Island hopping in Auckland

I am quite the neglectful blogger, aren’t I?

A thousand apologies for my absence of late.  I have no excuses beyond general laziness. It happens.

What have I been up to these days? Well, I spent ten days in sunny Auckland going for long walks, catching up with some mates, eating great food and drinking far too much wine.

One of the highlight of the week was that I managed to visit three of the islands in Auckland’s Hauraki Gulf.

Leaving on the ferry from Auckland harbour.

First on the menu was Rangitoto island which, atop of sporting a name that is oh-so-fun to say, is really pretty interesting.  The 5.5km long island formed some 600 years ago after a series of volcanic eruptions. 

From afar, the island’s volcanic heritage is apparent thanks to its conical peak.  Up close, it’s fairly obvious too.  The terrain is littered with dark, jagged rock and the vegetation (of which there was more than I had expected) is of the hardy and stunted variety.  It took me about 45 minutes to walk to the island’s summit and I enjoyed the beautiful views along the way. 

Yet another awkward pose thanks to the ten-second timer.

mmmmmm...old lava

What was less enjoyable was the teeming mass of young teens lounging noisily at the top. It appears that it was a 70-student-strong school group on a field trip. They were well behaved, as far as teens go, but the decibel levels (think giggling, screaming, cell phones playing music) were a bit off putting when all I was hoping to hear were birds and the occasional passing plane.

I shouldn’t have despaired, for I was soon to get that solitude and silence I craved.  Within the hour I had reboarded the ferry (thanks to its handy hop-on, hop-off service) and was deposited on the much grassier Motuihe island. Though the island was far from deserted (a few dozen people alit from the boat at the same time as me and yet another school group was enjoying a field trip on this island), it was much easier to distance oneself from the pack than on Rangitoto thanks to a wide variety of walking tracks.

With nearly three hours to kill before the ferry returned to collect passengers, I quickly set off to explore. Not really knowing where I wanted to go, I decided to wander about and see what the island had to offer.  Turns out it had a fair bit: grassy fields, pretty trees, huge plants, secluded beaches, and lots of birds. Other than the boats drifting by in the distance, I didn’t see another human for over an hour.  It was glorious. 

My own little secluded beach.

On the weekend my friend Inky (whom you may remember from Christchurch some six weeks ago) and I headed out to the most popular of the Hauraki Gulf islands.  A mere half-hour boat ride from Auckland, Waiheke is home to some 8,000 people, and during the summer months, some 3,000+ cottagers, and countless tourists and daytrippers descend on its pretty shores.  It’s not hard to see why. 

From the sky, Waiheke looks like a big ol’ inkspot, which means it boasts dozens of picturesque bays, a number of swimming beaches, and plenty of fishing spots.  Its enviable climate lends itself well to wine production, and as such many small vineyards produce some decent (if pricey) whites.

It was a nice weekend. Inky got to partake in his rugged outdoorsy pursuits (sleeping in the bush, spearfishing, rock climbing, cliff jumping), while I enjoyed the calmer side of island living (sleeping in a hostel, lying on the sand, floating in the sea). An activity we both enjoyed was drinking wine on the beach (wish this was doable in Georgian Bay) and eating a delicious meal at the Skinny Sardine (stuffed chicken breast and sinfully buttery garlic mashed potatoes for me – I’m salivating just thinking about it). 

Setting sun over Auckland.

Sun setting over Waiheke

My last two days in Auckland I didn’t do much beyond tying up some lose ends, repacking my bag, and visiting a friend I’d made my first week in the country.  It was pretty chill.

As many of you have likely see via Facebook, I now find myself in soggy Sydney. It's apparently been raining here an extraordinary amount these past few months (which explains why I’m inside writing rather than enjoying Bondi or Manly beaches). I’m here until the 16^th at which time I’m hopping a plane back to Canada for Christmas and some rather important nuptuals. I’m looking forward to it.

Walking and walking and walking near Picton -- the Queen Charlotte Track and others

In the beginning, God created the earth, then after a while he put some humans on that earth.  Those humans lumbered around on their four limbs for a few (ok, many) thousands of years before some show off started to balance on just two legs (probably to impress some chick), and eventually, everyone else decided to copy him (all the cool kids were doing it) and humans became bipeds. 

A loooong time later, a biped known as Nadine decided to put her walking shoes on and get out walking. 

Cause there’s some good walking to be done in these parts.

