Au Revoir (Until I See You Again)

Dec. 10

Last day in NZ. Last day out and about on the Excellent Adventure. I don’t even know when or where this will be posted from as in two days I’ll be back in the cold and snow – it’s sunny and 75 here. No offense to any of my loved ones, but I don’t want to go back to Wisconsin

Two days ago I went up the western side of the peninsula, yesterday I stayed in the middle, so today I will go up the eastern side. I am heading for Cathedral Cove. This spot is currently famous for being in the new Narnia movie.  As a matter of fact, many of the Narnia scenes from all three movies have taken place in NZ, just as Lord of the Rings movies have. Today I will see two of those locations. Cathedral Cove has been famous for many years though. I drive along, yes, you guessed it, more winding, scary, terrifically beautiful roads on the way up the coast. This side is newer, less historic-gold-mine-era, more sea-side-fun-living type. Interesting to see the difference.  I have decided to take a tour from the water as I have read the rock formations in this area can only be really appreciated from that vantage point. I picked a tour that takes out just a few people on a rigid inflatable and can then fit into small and shallow areas. I meet the boat on the beach and the young guy and girl ask if I’m Peggy and I say ‘Yes, people always know who I am because I’m the one who’s always alone.” And they both say “Awww.’ And I reply, “No, it’s okay, because  usually being alone gives me the best seat.” And sure enough, I find I am in the front hanging on for dear life with the best view and the most bumps; maybe not great for my back, but great for thrills. The cliffs and cave formations are phenomenal in this area. Lots of old lava flows are visible, many caves have formed from years of battering waves and tides, and tunnels can be seen through many rocks.  We are able to just squeeze into a tiny cave that opens into a huge cavern that becomes a blowhole in high tide. Way above our heads, about 100 feet, we see the sun shining through the opening of the blow hole ringed with trees and bushes. Our guide tells us the spray from the blow hole can be seen flying in the air during strong weather. Swirls, layers and pigment all combine to make interesting formations along the bank. We head into another cave with a large opening and finds scores of blue fish about 6-12 inches long swimming and jumping on the surface and almost as many huge jelly fish floating in the clear water, having been blown in by the tide. The water is so clear we can see the rocks on the bottom and the way the jelly fish propel themselves through the water. Lastly we head for Cathedral Cove which is a huge rock formation on the beach which forms a large tunnel-like arch. People are walking in and around it and even swimming around the part of it in the water. It is quite impressive and I can see why it is used in movies. We then head back to our landing spot and unload at the beach. I walk on the soft sand for a bit because it is a glorious day and I am reluctant to leave this beautiful spot with the turquoise water and warm sun on my face.

As I drive back toward Thames I know I am going right past the turn for Hot Water Beach and I know I am going by at the right time of day also. As I get to the turn I make a split second decision to go for it, who knows if I will ever get back here again. Hot Water Beach is situated over a superheated underground reservoir or river of water caused by an old volcano and this hot water literally bubbles up from the earth at low tide. So, if you go there within two hours of low tide, bring a shovel and dig a hole, supposedly hot water will fill the hole and you will have a natural spa. Seems a little farfetched to me, but our guide on the boat pointed it out to us and said there’s always at least a hundred people there and it’s best if you just let other people dig a hole and wait for them to leave and then get in their hole. He also said to let it mix with sea water to cool it a bit. I’m thinking there is no way this water is hot enough for me and why would I want to cool it off with the sea water. So I drive down to the parking lot and walk on to the beach. I don’t see anyone. I’m counting on other people digging so I have to find other people. I look down the beach farther and finally see a big crowd and realize I have found Hot Water Beach. I walk down and see the craziest scenes. People are literally laying around in little sand moats while other people are frantically digging walls of sand that are eroded by the waves as quickly as they are built. People are standing watching, some are swimming and some are like me, poaching feels of water. I put my foot in the first empty pool I come across and it is as cold as the ocean. Next pool is the same, and so is the next one. I move closer to the bigger crowds and start to feel a little warmth. As I stand outside one of the moats and the waves lap around my ankles, my feet slowly sink into the sand and as they sink I start to feel more heat. A girl near me says”Are you feeling it yet? And I say “Yes, I am. It’s so neat.” And as I kept sinking it got warmer and warmer and hotter and hotter and I had to jump out of the pocket of sand. The guide had said it comes out of the ground at 62 degrees Celsius and I thought “No Way”. But now I believe him. As I move around to different spots it becomes apparent why the water is steaming and in certain spots, bubbling. This water is coming up scalding hot. It is incredible. I move around and test different spots and can’t stand in a certain area of the ocean for more than 10 seconds before my feet felt like the soles are burnt. People are just lying in the shallows of the ocean in another spot because the waves would come in and mix with the scalding water and cover them with nice bath temperature water. I don’t have a swimming suit so I can’t lie down, but it is just a riot to be here and feel the heated water flow up and see all the people from all over the world digging in the sand like little kids so they could get a free spa bath at the ocean. I really felt like my feet are going to hurt and feel scorched for days, but as I walk back to my car they feel fine.

