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It happened to Natalie (or) The Ongoing Saga of the Absurd: Great Barrier Island

Published

Natalie

on November 22, 2008

in Great Barrier Island, NZ

. 10 Comments

The following short tales are true stories from my time on Great Barrier Island, New Zealand.

Belly Dancing at the Pub

On Tuesday morning while cleaning around the Pub, Nina began to discuss the possibilities of performing some night. You see, Fanina (Nina) is a professional belly dancer. She is one of the most talented dancers I have ever met, and I have even performed with the American Ballet Theater at the Detroit Opera House.

She decided that Wednesday had to be the night! You see, Justin and I departed from Great Barrier Island Thursday afternoon. She wanted to make sure she utilized Justin’s percussion abilities on the large bongo drums in the pub. Yes, it’s strange, Irish Pub with bongo drums? But it’s New Zealand!

Nina soon discovered my vocal abilities and asked me to sing Arabic (something new to me) and be a part of the evening entertainment.

What an awesome night! The locals on the Barrier had never even dreamed of the cultural experience they were able to enjoy. Justin, hit that drum! And now I’ll sing in Arabic any time a belly dancer asks. And Nina, girl, you shake it.

What is a Kina? YES THIS IS WORTH READING

One day, Justin and I headed out to walk along Medlands Beach (the place where all the surfers talk about). Steve, the local who was giving us a lift suggested that it would be more enjoyable for us if he dropped us of at Kaitoke Beach. He told us that Kaitoke and Medlands are connected by an easy to find sandy path and this would allow us to spend more time walking on the beach. We were hooked. The problem started when we got to the end of Kaitoke Beach. Where was the path to Medlands? We were not able to find a nice sandy path but I did discover a number of rocky cliffs that lead out into the water and off in the direction of Medlands. I was feeling especially adventurous and I convinced Justin it would not be too dangerous. We hiked and climbed along the dangerous rock ledges that were exposed by the outgoing tide. All was going well until Justin dropped the frisbee into the ocean. I love our frisbee and I was not about to let something like crashing waves on rock stand in my way. I quickly scaled down the cliff and began trying to use my feet to gather our precious frisbee into my waiting hands. This was working well enough until I was knocked off the rock by an incoming wave. I heroically grabbed the frisbee but, in the process, I pushed my foot downward looking for a rock to support myself on. This was a mistake as I suddenly felt dozens of large needles stab upward through the bottom of my foot. I had stepped on a Sea Urchin. In New Zealand, these are called Kinas.

I was in serious pain as I scrambled back to the safety of the rock cliffs. When I reached Justin, I sat down and howled and cried. This phase lasted several minutes. Recognizing that I was not able to walk either back the way I had come or forward, I began the process of removing the most painful spikes from the bottom of my foot. This was painful and led to another series of crying sessions. Luckily, I had scooped up a sea shell on Kaitoke beach and was able to use this as a tool to remove spikes. Although I was not able to remove all of the spikes, I pulled enough of those painful little jerks out of my foot to allow me to walk (or hobble) along. Justin and I quickly realized that we would not be able to reach Medlands with my injured foot: so we started climbing up. We were able to scrambled 3/4’s of the way up the cliff but we were then forced, due to the sheerness of the cliff face, to scale the remaining quarter. No problem right. Justin and I are both experienced climbers and this did not appear to be a very difficult climb.

Ignoring Justin’s warnings about caution, I began climbing quickly up the face of the cliff: eager to remove the remaining painful spikes from my right foot. I climbed up several holds and was hanging with my body attached to the rock face. I reached my right hand upward for the next hold and pulled down firmly while kicking up with my right foot. Suddenly, my handheld gave way and a basketball sized rock fell on my head. I was not having a good day. I quickly scaled back down the cliff and, together with Justin re-examined the situation. We eventually decided on a route and carefully climbed the last quarter of the cliff. In truth, this was not all that smart as the rocks were not stable and few of our hand holds were actually solid. But eh, that is why we travel with World Nomads right?

To sum up this rambling story, we got to the top of the cliff and waded half a mile through tall grass until we found a road. Along the way, to add insult to injury, I stepped in a half petrified pile of cow crap. With my injured right foot. I was pissed. On the road, Craig (a local surfer and a regular at the pub) picked us up, took one look at my foot and told me I needed to go the Medical Center. Direct quote, “Ewww nasty kina, that’s gonna go septic, gonna have to go to the med center.” Apparently, Kina spikes have barbs that often detach deep in the flesh of it’s unsuspecting victim. If left in, this would cause my foot to swell up to the point where I would be forced to limp everywhere. Thus, as the locals say, septic. We made it to the Medical Center where the doctor spent 1.5 hours digging around in my foot with a blunt instrument. Eventually, he had to give me local anesthetic to get all of the barbs out of my foot.