Picton is known among travellers mainly for two things: its port (the ferry that links the two main islands travels between here and Wellington) and for being the gateway to the Queen Charlotte Track.

Ferry leaving Picton bound for Wellington. The trip takes approximately tree hours. There are two companies who each run four or five crossings a day.

I did a section of the track during my last trip and liked it so much, that I decided to do it again. So on Tuesday, I booked the required taxi boat and accommodation for Wednesday and Thursday.

Since I’ve been fairly inactive lately, I wanted to get a bit of exercise in so that the long walks wouldn’t be such a shock to the old legs.

So Tuesday afternoon, I filled up my water bottle, grabbed some sunscreen and my big hat, and headed out to The Snout, a finger of land that juts out into the Queen Charlotte Sounds from downtown Picton.  

It was a beautiful walk (are there any other kind in NZ? If so, I haven’t found one yet) with great views of  the Sounds and of Picton itself.

View of Picton from the Snout Track.

I hadn’t really looked into the length of the walk, nor at the weather, which was, in retrospect, a bit unwise. Turns out that it was a 12km treck, half of which was uphill on un-sheltered paths, all in blazing sun (have I mentioned how insanely strong the sun is here?).  That lone bottle of water I brought with me was far from enough.  By the time I stumbled back into town more than three hours later, I was dehydrated, dizzy, and weak.  I rushed to the grocery store and bought myself a beverage as quickly as I could.

With that experience fresh on my mind, I packed three full bottles for the Queen Charlotte. 

The QC track runs for 71km along a series of undulating bays. Done from tip to tip, the QC generally takes four or five days to complete. One of the great things about the track though is that you can do as little or as much of it as you want.  A taxi boat ferries you to the point of entry you select, and picks you up on the day you choose at the place you choose.

I opted to do the first 27km since that section offers nice long flat-ish sections (not too much climbing!) and can be spread out over the course of two days with one night spent along the track.

The best thing about the QC though is the logistics of it.  The taxi boat ride in is phenomenally beautiful, and depending on which company you go with, you often end up visiting a bunch of the bays and homesteads since they’re dropping off supplies and mail.  Those boats also drop off trampers’ packs, so you don’t have to carry much on your back, even if you’re doing a multi-day hike.  There, waiting for you by the door of your room or cabin will be your bags, transported here as if by magic! Bliss!

I won’t bore you with the details of the walk.  All I’ll say is that it’s nice. Sometimes you’re on the top of a big hill enjoying stunning views on both sides. Others, you’re nearly at sea level marvelling at the colour of the water. In either case, you’re really happy to be there.

One of the many coves along the Queen Charlotte.

Pretty flowers along the track.

This unidentified plant is among my favourite in NZ. I've seen it up and down the country. It's really cool.

I did 15km over three and a half hours the first day, and spent the night at Furneaux Lodge.  It should actually be called Fur-NO Lodge – the place is an overpriced hole.  I was all alone in a bare and spooky cabin which is set up to sleep 25 people. Presumably these 25 people are simple folk who don’t need such luxuries as entertainment, or hot showers, or a kettle, or rubbish bins, or lights, or in some cases, walls, cause Furno didn’t supply these. Sheesh.

FurNO lodge's backpacker cabin

Oh well.  It was just for one night, and now I can spread the news throughout the land of how crappy a place it is. 

Day two was a bit of a bother, not because the terrain was hard or the road long or the weather bad. Nay, it was an easy 12km over mostly flat land in ideal conditions. My toes, however, had been reduced to bulbous lumps of blisters from the previous day’s efforts. I have no idea why.  I have good hiking shoes and I’ve walked greater distances in them.  In any case, they hurt, and I limped most of the way to the pickup point.

The weka is a flightless wood hen.  As you can see, they are rather unafraid of humans.

Fern shadows

Fun with tripod.

On the ride back to town yesterday we had an unexpected treat.  We came across a pod of about 15 bottlenose dolphins and we watched them cavort around us for a good 20 minutes.  They even chased us for a bit when we started to drive away. I don’t think it’s possible to grow tired of watching those animals.

A synchronized dolphin dive.

Though I was sure I wouldn’t want to take one more step than absolutely necessary, today I set out to the grocery store to pick up some supplies (hair dye, wine) and was so seduced by the fabulous weather, that, on a whim, I decided to go for a walk.

