Vacationing on the North Island

On the early morning of May 25^th, Christchurch shook some of its residents awake.  I had already gotten out of bed – I had a 7:00 a.m. bus to catch and had woken up early – but I didn’t feel a thing. Not sure why. Oh well. 

In any case, catch my bus I did and I was off to Blenheim.  There were five reasons for me to return there, and all of them were conveniently living under one roof: Hannah, Laura, Ben, Nathan and Kim.  Still in town awaiting the start of pruning, they’ve moved out of Koanui and into a house that they’ve furnished quite nicely. Though it had only been a few weeks since I’d seen them (and only a week and a half since I’d seen Hannah), it felt like much more. I was great to be with the gang again.

Two movies, one trip to the library, a somewhat disastrous attempt at making pizza (hint: “tomato sauce” in NZ means “ketchup”), one short night, and a yoga session later, I had to take my leave. It was hard to say goodbye, but I had a good reason to head out – Leah was waiting for me in Wellington!

Yet another ex-Koanuite, Leah is a Canadian Christian-hippy-outdoorswoman, and she’s awesome.  She’d left Blenheim a month ago to travel around South-East-Asia, and was back in NZ.  She had been staying with her sister in Wellington but was itching to head North to Tauranga and the kiwi orchards.  When she suggested I meet up with her in the capital city and travel up together, I jumped at the chance.  

Wellington's harbourfront has a strangely placed hopscotch thingy.  We played.  Leah won. :(

Over the course of three days, we made our way from Wellington to Tauranga via Taihape (a tiny spot on the map), Taupo and Rotorua.  It was a fun journey; we saw someone warming up to attempt a world record bike jump (he did it too!  Triple back flip http://www.biketaupo.org.nz/content/view/606/1/), splashed around in a hot spring, met a helicopter pilot who’s coworker was flying Peter Jackson around the Tongariro area (lucky!) and even saw some trout trying to spawn up a waterfall (cool!)

One tiny section of Okere Falls.  That's where we saw the fish spawning. 

Leah in the mists of a steaming Rotorua pool in the park.

One of the foot baths in the park.

Some dude doing a crazy flip.

Leah in Taupo's hot spring

 But the best part of the journey was the destination: the new home of six other friends from Blenheim. Aline, Andrea, Sinead, Joe/Adrienne, Hiroshi and Rob have set themselves up in a nice apartment (though condo is a more apt description) in gorgeous, beachy Mount Manganui (which is basically a suburb of Tauranga).  It’s très sweet here. 

The others (including Leah now) are all working on the kiwi orchards, picking now, pruning later.  I’ve been enjoying their company while their around, and enjoying my solitude while they aren’t.

Over the past two days I’ve walked at least 25km while exploring the town and searching out the best deal for a ski jacket ($159, as it turns out). I’ve also hiked up Mount Manganui again, and even gone for a (very short) dip in the ocean – which is great, considering June 1^st marks the first official day of winter here.  Crazy! And how did I celebrate?  By sunbathing on the beach J

Leah on the beach.

The beach from the top of Mount Manganui.

Perched precariously on a rock on top of Mount Manganui.

Napier, where the buildings are retro chic and the flowers are the size of your head.



See?  I wasn't joking.

 As the title suggests, I'm in Napier. It's yet another beautiful New Zealand town.  But what makes Napier different is that for once it isn't the landscape that makes the city beautiful;  It's the architecture.

After an earthquake and ensuing fires destroyed much of the city in 1931, many of the buildings were rebuilt in the 1930s art deco style and remain that way (hopefully Christchurch will rise from the ashes in similar style).

It's pretty cool to see.



The SoundShell.



A park along the waterfront.




A hostel in downtown Napier.



This is how far from home I am.

Another (moderately) cool fact about Napier -- it's the largest wool centre  in the Southern Hemisphere.

I'm heading off tomorrow and will likely camp somewhere along the road towards Wellington.  I'm heading there so I can take the ferry to the South Island on the 8th.  I'm beginning a job picking grapes in Blenheim on the 10th.  I'll be making peanuts, and it'll be hard, physical work, I'm sure.  But at least I'll be making some money for the first time in six months.

Camping again...

So, I camped again.  This time at another D.O.C. site that was next to two lakes and surrounded by a sheep farm, and obviously the sheep wandered into the camping area from time to time, cause the ground was riddled with "lamb mines."

Lamb mines.  Ew.  Sorry.

