in the Mushroom book although there was never any doubt.
A glass or more of wine and more story telling, reminiscing and reflections of a life lived in multiversity, love and relationship, judgments and realizations.
I feel some sadness that my father has not spent this kind of time with me and a lot of gratitude I am spending it with my son.

Rememberance

November is grey and wet. An opportunity to paddle over to South Secretary arose around the four day weekend. It has been so long since I was on the water...
Pachena in August
Up the river, we saw a young bear walking a log and peering at us as we pushed up on the tide as far as we could go. Later I paddled out along the east shore and collected some kelp fronds to be dried and sprinkled in my breakfast this winter. Then the kayak was in storage all through September and October.

Matthew arrived late morning, and I quickly took care of the last commitments, grabbed the gear I had, some food (I managed to forget the Butterflies and shortbread)then we boogied on down to the storage. Pulled out my tote of gear, found my paddle and strapped on the kayak.
Stop for groceries, twice! I stayed in the van packing stuff into the drybags at the second stop, realizing all my drybags were in the other tote! Luckily Matthew had extra. Extra water too, I appreciated the ballast as I was anticipating some rough water.
It all fit of course and we set off along beside the Black Forest out of Hong Kong loading slings of logs out of the water. A tug and a crew of men with pike poles and (I hope caulk boots) jumping around on the booms. The mill was spewing out its usual steamy clouds, the wind mostly in our favour and once past the bridge, thankfully behind us.

Crossing to Tent was easy; the water like glass, few boats out, no wakes, and the sky cleared in a large oval to the west giving us some sun.

Matthew insisted I run up and down the beach with him. I took off the spray skirt and PFD so my lungs could expand and chased him for at least two laps. By then my knees were complaining fiercely. Some chocolate, crackers and cheese and a HB egg for sustenance and we were off again. I had fingerless gloves and pogies around my larger than standard loom stick. The tips of my fingers took a long time to warm up. Once I was I in there I stayed, no pulling up the rudder or having a drink while paddlin for this boy.


What a joy to be on the water, birds galore and undulating jellyfish of all sizes. The water, crystal clear along the rock gardens so lots to see. Seals in abundance as well; following, regarding with curiosity and reacting with surprise.
Talking with Matthew has always been easy, and the time slipped by with little effort as we spoke of the past, present and future. In the moments of silence there was plenty to reflect upon. Remembrance of things past, friends, lovers, family and a lot of years watching waves lap on those shorelines.
I love how strong Matthew is, makes me feel like an old man! watching him carry the empty kayaks up under the tree high above the tideline. He has the key, unlocks the door and we dump our stuff. I get the fire going, thank you to whoever left the wood sitting there. It is soon blazing, we didn't bring a stove or propane, so this is it. Water on for tea and he throws together a soup to go with the corn chips and salsa. Wonderful, simple food beside a roaring inferno. Ten feet back, the cold air is waiting for an opportunity. We sit and talk, tell stories and play dominoes by the light of the fire and a few candles. Someone likes candles, there a few boxes of them here. I will make a point of reminding myself to buy some replacements.


My phone was not receiving well. It rang then the connection is lost 3 or 4 times and I text my regrets.
Matt speaks with a friend who might show up on the morrow, at the moment off to see The Three Jackasses... wow what a contrast.
The moon is bright on the water, closing in on first quarter and low on the horizon. I wonder if Elke saw the moon today... It is quiet outside, a Heron squawks, the water laps gently, off to the right some light reflecting off the sky, probably Ladysmith. Few lights are visible on Saltspring, we really are alone. I relax and enjoy the completeness of being here.

Home in community

Home. The word has some major emphasis and connotations. I know I am glad to be here. I haven't lived here for long but it is home. After so many years of flirting with the idea of community, I finally commit and join.

I recall as a child determining that Vancouver Island where where I wished to live. After a few years of attempting to make it work in the city I jumped (almost literally) onto my grandparents farm and instantly was home. This was where I raised my children, learned about gardening and explored the meaning of life. Some of my first lessons in permaculture I suppose, although those lessons start at birth, I became aware of the affects of my actions on the environment seasonally and longer term. My son's mother left, a profound lesson in relationship. And that is ongoing study.

Here and now there are more relationships. At least more obvious to me. First with the land itself, Vancouver Island has a tremendous amount of diversity. New Zealand stimulated me, teased and flirted with me.I was enraptured and awestruck, seduced one might say (how is THIS like my life?) and yet there was something missing for me, like I was out of step with the marching band. As much as I loved it there, it never felt like home. The sense I have is, the air and smells are familiar, having spent most of my life here, the land, the country knows me the way I know it. And nothing to do with nationalism or politics. I loved both the Qu'appele Valley in Saskatchewan and Bryce Canyon in Utah too, but I wouldn't want to live there.

The people here are on a similar wavelength, although I recognize the bubble I choose to live in, there are no shortage of folks who I have large differences with in respect to diet, lifestyle, and spiritual beliefs. Witness the shopping carts full of not one item I would choose to consume, generally. Don't get me started on the media at the checkouts! Of course both countries have that to deal with, although there are differences, I spent NO time perusing the tabloids, just the usual exposure to the covers, pictures and headlines.

I continue to puzzle over the subtleties of life in Auckland, Christchurch, Wellington and rural New Zealand. I have no real understanding of the psyche of the NZ male and less of the women, not that I would pretend to understand the psyche of women in general anywhere. I felt so welcomed by the folks I stayed with, the experience of hospitality I received was almost overwhelming and yet there was something about the way people related to me that I found disconcerting. Maybe my sense of self importance got in the way? It was like at times that I was irrelevant. I suppose I could look at it that folks just accepted me for who and what I was/am. Which is fine... I didn't get any sense though, that I was included or part of what was happening. The travelers dilemma I guess. This is beginning to sound fairly arrogant, like I could, in three months, sum up the psyche of a nation that took 700 years to form? The Maori are as deep an influence on the transformation of the country now as the Brits have been and my contact with them was extremely limited. One man told me, in reference to knowing the people and the work I do, to connect with my indigenous brothers at home.

I recognize how important it is to honour the first peoples, that there is a connection to the land inherent in those who are less caught up in the hubris of western civilization. The flotsam and jetsam of our cultural heritage continues to suck me into a state of possession and obsession with the material. Every time I go into my storage locker I enter an altered state. Like what do I do with all this important, relevant ....stuff? Obviously don't need it or I would bring it home and use it! Of course all the camping equipment comes in handy in the summer and there is nowhere here to store my kayak...... and on and on.

The transition back into my life has been not without it's challenges, to reuse an oft repeated phrase. The change from driving daily without a strict agenda to an enforced schedule brought up some resistance at first, but I do love what I do. I also loved the novelty of not knowing what was around the next corner, the freedom of choice to stay or go and the variety of landscape that continues to stimulate my sense of adventure. New acquaintances, folks met and remembered. Here I have a group of people who appreciate my gifts and talents, individuals who love and cherish my contributions. This is a place of sanctuary (the van never quite got there) with a real sense of participation in what happens to the land.

Writing this out I get that how I relate/interface/participate in the actual earth of a place is probably the biggest piece of what home is to me.

So here I am back in Canada, on Vancouver Island living at O.U.R. EcoVillage working in an Elementary school 45 minutes drive from here. I also continue to attend and support two Dads groups one in Nanaimo and one in Duncan. I am considering working in the kitchen here as a relief for the regular cooks and there are the daily responsibilities of living in community that I have agreed to maintain. I feel enriched, fulfilled and purposeful. What I do has an impact on the lives of all around me. And it is not about being a star or even getting acknowledgment. I do all this because it feels good to me, there is a sense of it needing to be done and I am enjoying providing the service, the experience and learning in the process. The paychecks help too.