There’s a path that leads up one of the many hills around Picton to a hilltop lookout that a few people had told me about. It wasn’t a long walk – only about an hour in total – and the view was great. I chatted with a retired kiwi couple at the top, then I made my way back down.  Other than a moment when I lost my footing and nearly went ass-over-teakettle, it was pretty uneventful. 

The view from up top.

So I’m back in Picton at the best hostel I’ve ever been to.  Tombstone has free breakfast, a hot tub, awesome hosts, two cute cats, a lemon tree, comfy beds, lots of room to spread out, and no idiotic 18-year-olds trying to impress one another.  It’s great.  So great in fact that I’ve decided to stick around for longer than I planned.  I’m going to take it easy here for the next two days, enjoy the sunshine, the tranquility and try to stay off my feet J

So I guess the last order of business is to let you know that I’ve been accepted into the graduate diploma of teaching programme at Otago.  So that’s good.  I’m leaning towards deferring until 2012 though.  I also have a meeting with the University of Victoria next week, so I want to wait to hear from them before deciding.

In any case, I’m continuing with the work for the prerequisite course for Otago, and managed to submit my essay a full three days early (a hostel is hardly the best environment in which to write an essay, BTW).

On one of the lookouts on the Queen Charlotte.  Note the tan :)

Cleaning up Wanaka -- well, a small part of it, anyway

It’s a great week to be in Wanaka.  The weather has been absolutely incredible and the weekend’s WanakaFest was a hoot.

I participated in a bunch of activities with a nice German girl I met at the hostel.  We got a little tipsy at the food and wine tent where we sampled some of the truly delicious local wine.  We watched the cardboard boat launch and the urban mountain bike race.  Most of all, we got a kick out of watching the “Perfect Woman” competition.  Before you judge me for backing a beauty pageant, hear me out.  This was like no pageant I’ve ever heard of before.  For one thing, it was sponsored by Tui, the kiwi equivalent of Molsons.

The 30 girls vying for the title completed traditional tasks such as cooking a meal and sewing a button on a shirt. They also had to do a number of less, oh, let’s say “girly” things, and that’s where things got fun.  They donned fireman gear and shot a target with a hose, they chopped wood, they drove a backhoe, they skinned dead rabbits with their bare hands, they opened beer bottles with various objects (belt buckles, lipstick, flipflops), they welded, they hammered, they scaled a 50-foot pole.  It was wild.

The long list of events the Tui's Perfect Woman contestants took part in.

The girls suit up for one of the competitions.

Competititors were aided up the climbing pole by Canada's own world champion speed climber.  This "Gingah Ninga" posesses not only three world records, but also a splendid name lifted straight out of a romance novel: Stirling Hart.

The rabbit skinning -- I'm glad I didn't see much of it.

Less wild is what I’ve been getting up to the past three days. I found myself an undemanding gig cleaning for two hours a day in exchange for accommodation. It’s OK.  It would be great, if the cleaning wasn’t so, how can I put this?  Intense.

The place in question is a former gym that was converted some time ago into a shared house.  I’m sure at one time it was a glorious place with its big lounge area, Japanese baths, stone showers (those are still pretty sweet, actually), big backyard and climbing walls. 

Buuuuuuut along the way it’s definitely lost its charm.  The owner is an Aussie who grew up in Japan and bought the place during her ski-racing days.  She only comes to town twice a year when the running of the place passes from one caretaker to the next.  I don’t know what the recent caretakers have been taking care of, but it certainly wasn’t this place.

It. Was. Disgusting.

The lounge, mid-clean.

The kitchen, pre clean

Soot, dirt, dead flies, grime, random socks, beer bottle caps, rolling papers: you name it, it was lying around. How do people live like this?

To give you a better idea of what I’m dealing with, it took me four hours just to clean the lounge, and cleaning the accumulated grime on the computer took a full ten minutes. This morning I started on the kitchen, and I think it’ll take two of us at least six hours to get that room up to liveable standards. Ew.

On the upside, it’s kind of rewarding to see the progress of this place going from pigsty to just dingy.  And I have a free room to myself (woohoo!) and free Internet (double woohoo!), so I figure I’m saving about $30 a day, which goes a long way. 

Another great thing is that by noon, I’m free to do what I wish, and the stunning vistas here are a great way to cleanse my visual pallet after staring at filth for a few hours each morning.

