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Author Archive for Justin

Milford Sound Hype and the Expectation Game

Published

on December 31, 2008

. 0 Comments

The Milford Sound is one of the “must see” natural attractions for most visitors to New Zealand’s South Island. A multimillion dollar a year industry is in place to funnel visitors from all over the country to the Milford Sound by plane, boat, and bus. In fact, the Milford Road, which runs from Te Anau to the Milford Sound, took over 30 years to complete and its sole purpose is to make the Milford Sound accessible to anyone who can scrape together $NZ 100. (If you cannot figure out a way to get to the Milford Sound, from anywhere in New Zealand, you should probably never leave your house.) Problematically, the Milford Sound, despite the fact that it is a World Heritage Site, does not live up to the hype.

Natalie and I took a 3 hour Nature Cruise with Real Journeys. The boat was fabulous and the Milford Sound is quite picturesque, especially on a sunny day. All of that aside, the Milford Sound, especially when compared to the vast majority of New Zealand’s West Coast, does not live up to its hype. Sure, beautiful mountains covered in lush green forest capture the eye and the imagination as they meet the blue green fresh waters of the Sound. Of course the dolphins, seals, and birds are fun to gawk at as they swim or fly past. But, on the whole, the Milford Sound offers visitors a not so rare look at wildlife, waterfalls, mountains and the Tasmanian Sea. Sounds like most of New Zealand eh? All of that aside, everyone on my boat tour (including Natalie and I) had a great time and enjoyed the up close view of the Milford Sound.

Perhaps the problem is not with the Milford Sound (which is one of 14 large Sounds that can be found in Fiordlands) but with my large expectations. In truth, after talking to many people and viewing the whole economy that gathers its life force from the Milford Sound, I expected something like Grand Canyon style awe. I fully expected to be astounded by something that was incomparable to anything else on earth. (I mean, why else would you build a scary tunnel through a mile of hard rock that has no other purpose other than to allow tour buses and cars packed with tourists to drive to the Milford Sound.) In short, I was not astounded, amazed, awed, aghast, or overly impressed with the Milford Sound. I was happy to get off the boat and very glad that I had not signed up for an overnight cruise. (Jaded sounding or not, I can only stand in the wind looking at mountains, water and trees, for so long before I start looking for the exit ramp.) Let me be clear: the Milford Sound is not a tourist trap advertised along obscure roads of the American highway system (think Sea Shell City) nor is it a once in a lifetime opportunity. The Milford Sound is simply a chance to appreciate nature in a unique (but not overly unique) setting.

Perhaps the lesson here is this: if everyone is going to see it, it may be more of a money maker than a breath taker.

In Life, Pants, Always Beats No Pants.

Published

Justin

on December 25, 2008

in New Zealand and Stories From Behind the Bar

. 3 Comments

Over the course of a month, my work issued me a uniform that needs to be worn whenever I work in the restaurant, the bar, or the kitchen. Obtaining the standard issue long sleeve button down black shirt was not a problem. The pants however, represented a unique sort of challenge. Lets just say that the first 3 pairs of pants made me feel like I was wearing superman’s pajamas and the next 3 pairs would have made me feel right at home on stage with an 80’s hair band (read: they were really really tight in the all the wrong places). Finally, I was given a pair that was more or less just right. I was not walking on the legs and I could still breath when I buttoned them. (Aside: In New Zealand, everyone refers to pants as “trousers”. I always giggle a bit whenever anyone says trousers because I feel like I have been time warped back into a Charles Dickens novel. It is not that trousers is incorrect, it just feels so archaic….)

Used/New pants firmly held up with a belt, I headed into work to tend bar with my spiffy new pants. Around the bar area, the majority of the things I use from time to time are meticulously on display: the liquor in sparkling multi-color bottles, the large wine goblets that sing of sophistication, and the lowball glasses that always make me think of the triangle trade of slaves, sugar and rum. The mixers, cold glasses, beer, white wine, Champaign, soda, ice, and everything else that makes a bar run is stored in 3 foot high refrigerators behind the bar. Basically this means that I spend a lot of time down on one knee, bending over in half, or squatting on the ground in order to gather the necessary items for a drink order. I don’t know if other bars are set up this way or not but it is a bit ridiculous as my customers typically see me moving here and there about the bar as if I was training to be a contortionist.