So, you'll understand why, once again, I slept in Gandalf the White rather than setting up my tent on the ground.

Sheep poo aside, it was a magnificent spot, and I took far too many photos.  Have a look at a few.

Gandalf the White.

While driving to the campsite, I Inadvertently herded some sheep.

Board in Gisborne (this post is about surfing. Puns are fun!)

I went surfing today, and many of you will be surprised to hear that I’m pretty good at it!

Ha!  Just kidding.  I’m terrible.  But I had fun nonetheless.

I casually mentioned wanting to go surfing to a girl in my room last night and she asked if she could come along to my lesson.  I was thrilled to have the company (even if she was loads better than me), and we had a blast. 

I do think the instructor from Blitz Surf Shop was rather disappointed that I wasn’t any better (to quote him, “you’re not the worst student I’ve ever had.” The subtext being, of course, that I’m up there).

I can't believe I'm posting this...

I did manage to stand up twice, but that was in the space of four hours.  I had expected as much else, frankly; I don’t snowboard, I’ve never skateboarded, and my core muscles and I are barely acquainted. 

This is about as good as it got, sadly.

I’m glad I kept at it though.  My surfing buddy and I stayed out in the waves from 10:45 until nearly 3:00.  I laughed, I sputtered, I swallowed sea water, and I banged up my knees pretty good in the process.

And now, I’m knackered.  My arms feel like wet noodles.  My head feels like it’s full of cotton balls.  My legs are wobbly.  My skin is tingly. 

I think I have an early night ahead of me…

While I have your attention, here are a few pics of Gisborne

A little further west from here this little finger of water (which, strangely is not named on the map I have) was litterally writhing with fish.

A totem pole that Canada presented to Gisborne to commemorate the 200th anniversary of Captain Cook's arrival on New Zealand's shores (he first landed in Gisborne, then got chased off by the Maori).  Cook later visited Canada's West coast, which is why this symbol was used. http://www.gdc.govt.nz/canadian-totem-pole/

Where the Taruheru And Waimata rivers meet.

Wwoofing at Ohiwa Macadamias

My how the time has flown. I’ve been wwoofing here at Ohiwa Macadamias in Ohope Beach for ten days and I barely saw the time go by.

My energetic hosts Paul and Anne have been fantastic; They’ve made me, and the other wwoofers here, feel right at home.

Anne, Paul and I at the Jazz in the Park concert in Whakatane (pronounced Fah-kah-tah-nay).

And what a home it is.

This 30 acre lot nestled in some hills some 20 minutes outside of Whakatane and edged by a salt marsh is home to not only this lovely couple, but also to a menagerie of animals. Their two adorable dogs Smudgy and Lenny share the space with three cows, 17 sheep, some 30 odd chooks (chickens to us non-Kiwis), and – much to the chagrin of the human inhabitants – countless rabbits and possums.


One of the roosters.



Smudgey and Lenny.
(Sorry for the sideways photo. I hate blogger's photo settings)

The farm also boasts an impressive number and variety of fruit and nut trees. The place is literally dripping pears and plums at the moment, and at various times of the year lemons, limes, grapefruits, quinces, nashis, bananas, and chestnuts can be gathered on the property.

Lemon!

Pears!

Quinces! (whatever they are -- they weren't ripe, so I didn't try any.

Of course, the main event here at Ohiwa Macadamias are the macadamias themselves. These delicious morsels won’t be harvested for some months yet, so I didn’t get to participate in the picking side of the process. Instead, I spent a few mornings of my time here processing them.



The nuts on the tree.  These puppies should be ready for harvestig in a few months' time.



Jean-Marie and Agnes, the other Wwoofers, sort the nuts coming out of the mechanical cracker.

A few of the nuts post-cracking and sorting.

Basically, we took some nuts harvested last year, set them up in the drying room for about a week, then cracked and sorted them. The cracking is mostly done by a machine with some of the stragglers who somehow slipped through intact tackled into submission by the WonderCracker – a heavy-duty nut cracker of Paul’s own design which makes quick work of any nut you place in its mighty jaws.

The WonderCracker artfully displayed in front of some macadamia trees. Order yours today!

The sorting, however is all done by hand. It’s time consuming and meticulous work, but it was gratifying to see the pile of “premium” nuts grow and know that I was helping a small business in some small way.

Alas, my time at Ohiwa is done. I take with me fond memories, a recipe for a scrumptious banana cake, some delicious fruit, and a mild addiction to macadamia nuts. 