Mostly my afternoons have been spent sitting by the lake, enjoying the sunshine and a good book, watching the ducks and ducklings swim by, and marvelling at the scenery.

Yesterday, however, I was rather ambitious and set out on a marvellous hike along one of the nearby rivers and around one side of Lake Wanaka. At 16km, it was by far the furthest I’ve walked in a single session since I’ve been here.  I’m happy to report that it was mercifully flat, and other than the plentiful mountain bikers with whom I had to share the path, there was little to complain about.

By the river.

Would you look at the colour of that water?  Can you believe it?

Along the path.

I even managed not to get sunburned, despite the relentless rays.  Some of you may not know this, but NZ is the unlucky landmass that finds itself under the hole in the ozone layer.  The sun is very VERY harsh here. And with so much of the population being fair-skinned, and sunscreen exorbitantly priced, it’s no wonder skin cancer is such a problem here.  I myself had a mole removed after spending three summer months here two years ago.  I’m armed with lots of SPF 30, a wide-brimmed hat and a fierce determination not to burn (or wrinkle!) this time around. Still, I’m freckly as.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh

I’ll say a somewhat reluctant goodbye to Wanaka on Saturday, when I take off for Christchurch. That night I’m going to see the Black Seeds, a kiwi Dub band, in concert.  Check them out for yourselves. Should be good a good show.

Getting busy in Dunedin (not THAT way)

I’ve now been in Dunedin a full week, and a good week it has been. 

For the first time in months, I’ve had obligations and a schedule, and it’s been rather nice -- a little respite from my flotsam and jetsam existence.

My first foray into the world of Wwoofing was successful, if atypical.  Not having my own means of transport other that my tired feet, I chose a place for its proximity to Dunedin (aka, within it). I was delighted to find myself hosted in a section of the city I’d never been before.  Opoho is on the northern side of town, waaaaaaaaaaaaaay up the hills. The views were amazing.

This is what I woke up to for three days.

My host was a delightfully kooky woman who works a full-time job, is starting two small businesses, rents out a room to students, and hosts woofers. Oh, and she has a rambunctious and adorable dog who needs a lot of attention.  Phew.  I’m tired just writing about all she does.

Isabella Rosselini -- though she's only as tall as my mid-shin, she can jump to nearly shoulder hight.  We had many a "fetch" session.

While there, I busied myself setting up a flower garden (man, do I not know much about gardening), cleaning, weeding, taking care of the dog (Isabella Rosselini), and reworking some text for a website she plans on launching soon.  I learned a lot about lynchgates, and hopefully some of my handiwork will help make a few sales!

My handiwork (I have much to learn).

There was another woofer staying with her at the same time as me, and she was great company.  An American in her early 20s, C____ (name withheld in case she wants to remain anonymous) has been in Dunedin a few weeks and happily took me around to St-Clair (nice beachy area) and Lookout Point (even further up the hill in Opoho – it was a 45-minute climb!) where we did a bit of walking and chatting.  Twas grand.

St Clair.  Though I was shivering in three layers of clothing, some crazy kiwis were actually swimming. brrrrr.



From atop Lookout Point.  It was crazy steep and a loooong walk up.  But what a view!



I reluctantly left my private room in Opoho yesterday and returned to my hostel, only to find that I had a private room! No one else was staying in my dorm, so I had yet another night of solitude.  Never take a night by yourself for granted folks.  It really is a luxury these days J

Today was spent at Arthur Street School which literally is just around the corner from my hostel. It’s a pretty small school with some 120 students, and it reminded me a lot of my own primary school, Ste-Croix, in that all the students seemed to know each other, regardless of age.  I had a good day there.  The principal and deputy principal had set up a whole schedule for me (printed and everything!) so that I am spending time with every age group over the two days I’m spending there.

I expected to like the younger groups and dislike working with the older kids, but they were all so well-behaved, that both experiences were good. 

We’ll see how tomorrow goes, but I’m feeling a bit more confident about it all now.

So what’s next? I’m thinking Wanaka deserves another visit, and hopefully I’ll be able to do a bit of woofing there too.  Perhaps a few days basking in the gorgeous views in the tiny valley-village of Mount Cook are also in the cards.  Eventually though, I plan on heading up to the top of the South Island where I hope to do some more tramping, and maybe warm up.

In other news, I submitted an editorial to one of the papers here, but so far, it doesn’t look like they’re going to run it (booooooo).  If I don’t hear from them in the next few days, I’ll post the text here, so at least my brilliant prose won’t be lost in the ether.

