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…