Last days in Auckland

Auckland is a busy place, teeming with pedestrians, tourists and students. I drive around looking for a parking lot, knowing there are lots but somehow I don't see any on the path I choose to follow. I did of course find one and after squeezing into it I went looking for the Art gallery. Suddenly there were parking lots all around! Right.
I meet Roo in the gallery after walking completely around the building looking for the entrance. The art on display is contemporary and, for me, pushes the definition of art way past the edge I understand. A large rectangle spread across the floor composed of the remains of a completely dismantled and burned car in 3x5 pieces. Perches suspended from the ceiling that when bumped squawk like a bird....
We go for tea and catch up on the adventures. I go walkabout looking for a cellphone repair. The consensus being I "should buy a new one". I get a haircut from a fellow who doesn't seem to understand what I want, or I don't explain it well. My first brush cut in many years, and most of the beard off look. Back up the hill to Victoria Park where folks are laying about, playing guitar and studying (?) The trees are immense, I attempt to capture their essence in a photo. I wander through the university surrounded by the vigor and possibilities of youth and education. I am feeling old and the busyness is wearing on me. I have had enough of the hustle and bustle and head back to the van...which is where, exactly?
Elke calls as I figure out where I am and we connect briefly.
Back at Liz and Fraser's, I prepare to sell back the van, clean it up and empty everything out. Somehow I need to assimilate or discard these precious items. I saved almost every receipt and tourist brochure I received. I go through it all whittling the pile down to the most pertinent.
I arrange to bring the van back and thankfully it starts easily every time the fellow starts it. Fraser waits as we go on a "test drive" nervously biting his nails waiting for the final verdict. We visit a panel beater (auto repair shop) where the bump on the back bumper is assessed at $400 and taken off the resale price. I am glad to be free of it, knowing I would not do it that way again.
A visit to Waitakere the next day and a chance to use my camera with Fraser's tutelage. We collect images in the interpretive centre, of the native forest, massive tree fern fronds, and occasionally mushrooms. Stop for meat pies and visit a gift shop. I am feeling antsy, impatient and sad. I love this place!
I finally arrange to visit Earthsong the Co-housing community. Fraser and I drive north first and walk the beach, taking pictures of course. Then south and west to Swanson out Waitakere way to Earthsong. Helen, who I met at the Heart Politic gathering takes me around to see the buildings, the community house and then feeds me lunch on the deck. Each residence has their own garden space, there are orchards, nut trees and community gardens as well. These folks are all serious gardeners and the surplus ends up for sale at the nearby farmers market. Helen has a banana tree outside her front door! We talk about the structure of the place, residents, gardening and finally the governance. Christof and Susy also from the Heart Politic gathering, live here and offer to take me to Bethells Beach. Cool! Fraser had told me it was one of his favorites, unfortunately he was unable to take me there.
it is beautiful! We tramp across the black sand my camera grabbing images. Susy talks about cooking and the cave across the river. The full moon and low tide make for a bigger beach than Christof has ever seen. I have my shoes on so I explore the shelf in front of the basalt and creep around the corner on the sharp edges taking pictures of green lipped mussels and the rocks.
I am still amazed at the starkness and fresh feeling of the lava, the geology. how the land seems so alive and active, pieces breaking off, edges everywhere. Another piece of the permaculture puzzle falls into place.
After a nice dinner Christof drives me to the train, one of the reasons these folks chose to build here. A quiet and relaxed hour later I am downtown where due to a lack of street signs, spend a few panicked minutes determining where to catch the bus. Auckland has at least three bus systems going in three directions. An hour later I'm sharing my adventures over tea with Liz and Fraser.
The morning arrives, I have spent much time packing all my treasures into my suitcase and the chilly bin: books, clothing, mead, shells, honey and a 3.2K lava rock for the sweat lodge. All the feathers I found, the wings of the hawk, I place lovingly into an envelope to mail to myself. However when I declare what is inside for customs I cannot lie, I say it is an "unassembled fan" (!) then "roadkill feathers". Apparently "plumage" is not permitted to leave the country. I tell Fraser I figure I am doing my bit to support the NZ economy. I hope it will arrive and let go of the outcome. As I write this three weeks later I am quite sure I know the outcome of that envelope.
Liz takes me to the airport, we have a bit of an adventure finding it as the roads are altered from the last time she drove there. Fraser at the hospital having a procedure which turns out well. I hang out, read, look at people, magazines, more people, wait till time to load. Then the moment when I walk in and sit down. Watch 5 movies drink wine and eat the onboard dinner. The woman in front of me tilts back and it is like she is in my lap. In Vancouver I declare my honey so I am obliged to check in with Ag Can Customs. No problem. No one even looks in my bags! I stand in line again to go through yet another security check, have time for a quick pee and step outside to board the plane to Victoria. Immediately the air hits me. It smells and tastes like home.

Auckland, Men's work

Lucky for me Fraser and Liz are happy to have me stay with them. An oasis in this urban megatropolis. I stop moving and sleep a quiet sleep, warm and cozy. Then prepare myself for the Essentially Men weekend. I am nervous when the van won't start, wearing the battery down I get impatient. I maintain my cool, Fraser tows me up the driveway and I jump it. I find myself on a road I traveled when I was last here looking for the way south. I park on a slope as the fellow next to me grabs a quick smoke before heading inside. We file in, faces mostly masked in silence making small talk, taking our seats pressed together in front of the window. "Did you lock your car?" someone asks. I wonder, will it be broken into? What kind of neighbourhood is this?
The staff men emerge, disappear and re-emerge from the back room. Finally everyone it seems, has arrived (!) and the intro begins... Another man appears at the locked door.
We listen politely then follow the instructions, eyes closed, trusting the process. There is noise, sensory stimulation and finally drumming. We listen, we talk together one on one, meeting each other as strangers. We dance, we sing, we have tea and listen some more. I feel a bond of some kind with a couple of men. It is late when we depart. I wonder where this is taking me. I park so I can jumpstart the van if need be.
It starts.
We are expected to bring food for lunch and dinner so I grab some typical fare from the local New World and drop it in the kitchen. We are all here but one. We connect again in diads and tell stories of our lives. Dad figures big in this, we sing again and massage shoulders standing. Break for tea and tell more stories. The men leading the process are dedicated and committed with passion and compassion. There is something about this that gives me pause for thought. I call it warrior lite in my head but that doesn't describe it. It is a respectful, thorough exploration of being male in New Zealand. I speak to my perceived contradiction around rugby and boxing and the non aggressive, non violence we are as men expected to model. Later I get the connection to Lover Archetype which gives me big pause for thought around Warrior.
I want to connect with one man especially. He smokes, so at the break I sit outside to listen and add what seems appropriate. Like a joke or two! I am so aware of my difference, my Canadianism. I try to be wise and humble, when I tell them I am there to observe, to learn, to understand the differences and similarities because I want to have an impact on the way men proceed in the world. How I/we relate to children and partners and to address the domestic violence that plagues our societies. I am wearing my Dads Make A Difference T-shirt. On the back it says "When you follow the path of your father, you learn to walk like him" Some men pat me on the back, commenting.
The meals are feasts. Everyone has brought more than enough, I stuff myself on food I seldom sample. Sunday I buy blueberries and a long sausage roll.
Stories, diads and an exploration of mom. I'm looking deeply at my relationship with the feminine. Stunned at how much is there ("hello! are you paying attention?") In my face, I experience major confusion. I resolve to reconnect with my therapist... and review just how much I have spent getting here, being here what has brought me here. Please, please, lets NOT make it about the money.
The change in men's faces is remarkable as we wind up that evening. I feel a closeness and a distance. I am after all, an outsider. Rex the creator of the weekend arrives and we talk during dinner. Amazing how articulate I can be when I have someone to speak with who is similarly focused. What I get is the importance of an intiation experience that needs to reflect the community values. Not static or rigid, evolving with the local culture, satisfying the desires and needs of the men to pass on important understandings of community beliefs, ritual and morality. What I see as the antidote actually to a generic society that devalues and diminishes the importance of emotional expression and connection. A model of intimacy that enhances and encourages friendship, tolerance and support.
We meet again the following Tuesday, I am happy to see so many attending, sad I am unwilling to be there, my choice to go home.
I am still processing the weekend days later.
Somehow I left my cup behind, it is nowhere to be found. Another bit of me stays here.

