Murals seen in Taupo

Week Three: Central North Island

Well, I’ve been away from my computer again for about a week now.   There is a lot to report since my last update.   I created a map that is tracking my journey through the country.  It can be seen here:

http://g.co/maps/y6mgc  (copy and paste this link)

In the three weeks I’ve been on the road, I’ve managed to cover just over 900 miles of terrain.  A little over a week ago, I picked up a small handful of traveling companions.   There is Sarah from Switzerland and a couple of cool dudes from Northern California.  They have their own van, so we’ve been following each other around to surf breaks for a little while.  They are “horticulturalists” by trade, if you catch my drift (they don’t grow tomatoes).  All three are good, genuine people out here doing the same thing: bumming around New Zealand, soaking in the landscape, and reflecting on their lives. 

I drove to Raglan in a day from pretty far up the North Island (Omapere).  It was a solo 5-hour haul.  I was talking to myself a lot around then, before I grouped up with these other nice people.   Raglan is somewhat of an epic surf break – you see it in magazines and videos all the time back home.  The pros will show up there for sessions now and again and the town recognizes it’s own surf fame.  A lot of the shops are themed around surfing and a beach lifestyle.  And the fame is justified.  The set-up is incredible.  There is a seemingly never-ending left point that catches a ton of swell year-round and produces perfect waves with astonishing regularity. 

Unfortunately for me, it was blowing on-shore most of the time I was there and I was only able to get in the water once, the evening I showed up (when this picture was taken).  I tried to wait it out and hang in town for a few days, but the forecast said it was going to do that for a week, so I bailed, with the Nor Cal boys in tow.

From there, it was onward to the East coast – chasing down a south swell and off-shore winds that were due to hit the beaches between Gisborne and Napier a couple days later.  So we camped around Rotorua for a few days, which is famous for it’s natural hot springs.  They are everywhere.  In fact, the whole place smells like Sulfur and there are fenced-off steam vents scattered throughout the town.  In any case, a Kiwi in Auckland had told me not to pass up the mud baths and hot mineral soaks in Rotorua, so I went for it.  Strange feeling covering your body in foul-smelling fudge and then rinsing off in a boiling pool of orange Tang.  

A day later, we were on the beach.  The sun was shining and the swell was starting to show.   We got 2 sessions in one day, which is a great feeling, because it means that you truly have nowhere to be and nothing to do.  It’s something I haven’t been able to do for a long time, which is also why my arms felt like wet noodles by day’s end.  We drove another hour and a half up the coast and found this:

The spot was incredible.  And no one out, not a soul, which will definitely make you wonder: is there some reason no one else is out here?  Did we not get the memo about the _______ in the water?   But it was fine.  We surfed it alone the next morning for two hours before anyone else showed up, and by then the swell was dying and the winds were changing, so the surf gods definitely smiled upon us!

After that, it was a fond goodbye to my new friends, a supply stop in a small coastal town, and into the mountains for a change of scenery, some trout fishing, and a few backpack hikes through the rainforest.  Again, Mother Nature had other plans and I woke up at the front end of a three-day rainstorm.  A stop at the visitor center confirmed the forecast and sent me driving out the other end of the park, into Taupo, where I am now, on the dry side of the mountains.

After a full week of camping and living in the van, a warm shower, a standard bed, and a washing machine have been much-welcomed luxuries, despite the sting of paying $30 for a bed after a string of free nights in the country.   So, no, I didn’t shower for a week, but I was in the ocean several times, and that gets the grime off pretty good!  And I still brushed my teeth every day, I swear.  I just stopped shaving, wearing deodorant and worrying about what my hair looked like.  It was great!  I’m settling into the skin of a traveler, paying less attention to my travel guide, taking fewer pictures, pausing more often at obscure road-side stops, talking to the locals, and driving smaller routes off the main highways.  And wearing the same pants every day.  When I left, I thought I had packed light by narrowing all my clothing into a carry-on bag, but there’s a pile of stuff I haven’t touched that I’m thinking of sending back home.