As I drive my winding way back to my cottage above the Thames I consider myself a pretty lucky lady for seeing the sights I’ve seen today and the beautiful weather I have had. I hate to go back because that means the trip is over and all that is left is the final phase of packing. But back I go and pack, and almost as if the sun knows it is a sad day, the sunset is rather bleak and unspectacular.  I finish my last glass of NZ wine and close my eyes for the last time on this island.

Dec.11

I’m up early and off to the airport. I never went into Auckland so this is the biggest city yet on my four week drive. About 20 kilometers from the airport I hit a real expressway. The first one and since I find out the airport is on my side of Auckland, I never see Auckland either. So I drive up and deliver a filthy, filthy hub-cap-less, scratched and really tired car to the rental place. 4,000 kilometers later I am leaving this wonderful blue Toyota that managed to get me through all those mountains and winding ocean drives. I just thank God I was never stranded anywhere remote; no tires flattened or blew out, no smashed windows, no bad car stories at all except of my own making. (Still mess up the blinkers and windshield wipers!) Of course I am also leaving a credit card payment for all the damages.

One car, but here are all the places it took me to : A perfect B&B for 3 nights in the suburbs of Christchurch, a B&B overlooking Lake Tekapo, 3 nights in a self-catering cottage in Lake Manapouri in Fiordland, 4 nights in an apartment overlooking the lake and the Remarkables mountain range in Queenstown, a night in the Bates motel in Fox Glacier, 3 nights in a self-catering cottage overlooking the ocean  in Punakaki (Pancake Rocks), a B&B for two nights overlooking mountains and sea in Kaikoura, 4 nights in the Penthouse apartment overlooking the sea and Tahunanui Beach in Nelson, a night in a motel in Wangunui, a night in a motel in Rotorua, and 4 nights in a B&B cottage overlooking the Firth of the Thames.

 And so ends an excellent adventure. Just like every other trip, just like every other traveler, I will wait in an airport, sleep fitfully on several airplanes and be welcomed home by a loving family. I’ll be jet lagged and forget  much of what happened, and within days it will all have seem like a world away, just a dream I had one night. But what a special dream, and one I will cherish as I had so many of you along with me. Thank you for riding along with me in that Toyota. I knew I was never alone. Au revoir New Zealand and friends.

P.S.

My contact e-mail is gowithpeggy@gmail.com if you want information on any of the places I stayed or visited. I would be happy to help.

The Days Dwindle Down

Dec. 9

I’ve slept very well in this lovely little cottage overlooking the Firth. The sunsets have been glorious, the sliver of a moon rises each night above the bay, and each morning I eat a hearty breakfast of fruits, homemade granola, yogurt, plunger coffee, juice, toast and jam. Each day a baked treat is left for me to enjoy that evening. They have a big, butterscotch tom cat that comes to visit me every day. He is not supposed to come in to my cottage, but as they don’t use screens here and my doors are wide open, I hear is plaintive meow before I see him as he begs me to pet him. He is a rascal and I can’t resist. So a little petting and playing and then he moves on.