Wellington, Taupo and Auckland

Parking in the city has never been much fun for me. I take the first available spot hoping I am close to the camera shop. As it turns out I am, not the one I had intended to visit but it will do. The bad news is another example of planned obsolescence, fixing it involves replacing the lens which, you guessed it, costs close enough to replacing the camera as to be.... I bite the bullet, I want a decent camera, I love taking pictures.
Now to find Kim, she is getting her hair done and will be ready this afternoon. I park at the New World Grocery store, buy some fruit and cheese and wander around, to the library (!) then down the streets among the throngs looking for the Turkish Kabob place again. On one corner is a Sadhu, a fellow dressed in , well it looks like nothing, a string around his waist hiding his privates under a scrap of cloth, presumably begging. He has a wild look about him and people are not looking generally. I do see someone snapping a photo, those tourists, honestly!
Up Taranacki street, which seems to get narrower and narrower. Kim has been staying with someone from Couchsurf.com and has a connection with someone else who will be storing some of her stuff while she travels north. It takes a while to find the place, perched up above Island Bay. What a view! We watch the ferry cruising towards the port, waves crashing against the rocks, the traffic on the road below and I see houses I noticed on my journey around the peninsulas.
Slowly make our way out of town, not sure which way to go, I head west then cut across to the Hutt Valley over an amazing road. Great vistas and switchbacks, climbing up and over a mountain pass. We stop for chai in Upper Hutt, the locals eyeing us with curiosity ( I hope) Then continue east now through Featherstone and Tauherenikau then turning north again at Greytown.
I spot a sign indicating a gorge and we are off another gravel road adventure through farmland and isolation to alonely spot where people come to jump off the cliff. The gate is locked so I climb over peering down to the water below. It is a straight drop. we follow a path down, Kim sits beside the river. I walk upstream taking pictures trying out my new toy, the water is cold, cold enough to overcome my inclination to jump in, it is soo inviting.
We collect twigs and branches for a fire, find a chunk of pine and make popcorn in my tiny pot. Sit by the fire late into the night talking about life, love and everything in between. The stars are magnificent, we even see one stream across before going to sleep. Kim wanted to sleep outside, her yoga mat not enough insulation we shared my mattress (chastely of course) and were awakened in the night by lashing rain pounding on the van, and unfortunately leaking in the side door.
As we drove out in the morning the side mirror fell off. The nearest town Carterton, had no wreckers and the message I got was no chance of replacement... Availed ourselves of the library to catch up on the endless email and continued north towards Taupo. I was more interested in a zigag route so at Pahiatu we went west towards Palmerston North then Ashurst onto Colyton Rd and north to Vinegar Hill rejoining #1 Highway. Stopped in Taihape the Gumboot throwing capitol of NZ. The major event takes place March 20, damn! Going to miss that one.
Then into the NZ desert at 1074 metres above sea level, a military training ground with heather in bloom at the side of the road and what appears to be miles and miles of scrub and not much else.
Taupo on Lake Taupo is a tourist town par excellence. All the possibilities exist here, any kind of thrill seeking will be satisfied. We elected to camp at a site with mineral springs and had a good soak before dinner and then bed. It was cold, real cold. Kim took the blanket and camped on the couch in the kitchen while I froze my ass off in the van. It wasn't till I had been in the springs again the next morning 3 hours after getting up that I finally got warm. Definitely a summer bag, there was frost on the ground till 9.
Not impressed with the library in Taupo, no WiFi and one needs to pay/join the library/become a resident to use the computers. They handed us a list of local establishments with WiFi and off we went. Kim bought a bus ticket and headed off to Napier/Hastings to the Steiner college and I went to visit Haku Falls. What a torrent that is! A massive amount of water churning through a narrow gorge out of Lake Taupo it flows north just south of Auckland the longest river in NZ. Jet boats racing up as close as possible to the maelstrom then speeding away down river for whatever they charge the thrill seekers.
Just up the road Craters of The Moon, a no brainer for this guy, $6 and a good walkabout 45 min.+ Steaming holes, sunken fumaroles etc. Lots of fun! Lots of pictures!
That being my break from driving I then drove straight through to Auckland.

Return to Wellington

Morning comes with an amazing sky. I am facing east across the water, the colour creeps up into reds and orange brightening the day considerably. After breakfast I struggle with the starter, turning the key over and over. Roll the van forward then back. I am scared I will run the battery down, and miss the ferry. It starts.
The road to Picton has a warning sign; not suitable for vehicles towing trailers, 25Km of gravel and watch out for logging trucks. Hmm sounds like home to me. Starts out paved with the mandatory switchbacks and soon degrades(?) to gravel. I come around one hairpin and the dirt/dust is so deep my wheels are spinning. Back up and take a run at it. As I descend into a valley I see ahead some dust, and a loaded logging truck hauls ass around the corner in front of me. The logs are likely Gum or Eucalyptus and about 18-24" diameter all about 16' long. Makes the turns easier I guess.
Stunning views coming up! Down into Robin Hood Bay the view from up high certainly enhances the look of surf on a flawless beach, mostly reserve here administered by DOC. Up and over around through great expanses of logging slash then native bush and pines with views of the islands and peninsula off to the right. Down again and briefly back onto pavement as the road touches down at sea level in each little bay; Ocean, Kakapo and Coles. Then I begin to see houses, construction, and massive residences perched on the cliff-sides in Whatamango Bay, many of which are for sale...! anyone interested? Talk about a retreat from the madding crowd. This is the place. No surf on these beaches, the peninsula moderates the waves well creating a very gentle lapping on the beach, at least in this weather. Just over the hill hairpin turns not withstanding, civilization! Port Underwood, Waikawa and Picton, gateway to the south and north depending on your perspective or needs.
At the library I immerse myself in writing, reading emails and eventually skyping Elke. I step outside to speak with her. The library is full of travelers like me connecting via the wifi.
Looking at the time I realize I need to head off to the ferry. On the van my first parking ticket. Oh well. At the terminal it is all good, I get my ticket and line up. A text from Kim, she wants to travel North with me. We will meet up tomorrow.
This ferry is smaller than the other, less people, not so crowded. I spend the entire voyage plugged in deleting old emails (after reading them, of course!) My phone rings , everyone looks. It is a very pathetic sounding ring, hard to describe. The phone dies before I can answer it. Do I have this affect on technology often, or always?
We arrive, disembark and I take a right when I shoulda went left.....I take the first opportunity to turn left heading towards Ngaio, trusting my instincts I go up and up, around and YES, Karori this way. I stop to consult my address's, look up and there is the road! Ross and Sally still at work, they arrive half an hour later. Ross takes me on a tour, Makara Hill where the big gun was in the second world war. Never fired in anger, (broke windows in a test) It ended up sold to Japan for scrap. Then downtown to see the parliament buildings and the third largest wooden building in the world. A government office. I love this architecture. I fill Ross in on my travels and the family history since he worked with Clive back in the 70's. We visit the reserve with a possum proof fence stretching for miles across the mountain.Wonderfully the birds are thriving due to the lack of predators. As things progress they are able to bring them back from the isolated islands they have been living on.
Then dinner with Sally who worked with Wanda and more family stories, theirs and mine.
A shower, laundry and I am set! Camera store in the morning.

Oxford to Rarangi

I finally (what is it 2.5 months into this adventure?) figure out how to navigate by having the sun AHEAD of me when going north. This may explain why I have had to backtrack so frequently. My internal default direction finder expects the sun to be in the south. One more time and I get it. Driving is such a great meditation until the next stunning view appears around a corner. I must be getting jaded I only saw a few! Stop to pick some apples from some trees beside the road, a late Gravenstein and Cox's Orange Pippin. Yum! Passed a cob cottage in Amberley and thought about declaring my intention to go forward with a certification to become a Permaculture ..... practitioner? Whatever. I have some ideas and a desire to implement them.
And I want to acknowledge how truly inspiring you have been for me Brandy McPherson! How your dedication, commitment and perseverance in pursuing your vision has been a source of inspiration and modeling for me. I have much and huge gratitude for encouraging me to pursue this path. Thank you Brandy.
I have spoken to many people about OUR Ecovillage, encouraging folks to visit the website if not the physical location. New Zealand has had a community friendly climate and although some are successful there are challenges. I realized part way into the course at Tui that everything I have been interested in, studied, read about and practiced is part of the Permaculture reality. With my knowledge comes some wisdom and a desire to implement. I have a big vision of how that will eventually manifest, it needs more work, but I am excited about creating and collaborating to make it real.
Other trains of thought around men's weekends, initiation loyalty, commitment. It is all connected to the idea, the understanding of community. My excitement is palpable, these folks I am speaking with in communities all around get my enthusiasm and passion.
I stop in Cheviot and chat up some ladies selling homeknit hats, scarves and sweaters of Cheviot, Romney and Leicester wool. I cage some spun wool for my weaving and continue on. Take a side road down towards Gore Bay and the mouth of the Hurunui River. A great campsite there, my reconnoiter of the South Island keeps inspiring me to pursue Mike and Ikes Hike, Bike and Kayak the world company. The inaugural trip with the principle players, a co-operative ad/venture would be to discover what we need to provide for folks who come to visit Vancouver Island by experiencing what WE need when traveling. Who is interested? How am I going to finance this? got any ideas?
Kaikoura is a great spot to stop, I check out the beaches , shops and crayfish at the takeaways. Unbelievably (yah right!) I buy two books at a used bookstore (open on Sunday? amazing) and wrestle with buying stuff for all my kids and best friends and close acquaintances deciding in the end ( I hope) you will just be glad to have me back home and with lots of pictures. I did buy something for myself though...
The road along the coast here is spectacular, huge crashing waves against the rough boulders strew about the beach, layered headlands jutting into the Pacific. The railroad hugs the coastline here too, making it impossible to access the beach (with a vehicle) in places. Around a corner and I see three tunnels and a cave on the beach. More tunnels as I snake back and forth along this wild coastline. The spray is creating a mist, the tide is full.
I pick up a hitchhiker, Eric from New Mexico who works "on the ice" cooking for upwards of 11000 at the American Base in Antarctica. Flights home and back are free and the time in between he explores, traveling mostly it seems in NZ. He was off to visit some folks near Dashwood at the Oak tree Cob Cottage. I got to visit briefly too, a 100+ year old cottage being renovated on 5 acres of well kept grounds surrounded by vineyards. At the moment some are draped with hats, pants or full body suits to keep out the birds although some are bare and employ guns, warning signs at the corners. I managed to sample a few varieties, by reaching under and helping myself. Crossed the Redwood Pass 197M nestled into the yellow brown rounded hills of dried out pasture, eroded cliffs with hoodoo like arroyos right up against the switchbacking road. My lack of camera may be an asset to my writing eh? or not.
Blew through Blenheim and parked near the ocean at Rarangi. Watched an amazing red sunset and spoke on the phone with Bill from Christchurch who I was meant to stay with. He is off to China leading a garden tour at Easter. Then texted some Permaculture friends and wrote into the night. Picton is just around the corner...