About halfway through the night, I was a growing rather exasperated with brushing off me knee every 30 seconds, to remove the dust that was latched onto my pants in a desperate attempt to escape the end of the night mopping session. So I squatted down instead, in order to return the house Sauvignon Blanc to its chilly home. As I was squatting, a large “RIIIPPPPPPPP” split the air and I began to feel a bit of a draft around my rear. Replacing the Sauvignon Blanc and shutting the refrigerator, I backed into the hall to examine the extent of the damage. To my amusement, I had split my pants from the waste band to the crotch. (Luckily, I was wearing bright orange baggy boxers instead of my travel boxers which are quite a bit tighter.)

After laughing for a prolonged period of time, my manager rewarded my efforts by putting me on dish duty and switching the dish washer to serving tables, and himself to tending the bar. Thus, the head chef had the pleasure of spending the rest of the night trying not to notice that my butt was falling out of my pants. Okay… he spent most of the night laughing at me too! By the end of the night I had provided so much free entertainment to the staff that I personally felt that a few tips was more or less obligatory. Alas, no such luck.

Merry Nomadic Christmas 2008

Published

Justin

on December 24, 2008

in New Zealand

. 9 Comments

Natalie and I would like to wish all of our loyal (and not so loyal) readers, as well as our friends and family a very Merry Christmas. Wherever you’re at in the world, I trust that this year you will appreciate what you have and, if you get a chance, have a glass of wine, a cup of good American style coffee or a tasty beer and remember Natalie and I fondly.

The Illusion of Christmas

I understand that Christmas means different things to different people. Some, celebrate Christmas by making odd little gingerbread house cookies with gum drop gutters, while others chop down their own tree and stay up late on Christmas Eve playing Texas hold’em while drinking round after round of vodka tonics with their grandma. If you have a Christmas tradition, that does not conclude with a felony charge, than I say go for it. In fact, feel free to comment and share. For me, Christmas is just not Christmas without snow (or at the very least, cold). Family members and friends should show up with a mild case of hypothermia on Christmas Day so as to lend a sense of urgency to the celebration. Christmas also involves a tree choked full of decorations, homemade cookies, and my mother puttering around the house with a goofy grin on her face (my mom loves Christmas the way New Zealanders love rugby: with a singular focus that borders on fanaticism but comes across as surprisingly normal.) Accenting family traditions, the Christmas season involves Christmas light displays, annoying holiday songs on the radio, kids getting out of school for Christmas break, and a general sense of festivity that seems to infect everyone, including the old cat lady down the street.

Christmas in New Zealand is just… different. No snow. Almost no Christmas Trees (it is illegal to cut your own). Very few decorations and a general lack of holiday cheer. Thinking about it now, I think Americans get more excited about Halloween than Kiwis do about Christmas. I understand that New Zealanders on the whole are an emotionally restrained people, but the lack of Christmas spirit in this place is difficult not to notice. I am sure that many Kiwis have Christmas traditions and rowdy family gatherings so I do not mean to be disapproving of how New Zealanders celebrate Christmas. It is simply that the lack of Christmas here in Te Anau, where the sun is shinning and the show is melting off the mountains, makes me miss home.

Nothing says Christmas like family, and this Christmas both Natalie and I are finding ourselves thinking fondly of the chaotic Christmases of the past. Families make life complicated but they are all the better because of it. So, as long as you can celebrate Christmas without ending up in jail, enjoy your family traditions (or the traditions of whatever country you happen to live in currently) and have a Merry Merry Christmas 2008.

Soft, Gooey, Chocolate Chip Cookies

Published

Justin

on December 22, 2008

in "Deep" Thoughts and New Zealand

. 3 Comments

People who travel the world (whether for a week or a year) inevitably take part in, what I will simply call, “the cultural exchange game“. As an American, it is tempting to believe that all cultural exchanges flow in one direction. After all, many local people appear to possess an adequate understanding of American culture, with their ready access to McDonalds, Coke-a-Cola and Starbucks, as well as their in depth understanding of American politics and entertainment. Compared to my relative ignorance about everything of importance pertaining to their nation and culture, I feel like I spend most of my interactions with locals asking questions and attempting to understand their accents. I may spend many conversations peppering my New Zealand friends with questions. but it occurred to me recently that the cultural exchange game flows in both directions after all.

