Golden Bay

Today’s goal: to avoid every jackass in a Santa hat and reindeer antlers wishing strangers a Merry Christmas. We strategized well– only 2 today.

It helped that we were bounding out of bed before sunrise, because like a kid on Christmas morning, I just couldn’t sleep. I had to go check under the tree for thistles before I emptied my bladder just out of sight of the campsite. (Do I post too often about peeing outside?)

After watching a small pink sun yawn over the horizon of the bay, we were off. Our sunscreen, cameras, water and trail mix were loaded into the backpacks and we chose our route. Compared to the quasi-disaster that was our Cable Bay jaunt a few days prior, this was a walk in the park. Although this time our park was not bathed in blinding mid-afternoon sun, the peaks were more modest and manageable, and we were rewarded with he most beautiful scenery I’ve seen on this trip yet.

Also: we saw not a soul until we were on our final descent. And that mofo in his red stocking cap was too far away to share some seasons greetings with us.

-K

 

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^ Sleepyhead watching the sun

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^ Standing in front of a “lighthouse” near the trailhead + the beautiful countryside we spent the next few hours hiking over

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^ Rather than finish the hike all the way to the beach, we turned and took the road back. We drove instead to keep it relaxed. Adventures include burning the bottoms of our feet, swimming beside a seal, and exploring the deserted coastline. What a lovely way to spend a holiday. 🙂

Takaka

Add 2 points if you have a dreamcatcher swaying from the rearview mirror.
Subtract 1 if there’s a GPS on your dash.
If the female in your front seat has dirty hair: take 1.
Dirty AND full of dreds: collect 5.

This tiny town on the bay is the stage for an ongoing competition to see which campervan can be the most run-down yet still running (trump card for a vintage VW) and which set of inhabitants has the best aura and busking ability. (I vote the blonde with the accordion perched outside the supermarket.)

Although to be fair in this contest, we shouldn’t exclude those that aren’t showing off their musical abilities. There IS that gentleman selling “orange juice made with <3” and clippings of organic wheatgrass from a cart on the sidewalk. Or how about the ubiquitous female with homemade hemp jewelry, her printed harem pants billowing as she exits one of the many “ethnic urban” shops dotting Main Street?

Now it may sound like the only kinds of people to inhabit this place are the kind that hang their wet wash to dry in the neighborhood park, but the cast of characters in this town is vast and varied. There may be an incarnation of Father Time sitting in a slice of city green, a STAFF legitimately balanced across his lap, however 10 steps away on the sidewalk is another 65 year old man: a retiree in a bucket hat, window-shopping with an ice cream cone. Yes, you may notice a burly, bushy haired ragamuffin wobble by on a scooter (Eric contends he’s homeless) but if you follow his path down the sidewalk you’ll notice he passes more than one yuppie tourist whose shoes are perfectly coordinated to her pastel pink earrings.

This, my friends, is Takaka.
PS. Merry Christmas Eve.

-K

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^ Xmas Eve dinner: lamb, green beans, and garlic mashed potatoes with cheese. Not pictured: a view of the beach outside our curtains.

Port Motueka

Eric’s suffering multiple burns. I was hit with sun stroke. F that giant, fiery ball in the sky.
And on the note: happy summer solstice!

Originally we had intended to spend the entirety of the day, 5:58AM to 8:39PM, outside basking in the rays of a bountiful, life-giving sun. But after yesterday’s struggle fest on the mountain, we scrapped that plan, slept in, and just ate sunny side up eggs instead.

Other struggles today include keeping the car batteries charged; the displeasure at finding warm, spoiled food in the fridge; accepting the champion length of my leg hair; and using my thighs and/or glutes for any length of time.

In contrast, victories for the day include but are not limited to: finding the right shade of bight blue thread for a potentially disastrous new sewing project; starting a new book; making camp at the next town north, then combing for rainbow shells at low tide; and going to the bathroom in a real toilet at least one today.

All in all: doin’ pretty OK!

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^ Montana wine get’s a 3 out of 10, solstice eggs (they can’t all be winners,) and rainbow shells.

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^ More adventures in cooking: vegetarian quesadillas. Diced tomatoes + black beans + queso inside with ample avo on top. One of my favorite meals yet.

-K

Wakefield

I wouldn’t be surprised if I lost 10 pounds on our hike today! It was a great physical exertion and a test of our fitness. Also, we were horribly underprepared with no food and one bottle of water to split for 10 miles.