Christchurch

It was noisy in the morning. The gravel pit across the river was in full operation at 7 am with trucks loading up. I was cold. I didn't want to emerge from my cocoon of sleeping bag and duvet but of course nature calls. Ate some breakfast and then drove where the sun was shining to evaporate the condensation and do my writing.
Found another library but not open so did some writing over a chai in a local cafe. Turned out I shoulda gone online too, no wifi at the library, "try the coffee shop across the way" So back to South library in Cashmere. There I contacted a fellow at MensTrust, and when I got there found a number of men's and women's organizations all under one roof. Gordon and I had a good chat, I collected some pamphlets and flyers with info on the various possibilities for men's support. Unfortunately funding is drying up here too. Gordon talks about the connections and working relationships between men and women in the domestic violence field. How supportive some women's organizations are/were in creating support networks. He tells me a warrior brother lives in his community and that I am welcome to come to stay the night. Serendipity! Robina had told us about this community- Heartwood, and here I am! There are a few residences here, two official houses. One is a large brick mansion, Chippenham one of the oldest in Christchurch built in 1860. Lots of gardens, a few fruit trees and many buildings. I am entertained by Dave who is the historian and has lived here the longest. Unfortunately I miss about a third of what he is saying, he is listening to some tapes talking nonstop and making dinner. Ursula from France originally and Sheena an Australian architecture student join us. Also connect with John a fellow warrior who tells me about the other part of the community, land wise out in Oxford.
The Gypsy Fair is in town so in the morning I arrange to drive Dave to work nearby. Unfortunately the van has other ideas and refuses to start. We push it out onto the street and the battery dies. Dave borrows a car (he is now going to be late) And I look up repair places in the phonebook. John and Thomas come out and push me down the street. It starts and I head off to not finding the fair. Go to library (this pattern keeps emerging!) where I research possible camera repair places and Skype with Elke, Nicolette does a cameo appearance. Load some photos, write, then back downtown. Camera guy tells me it is an easy fix but I will need to get it done on Monday or Tuesday in Wellington...Locates the gypsy fair and off I am again. House trucks galore, imported cottons and the usual stuff. Some locally made handicrafts, leatherwork and the kids perform on stilts and with flaming batons (not at the same time) a couple of fortune tellers, Madame Feather and pony rides. I move on after fingering a few items and choosing not to buy. Head back to Heartwood having decided to visit the farm-Cricklegrass. Dave calls and sets it up. Drive the longest straight road in NZ to get there. 18miles. He described it as ramshackle, oh yeah.
Old buildings, neglected gardens and orchards, chooks and a milking cow. Paul makes me welcome. Certainly work is being done; gardening, milking the cow plus there are 5 kids here. Two young boys are target practicing with pellet rifles in the scrub. I do an explore and meet Briar, mother of two of the girls, living in her bus on the edge of the property. From Vancouver originally we talk awhile. She doesn't seem to mix much with the folks in the farmhouse although her eldest daughter spends most of her time there.
I was invited for dinner so bring my Monkey Wizard Stout from Motueka and share with Paul, Paul and Louis wwoofers from England and France respectively. I wash up after when eldest son goes to town to hang out with his mates, Paul returns with ice cream, scrumpie and more beer.
Mother Meghan, not well, emerges later and helps me get online. The evenings entertainment a Mike Meyers movie with a cameo by Deepak Chopra.
They offer me a bed, great offer but mossies and leg cramps plague me.
In the morning a red sky, I do my writing. Eldest daughter off to work at hospital, Madeline and I eat breakfast together. I call the ferry, work out the miscommunication and Meghan shows me some books. They are off to an auction, heritage animals, chooks and cattle in Christchurch. I say my goodbyes and promise to keep in touch.

Pleasant Point to Christchurch

After Fleurs, I drove north to Omaru, Timaru and then inland to visit an old school friend of Jasper's (Geoff). Stan was as happy to see me as I was to see him. We started talking and it never stopped till we went to bed. Stan was a surveyor and knows boundaries and edges well. Also a Quaker and renovating the cottage he is living in for his daughter who lives in Washington DC. The cottage has lots of light streaming in, a very low ceiling in one spot, but a very long bath.
Watched Rowan Atkinson make a fool of himself and then called Scotland. Geofsper was also happy to hear from us, under the threat of evacuation due to mudslides, he expressed some concern for his health. I hope to visit, Stan wants HIM to come visit New Zealand.
In the morning conversation continues as we walk the dog around the reserve and Golf Course. I suggest a road trip to Lake Pukaki to view Mt Cook. Stan is up for it so off we go. We sit by Lake Tekapo eating takeaway lunch beside a stone church regarding tourists form all over visiting the site. The water is a remarkable blue, silty from glacier. More birds flapping feathers at the side of the road.
The view of Mt Cook was worth the drive. Stan hasn't seen it years, it is so often shrouded in cloud. We both take more pictures than necessary, then cruise along beside the canal. We drive up to the Mt John Observatory. The wind is howling, the view magnificent and Stan buys me a Chai while he talks up the star expert from the university. I write a postcard, and wonder if I will arrive first. Unlikely I have three more weeks.
Knowing now a little about me Stan takes the map and we drive through Beautiful Valley, past hanging Rock Bridge arriving at some overhanging limestone rock formations and Maori Rock Painting. They are well protected with a substantial fence. Eroded and faint they are, nevertheless there to be seen.
Another great dinner and we go for a dog walk up through the pines to the cemetery. Later we explore some word meanings and I deal with my dead bird, discovering the difference between Boric acid and borax. Another late night of deep conversation and when morning comes I am antsy to move on.
Raining hard, I cannot wait to get off the main highway away from the transports and the speed pressure. I take a road to the left inland to head up toward Rakaia Gorge and see another, Waihi Gorge! I follow the camper ahead of me to a very attractive spot, take a few pictures and continue on my way to Geraldine where I find another sweet bell, some chocolate and a place to mail my postcard.
Continuing on from there I eventually arrive at the major crossing of the Waikariri River Rakaia Gorge, Stan had recommended this road as being more interesting, with less traffic. I pull off to take some pictures and a huge tractor arrives to cross the bridge.
Then straight on to Christchurch. I ask some fellows in the car next to me at a light "where's the nearest library?" not far at all. However their wi fi is down and within minutes the power fails on the computers. They send me to another library with good parking. It is clear across town, I find it and get some writing done. No one answers my calls or emails so I look at the map and locate a likely spot. I manage to get there before they lock the gate (as do some folks in a pickup or UT as they call them here, who as they drive by fire off a gun...) Other than that, a quiet night by the river.