The Power of Cookies

In New Zealand, for some reason that bypasses logical understanding, all of their cookies possess the texture and feel of a cracker. They are hard, dry, and you risk chipping your tooth whenever Hungry! you manage to gather the necessary courage to bite into one. Now, New Zealanders are smart people. If they did not like really really hard cookies, I am certain they simply would bake them for less time – so they resembled something closer to cookies instead of hockey pucks. Being a bit of a cookie connoisseur myself, I eventually convinced Natalie to bake some real, American style, chocolate chip cookies. (Just shopping for the ingredients was interesting because Kiwis have different names for all sorts of baking goods. Try to picture Natalie and I walking aimlessly around a mid sized grocery store, attempting to figure out why chocolate chips are called chocolate drops and why they are only available in 5 oz bags. Baking the cookies was a whole other kind of adventure that found us converting Fahrenheit to Celsius, ounces to milliliters, and eye balling teaspoons and tablespoons because of the lack of measuring spoons.) Natalie, despite my firm objections, decided to give away some of our precious children.. er….I mean, cookies to the lodge chefs. (Looking back, this was the nice thing to do and staying on the good side of the chefs certainly does have its advantages ) This whole exchange I realized, while I was staring longingly at the empty cookie platter mourning the loss of six of those tasty morsels, was another step in the cultural exchange game. People here know about the United States but their interactions with Natalie and I show them something they will never see in a Ford Motor company marketing scheme, or a Hollywood movie. Thus, cookies have once again taught me a valuable lesson. Simply interacting with and spending time with local people facilitates the cultural exchange game flowing in both directions, such as learning new kiwi words while pointing out that Alaska is the 49th state and not an independent country.

In retrospect, I think I knew all along that two people from different cultures and countries inevitably learn something new from each other. This mutual education is, for me, one of the alluring parts about long term travel. The isolation of the United States often leads us to forget that the world is full of people and cultures with different, but valid, opinions and value systems that are a result of their unique circumstances. Reading about other countries, whether rich or poor, does not replace the value of face to face interaction.

So here’s this weeks travel pitch. Go out and travel the world. Meet people you don’t understand and try to see the world from where they live. Become humbled by your ignorance and grow ashamed of your arrogance as your world view grows to accommodate increasingly differing perspective. And, in the middle of it all, be sure to bake a nice warm batch of your favorite cookies to share with your new friends.

The Singular Perspective of Wealth

Published

Justin

on December 19, 2008

in New Zealand and Romping Fiordland

. 5 Comments

Wealth, in my experience, appears to breed a narrowing of perspective by its possessor. The more wealth an individual accumulates is often directly proportional to the decrease in their understanding of non wealthy lifestyles.

Over the past 3 weeks I have worked for a service based hospitality/tourism lodge that caters to a wealthy clientele. (For the purposes of this argument, wealthy implies that a couple makes in access of $US 250,000 a year). The clientele is often respectfully curious about how Natalie and I, as Americans, came to be working at a luxury lodge in New Zealand. These conversations usually contain an abbreviated version of why we are pursuing long term travel as a lifestyle and how/when those decisions were reached. These conversations tend to be abbreviated because I find it difficult to juggle drink orders for 9 tables (was that 3 gin/tonics and 1 house Merlot or 5 gin/tonics and 2 house Sauvignon Blancs?) while having a philosophical conversation regarding my personal views on the allure of extended travel.

After several rounds of “good for you”, “it is good to get that out of the way while your young”, and “I wish I’d done that before we started having kids” often comes the awkward questions.

“Does the lodge provide nice staff housing?”

“Well, I am sure the lodge provides you with a vehicle right?”

The staff housing question makes some sense because many seasonal jobs provide staff housing options that are rented by the employer to the employee. In our case, we found that we could make more cash by finding a job that required us to locate our own housing option. The provided vehicle question however, always catches me a bit off guard. Natalie and I are not involved in highly specialized jobs (read: developing next generation nano technology) here in New Zealand. The people who ask these questions often do so while I am making drinks and washing glasses so they should be well aware of my “expert” skill set. In what type of world would an employer give me a car so that I can get back and forth from a job where I spend my days weeding the garden, mixing drinks, and washing dishes?