What started as a jaunt à la “I feel great!” and “My body loves me for this!” turned to drudgery before long, trudging up steep, shit sprinkled hills under an unrelentingly full sun. My dehydrated mind was convinced those seagulls flying peaceably overhead were predators circling our beat brows.

Legs started wobbling a bit on the final peak at mile 5.
Game faces became difficult towards cheerful passersby at around 7.
We were on severe water rations for the last 3 miles, openly cursing every goddamn incline AND decline. (You know you’re in rough shape when it’s easier to go up than down.)

F-ing. Rookies.

Although it wasn’t completely torturous the entire time. I’d hiked a small portion of the Cable Bay Walkway a few years earlier with my BFF, and I was excited to share an experience with Eric that is in my top 5 best of all time. The views were just as splendid as I remembered and it was still a thrill to be hiking across active grazing land with goats, cows, and SHEEP to chase, emulate, and ogle. I’m glad(ish) we did it, but even more pleased we made it out of there alive and in reasonably decent spirits.

For the remainder of the day, we rewarded our toils with a hot $2 shower, a double scoop of gelato, and a couple of steaks from the grocery store. After hanging out with all of those healthy cows today on the hills–“You guys grass-fed, eh? Free range?”–our assumptions proved correct that New Zealand beef is top notch. And after a day like today, never have I felt that I deserved a steak more.

-K

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^ A steak and a bottle of wine, of course. 3/10, Old Coach Road.

Wakefield

This morning found me up with the sun shortly after 6 (or so I assume,) traipsing down a rural road, putting on a dance recital for a cluster of big, spotted cows. The Irish river dancing frightened them back from the fence a ways, however they appreciated the ballet, fine connoisseurs they are.

I’m adjusting well to life sans wristwatches, alarm clocks, mirrors, and constricting self consciousness. Our little adventure is finally beginning to find it’s leg, and it’s pirouettes aren’t lookin’ too shabby.

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^ Another round of sandwiches. Meh.

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^MACARONI AND CHEESE! Yippie! The stove, the stove!

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^ Yeeeeah, the mac and cheese money shot. It wasn’t very tasty, but after a long series of cold food & dry goods, it was manna from heaven.

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^ Designated dish washer.

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^ Our first cup of home brewed coffee. I’ve never tasted worse.

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^ Eric mistook the instant coffee in the cupboard for coffee grounds.

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^ And then he melted off part of the handle. We have yet to try again. I sit here updating the blog from stolen library wifi, with a double shot latte acquired down the street. 😉

-K

Blenheim

“Kimberly, Kimberly.”
“Whaaaaa.”
“Can you come help me push the van? We’ve been in the 30 minute parking for 16 hours. We need more time.”
“What time is it?”
“6.30.”
“…No?”

And so the morning began. A little dreary, a bit desperate, and too damned early. After our charming pet/cranky beast  decided to take a long, illegal nap in a sunny short term parking space, we spend the entire day in problem solving mode. Or more accurately: Eric spend 6 hours charging, testing, and rotating Paula’s batteries, buying jumper cables in vain, scratching his head over useless Google results, and hunting around town for an outdoor plug-in. (Had he been able to reach the outlets up in the town square’s tall trees, he would have Grinched the hell out of those quaint Christmas lights.)

Meanwhile, I made myself comfortable in my bucket seat and knocked out several chapters in my book. I ate some cheese, swigged some wine from the bottle, and even snuck in a nap. It’s not that I didn’t want to help (which is true, but not the point) but that I possess zero knowledge and/or skills regarding anything automotive or electrical. Any attempt to understand would frustrate both parties with no reward. I did at least offer my coffee and beer retrieval services, which were both declined. Twas self preservation on both sides to allow Eric to exert his male prowess for analyzing large mechanical devices with blinky buttons. (Notice I did not say fix.)

After several hours, numerous chapters, and the prolonged good fortune at avoiding both ticketing and towing; we booked a room at the nearest motel one block away. At $130 NZD, it was an investment to charge our car batteries more effectively, avoid another potential ticket for not only parking but sleeping illegally, and for the opportunity for a SECOND hot shower in TWO days.

Side note 1: hotel reception is a strange business in this land and closes for the night anywhere between 6 and 9. We were lucky to get a room 20 minutes after the posted open hours + w/ all the nearby lodging windows dark.

Side note 2: We navigated to a truck stop the day before in earnest pursuit of clean hair. Dropping that $2 coin into that machine like it was a ride at the carnival, produced 6 steamy minutes that I count among the most transformative of my life. Showers are god in this new life  of ours.