Bluff, Slope Point and second hand stores

The fire banked for the night, burned steadily and in the morning had consumed the rounds. I sat writing watching the day unfold, wisps of smoke mixing with the fog drifting through the cables on the bridge. A fellow walked over to say hello. An Australian climber, he told me about the deepest lake in NZ 30k away, how much snow and how cold it gets there in winter. He has been here these last 18 months traveling around climbing the mountains. There are so many people on the road here, from so many places.
This journey has turned the corner toward home for me now. Funny how something can trigger so many process's. I felt a sense of completion yesterday. Today as I stood on the rocks in Bluff and a wave washed over my feet, I knew it was over. I head north now, no more south.
Well almost, one more point of pilgrimage, Slope Point. The windblown trees and the eroding cliff gave me a sense of the extremity of the place. I don't know what I expected but seeing someone's home set back from the enormous cliff looking south to Antarctica, sheep studding the landscape, I laughed to myself at how they make it work here, whatever the challenge. The access closed during lambing time. Just another coastline with a farm at the end of the road. The beauty of the place is difficult to describe. Steep rounded hillsides surrounding deep valleys, obviously laboriously cleared at one time covered in pasture stretching away from the sea endlessly inland.
In Bluff I finally allowed myself to check out a second hand store. I have so little will power, a weakness for certain collectibles and a limit on how much stuff I want to fly home. He had no bells."...they go as fast as I get them" he told me. Stoneware Ginger Beer bottles? "Had one last week and sold it dear, the internet is where to look... Try Dunedin and Christchurch"
I followed the Southern Scenic Route along the bottom stopping in Curio Bay; petrified logs and stumps and an amazing surge channel full of giant kelp, to Niagara Falls of New Zealand. Past Cathedral Caves (only accessible at low tide, $5 for parking) numerous waterfalls, gorges and beaches. Blowholes, penguin colonies and petrol stations not open on Sunday or after 6.
Ahuriri Flat, Balclutha, Caberfeidh, and Cannibal Bay, names on signs and the map as I drive relentlessly towards Dunedin.
I stayed that night with Stephen's sister Hilary and husband Bernie. Their house overlooks the harbour and downtown. It felt like being in a hotel. We talked into the night about families and history, vacations and travel. In the morning we spoke about siblings and home and having lunch at Fleurs in Moeraki.
I drove along the water out the Otago penninsula to the Albatross colony. Another spectacular drive metres from the water, through tiny fishing hamlets with very little room for picture taking. I enjoyed seeing a stuffed Albatross and decided not to take the tour. Instead, driving over Highcliff road for more spectacular views, vistas, winding roads, beaches and general amazing scenery. It is difficult for me to describe what it is like to be driving along a very narrow winding road that drops away dramatically in pasture (or at least, grassy hillside) on either one side and sometimes the other, traversed by numerous sheep and ending at an exquisite looking beach seemingly miles below.
I stopped at an auctioneers storefront , found the library and ate Turkish for lunch. Said hello to a fellow traveller I had met twice before (from Barcellona) then went looking for a laundromat. While it was washing I visited 4 or 5 second hand stores, no bells worth buying and no ginger beer bottles.
Had a wonderful dinner and spent the night with William and Mommi up in Mornington. They are searching for a community to call home. I shared what I knew and told a story or two of my travels. More conversation about education and the power of positive intention. I drove on through the fog over railway tracks, past black swans, a blue house with sheep, and a special little second hand shop. I took away a couple of belt buckles, a bell and a lemon for $20.
I had planned on lunch at Fleurs in Moeraki Bay. She wasn't there! But what a place. Had a great chat with Wayne selling coffee and cookies and told him about MKP. I walked around the site, met the sick seal shuffling round the place looking for assistance and had a brief chinwag with a local. The oneway street is a nice touch, population 47.

Wanaka to the Suspension Bridge

Along the road rabbits streak out dodging my tires. I see a stoat running between shoulder and road, hedgehogs stopped still, playing dead in the middle of the road, some not playing. One littl bunny decides to play chicken but gets away, Marie almost rear ends me. I drive slow, the dust is thick, the washboard unfriendly. We quietly park above the gorge. Marie tells me she likes waking up where she hasn't seen the place in the light. In the night I step outside and hear the owls below along the river. My foot, my nose, my issues all right in front of me. I sleep, I wake, I sleep, I wake up. I write. The sun touches the tops of the ridge in front of me and slowly descends into the valley. Someone drives by then drives back out. The phone rings, Elke, we're dreaming similar themes.
Marie and I walk to the bridge and peer upstream into the gorge, then down. I wonder who it is that lives just past the bridge.It is a special place. Later I find out Stephen swam here with his sisters.
We meet David back in the parking lot in Wanaka and with Roo, walkabout for hot water, coffee and to find my hat which ironically I find that afternoon in my suitcase.
Parting again, Marie is off to pick apples. I lead David and Roo into the Cardrona. Rows of Douglas Fir as well as the ubiquitous pine and an intensely green scotch broom growing here. Groups of cyclists stream past racing somewhere. I see some going my way too. At Crown Terrace David tells me I am blowing black smoke, I add more oil and they go on ahead. Down this incredibly steep incline I go towards Queenstown. A cyclist passes me as we descend. Anarchist Mountain eat your heart out! I saw David's car below me a couple times but then lost them. I turned south to Te Anua.
No sign of Castle Rock, other than a sign... drove roads where I didn't meet a car for more than an hour. Te Anua seems friendly, a lake, swimming spots and many, many tourist ventures being offered. At waters edge a helicopter and plane both being loaded with backpacks and hikers to be dropped somewhere. Get some dressings for my foot, write some blog and have a Chai. In the DOC info centre I meet Alex from Wellington,I go say hello to Martin out in the car. They have done the heaphy, thetrifle the... seems like a series of badges they are collecting. Inside the DOC employee tells me how to get the maps courtesy of Craig Potton's website. The way commercial and park interplay here is different.
I drive on. The road seems endless but the cliffs and steams stimulate my senses. More Doug Fir and broom for miles. When I stop to admire a cliff and hawks flying past I am accosted by a fellow from Auckland telling me rock snot is all through this area. It came from America with some fisherman's gear. Wants to know if I brought some (!?) Then he tells me the locals refer to the legion white vans driving the roadways as "maggots" He's driving a tricked out stepstyle van in yellow with what looks like an actual wood interior. Not exactly inviting, he was camped beside the intake for the Manapouri water supply. A sweet spot. He also told me about the imported Harriers so when I found one later its wings outstretched dried and flapping in the breeze I knew the tide had turned.
A fork in the road, sculpted cliffs and the longest suspension bridge in NZ. When I walked to the river past the fire smouldering into two great rounds of eucalyptus up against a concrete reflector I knew I was home for the night.
Sat quietly listening, popped some corn and had a beer with dinner.