Oh, and at the tender age of three months, my laptop battery has decided it’s had enough of this cruel world and has quietly and suddenly expired.  Luckily I can still use my computer if it’s plugged in, but no wandering for me.  It also looks unlikely that I’ll be finding a replacement here, so it may have to wait until Christmas and Canada.

Dunedin Botanical Gardens

Some cliffs in St Clair.  There are sections that look like Giants' Causeway.

From Lookout Point.  I really should learn to smile like a human being in photos

Charming sign about a 30-second walk from the (seriously) very urban house where I was staying.

Bunch of posts at St Clair beach

Some sheep just going about their business, completely oblivious to their stunning surroundings

Dunedin offers me steep streets and structure.

Tuesday morning I was up early to grab a bus at 8:00, destination: the city of Dunedin, some five hours South of Christchurch.

It was a pleasant route that I must have done back in 2004 when I drove from Christchurch to here, but for the life of me, none of it looked familiar.  Not the delightfully kitchy Salmon World in Rakaia, not the pretty towns of Timaru or Oamaru, not the distant snow-capped mountains.  Nothing.  It was like seeing for the first time. It was great.

My enchantment during the ride contined as I arrived in Dunedin.  It was definitely helped by the absolutely gorgeous weather.  The sky was a completely cloudless brilliant blue that makes a bad mood almost impossible.  What could make a good mood bad is having to trek nearly a km to my hostel with some 40 pounds of stuff on my back.  Almost all of it uphill.

Cause nearly everything seems to be uphill in Dunedin.  It is a city in constant battle with gravity.

The train station, on its side (sigh)

Inside the train station (right side up! huzzah!)

If you first arrive, like I did, at the train station, you might be lulled into a false sense of levelness.  As you make your way into town via the descriptively-named Octagon – an eight-sided open area fringed with bars, restaurants, theatres and shops – you start to get an inkling of the steeply-angled hell into which you are about to ascend.  The roads to the west suddenly and sharply veer upwards, and every step becomes an ordeal. 

I hate this photo program.  The photo was taken lengthwise, while the photo below was taken widthwise, yet here, they are both topsy turvy.  Screw you Blogger!

Yet another NZ city not built on a grid.

Hunched over, sweating profusely, you’re painfully aware of each and every ounce you’re carrying on your person when going uphill.  When you’re headed downhill, it might require less effort, but it’s still not easy.  In order to avoid going ass over tea kettle, you must adopt an odd backward-leaning posture by scooping your tailbone underneath you and taking exaggerated steps, like you're wearing too-big clown shoes.

The world's steepest street is some 5km from the downtown.  I haven't seen it myself, but I've read that it's an asthma attack-inducing 19 degree incline.

Going up up up!

Up some more (though it looks sideways)

Luckily, Dunedin makes up for its unwelcoming inclines with lots of charm.  The views are great, many of the buildings are impressively attractive, and it has a youthful energy thanks to the university around which the city seems to be built. (Unfortunately, a lot of this energy seems to be expelled via the smashing of beer bottles.  I’ve never seen so much broken glass on sidewalks before).

It’s Otago University that brought me here too.  I had my interview with the College of Education yesterday in the hopes that I’ll be accepted into their Graduate Diploma of Teaching program, which would start in January.

It’s hard for me to say whether it went well or not.  I do think they liked me and some of what I had to say seemed to impress them (“very insightful!”). But the fact that I haven’t spent any time in a classroom, other than as a student myself, has them a bit worried that I may not really know whether this is a career I’d be interested in. 

It’s something that has been weighing on me a bit too, so they suggested I contact one of the local schools and see about coming in for a few days next week.  So I have.  On Monday and Tuesday I’ll be sitting in on a bunch of classes at the school just behind my hostel (I can actually hear the kids playing outside as I type this). I’m looking forward to it.

A few more photos for you:

The view from near my hostel.

A church. (duh)

Some building near the train station (see how deceptively flat it is down there?)

And that’s not my only obligation this week (see, I can still have structure J ). On Thursday (as in, today) I’m going to be trying my hand at WWOOFing (Willing Workers On Organic Farms).  Basically, you help out on private farms for a few days in exchange for room and board.

I believe I’m going to be helping the owner with updating her website and doing some cleaning and maintenance work around her house.  Should be a good experience no matter what.