The hotel turned out to be a bit of an unnecessary indulgence (see also: our conversation from the morning) however, we did have the most delightful exchange with the owner and his wife for 30 minutes following check-out. A business card was also thrust into our hands, an email address scribbled on the back, and an invitation to let them know how we “end up getting on in New Zealand.”

In the end, we decided to walk to a nearby auto shop where we entreated a pleasant fellow named Geoff for help. After declining the option to tow the van ourselves–“It’s a manual. Are you comfortable with that?”–we handed over our keys, number, and car location, and gave the green light for them to fetch and fix whatever was wrong.

One hour and a few hundred dollars later, our Paula has awoken from her deep, stationary trance, full of fresh juice and ready to roll. It did turn out to be a battery problem; there just happens to be FOUR in this van, some of which were in hiding.

We plan to leave all manner of civilization TOMORROW for at least a few days of outdoors time + camp stove meals for two. Speaking of which: we never did get that macaroni and cheese from the other night. The gas tank was empty, we had to take it in to be filled, was informed our current set-up was illegal which required a new valve to be installed, and have since failed to get THAT upgrade up-and-running. OH, the joys of a newly-purchased, faulty, fickle vehicle in a foreign country!

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-K

“Luxury Motor Lodge”

Simplicity, patience, connection was my mantra this morning, indulging in an early AM walk along the waterfront. While I hunted for shells & watched for birds, these three words rose to the surface as I contemplated this whole grand adventure and what I hope to gain from it.

Little did I know how patient i would need to be, waiting for our car battery to simply fucking connect with a charge this afternoon.

If anyone was taking bets, we lasted 4 days before our 1993 Toyota broke down.

-K

South Island

I’m lounging in our new bedroom, stretched out across a surprisingly comfortable double bed, listening to the rain. Eric is 3 ft away (excuse me, approximately 1 meter away) in the kitchen, attempting to christen our small stove. Soon we will be dining on our first hot meal: macaroni and cheese from the box. Complementing our “pasta and flavour mix” we have a fine 2014 sauvignon blanc, grown 30 miles away down Highway 1. (Kilometers. Kilometers. 48 Ks.)

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And so ends Day 3 with The Beast. It’s remarkable to reflect that we were in Auckland only a few days back, still dreaming of cozy nights parked at the beach. We’re still combatting a to-do list of mundane tasks and renovation projects–dreamy days hiking mountains and ogling sheep are on hold.

Quick wine notes:
– Seifreid’s, your sav blanc is registering at a flimsy 3 on the scale, now that I’ve had my first few sips.
– The wine selection at the small town grocery store we stopped in at was astounding. I was delighted to discover that there were more shiny glass bottles of vino than all the juice, soda, and milk combined. I applaud your priorities, NZ. Drink your fruit. Shop local. Cheers.

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^ The ferry ride south, from Wellington to Picton yesterday.

-K

Mordor!

The beast growls savagely.
She’s not a friendly creature even in the best of times.
She’ll shriek, cough, and hiss when you try to touch her. She’s a wild, untamed spirit who’s been around long enough to have cultivated a healthy distrust for humans.

As Eric tries to coax her to turn over, I sit in the passenger seat following our inaugural night in the wild, holding my breath + giving our new pet soft, reassuring caresses.

Then,
Suddenly:
She roars to life with an early morning stretch and a groan,
Eric only floods the engine once,
&We’re on the road!

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^ Inaugural night

-K

EN ROUTE!

TIME TO WRITE.
JUST SAW MY FIRST SHEEP.

&Another cause for caps lock:
WE ARE EN ROUTE.

The destination: superfluous.
All I care about is that we’re no longer lounging in the shadow of that abominable syringe.

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Abominable syringe: Quite lovely at floor number 50, really.

Last night Eric and I finally made the ascent to the Sky Deck (pronounced “Sky Dick”) to delight in the enduring pleasure of a well crafted cheese board & a glass or two of the cheapest wine on the menu. The place was surprisingly deserted for a Sunday afternoon, permitting us to play an ongoing game of musical chairs to take in every view of the 360 degree allowance. We spotted our 4 “houses” since we arrived, mapped out our walks from above, attempted to play the ABC game, and ordered another round. It was the perfect way to wave goodbye to the city as we continue our quest this morning, heading south on an intercity bus, to hopefully exchange a summer’s worth of hard earned savings for a new home-on-wheels.

OH, HEY
MORE SHEEP STAGE LEFT
TALKSOONLOVEYOUBYE

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^ Fun fact: it only takes two glasses of wine to get me good and tipsy.

Cheers!
K