I am not typically a night club person but from time to time the draw of loud techno music and good vibes will keep me dancing all night. A hostel bar flowing with free awful beer, however is not really my thing. So, like any good culture snob when I found myself at a hostel with the “we give you free beer to keep the party here” night, I showed up long enough to taste the awful beer and confirmed that partying with the free beer crowd was not for me. Then, I headed up to the top floor kitchen to make a sandwich. (Unlike many people, I really really like sandwiches. I enjoy experimenting with different tastes and flavors in order to find out what combination of ingredients bring out the best tastes. Some people find it disgusting. I think of it as art.) If a hostel bar is giving out free beer and everyone in sight is bumping and grinding their neighbor, chances are an alternative gathering of minds is occurring somewhere else in the building. In this case, that location was the kitchen. Now, this “alternative” gathering was just as drunk as the free beer party (in fact, most participants probably drank several free beers and than wandered away from the bad 80’s music and scary girls) but instead of riding each other around the dance floor they were eating and talking and laughing about everything.

The extroverted Texan busker belted out song after song, acapella, to laughter and jeers while hostel staff workers complained about their jobs and passed on rumors (I hear the free beer is so bad the company could not even sell it to the Australians. So, their giving it away here). Meanwhile the Canadians were telling Natalie and I we sounded Albertan (from the province of Alberta) and a Mexican guy, who did not look Mexican, introduced himself as “Senior” while putting jalapenos in his Corona. Eventually the Texan left and returned reporting that the free beer line was to long. In his jolly disappointment he started singing the American National anthem. Natalie and I joined in with gusto while everyone else appeared confused. Soon enough, the lone German in the room (an oddity in itself as New Zealand is practically bursting with German backpackers) started singing in German. I assume it was the German National Anthem. This was rather funny, until he started making the “Heil Hitler” arm motion of the 3rd Reich. Then it was just awkward.

Given the opportunity, I would prefer to spend an evening with a group of locals  instead of a gathering of hostel rats,  but both groups can provide valuable insight into different cultures.

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A few months ago, before I became dive certified, I read about the top 10 places to scuba dive.  Of course, New Zealand’s Poor Knights Islands made the list.  I couldn’t decide if it would be worth it.  It would take time to drive up north, it costs a lot of money to dive (still living off the Kiwi dollar), and we could potentially waste several days waiting for safe weather.  I had not previously realized that ‘Dive-cations’ are weather dependent.  When someone travels to a destination to dive, it is important to have backup days, incase a big storm rolls through the dive spot.  This can mix and turn the water and ruin diving for around 48 hours.

Inevitably, Justin and I took the risk.  We drove into the Northland to try to dive the Poor Knights Islands.  After my first dive (we did 2 dives total), I knew why the Poor Knights Islands made the Top 10 list.  The water was crystal clear and oceanic blue.  I saw bright colored fish everywhere.  Blue!  Green!  Yellow!  I felt like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, shortly after arriving in Munchkin land, while seeing all of the spectacular colors swim and dash before my eyes.

While we were swimming along I noticed a small opening in the reef.  Justin (my official dive buddy for life) and I looked at each other and motioned that we were going to swim into the opening.  I swam through the narrow opening first and the narrowness widened slightly.   I was able to swim completely through the reef tunnel for about 30 feet.  I looked behind me and didn’t see Justin.  Within another second, I saw bubbles and then Justin popped up through the tunnel.  While I was in the tunnel I saw a bright green fish that was about two feet long.  It looked like a cactus.  I later found out that this is a scorpion fish and they change colors.  We even saw a sting ray that was 4 feet wide!

During our second dive, we swam through an area known as ‘the labyrinth’.  This provided even more opportunities to venture inside reefs and tunnel in and out of them like my favorite Disney princess, Ariel.  I know it sounds a little silly, but the Poor Knights Islands are on the top 10 list for this magical reason.  While diving the Poor Knights Islands you feel as though you have entered a hidden treasure few experience.  Diving the Poor Knights Islands was the best thing we did in New Zealand.