Thanks so much Anne and Paul. Your kindness and generosity will not soon be forgotten.

Damn you ground under Christchurch, stop moving

I feel sick. 

I’m writing this on the evening of February 22, some nine hours after the Earth did anything but stand still in Christchurch.  Since I'm staying at a place without Internet access, by the time I post this it’ll be likely days later.  (one day later, it turns out)

I’m glad I was able to send out a message yesterday letting people know where I am so they know I’m not anywhere near the earthquake or the devastation it has caused.

Thank goodness for that, cause it’s absolutely awful down there right now. 

I’ve been watching news coverage for about three hours now, and I’ve been physically affected by it all – my stomach is in knots; my heart is in my throat; my arms and legs are riddled with goose bumps; tears have threatened more than once. 

As far as I know, nobody I know is down there at the moment, but the images are still haunting:  buildings reduced to rubble, cars crushed beneath countless kilos of concrete, sobbing bloodied people stumbling around streets I’ve visited not so long ago (and marvelled at how well the city looked post-quake). 

I nearly cried when I saw what remains of the Cathedral and the Arts Building – two of my favourite in the entire country.  What a loss.

I know it may mean little, but Christchurch, my heart and prayers are with you.

Escaping Auckland to the Bay of Plenty

It’s official.  I’ve been back here a month, and I’ve finally, FINALLY managed to drag myself out of Auckland.  Nothing against Auckland – it’s a fine city.  I just never meant to stay there quite so long. 

And it’s not that I didn’t enjoy my time in Auckland either.  Quite the opposite: it was delightful.  I ended up having a gay old time at Fruit Vans thanks to some excellent people and the unexpected joys of communal living and cultural swapping.




Some of the excellent folk at Fruit Vans.

 

Fourteen of us piled into two vans to go have a picnic on the beach one night.

Leaving was bittersweet.

But leave I have.  I’m currently in beachy Mount Manganui in the Bay of Plenty.  You know how many countries have an area known as their Breadbasket?  Well, I think it’s safe to say that the Bay of Plenty is New Zealand’s fruit basket.  There’s beaucoup de fruits here. Seems I can’t escape fruit – I even stopped at a roadside fruitstand to buy plums on my way here. 

The reason I find myself here is that I am starting another WOOFing gig at a macadamia nut farm nearby on Wednesday, and with the forecast calling for sun and heat Monday and Tuesday, I was loath to stay in the city.  Instead I took Gandalf the White (which is what I've named my car in the hopes that, like the wizard for whom it is named, it will have a long life and will perform amazing feats in stunning locations) out on the open road for the first time.  Three hours later, I was on the east coast of the North Island enjoying the beach.  Ahhhhhhh.

And that's basically what I've been doing for the past two days -- lounging on the beach, reading magazines and books, and going for short hikes around or up Mount Manganui. 

As an added bonus, I was alone in my dorm room the past few nights.  The bliss!

On to some photos!

On Sunday I went to Shakespear Regional Park (which is a 30-40 minute drive from downtown Auckland) with Julia (the girl from my trip up North a few weeks ago) and another of her friends.  There was a cool dead tree on the beach that I decided to climb. 

A pukeko -- one of my favourite NZ birds. I saw a lot of these guys on my first trip here in 2004 and went six weeks without seeing one back in 2009.  On Sunday, there must have been 200 at Shakespear Regional Park.

The beach at Army Bay in Shakespear Regional Park.

You can't really see it in this photo, but you could see Auckland Harbour from here.  It was quite pretty.

A wee waterfall in the park.  What you can't tell from this teeny tiny photo is that I'm holding up a gas mask that was unexplicably lying on the ground next the falls.

Shadow play! That's me on the left.

My drive down to Mount Manganui brought me through Paeroa -- a town known almost exclusively as the birthplace of New Zealand's soft drink Lemon and Paeroa.  It's the nectar of the gods. I was going to buy a bottle there, but it was nearly $3, so I bought some Schwepps instead (it was on sale).  

One of the many awesome public toilets conveniently found around the country.  This one next to the big bottle in Paeroa was particularly great as it had a recording that greeted you as you opened the door, and played music for you while you did your business.

The view from the summit of Mount Manganui.

Shells on the beach at Mount Manganui.

Me on the top of Mount Manganui.  Luckily, you can't see how sweaty I am -- damn humidity.