One of the only highlights from this experience was Majtejn (pronounced Ma-Teen), another local surfer who is a regular at the pub and is dating the chef. He volunteered to take us to the Medical Center, when Craig pulled up with Justin and I to where the surfers were getting ready to hit the surf. Plus, he waited the whole 1.5 hours for us to be done and drove us back to the pub. What a nice guy. Sarah, the chef, is now dating the local hero.

Can’t touch this!

Within one hour of removing the bandage, a Kiwi named Eliza Jones and I went swimming with the dolphins. It was awesome! Six of us were playing Frisbee. I know, laugh it up! The Frisbee was our dinner plate many evenings in Europe, I had to step on a Kina to save it and now we were playing with this ultimate Frisbee.

Suddenly, we became distracted by dolphins jumping in the water nearby. Eliza Jones and I were the only 2 brave enough to jump in the freezing cold water. We swam about 200 yards out to the area where the dolphins were playing. I sang songs under the water and splashed like a Titanic survivor to attract them. It would seem that they did not care. They seemed to be playing a game with us. The rules were simple. They let us get within 3 or 4 feet of them before swimming quickly away. They did not even let us touch them. It turns out however that the lack of touching was actually a good thing as locals told me that touching dolphins could be adverse for my health. Upon exiting the water I began to show symptoms of hypothermia immediately. Now that I can control my fingers again and type, I feel much better, simply not to be shivering uncontrollably.

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 Learning Curve

Published

Natalie

on November 16, 2008

in Great Barrier Island, NZ

. 5 Comments

Recently, Justin and I received an email from Gillian, a long term subscriber (3 months or so, wink wink!) inquiring about what we have learned. Her and her husband are currently selling their house and making plans for their own life style change of long term travel.

Gillian wrote:

Hey guys, now that you have been on the road for 1 month and 14 days, I
wonder if you can comment on some of your newly gained knowledge and what you
would have done differently before you left. For example, what do you
think now of your packing list after lugging it around for 6 weeks? Are you
traveling according to plan or was all that planning just an exercise in
building excitement? Any tips or tricks so far?
Cheers,
Gillian

My response:

Our new lifestyle has certainly led to some humbling experiences. Justin and I have made mistakes. Learning to live with undesirable situations one at a time.

One recent example occurred at a hostel in Auckland. Don’t stay at Queens Street Backpackers! Everything seemed great until we went to make dinner. The kitchen had no community food like olive oil, salt, pepper, nothing! Cooking suddenly became rather challenging with our limited materials. However, saying that the kitchen was under stocked is an understatement, as the kitchen had no dish soap, or any soap, as well as no towels or any means of drying dishes. We asked around and the staff informed us that they had ran out of dish soap yesterday. What!?!

Our second problem was that we were returning to our room to sleep before having to wake up at 5 am to catch the freight ferry to Great Barrier Island, and we discovered that the hostel was directly above a popular Auckland club on Guy Faux Day (popular British holiday also celebrated by the Kiwi’s)!

Through the horror that we have faced at this hostel, we decided it would be beneficial to format a loose checklist to run through at the reception before checking in for a night. In truth, we should have been doing this from the start be we simply got lazy.

The Boyd Family Hostel Check List:

- Location (Club/Bar nearby, etc)

- Prices (per person, specials, etc)

- Is their a lock out?

- Does the kitchen close? What time?

- Wi fi? If not, what will you charge me for internet (if available)?

- Kitchen (clean, FREE food zone, available utensils, sharp knives, etc)

- Let me see the room…lighting, carpet, test bed (ask locals about bed bugs), hangers, places to hang stuff, etc

- If dorm…can I secure my pack?

- Is their a bar inside the hostel (this can be a negative and attractive youth binge drinkers)

- Is their a common room without a television? We like to meet new people and T.V. often distracts discussions.

- any FREE meals (we have seen both breakfast and dinner offered FREE)

- Tradable book library?

- Extra’s to pay (not just leave a deposit on, but pay for): towels, sheets, secure luggage room or storage

It might sound like overload, but it should prove to be beneficial in avoiding extreme problems in the future. Staying in a hostel is an adventure. It can be extremely rewarding to share life with others and discuss cultural differences or similarities (like the Simpsons). Also while engaging in discussions that occur in hostel communities it’s a great resource to learn about where other people have been and the experiences (including mistakes) that they have learned from. We have even met entire families (mom, dad and the kids) from countries all around the world. It is not only 20-something’s that stay at hostels but they can be rather intergenerational. Overall, the hostel experience is one I would recommend to anyone. Read about our first stay at a hostel.