This is my second last day of my adventure. Hard to believe it is almost over. I decide to go to the Kauaeranga (try pronouncing that!) Gorge. This huge valley happens to be right behind where I am staying and was once filled with the great kauri trees and was extensively logged from 1870 until the 1920’s. The kauri tree can live to 2,000 years old and when the limbs fall off they don’t create knots so it was a much prized wood. Unfortunately most of it was logged, which is why so much is being done in NZ now to bring back native plantings such as the kauri. This gorge was the transit line via streams, rivers, log chutes, skidded roads, and bush tramways for the felled kauri. The main road in today is gravel and follows the river and only a few ancient kauri still exist. There are many different walks, swing bridges, campgrounds and a large 80 person hut near the pinnacle. I’m not even allowed on gravel roads with my car, so I’m not going too far in. On my way the road is again being recovered and I’m stopped by the road workers. One of them comes up to me and says, in the perfect NZ way “There’s some pitch in the middle of the road, but if you stay to the left we won’t be having any drama.” Isn’t that great? Drama. I stay to the left, smiling away at the thought of avoiding the ‘drama’.

After stopping at the Conservation station and making sure where the easy walks are, I continue down the road. I pass no other cars and I am alone in this incredibly wild and beautiful gorge that winds around and through the forests with crags and peaks rising on the sides and in the distance and the river rushing over rocks beside the road. The foliage is semi-tropical and I am again reminded of Jurassic Park and have the feeling anything could come out of the forest at any time. But then I remember it’s NZ and the worst problem they have is a nuisance possum. So I park and follow a well marked route into the bush and along the river. It starts to rain which is incredible, not because it is raining, but because in the 26 days I have been here it has not rained once. It sprinkled one morning when I was inside writing. But I have never been outside in the rain. My windshield wipers have been used every day as turn signals, but never for rain. So I am not bothered by this rain as the forest is heavy and lets little through, and my rain jacket is good. I follow the trail over bridges and up steps and along the river and then double back as I don’t want to leave my car on the road too long. What an enormous and fascinating place to someday come back to.

I then go to a little café in Thames for lunch and to hook up to the internet. I have a great pumpkin and feta quiche with a ‘flat white’ which is some kind of espresso with milk in it – not a latte and not a cappuccino.  Afterwards, I browse the clothing stores and am amazed at how different the styles are for women. Much more fun I think. Then I head back to the B&B for that horrid task of compiling and sorting and packing four weeks’ worth of not buying anything. ;) I don’t want to spoil my last day with just packing so I will try to get a lot done today. But I still have time to drink my wine and watch the sun again dazzle over the Thames and another, slightly larger, crescent moon fly above the Firth.

PS I don't know where or when my next post will be coming from as I don't have internet here. Perhaps home.....

Driving Firth

Dec. 8

Nobody told me the Coromandel is a bunch of mountains running into the sea!!!!!!! After going to McDonalds for the free Wi-Fi to post yesterday’s blog, I blithely take off on my day jaunt to Coromandel town and to explore this side of the peninsula. Three minutes out of Thames on the main highway, the only real road on this side of the peninsula, the road narrows to exactly two car widths wide. That is, one side of the road hugging major cliffs going up, the other side dropping immediately to the Firth; the Firth now widening out to the ocean. Admittedly, sometime we are only 10 -20 feet above the ocean, but most the time it is major rock outcroppings I would crash onto. Other times it is 50 feet above the sea and I’m sure my wheels are just barely feeling asphalt. And of course the speed limit is 100kph. And the curves are so tight there are multiple mirrors set up so you can see who you are going to crash into around each cliff. In places there is absolutely no shoulder and you have to believe that other car is going to stay in their lane or you wouldn’t be able to drive. Aside from the one lane bridges I have already told you about, which there are several of, there is also one spot in the road that is only one lane wide. Yes, one lane wide. You wait your turn and hope the other guy does too. I don’t know if they got tired of blasting away at the cliffs, ran out of money, or what, but it’s only one lane hugging the cliff. Needless to say, the tension in my back has returned.