Hokitika to Wanaka

I spent the day recuperating in Hokitika. Slept some, parked at the beach and wandered around the town. The stone I collected turned out to be serpentine so as I left town, I flung them into the river as I drove across the bridge. Stopped at Ross beach, a windswept piece of real estate next to a gravel pit (it's for sale!, comes with sea view, 2or 3 bedroom home etc). An old fellow his wife and two dogs drive in followed by a large camper/house truck. I think if it is aluminum or vinyl it must NOT be a house truck. Anyway the old guy comes over and we talk; kids, education, government regulations, organic gardening , where I'm from, where he's from (Nelson) quite engaging. Wonderful to connect with someone like that. As we walked back from the beach, our footprints in the sand were almost completely blown away.
I walked alone later along the tideline looking for something, and found it. Lighter than the last piece I picked up, I am weighing both literally and figuratively what I am choosing to keep. And of course on the last day...
Morning, colder and lots of condensation. I am underway, on the road by 9 heading to the Glaciers! Franz Josef has the most hype, helicopters flying up and over all day long. Some offer a view of all the local glaciers. What a trip that would be. I walk slowly up as close as they will let us get, across an immense morraine field, rivers snaking through. The massive cliffs ringing the valley have waterfalls cascading down all around. It doesn't seem possible to get it all in a photo.
I scoot (along with many others) down to the river and snag a piece of thousand year old ice to suck on as I wander back to the parking lot. I manage to say hello to most of the folks passing me by. Some even respond! Then onto Fox. The ground must be even less stable here, there are ropes and signs everywhere. Saying hello pays off, some of the same folks are here too and I manage to get a few conversations happening.
Received a text from Roo. She and David are tramping up in the hills near Wanaka, do I "want to connect tomorrow?" (of course she didn't write it like that). I spend some time and finally figure out how to text. Confirming.
So a major drive ahead of me and no camera batteries again. Oh well!
Bruce Bay had a continous line of stacked rocks along its mile or so road frontage with many stick structures sculpted on the beach itself. And people were stopping to photograph and add to the display.
Haast blows by but on the bridge, crossing the river at Pleasant Flat there is an incredible view of the mountains to the (?north?) Then the Gates of Haast and Trickle One and Two; great clefts of rock with the streams spraying down within, glimpsed as I hurtle past. Numerous waterfalls seen from the road. I stop for some food from my cooler (whoops Chilly Bin) not so cool anymore.
Wanaka seems like a happening place! Lots of folks at the sidewalk cafes and bars, a huge lake framed by immense mountains dry as dust and covered in scrub, gorse and fern mostly. I find a campground, get some takeaway and begin to catch up on the writing. I need some solid time to sort photos though so leave it for later. Get into conversation with a cyclist from north England who has been resting here for the last three days. Too windy he says. The weather looks good for tomorrow. I get laundry done, hanging in the dry night air, have a beer and fall sleep. Lightly. My foot is keeping me awake and I daren't drop my vigilance since when I arrived my nose let go again.
In the morning the starter gives me grief to the extreme discomfort of the folks who just arrived and are attempting to sleep. He gets up and gives me a push.
In town I find the library. The plug is in the ceiling. Unfortunately gravity being what it is, the plug slips out and two hours later I am not charged up. However my time in the parking is, so I go exploring. Take a picture of Mt Aspiring and discover a road leading to the Motatapu River Gorge. Along a dusty washboarded road, this place is the driest one gets in NZ. Like Utah and the Okanagon but bigger mountains, Kiwi accents and dead possums along the highway.
The gorge is quite magnificent, steep carved rocks and a narrow passage way looking down from the bridge. I find the trail down and as I am contemplating diving in, 5 local youth arrive boisterous and cocky. The are jumping in from the overhanging rocks, noting there is less water than last time and "it is cold!" I jump in once making a comment about a similar spot back home where we wear wetsuits to explore it. One fellow tells how some mates swam and walked upstream to then drift down and got sucked under a large rock and drowned. Not today thanks.
Back in town I finally connect with Roo and David and bonus! Marie who they ran into the day before so all went tramping together.
We try the local micro brewery beer all three flavours and have Indian food at 9:30. Quite an accomplishment , not much is open after 8 here. Then Marie and I drive back to the gorge, to freedom camp, David and Roo staying in the Sally Ann Hostel, housed in the same building as a bar...

Hokitika and the Cesspool Gorge

I make my way to Hokitika, turn left toward the gorge and follow the signs. Quite a few doglegs, the roads are straight and appear to be following the property lines of some big farms all on the flat. Eventually I cross the river, milky from the glacier and find the parking. The toilets are not yet operational. No one is there.... however soon quite a number of vehicles arrive. The walkway is brand new taking us to the suspension bridge and then a rough track to waters edge. The water is boiling through here, one fellow seems to think he might go swimming! I don't stick around to see it, instead follow a stream a ways and avail myself of some healing herbs; yarrow, plantain and dock. Some realizations come home, my sinus infection, swimming in the sea, different climate, changes to my perspective. It all seems to come together, although I wonder what Louise Hay has to say....
Back into Hokitika and to river's mouth, looking for stones. The sea air brings on a powerful release, I work with it, making sure not to get blood all over my nice clean jacket. I breath deeply till one nostril is free then finally the other. Found some nice stones too, in spite of promising myself NOT to collect any. Like that's going to happen. Looking at the map I see Cesspool Gorge. That has a certain attractive ring to it. Getting there involves driving around Lake Kaniere, somehow I take the other road and drive around the opposite way I imagined. I really need a pilot to read the map. I stop a fellow walking and he tells me about some cowboy shootout rifle range where the gate might be locked. I decide to chance it and after driving a long time end up at the rifle range.In the dark. It looks deserted but out the fellow comes and directs me to the trail head. Unfortunately I'm not completely sure.
Morning comes, only one slight episode, raining and I figure this must be the gate. Slog along through the wet grass, then along the river bed. I see what appears to be jade, greenstone, boulders of it all sorts of greens and black. I find a few pieces I think might be the stuff then head into the bush up a a slight cliff looking for the trail. Right away I spot some amazing examples of Chicken of the Woods. Huge they are. I find some trail markers, bluepots nailed to trees. The trail is illusive, I have to zigzag through thick bush numerous times to find it. I continue on over a slip, broken trees, exposed rock on a cliff face, swamp, no sign of the trail etc till I come exhausted to a slippery climb seemingly straight up. I realize I am really not up to this, soaking wet, heart racing, legs like jelly. I head back and get lost, again and again zigzaging to find the trail markers. I attempt to go to the river and down but no... I am on an overhang 20 or 30 feet up, rocks below. I lay on my back a few times to get my breath back and my heart rate to slow, I am tripping, slipping and sliding bushes whacking me in the face. I find the trail and lose it, go too far and backtrack, climb up and down the edge of the cliff. When I finally arrive back at the van completely soaked and exhausted I look at the map..... The trail is on the other side of the river. But I didn't have a nose bleed!

Eves Valley to Greymouth

Eves Valley road is not so easy to find, lucky for me Hiroko reads the map and guides me there. At or near the roads end is a reserve, like a park where the land is protected. We see some cattle farms, orchards, horses and llamas, seems like a slow part of the world here. The other sight at the end of the road is a massive pile of wood from the clearcut logging they did on the hillside, feels just like home, complete with two fellows on their trailbikes.
We drive on stop for lunch at a river and look for greenstone.The road gets more interesting following big rivers past gorges and canyons. the one lane bridge/road is amazing, at one point, they chiseled (blasted?) the edge of the cliff so we can drive above the Buller River complete with overhang. Man did I wish for my camera to be operational. Some stars on the map indicate points of interest, maybe next time... we are in a hurry wanting to get to Hiroko's friends before dark. They run the Beaconstone Backpackers, south of Westport, surrounded by native bush the ocean far off to the west, a very pleasant place to land. My nose starts flowing when we step up to the door.
It continues to challenge me all night long. I won't go into the messy details.
In the morning clean up, express my gratitudes and head out. Again! Out of frustration and lack of understanding I let it bleed into the gravel at the side of the road, giving me some time to think. Manage to stop it and drive on past some majestic cliffs and awesome waves rolling in. Timed it well, full moon the night before and high tide as I drive along. The waves are perfect, single combers rolling onto sandy beaches and smashing skyward at the headlands. Pancake rocks would have been a great place to stop...I am more focused on getting to a drug store. I pick up a hitch hiker Dariousz from Poland . He has 9 days in NZ and this is day 3. Excited to hear I am heading so far south he is in for a surprise. The pharmacy suggests seeing a Dr. I make an appointment and then go to the library. Bleeding again! Make a mess in the bathroom so wisely head to Dr early. I must look like hell, they send me in and Anu the Dr. comes to see, a transplant from Oregon she is friendly, engaging and helpful, tells me how to pinch and how long. Her associate Michael stuffs something up my nose and insists I see the Hokitika Gorge. Some relief until after shopping both nostrils in the parking lot. I pinch and pinch and eventually still holding tight to my nose, Dariusz drives me to the hospital. His first driving on the right experience.
We wait. Pete the Dr comes and eventually sprays painkiller in my nostril, what a taste yuck! Then pushes and probes cannot see anything obvious. Suggests I might need to go to Christchurch to see the specialists and their instruments... I don't think so! They finally release me, drive into town and convince the fellow at the Noahs Ark backpackers to let us stay. Dariusz makes us an awesome dinner and I retire early. Spend the night swallowing, holding my nose and staying clean.
Morning comes, usual shower, shave and shi... nope didn't shave.We hang out at the library, unfortunately the bus is full so I offer to take Dariousz out of town to hitch. We share a meal together, the famous fish and chip takeaway and wish each other well. I revisit the hospital. Pete agrees it will likely settle down and so I head out as well.