These questions are usually asked with a slight amount of arrogance, clearly communicating that the interviewer is almost certain of my answer. The question is really just a confirmation of their assumed expectations informed by their class perspective. Except they’re wrong. My seasonal job did not come with a staff housing option (or allowance) and they did not throw in a loner car as a signing bonus. My guess here is that I am not the only seasonal worker in New Zealand providing their own housing and transportation.

Typically, after hearing my response, the interviewer gives me a look that is a cross between “whelp, I just made a fool of myself” and “how stupid are you to work a job with so little benefits”. I am not offended that, according to their world view, even low end jobs must come with excellent benefits or incentives. I was also not offended by the lady from L.A. who wanted to know where I was going to school for my hotel management degree. I am a bit concerned however about the narrow world view of the wealthy.

It bothers me that they are so out of touch with the root causes that create a cycle of poverty for working class people. I am worried about a world where many people who have both power and wealth assume that low end jobs come with high end perks.(The bag boy at the grocery store probably gets all of his groceries for free) Perhaps more than anything, I am surprised that educated wealthy people know so little about working class jobs as to confidently proclaim such incorrect assumptions.

What is it about wealth that causes people to see so little of the world around them to believe that these types of assumptions are correct? Do you have a funny story about the assumptions of the wealth (“let them eat cake” does not count)? Share them.

When in a New Place, Just Ask a Local. (A Justin Rant)

Published

Justin

on December 9, 2008

in Justin's Rants and New Zealand

. 3 Comments

The internet lies. I am old to enough to have realized this truth long ago. But, I foolishly expected a corporate website (www.telecom.com) to accurately tell me whether or not I could buy a cell phone in Te Anau. I expected too much. As a result, I spent 1.5 hours online trying unsuccessfully to buy a phone because the site indicated that no Telecom dealers who sold cell phones were located within 1.75 hours of Te Anau. Frustrated, I asked my favorite local: Jo. She works at the Fiordland House outdoor clothing store. Jo quickly told me that their were two places in town that sell pre paid phones: one for each cell phone company in New Zealand. Thanks to her advice, we had a phone in our hands with in 10 minutes. It was simple

The moral here is simple. When you travel, especially in English speaking countries, ask your questions to a friendly local. you will get more accurate information, you will meet someone new, and you will save at least $NZ 3 on internet access.

A Few Words Regarding New Zealand Cell Phones

New Zealand, except for the amazing scenery and the lack of natural peanut butter, can begin to feel very much like home. I mean sure, New Zealanders drive on the left side of the road, refer to themselves as Kiwis, and obsess over Rugby, but these oddities are on par with some of the bizarre things I have witnessed in the States. All similarities end however, when it comes to cell phones. As a result of what I can only assume is either an infrastructure or monopoly issue, it is impossible to purchase a plan that will allow you to make calls on your cell phone without putting a sumo wrestler size whole in your monthly budget. For example, a 400 minute plan with Telecom that will allow you to make calls at anytime of the day or night will cost you $NZ 213.75 (about $US 115). If you were to go over your massive 400 minute a month allotment, Telecom would happily charge you $NZ 0.39 per minute (about $US 0.29). To make you feel better about selling your soul to the New Zealand cell phone mafia, Telecom does throw in 10 photo messages a month so you can assure your friends that you are alive but, in order to pay your phone bill, you have taken a 2nd job working nights cleaning out portable toilets. With a toothbrush. As a result, most New Zealanders use their cell phones to send text messages. It is possible to pay $NZ10 (about $US5.40) a month to send 500 text messages so this is clearly the economical option. Unlike in the States however, it does not cost you to receive calls on your cell phone. This makes it possible for your boss, doctor, or probation officer to call you from a land line as needed without costing you a cent. A neat idea really but not acceptable compensation for allowing the cell phone mafia to force a whole country to choose between buying groceries and talking on their cell phones.

New Zealand is roughly the size of Colorado with a population of about 4 million people. Logistically, creating a national cell phone infrastructure capable of handling this type of call volume should be child’s play. The Chinese, the Americans, the Europeans, heck even the Russians have figured out how to create solid cellular networks that provide affordable talking plans to their customers. What have the Kiwi cellular companies been doing for the last 10 years?!? Seriously.