And, despite being a vagabond, I’ve been eating really well.   This will shock people that know my regular diet of ice cream sundaes, french fries and beer back home.  Okay, I’ve still been drinking plenty of beer, and sampling the NZ wine list, but I rarely eat out (maybe 5% of my meals).  I cook or prepare every meal (I have a portable bbq and a compact stove) and it’s been very easy to find fresh local fare just about everywhere I’ve been.  I have traded my usual 8 cups of morning coffee for a single cup of breakfast tea.  I do allow myself the occasional cup o’mud when I just can’t resist the caffeine itch, but I’ll tell you, the first time I did that, after several days without coffee, I was on the moon.  I had to go for a run on the beach just to make it go away. 

The car’s been doing alright.  I gave her a much-needed bath today, as she was coated in mud after the drive through the rainforest.  I’ve taken to calling her Betsy, and am considering painting big, black cow spots on her sides and tattooing her name across her big, wide ass!  She cruises pretty good, especially downhill.  Sixty mph is about her max on a good day.  Fourth gear is a bitch every time – always a blood-curdling scratch and grind on the way in that I can’t figure out how to avoid!  She absolutely crawls up hills.  It is astonishing to me how quickly she will slow down at even the sight of an uphill grade.  Invariably, I end up in second or third gear struggling up the shoulder between fully-laden logging trucks while the rest of the cars pass at full speed.

I’m pretty used to driving out here now.  Only 1 time did I pull out of a gas station in a small town into the right-hand lane.  There were two other cars on the road and it took me a second to realize why they were driving on the wrong the side of the road – because I was!  The mechanics out here are great, too.  It’s nothing like back home.  Betsy hasn’t been without the issues you might expect from a 20-year old van with over 200,000 miles on it.  She’s got a pretty consistent oil leak coming from the gearbox (likely a busted main seal).  In any case, I’ve met a few mechanics already, and the mentality is totally different – they tell you what’s wrong, how to fix it, and send you on your way.  They genuinely don’t want to take your money if they don’t need to.  I’m getting to know the car well and keep a handful of simple tools and now a liter of gearbox oil behind the back hatch.

A wise T-shirt once read, “Before you travel, lay out all your clothes and money.  Cut your clothes in half and double your money.”  Couldn’t be more true.  Like I said, I would love to lighten my clothing load.  I’m doing fine on money, but if I had more, I would stay longer, or travel elsewhere.  I may find a way to make that happen yet, we’ll see!  It’s funny, but when I started out, I was thinking to myself: Three months, really?  What are you going to do for three months?  And now it doesn’t feel like enough…

Shippies

Shipwrecks, Ahipara Bay, NZ.  Brad - this is for you.  I didn't go out.  Was looking for a right.

Cape Reinga & 90-Mile Beach

Resumed my trek and headed to the northern-most point of New Zealand, Cape Reinga - one of those places you because it's there.  This is where the Tasman meets the Pacific.  Steep cliffs rise from rocky beaches and the wind blows hard enough to keep your balance on guard.  If you look closely at this picture, you can actually see the line where the two different color waters meet.

From there, the return trip is down the west coast on "90-mile beach," which is exactly what it sounds like - an extremely long (actually 84 km), empty stretch of beach that has been designated an official highway.  The sand is hard enough close to the water that it makes for a good driving surface.  You have to time the drive around the tides, watch out for incoming waves pushing up the beach, and streams draining down to the ocean, which can create some really dangerous ruts if you're going 60 mph!  And apparently, according to Dave, the local Maori I talked to before heading out there, the occasional whale will beach itself there as well.  

I saw a big male seal and a bunch of dead blow fish, but that was it for sea life.  I also picked up a guy who was trying to walk the whole thing - Ehren from Sydney.  He had been out there for a day and was maybe a third of the way done.  The beach got the best of him.  

There's not many places I'd condone having a beer while driving, but this was a must!  So cool.  Definitely the highlight so far.

Bay of Islands

Beautiful place.  Stayed for a few days and put my feet up.  Finally sat still and did nothing for a little bit.

Murals seen in Auckland

Out of Auckland, Into the Bush!

That you haven’t heard from me in a few days is a good thing.  It means I’ve been away from wi-fi, out of the city, off the pavement and deaf to the noise that inhabits it.  It means I’ve been out in the forests and on beaches, driving the open road and finding my way into the countryside.