Golden Bay to Motueka

I am so glad I've driven on gravel before. Many of the most appealing destinations are beyond the pavement. Anatori for example. I was so blissed out by the terrain I forgot to note the distance, and time being what it is, stopping frequently to drool or encourage Hiroko to snap a photo, meant as Margaret back at Tui warned me, cannot be determined. Lucky for me there were postcards at the Cape Farewell cafe. I bought one and plan to show you it personally when I return. Just ask the next time you see me!
We proceeded east back along the bay to Takaka where after loading up with groceries reconnected with Vincent, who along with Christina ,Caitlin and Mat were hanging out at Gee's yurt. We ate well, had some wine and told stories on each other.Then watched a video of the Fiordlands., As beautiful as it is I don't think I will be going there.
Then the three vehicles headed back close to town where we camped (almost) under a bridge.Getting cold and damp now as summer slides into fall. A heavy dew meant the tents were soaked in the morning. I managed to squeeze in a phone call to Elke then we all had breakfast together potluck, Hiroko takes good care of us all. Back to the library where I attempted to catch up on email. OMG it is like a constant stream of verbage really, and I need better filters. delete delete. Blog my thoughts. Who knew? I love this medium, The freedom to speak my somewhat articulate mind in such a random yet consistent manner is, as someone once said "brilliant!"
How hard is it to leave a place that seems like a kind of paradise? I had serious doubts I was ever going over that hill back to Moteuka. Roo kept bumping into more people she knew until finding us three enjoying Tiramasu and gluten free Hazelnut Torte a the Suiss bakery. Drove past Hang Dog the climbers spot across from an untried swimming hole..So many places to check out, Vincent, David and Hiroko had explored a local cave I missed somehow and...and...
Up we go, stop at the lookout, Golden Bay visible in the distance. Hiroko stands on the guardrail and takes the pictures for me.The batteries then die.
Over the top and down into Motueka, driving past our rendezvous spot since I missed noting it, we drove around till we spotted Ian, did some shopping and followed him home. His greenhouse is full of thriving plants, a cornucopia of potential permaculture plantings. We vist with Ian, Diana and of course the dogs! Have a wonderful dinner do email, load photos courtesy of David and by choosing satellite imaging on google brought the place back so well it almost felt like being there again.
In the morning we hear about Chile and the impending tsunami, hang laundry and plan our day. Off to the market in Motueka, my friend the hawk graces us with a landing in front of the van, then lift off close enough to make eye contact. We stop at Riverside Community for chai and a walkabout, David takes pictures and I whine to myself about dead batteries.
At the market I buy myself some rainbow tights, peaches, a Bratworst on a bun and organic blueberries ( the fellow is from Toronto originally). We all look at greenstone and the woman at one stand has some from Takaka, it is very dark. Her husband (originally from Colorado) carves stone they find all over. Gave up their jobs sold their stuff invested in tools and bought a place. Travel around collecting stone and then selling the carvings. More of her carvings keep coming out from behind the counter as she gets to know us. We all buy a piece, for each other..She also speaks about the giving and receiving, indicating the Maori themselves told her "the stone needs blessing". They suggested the source of the Riwaka, just up the road at the foot of Takaka hill. What a magical spot! The water comes rushing out of the hillside from a cave down through moss covered boulders into a clear green pool of incredibly inviting water. Once we had done our ritual in the stream among the boulders off came the clothes and into the pool. Yikes it was cold! It was here that I had my first nosebleed.
We walked back down the hill and stood together one last time, I truly love these folks and know we will meet again, soon. Wave to David and Roo. Hiroko and I drive south.
a note
I will be writing something about my time in the course, some digesting/composting to bring forth a truly fertile product. Something that seeds will grow in.

Moteuka to Tui

Camped out at Atamia, goats and chickens, the hillside planted with thousands of trees for coppicing, food and firewood. Some wwoofers arrive, three fellows from England, they are sleeping in the building so hopefully will remember to unlock door so I can access the toilet. I wander around the property, speak with the french horticulturist (whose name eludes me at the moment). He rails on about the restrictive import rules and weak genetic material. His mulberries are not thriving. He is a big fan of bio-char, check it out on the web. They are using it here as a soil amendment with good results.
Next morning in Motueka, at the library! Again 1 hour limit, so after my hour sat out front on the bench and skyped, a nice shady spot, watching folks walk by and go in and out of the library. Laundry, hung it up in the van and went for a drive. The beach at Kaiteriteri is all that was promised, beautiful golden sand, the water an aquamarine green like in all the photos of desirable beaches. And of course sun bathers, bathers and the local specialty, kayakers. I saw a tour bus pulling a trailer load of kayaks, and at least 5 vans pulling trailer loads of kayaks. definitely the kayaking destination. another winding road after my swim, some great vistas, not to mention the real estate. HEY! I think I just figured out my next career change! Real estate photographer, I get to go around snapping pics of amazing houses and their views....Once again I missed that wave. Back to Atamaia I walk up the hill to visit some of the residents. Joanna kindly answers my questions and has a few for me. They are planning a big community, in its infancy planting lots of trees. determining the social focus.
I have a chat finally with Jurgen, he speaks about the possibilities of collapse, peak oil and purchasing the tools needed for survival. The vision of community he has stretches into the future 100, 200 years. Says they are attracting folks with university degrees, forward thinkers. I wonder how they will manage without creating some community on a social level. He is unconcerned. That will develop on it's own with the children and grandchildren of the community members.
I leave the next morning driving up to Takaka hill and the Ngarua Cave. I am among the first of day and watch as the cave is unlocked. Our guide is informative and friendly filling the time inside the cavern with stories and photo ops. On emerging up a ladder she tells about one of the first to write his name inside, followed by many more. She also mentions Harwoods Hole the deepest cavern in the southern hemisphere. Hmm sounds fascinating so why not? I see sinkholes and evidence of limestone everywhere here. The sink holes are dramatic, where the landscape descends abruptly often quite deep. Some have holes at the bottom leading to some subterranean hobbit hole or rivers and passageways going in all directions.
I walk in through a beech forest with very little undergrowth, silent no birds... I wonder if this is ominous. I also wonder how safe my van is since the trail takes 45min just to get there. My better judgement kicks in and I walk on. The limestone is quite distictive and everywhere so some of the trail involves negotiating around over and through. The trail to the lookout is steep and somehow I manage to step off and end up traversing some incredibly sharp rocks into some rather dense bush. I relocate the trail proceeding up and the lookout is carved and broken, finding it somewhat difficult to stand on safely ("I reckon".) I crawl/crabwalk to the edge and attempt to figure out where the hole is. As it turns out it is not that visible unless one hangs over the edge which I was not prepared to do even if I knew where to look.
Descend again and wander on to the hole. Another collection of boulders and sharp edges, I manage to get close enough to snap a picture and do a panorama of the cliffs around before retreating from certain doom should I get too close. I didn't see one person on the way in yet I meet a dozen in 3 different groups on the way out.
Onward to Takaka over the hill and down the other side, a dramatic descent, the usual hairpins and sharp corners with an incredible view. However I didn't take any pictures! I missed the lookout spot, I promise myself to catch it on my way out. The valley here is beautiful, pastoral and surrounded by big mountains. I cruise along into town and determine my route at the library. Backtracking somewhat I head out to Wainui Bay stopping at almost every curve and corner for pictures once I get to the coast. The rock formations are amazing, the beaches divine, I dip my feet and finally arrive at Tui.