Justin described it as, “swimming in a tropical aquarium.”  I spoke with experienced divers who told me the Poor Knights Islands were the best reefs and underwater life they had ever seen.  These divers had even dove the Great Barrier Reef.  They told me to forget about the Great Barrier Reef, its overrated.  How do I figure out what’s overrated verse what truly deserves its spot on the top 10 list?  Whether it’s diving or other elements of travel, sometimes I will just take the risk and hope that the experience is fantastic and trust the top 10 list.

I have a new hope in top 10 lists.  Perhaps they are not all hype and ploys to gather more tourist dollars.  I intentionally avoided buying into top 10 lists in the past.  They always seemed lame and overrated.  Why would I want to experience something as commercial as a ‘Top 10 List’?  In the future, I plan to skim over top 10 lists, but not base our entire travels on them.  It can become dangerous if too much emphasis is put on other individuals opinions and ratings.  I might swim with sharks, but basing our time as backpackers on top 10 lists is far too dangerous to imagine.

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Some road signs, despite their not so subtle assumption
about a driver’s intelligence, can be amusing. Many mountain roads contain signs like “Watch for Falling Rock”. I think these signs are funny. How is it not possible to see falling rocks? What should I do if a bunch of rocks start falling on me while I speed down a narrow mountain road at 70mph? Evasive maneuvers to avoid falling rocks was not covered in drivers education. I typically see these road signs and chuckle a bit to myself.

A few days ago, the chuckling ended abruptly.

At about 8:00am I was driving down a rarely used stretch of road connecting a remote beach to the main road. As I rounded a curve, I noticed that my lane, and most of the road, were completely blocked by rocks. It was not difficult to clear the rocks from a section of the oncoming lane (Natalie actually did it) and continue onward. Around the next curve however, I again found a pile of rocks covering the road. We once more cleared the rocks from the oncoming lane and drove carefully onward.

After repeating the “stop, clear road, and drive on” routine several more times, I started to reflect on my lack of appreciation for road signs. Perhaps my arrogant mockery (displayed above) is, after all, not entirely appropriate. I still am not sure what to do if I find myself driving through a storm of falling rocks. Speed up in order to get out from under the falling rocks? Stop and take cover in the car to decrease the force of the rocks when they batter the windshield? Stop, Drop, and Roll? Logic dictates that the “Watch for Falling Rock” signs should have initiated this thought process years ago. After all, what other point can these signs possess?

Road signs, despite my introductory rant, are not all useless. Although road signs do not provide very helpful information (such as what to do when your stuck in a landslide) they may give a driver, provided the driver is paying attention, with enough information to avoid a deadly mistake. Then again, they may just warn the driver of an unavoidable fate at the hands of statistics (i.e 1 in 452.5 cars will be hit by falling rocks this year. Congratulations,  that means you)

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With only 14 days remaining until we fly to Australia, our first “You Choose” question was, What one thing should we do before leaving New Zealand?

I can’t imagine why ‘Diving with Sharks’ won.  I don’t even like salt water, and I have always had a big fear of sharks.  If you have seen Jaws, you might know what I am talking about.  Frankly, I was hoping, “See a Rugby Match” would have won.  I’ve never seen a live rugby match.  It would have been a new experience too.  However, Diving with Sharks won and I willingly got into an aquarium with live sharks (much bigger than myself, or Justin) to dive for over an hour.

In Napier New Zealand, countless tourists show up at the National Aquarium for feeding time.  We had the option of entering the tank at feeding time for the opportunity to feed the fish, as well as the sharks.  I decided feeding the sharks sounded less frightening than getting into the tank an hour or so before feeding time.  What if they became really hungry, while anticipating their next meal, and went after me as a lovely appetizer?  Needless to say, getting into the water with a bucket of dead fish (about the size of my arm) to feed to the sharks is less intimidating than diving in the tank without offering a meal to the meat seeking creatures.  Feeding the sharks seemed like the perfect peace offering, as I aimed to keep all of my limbs attached to my body.