Okay. This rant is finished. I promise. But, can you guess what type of plan Natalie and I went with?

Back to the Grind: A Reality Check

Published

Justin

on December 2, 2008

in New Zealand

. 4 Comments

Nomad Update
For the next 3-4 months, Natalie and I will be living and working in the city of Te Anau, located on the West Coast of New Zealand in the South Island. We will spend the summer (yup, December through February is summer in the Southern Hemisphere) working at a 5 star lodge with a tremendous view of Fiordland National Park. Our work will basically entail, house keeping, serving (fine dining), bar tending, washing dishes, performing interior and exterior maintenance etc. Basically, we are seasonal “do what needs to get done” style lackies. No problem. map

Back to the Grind

Working full time in the hospitality/tourism industry is not a glamorous occupation. Like most jobs, it has its pros and cons but (also like most jobs) it has its fill of stress, pressure, and annoyances. Most people, except for some retired people who enjoy working for the sake of meeting people and having something to do (in New Zealand people call them “oldies”) work because they need a way to stay dry and eat (read: roof over their head and food in their tummies). Not more than two months ago, Natalie and I left good paying jobs and a comfortable life style to travel the world. So why are we taking a hiatus from wanderings to take up jobs in the New Zealand Tourist Industry? Good question. The answer at this point, is mostly theoretical and applies, not only to us, but to a special brand of people I like to call “Seasonals”.

Seasonals travel the world chasing a specific season, job or lifestyle. For example some ski instructors chase the winter, moving from the northern hemisphere to the southern and back again, in order to work in ski lodges around the globe. Other Seasonals chase the fruit picking season, and some Seasonals move through the different seasons working in whatever industry is most relevant to their geographic location. I have met numerous Seasonals on the road. They are not typically broke and, like retired people, often choose to work because they like too. Many Seasonals also have a means of living a more traditional lifestyle making good money in a developed country; they have simply chosen a wandering or nomadic lifestyle instead.

For a time, Natalie and I have chosen to become Seasonals. Although the money is nice to have (roughly $7-8 US per hour each) we are not in desperate need of cash. This money will help us however to extensively explore the Fiordland area without putting a massive hit on our Nomad budget. The next three months will also allow us to make friends with local New Zealanders: experiencing life from a more local, in depth perspective. Perhaps most important of all, working in the hospitably industry for 3 months will help us develop new skills that can be put to use around the globe while satisfying my curiosity regarding how a lodge/hotel works from the inside.

Reality Check

Putting aside my head in the clouds idealism for a moment, working a 40-60 hour a week job after 2 months of nomading it around the globe is a bit of a reality check. Our wandering life of trains, planes, and ferries, has abruptly been traded in for a rental house, a car (yeah Subi! see more subi pictures), and a cell phone. I even bought a second pair of pants. This is the result of my one pair of pants stubbornly refusing to dry in the 7 hours I tend to have between getting off work and waking up for work.

I like to work as I enjoy the feeling of accomplishment that comes with well…accomplishing something. Nomading, at times, makes me feel like a slacker whose life is made up of late afternoon naps, different beers (read: beercation) and stealing the occasional boat. Working provides a structure that is both strangely alluring and a bit depressing. Still, picking up a job, and the necessary stuff that has gone with it, at times leaves me looking longingly at my backpack and often stirs a strong desire to get back out on the open road.

Say Hello To Our Subaru!

Published

Justin

on November 23, 2008

in New Zealand

. 4 Comments

Yesterday, Natalie and I purchased a 1998 Subaru Legacy. Yup, its a station wagon. Allow me to explain. In most places in the world, the idea of purchasing a car for 3-6 months is a luxury. However in New Zealand (and Australia), used cars can be purchased on the cheap and offer the avid traveler an infinite amount of flexibility to cheaply travel the country.

Nomad Backpackers has now gone mobile. Seriously mobile.

The Subaru Low Down

Here are the relevant specifications for our new car.

- 1998 Subaru Legacy

- 269,000 Kilometers or 167,148 miles

- 5 speed manual

- 2 Liter engine

- 4 wheel drive

- Power doors/locks/mirrors

- Full size spare

- Cd player tape deck combo

- Air conditioning

If your are interested in the gory details of buying a car in New Zealand, see below. If you want to know the quick and dirty way to buy a car in New Zealand, keep reading.