I camped the last 3 nights, each in a different place, working my way a little further North each day.  Now I’m in the Bay of Islands, staying in a hostel so I can use the internet to check email, upload photos and get out of the van for a night.  It’s really nice up here: warm and sunny with stunning, crystal-blue water, white-sand beaches, tropical vegetation and miniature islands sprinkled along the coast.  I’ll probably stay a couple days and take a break from the road. 

My first night out, I parked the van next to a small brook.  Feeling sentimental about the scene, I decided to crack the window of the van so that I could hear the water go by as I went to sleep.  Some hours later, I woke up to a mosquito buzzing in my ear.  I got up to kill it, figuring it would bite me a hundred times if it could before the night was out, so I sat up, popped on my head lamp and was horrified to find that the car was FULL of mosquitoes – I mean there was a swarm in there.  Trying to swat them would have been futile so I did the only thing I could: I opened the big sliding door and the back hatch, strapped everything down that was loose, and drove with my foot on the floor into the darkness.  I went about two miles and then re-parked far away from water and sealed up all the windows and went back to sleep.   Until about just before 6 in the morning… when I was awakened by a loud THUMP on the roof of the car!  It startled me, to be sure.  Clearly an animal was on my car, but what?  A Tasmanian Devil?  Meow.  A house cat.  Mr. BJ Sox.  He wanted to come in.  A very friendly cat, I was sure I could have brought him with me on my trip, but he was wearing a tag with a local address, so I gave him some milk and turkey and left him behind.

There are a lot of other travelers in New Zealand: Europeans mostly (Germans, English, French, Danish – in that order, and then a few Irish, Swiss, Italians, and Spanish).  No Greeks.  There’s also handfuls of Indians, Canadians, Israelis, and Chinese.  And Kiwis too.  I’ve met a few traveling across the country, staying in hostels and blending in with all the foreign backpackers.  And aside from me, no Americans.  So far, I am the anomaly.

After mosquito night, I got up and went on a stunning hike through the coastal mountains West of Auckland, near Piha – where I did find a surfboard and a guide to New Zealand surf spots.  The Waitekere Reserve is home to a string of dramatic, steep mountains that come right down to a mile wide, entirely bleak, black-sand beach.  I did a 3-hour loop into the mountains and back up the hot sand.  Had to keep my shoes on, as the sand would melt your feet.  I met an old Kiwi on this trail on his way up the mountain who was definitely at least 70 years old, probably older – and he was trucking.  Pretty cool.

Then it was back on the road.  My nerves have been thoroughly frayed from driving on the left side of the road with a manual transmission in a foreign country that doesn’t require people to have car insurance, so getting past the suburbs out onto the highway and putting the van in 5^th gear was definitely a small victory!

About two hours into the drive, there was an old man on the side of the road with his thumb out so I picked him up.  I’d heard it was safe to hitchhike in NZ and he looked harmless enough.  His car broke down and he had to leave it in the shop and was looking for a ride home, which was a little further than I had planned to go that day, but it worked out.  I needed to put down some miles and it was nice to have someone to talk to.  Marco was his name.  He invited me to stay with him and his wife, offered dinner, but I passed, wanting to find a campsite before dark and cook some meat that was thawing in the cooler.  I drove just a few miles past his place and found a spot on the shore with a view of the sunset, made a fire / BBQ, had dinner and a beer, knocked out and was up at 6 for coffee, breakfast at beautiful Whangarai falls, and more driving.  About an hour out, on a search for surf along the coast, I finally hit some dirt roads, got a solid day of sun and my first look at some of the perfect bays and beaches up here in the North.

I stopped for lunch at the remotest of beaches and when I got back in the car to drive on – no power!  None.  Dead.  Got a jump start from a guy named Nick (who was from Westchester, CA of all places, the last neighborhood I lived in LA), and drove straight to a service station to have the battery and the alternator checked.  Turns out I just had a loose connection – the cable probably jumped off the terminal while I was driving the dirt road.  

From there, it was on to a nice, formal campsite with showers and toilets.  I cleaned up and reorganized the van.  The next morning, I got up and drove here.  On my way around a bend, I came across a small bay with some perfect shoulder-high rights rolling in.  There was no one out, so I had my first surf in NZ entirely to myself.  I’m still getting over the cold, so I didn’t stay out long, but it was perfect anyway.

More to come, stay posted…