Now as for what we brought with us…as we left we felt as though we were bringing very little. But beware! It’s easy to accumulate things as you go. Just now (not exaggerating), Louise walked up to me and gave me Guinness dice. We are at the Irish Pub on Great Barrier Island, in New Zealand, not to be confused with our time in Ireland, although Louise is from Ireland. She wants me to have the 2 dice, as a gift. “It’s so small.” Should I accept this gift from her? Even little things add up quickly in a backpack. That’s it! I will have to give them to a local before leaving the Barrier.”

Overall advice, I offer, is the concept of bringing less. I have a short article that was published on eurotrip.com titled, “Bring Less Stuff”. If you are a backpacker and you can offer advice to Gillian, please feel free to follow as she plans www.one-giant-step.com

We have lost our cork screw, pocket knife, laundry rope, some of our plastic zip ties, a medal butter knife , and a few other things as a result of airport security. So, that’s a quick and easy way to lighten your pack too.

To finish answering Gillian’s questions, overall we feel as though we prepared as best as we could. Our plans of getting 12 month work holiday visas in New Zealand worked. After having many Kiwi’s tell us that it is really hard for American’s to get them, and others tell us that once you are 25, they basically don’t give them out, we felt all the more blessed to each receive the long term visa.

Justin’s 26, I am going to be 25 in less than 3 months, and we are not going to get any less American. But it worked! So, plan, dream and plans are sometimes dependent upon which countries will give you visas, and how long you can stay.

Beer Taste Better When Driving

Published

Justin

on November 13, 2008

in Great Barrier Island, NZ

. 8 Comments

Greetings from Great Barrier Island, New Zealand. First off, it took us a few days to get over jet lag and find a constant internet connection. Now that those issues have been surpassed, the various stories that details our travels will continue.

Currently Natalie and I are on Great Barrier Island which is a 4.5 hour ferry ride from Auckland. Great Barrier Island (GBI) is populated with somewhere between 800 and 1000 people and it functions very much like a small town. Everyone know everyone and no one can keep a secret for very long. Hitching a ride (getting a lift as they say in New Zealand) is both common place and relatively safe on the Barrier. It is an excellent way to meet the local population. For the rest of my time on the Barrier, I will be devoting my posts to the many amusing experiences that I daily encounter.

More Fuel For the Driver

After hiking Tk 19, Te Ahumata, Natalie and I took to the road in an attempt to catch a lift back to Tryphena (where we are currently working for our lodging and meals). As Track 19 ends in the middle of nowhere, we were lucky enough to catch a wild ride down the mountain in the back of a boat. It was cold, but it got us to Claris. No complaints right? We were able to catch another lift to Medlands but there, our luck ran out. We spent the next 60-90 minutes walking up a 25% grade hill with cars passing us every few minutes. In retrospect, I imagine that we were not able to catch a lift because it was not safe for the drivers to stop on the many blind turns that characterize the road from Medlands to Tryphena. Eventually, an old man with a long gray beard (hanging to about the middle of his chest) stopped in a pull off heading in the opposite direction. The old man sprang out of the car with an empty beer bottle in his left hand and popped open the hatch. Digging around in a cooler, he came up with a fresh beer as he caught site of us slowly laboring up the hill. Holding the beer over his head, he winked and hollared out “more fuel for the driver” before scampering back to the driver’s seat and peeling off down the mountain. As I watched him speed away, I began to reflect on the safety of hitching rides from strangers in a place where drinking and driving are expectable.

About 30 minutes later, a pick-up truck responded to our frantic waves and pulled off the road. Upon discovering that we were headed in the same direction, the driver invited us to hop into the truck bed with his 4 children. The driver’s 4 children (3 daughters and a son) were positioned along the cab of the truck with the oldest child clocking in at around 13 and the youngest at about 3. As Natalie and I positioned ourselves along the tailgate the driver sped off, racing up and down mountain roads and flying around hair pin curves. (In his defense, all drivers on the Barrier seem to navigate in this reckless manner no matter the state of their sobriety.). The roads on the Barrier are only 1.5 lanes wide and it is necessary to hug the side of the road (read: the cliff) at all times. Natalie and I were holding on to the truck with white knuckled grips.

Suddenly, the driver yells out the window “BEER” while sticking his right hand out the window. His daughter, the second oldest, quickly unzipped the cooler (located in the back of the truck) and handed him a Heineken, which he quickly passed to his wife. So far, so good. The drivers wife however, cracked open the beer and handed it back to the driver. (Seriously, why would she do that?) At this point, I was starting to grow a bit concerned. Needless to say, the driver began to drink his Heineken. Enthusiastically. While accelerating down windy mountain roads. With his kids happily chatting away in the truck bed. All apparent dangers aside, the truck arrived in Tryphena about 10 minutes later without incident.

Of course, this whole experience left me a bit more cautious about catching lifts on the Barrier. However, it is the best way of meeting locals….

Nomad Backpackers

Archive for the 'Great Barrier Island, NZ' Category