The Quick and Dirty

First, get yourself to Christchurch. Many backpackers are selling cars in Christchurch and this is where you will get the best deal. Next, go see Ian at the Backpackers Car Market. Despite all of my suspicions, this company actually does what it says it will do. Mainly, they provide a way for backpackers to sell cars to other backpackers while offering independent advise to both (they make their money buy charging the seller a parking fee and buy selling the peripheral necessities to to the buyer. No commissions.) . Natalie and I were able to find our Subi, obtain a VIR report, get the Subi inspected by a off site mechanic (Tim), as well as purchase insurance, road side assistance, and the change of ownership paperwork. Best of all, Ian (the helpful guy who works at Backpackers Car Market) helped us through the entire procedure and explained each step to us in detail. To further sweeten the deal, everything from the inspection to the insurance was cheaper than I had been able to find on my own. What a great experience. Natalie and I were able to get everything done, including buying the Subi, for about $US 1900. This was a great deal and a wonderful buying experience. Thanks Ian.

How to Buy a Car in New Zealand

Many of the people that we have met in New Zealand talk about how travelers come to New Zealand, buy cars, and end up getting screwed because they purchased a lemon. After traveling the backpacking circuit for a couple of months, that makes sense. Many backpackers take the easy way out and skip really important steps. Like paying for a mechanic to inspect a vehicle before buying it. Natalie and I completed the following steps before purchasing our new Subi. It may break down in the future, and if it does you will hear about it, but I hope that these steps helped to eliminate most of the risk.

Buy a car in Christchurch
Many backpackers buy cars in Auckland (where they start) and sell them in Christchurch (their last stop before flying to Auckland and leaving the country). If you try to buy a car in Christchurch, their is a much larger market and prices are cheaper.

Get an Inspection
Buying a used car is like playing Russian Roulette. Take some of the risk out of the game and get an inspection

- www.aa.co.nz ($NZ130 at inspection center $NZ 145 for the mechanic to come to you)

Obtain a VIR (Vehicle Information Report)
This is basically the New Zealand Version of Car Fax. Make sure the car is not stolen, see the previous owners, etc

- www.vir.co.nz

Check the WOF (Warranty of Fitness)
In New Zealand, every car needs a warranty of fitness to prove that it is road worthy. For cars older than 6 years, this needs to occur every 6 months. When buying a used car, make sure the vehicle has at least 5 months left on its WOF.

- Get A WOF

Current License
All cars need a current license (similar to a license and registration in the states). In New Zealand, this is tied to the car and not the driver. Thus, a used car should be properly plated and licensed with at least 6 months to go before the license runs out.

- License Facts

Transfer of Ownership
This painless procedure can be performed at the New Zealand Post Office for $NZ 25. If you want to officially own the car (and why would you choose otherwise) pay the money and get this done.

Insurance
Fire and Theft insurance is all you need to cover you for insurance. This protects any cars that you hit and it also covers you if your car is broken into or happens to catch on fire.

That is it, if you can get all this done, you are ready to wander freely about New Zealand. Congratulations!

Being Wet Is Simply a State of Mind

Published

Justin

on November 19, 2008

in Great Barrier Island, NZ

. 2 Comments

Natalie and I set out yesterday, accompanied by our new friends and fellow WOOFERS Michael and Fanina, to hike the Mount Hobson summit trail. (Natalie and I had attempted to do this last Monday, but we were waylaid by an adventure with Dr. Peter.) Inspite of the fact that local fisherman assured us that it would definitely rain all day, we arrogantly ignored their warnings and headed out to summit Mount Hobson. After catching a lift to Grey Road, we walked for 2.5 hours before we came to the Tramline trail head. (Before reaching the trail head, we had already hiked 9 miles) As we had expected to get a lift to the trail head and were growing increasingly concerned about whether or not we would be able to catch a lift back to Tryphrena, we opted to hike along the Tramline to the Hot Springs which would let us out relatively close to Claris. We thought we were being smart by opting to hike through the middle of the island instead of following the parameter. As luck would have it, the rain began as we reached the trail head. This type of dark luck would haunt us for the rest of the day.