But… the drive was magnificent. Coromandel is stunning. The guide books mention a tree called the pohutukawa that blooms in December along this coast. Well, it is December so I am on the lookout for this tree also called the NZ Christmas tree. And I do find it, between glimpses of sheer wall inches from my car and drops to the rocks below, I am privileged to gaze upon what is holding all these rocks together; and that is the mighty pohutukawa tree. In maturity, it forms a large, gnarled and rough barked tree which blossoms with deep crimson blooms. These blooms are restrained, not profuse like a cherry or apple tree, so a tree is dappled rather than covered with crimson. Almost as if it knows it is so magnificent and important a tree it doesn’t need to burst with blooms, merely present. And present it does, all along the coast, large and small trees present their lovely blooms. These trees line the numerous beaches, coves, bays and cliffs along my drive

I’m making my way to the Driving Creek Railroad just outside the town of Coromandel. This is a small narrow gage train that is privately owned by a potter and runs up steep grades, four trestle bridges, two spirals, a double switchback and through several tunnels, finishing at the ‘Eyeful Tower.’ Once at the tower the views over the bay and through to Auckland are incredible.  NZ is working feverishly to bring back their native bush. Much of it was cut and burned both by native Maori and early settlers, then non-native species were introduced and took over. This led to the demise of both native plant and animal life. The Douglas fir is one of the trees which has thrived. It grows six times faster here than in Colorado, but nothing else grows underneath it, so no native plants are regenerating. In some areas they are clear cutting these pines and re-introducing native bush. In other areas it is a crop tree. This railroad land is adjacent to a nature preserve and has planted almost 26,000 native plants.  I am sitting with a young man from England taking a break from his law studies and two little children and their father from France. The hour long ride passes through beautiful regenerated bush with outstanding views of the sea and islands below along with lots of pottery artworks staged along the way. A very unique experience. I then ride down with an English couple and their two children who came to NZ 8 years ago for two months and are still here. A rather common scenario I am hearing.

After the railroad I drive back to Coromandel and explore the cute little shops and cafes which are plentiful. I spend a few dollars then drive out of town to explore before dinner. By the way, when you are in a Kiwi’s home they always refer to dinner as tea. The first time someone asked me to tea was back in Christchurch and I was going out sightseeing for the day, and I thought to myself there is no way I’ll be back in time for tea. As they kept talking I realized they meant dinner because they mentioned 7:00PM. It happened another time too. But if you go out, they call it dinner. I’m not sure why. Anyway, I drove out of town in a direction I thought would take me to the last town on the peninsula, but as usual, I was mixed up. Another by the way: if you ask a Kiwi for direction, they always tell you how to get there and then say “You can’t miss it.” And I miss it every time. Part of it is because I am alone and no one is helping me look, but their idea of signage is not like ours – little, bitty signs on posts, with a whole bunch of others, maybe, and never in the same spots on each street. The ‘big brown sign’ I was looking for today was the normal size of one of our street signs back home. So I never found the town, but I ended up on this really cool spit of land going out to the sea. Very treacherous and narrow, in spots it was only wide enough for the road or the road and one house. But the views were spectacular in all directions. This coast has to have some of the most tremendous views in the world. I would be willing to put it against any of the famous coasts you read about or have seen. It doesn’t have the picturesque homes of southern Europe or the thatched huts of Bali, but the coastline, the islands and the water color is unbelievable. The water looks fake, like some giant came in the night and dropped in dye. Fantastic.

I drive carefully back to town and to a restaurant specializing in mussels. Mussels and oysters are famous in this region. Both are farmed here and plentiful. I am not a big fan of mussels, but the green lipped mussel is from here so I have to order some. I decide a glass of champagne will help. After very good, very large mussels, I have lentil and feta fritters on ragout. Very nice. Then I wind my way back home to witness another brilliant sunset from my deck with my glass of NZ wine. Not a bad way to end the day.

Firth Things

Dec. 7

I awoke in my lovely room, made my plunger coffee, said good bye to that wonderful spa tub and drove to the free city park to look at mud holes, steam vents and boiling sulphur. There is a ton to do in this area and you could easily spend 2-4 days here and lots of money. But I am more eager to get to other parts of NZ so I am going for the freebie in the park. The park has fenced off an impressive amount of vents and bubbling holes where you can walk safely and see the thermal activity. It amazes me most to see what actually grows around these vents and in this hot, harsh soil; quite a bit of vegetation. I enjoy a little tour and then get on my way to Thames, the gateway to the Coromandel peninsula where I have decided to spend my last four days in NZ.