Golden Bay

Permaculture Design Course. PDC an international mix of people and ideas bringing me to understand more deeply my own journey of learning all these many years. Where do I start? So many epiphanies, aha moments and the clunk of "I get it" And of course heaps of new knowledge all tied together in and around me. I made some new friends, explored an amazing environment, swam naked in a (relatively) warm ocean and taught/shared what I know with both teachers and students. As well the community of Tui itself was part of the adventure, meeting the residents, hearing about their journey and seeing their lives in a bit of a fish bowl. Quite an experience. The rainbow gathering and then Luminate brought the tribe and with all the travellers, folks tramping through Abel Tasmen and the wwoofers, it made for a rich mix of humanity walking the streets of Takaka, filling the cafes, markets and of course the library.
It has been awhile for me to write this blog, I am somewhat hesitant to go into it all. To start as I drove towards Tui, I found it difficult not to stop every 10 minutes to take more pictures. The scenery is stunning, overhanging sedimentary rock riddled with holes, blue green ocean stretching for miles, golden sand on endless beaches. Tui is at the end of the road up against the park, some interesting architecture and a sense of community that I judge needs more people to bridge the gaps. They have been a community however for over 25 years, longer than a lot of marriages. Recently(when?) the remaining members realized they needed to attract younger people to survive and some have come. Much possibility exists here. Myself I am energized and inspired to bring home all that I can of the lessons and learnings. I want to immerse myself in the creation of sustainable community , gardens, food forest and passing on the bits of wisdom I acknowlege I have accumulated. I see bringing the principles to mens' work, to my work in education and of course into all my relationships.
Meanwhile I am chomping at the bit to get moving, sharing my jokes and helping translate them for Hiroko my temporary travelling companion. After the course ended a group of us headed up the bay and out to the west coast. We followed a gravel road to its end, the scenery stunning in it's majesty and uniqueness. (It does continue into a small community but to get there one needs to ford the Anatori River) Spent the night camping near the beach. In the morning walked for an hour north with David enjoying the glistening foam sweeping across white sand. Past cliffs of clay and secret grottoes where streams poured forth their sweet fresh water, mindful of course of the sheep and cattle ever present in the steep pasture behind. Saw rocks half quartz in a straight line and stripes and crosses all worn smooth in the relentless crashing of surf stretching for miles, kilometres and leagues up and down the coast. The sun rising behind us lighting up the white crests giving the scene an ethereal quality. Why would I want leave here, ever?
I had not allowed myself to entertain those thoughts, finding myself scheming to sell my ticket blow off my job and accept I might seldom if ever see my family.... woah! Stop right there, get real! Yikes! Accept the fact that this is paradise and I am on vacation and I have a life that I love somewhere else, a partner and companion who I want to share more of these experiences with, and oh yeah camping at Pachena this summer!
After breakfast we dicked around getting ready to leave, it was pathetic really, none of us really wanted to go, so when Jen suggested crossing the river and checking out some big rocks , off we went. Gratitude all around, it was phenomenal, slits in the cliff, great flat platforms with the waves crashing all around, surge channels, the cliff with scooped out caves like mini and massive amphitheatres and an endless beach that beckoned like some siren spirit to explore, following the scent of sea and sand into some kind of paradisical oblivion. I kept my senses together and turned back before I succumbed. We almost lost Roo and David though... I crawled into the womb of the earth and somersaulted out birthing myself in metamorphosis of flesh and sand, rock and sea.
More to follow, I promise.

Picton to Motueka

Picton. After waiting so long and being near the end of the loading it was a bonus to be disembarking at the head of the line. I went straight for the library. It was crawling with tourists and their laptops. A sign on the table suggested limiting ones self to an hour. I rearranged my departure giving myself 4 more days on the South Island, reaching out to Jurgen in Nelson... (Not! turns out he is an hour north in Motueka) a fellow starting up an Eco-Village/intentional community. Caught up on some email and didn't charge my phone...
Boy did I regret that.
Sat outside and Skyped with Elke, the wireless reaches and doesn't disturb the patrons. That facilitated a conversation with a local fellow who was not impressed with tourists eating their breakfast in the library while checking their mail. "Foreigners" He wasn't too impressed with local gov't either allowing spraying of some toxic chemicals by some local logging contractor. And the phones! He maintained that New Zealand has the most expensive telephone coverage in the world... on and on.
I took the Queen Charlotte Drive out of Picton. Up and up it goes, switch backs galore with awesome views along the ridge looking across the sound. And speaking of sound, I managed to record the insects in the trees with a short video of the vista below above Havelock estuary of the Pelorus and Wakamarina Rivers. Behind me Mahau Sound, to the right Hikapu Reach.
I was stopping frequently until Havelock. The road turns inland, gets wider and the speed increases. Still lots of hairpins and up and down through a pine forest that looks combed, the rows are so straight. I stop again at Pelarus Bridge, there is an opportunity to walk for an hour to waterfalls but it is late in the day. This is a beautiful area, the river looks mighty inviting... Not a lot of traffic makes the driving easy.
Stop in Nelson to turn on my phone, check messages. Dead. Insert sim card in other phone, check messages attempt to return call... right, he can't hear me. The phone dance happens again with pay phones. Punching in expired numbers, I find a phone that takes coins. Does it ever! I did connect and after getting lost briefly in Richmond an hours driving has me standing by the clocktower in Motueka. Jurgen and family arrive, we go for ice cream then out to the property where I will camp for a couple of days.

Wellington Continued

Morning comes with a bit of wind, overcast still. I collect my frozen water containers and my food (except my carrots!!!) and make my departure. cruising down the hill I stop at the grocery to replenish supplies. I know where I am going today, Oriental Parade. It begins the drive around to the beaches and bays of Wellington. It is raining, but I stop anyway to take pictures as I follow the coastline around to the south. Some great possibilities for freedom camping here! The houses along some of this are one deep the cliff right up against the backdoor (if they have one) about halfway the batteries give out in the camera. I continue driving around. This is very cool, I like this place a lot. At the end of the road I find my spot for the night. I follow a road that takes me directly back to my first experience of driving in Wellington, Brooklyn. I continue on towards the ferry terminals. I want to be able to find them with as little trouble as possible in the morning. That done I return to the grocery.
Then I try to find the library. I asked someone who suggested it was, "way over that way, up the hill" These one way streets where left turns when the road veers right are restricted and vice versa are frustrating. I end up driving in circles! Finally I park the van and walk. And walk and walk and walk. Jeez I am not doing much better on foot! I do find it, very close to where I started out. I plug in my battery charger... nothing, try a different plug, try the laptop, yes there is power. Hmmm. Walk back to Dick Smith "your techperts" or whatever. The fellow there informs me I have fried my charger. NZ current is 240v to NA 120v. Yikes! I buy a charger. Walk back to the van to confirm with my 12v adaptor. Yep, fried.
I decide I need a respite. I drive up the hill and into the Botanical Gardens. Either I don't get peoples directions or they don't explain well. Either way I end up driving IN the Botanical gardens and park at the WWF centre in a visitor spot. I wander through, cameraless enjoying the peace of growing plants well cared for. New Zealand Native plants at risk, a fern garden and the Australian garden. Some fairly weird plants too. I enjoyed the signs indicating variety, and history. For comic relief I took the trolley down the hill, then up again. That was worth the $5.
After yesterday my feet get sore fast, so I plug in the charger and start driving. I am trying to get to Maraka Beach. Again the circles. Through tunnels, over viaducts, around mountaintops. Up down and around. Finally I ask a fellow who gives me quite precise instructions, over the viaduct, through the tunnel onto Chaytor Street then up Karoi Rd. Voila! I am through this maze and on my way. I see a wind farm then some signs indicating some displeasure? They say "DO SOMETHING" and pictures reminiscent of the "scream" Yet another winding road. I believe after some reading that my use of the word windy for winding has been incorrect. In any case this road winds around and ends at a beach where the sun was shining and the wind was blowing. I squeeze a couple more pictures out of the batteries. I leave the van running to maximize the charging.
I head back to Brooklyn and Happy Valley to Owhiro Bay, then back around to Scorching Bay turn around taking pictures at all the places I missed. Island Bay, Breaker Bay, Mahanga Bay. I see kite surfers in Lyall Bay in front of the airport, snap shots of some interesting houses. Now I am hungry, tired of cheese, salami and avocado sandwiches. Back to Brooklyn where the Golden Lotus grabs my eye. Chinese sounds good. Inside I discover it is now an Ethiopian menu. For $18 I get a wonderful meal and no tipping here, they get insulted! While I wait for the food I finally figure out the texting on this phone. The mode of finishing my words was really challenging me.
Drive back to Te Kopahou Reserve, walk on the beach for 20 min. and then crash.
In the morning I head out and guess what? Get downtown in Wellington and drive in #%&(@ circles again!
I am the third passenger vehicle to arrive, gate opens, drive in and wait. Write in my journal, make and eat my breakfast, peruse the map... They tie a lot of the vehicles down when the weather is bad, no one is allowed on the vehicle decks while we are sailing, the door is locked.
This boat has 10 decks childrens play area and movie theatre on deck 2, bar and cafeteria on deck 8, observation(outside) deck 10, private staterooms on deck 9 and all of us steerage hung out in the cafe and lounge on deck 7. All the tourists taking pictures as we left and then again when land was sighted. Arriving at the beginning of the south Island was dramatic. The pictures cannot, do not, come close.
Me I was feeling a sense of amazement and unreality as I landed. Here I am! I almost didn't believe it would happen.