As I initially entered the water, and came face to face with a shark, I realized that I was no longer looking at it through the Plexiglas as the tourists were able to.  I was now in the same water as a shark, as a dozen or so sharks, and they were swimming tiny inches away from me.  I began thinking wild thoughts:

“This isn’t natural.  Humans are not supposed to willingly force themselves into a position where they are surrounded by hungry sharks.  Sharks can be seriously aggressive creatures.  I hope I don’t piss one off!!!”

Instead of entering panic-mode, I decided to resort to my recent dive training.  Stop.  Think.  And Breathe!  I was able to stay calm and actually began to enjoy myself after a while.  Then it was go time.  Time to feed my first shark.  I took one of the large dead fish from the lidded bucket we had brought underwater with us.  I kept the dead fish close to my body, as I was instructed.  Then the biggest shark in the tank began swimming near me.  I saw her eyeing me and the fish.  I realized I needed to offer the fish.  She swam smoothly towards me, opened her mouth slightly, and her clamped down on the fish with the swift motion of professional pitcher tossing the first strike of the game.  As she bit, I held the tail of the fish for a second or two.  I could feel her massive jaw vibrate my whole body as I continued to hold the tail.  I released the tail of the dead fish just before she chomped the rest towards the hundreds of teeth layered within her mouth.  Turns out, sharks are very beautiful creatures, that I can now appreciate on a new level.

I still cannot believe I actually went diving with sharks.  When we put the “You Choose” (poll) onto nomadbackpackers.com, I was hoping we would end up sea kayaking or something else less intimidating.  But now that I have my enriched appreciation for the aggressive beast, the shark, I want to personally thank anyone who discovered the poll and placed a vote.

Our next “You Choose” poll will center around Sydney, Australia.  Do you have any ideas?  We have never been to Sydney, Australia.  Should we go without a guide book.  Explore the city on foot with no other reference other than Sydney locals.  “You Choose”.  Feel free to vote now.

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I think it’s really important to leave room for spontaneous travel.  That being said, I am not a naturally spontaneous individual.  I love planning things and working out all the details until I feel confident that I am fully educated.  The daily rhythm of backpacking often forces me to shed my hyper planning tendencies.

Waking up on the edge of the world doesn’t happen through planning.  The following basic steps lead to waking up on the edge of the world.

1. We drove north from Wellington with no plan.  Ditch the guide book sometimes.
2. I saw a place on the map called Castlepoint.  There was a lighthouse icon in the atlas.  It intrigued me.
3. Justin and I spent about 20 minutes driving in circles searching for a tiny unmarked road.
4. Once we found it, we drove for an hour until we reached the coast of the Pacific Ocean.
5. Began exploring the surrounding bay on foot. Hiked through the cliffs around the lighthouse as the sun set.
6. Red wine on the beach.  Come prepared with glasses, a bottle and cork screw at all times.
7. Sleeping in the car.  It’s not glamorous, but sleeping bags and the ocean waves create a rather peaceful slumber.
8. Waking up on the edge of the world!  Hooray!!!
9. Climbing cliffs along the Pacific as the sun rises, equally amazing.

Travel like this does not occur everyday. A perfect formula for spontaneity does not exist.  In fact spontaneous travel, whether utilizing a guidebook or not, can lead to a miserable experience.  While a willingness to sleep in your car is good, it will not necessarily lead to a great experience such as, ‘Waking Up on the Edge of the World.’  Instead they are rare and to be treasured.

I am aware that some of our readers (all 8 of you) have taken part in numerous wild adventures.  Driving across America on a motorcycle, backpacking for months throughout the Middle East, and even meeting a stranger online to move thousands of miles in order to get married and live happily ever after.  Adventure occurs daily, it doesn’t have to be bungee jumping.

Please comment any ‘Waking Up on the Edge of the World’ stories.  It will be fun to vicariously live through each others adventures.

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