Informational packets on the the Barrier, warned that the Tramline track would have limited trail markers but that people of average fitness would have no problem navigating the trail. It would appear that average physical fitness here in New Zealand is equivalent to a Louis and Clark style fitness in the United States. This became increasingly apparent as we navigated a trail that commonly contained 60-70 degree downward clay paths that possessed the type of traction usually reserved for icy ski slopes after an ice storm, 65-75 degree upward inclines that required us to scramble on hands and feet up wet clay slopes, and 10-15 river fording that left my shoes with that annoying squeaky sound usually associated with the mixing of small children and large puddles.

For 5 hours we slipped (at one point, on an especially slippery piece of clay, I ended up sliding backward, on my feet, for about 10 yards before I was able to latch on to a tree), slided and fell up and down this treacherous “path” until we reached the hot spring.

When we arrived at the hot springs, I was soaking wet, muddy, bleeding freely from my right elbow and happy to be alive. We spent 30 minutes relaxing, drying off and gathering our strength (read: skinny dipping) for the 75 minute walk to Claris. Luckily, the rain had stopped and we were feeling optimistic. After about 45 minutes, while we were out on the road, the rain started falling cold and fast. All four of us were quickly soaked through to the skin and shivering from the icy blasts of wind that accompanied the rain. Seriously, it was really really cold. Tired and sore we stopped at the Crossroads Backpackers, to attempt to call or cab or bribe someone to drive us back to the pub. After taking one look at us, Kate and Bruce (the hostel owners) took pity on us. They invited us in, helped us dry off, made us coffee, and eventually drove us back to the pub.

I suppose that many lessons could be learned from this series of unfortunate events (read: listen to locals) but I learned once again that life is what you make of it. This could have been a truly miserable experience with the rain, the clay, the near death experiences and the endless, Oregon Trail style walking. However, Natalie, Michael, Fanina and I had an wonderful experience. Sure we arrived back cold and tired, but we saw a large portion of the island, bonded together as friends, and enjoyed our day off.

When life gives you wet clay, ah…..err….. make pottery.

How to Steal a Boat

Published

Justin

on November 16, 2008

in Great Barrier Island, NZ

. 7 Comments

We set out the other day to climb Mount Hobson via the Windy Canyon route. From Claris, we caught a lift with Peter, a retired doctor who later admitted that he only picked us up because Natalie has nice legs. Peter is a slow speaking, careful driving impulsive man with somewhat bizarre metaphysical theories that revolve around the healing power of love and bioelectric energy. Initially, Peter had only planned on driving us to Grey’s road, north-east of Claris. As Peter was letting us out, Natalie kindly offered up my web design services for Peter’s blossoming non-profit organization. Unexpectedly, this caused Peter to grow very excited. He demanded that we get back in the car (4Runner), saying that we were going to Port Fitzroy. Port Fitzroy is a rather far distance from the Windy Canyon path, but hitch hiking often leads to unexpected events. Adventure is found by those who grasp for it. With little idea what would happen next, we hopped back into the car.

Peter mumbled something about a Land Rover and began driving in the opposite direction. We quickly arrived at an auto yard and pulled up next to a Land Rover from the 1960’s. Peter alluded to the idea that the Land Rover (nicknamed “The Beast”) had not yet been fixed. Of course, this begged the obvious question of why we were preparing to take a journey in a vehicle that needed to be fixed. I thought it was prudent to not ask this question as Peter popped the clutch and a cloud of black smoke poured forth from the exhaust.

Soon, we were roaring off in the Beast. Come to find out, Peter was on a mission to steal a decaying boat from the side of the road in Port Fitzroy. He wanted to put it on his front yard and paint it orange. Apparently, this is all the rage in Brazil where Peter had recently visited. We drove all the way to Port Fitzroy, conducting a conversation by shouting over the constant roar of the Beast. Between the sound of the Beast and Peter’s low talking, I missed over half of the conversation. In Port Fitroy we came upon the oldest most decaying row boat I have ever seen, laying half buried in the weeds. After much struggling and finagling, the three of us manage to get the boat into the back of the Beast.

After only 2 weeks in New Zealand we had become thieves by association. Yikes!

Nomad Backpackers

Author Archive for Justin

Milford Sound Hype and the Expectation Game

In Life, Pants, Always Beats No Pants.