My drive up is very pretty. I am chased the whole way by a range of mountains on my right side. I eye it warily for several hours wondering if I will have to cross it. But it stays to my side – God bless it! This is my first non-mountain driving day in NZ.  The North Island has been quite different from the South Island just as everyone said it would be. Not nearly as mountainous and even the mountains don’t seem so rugged. Gently rolling hills more like Appalachian foothills than Midwestern hills dot the countryside. And areas of bizarre hills jut out of flat plains that must be some sort of geological phenomenon. Lots of flat farmland for the cattle and sheep industry is evident also. More people, better roads, a little more civilized I guess, is what it seems to me after two days. So, if you like wild and untamed, start north, head south in New Zealand and you’ll slowly get your wish.

I am aiming for the Firth of Thames. What, you ask is a firth, because I sure had to ask. It is the mouth of a river. And the Thames is a big, old muddy river named by Captain Cook because it reminded him of the one in England. And I’m staying in a cottage overlooking the Firth of Thames. It’s an area sort of like Green Bay in Wisconsin but, on a smaller scale. The Coromandel Peninsula is like Door County and the Firth of Thames is like Green Bay. Thames grew during the gold rush of the late 1800’s and still has wooden buildings on the main street from those days. I drive into the hills above the river as I arrive in town and see quite a few cute old homes mixed in with the new. I see some wooden cottages perched on a hill and figure that is my destination. I drive up a cobbled drive to Grafton (I’m home!) Cottages and go inside and find Leon who I talked to on the phone. He is an Aussie, hippie type partnered to a Kiwi and they just bought the place with their friends several months ago. He is really welcoming and trying really hard. He invites me to go with them to Hot Water beach in two days. Maybe I will!. I had negotiated a lower price on the phone with him as I am a single and it’s mid-week and I’m staying 4 days. He shows me down some winding wood stairs, past a hot tub and another cottage and into mine. It is really cute with a cathedral ceiling, deck and gorgeous views out over the valley and the Thames in the distance. They provide a continental breakfast in my room, a bottle of wine because I’m staying more than3 nights and complimentary homemade cookies. When I came back from dinner I found a plate of fresh strawberries and Kiwis and locally made after dinner liqueur for on my deck. I sit back with my Kindle and pour myself a glass of the NZ Cathedral Cove (a famous place on the peninsula) sauvignon blanc and sip and eat fresh fruit while reading in the early evening sun. Later, after the setting sun has put on a magical show for me, an eyelash moon rises over the Firth and the last remnants of the purple clouds below. I salute the scene with my iced liqueur and drift off to sleep.

Stinky Rotorua

Dec. 6

I awaken and read my first newspapaer in 75 days. The headlines in big, bold ink scream Police Deal with Sunday Violence. I think, what did I miss? Riots? Terrorists? I grab it and read about how the hot weather (mid 70’s) had local police responding to domestic disputes, in particular, two, read that, two different, families fighting over who owned two different litters of puppies. Welcome to the small town newspaper in New Zealand.  So I pack up and head to the stinky town of Rotorua known as such because its air is sulphur rich. Rotorua sits in NZ’s most dynamic thermal area with geysers, steaming hot springs, and exploding mud pools. I am looking forward to the scenery, but more so, the supposedly therapeutic  bathing waters.

As I drive out of Wanganui I see I am driving into mountains again. I sigh, but figure it can’t last for long as there are really only two main strings of mountains on the north Island. So I wind around and feel the pain as I look at the lovely scenery. It’s greener, more lush and forested, less rugged than some of the Southern mountains. Here, on the particularly treacherous mountain roads they put fences; fences just like the snow fences they erect next to the highways in Wisconsin in winter, only the wooden stakes are farther apart. I wonder what they think that will stop. I reach the bottom of a fairly long and difficult road and emerge into a valley. I figure I am finally finished with the NZ mountains. As I round one last curve, a huge, snow covered mountain range rears up in my windshield. And next to it, another green, pointy mountain with a tan top sits in my way.  Now I know how early settlers must have felt climbing one mountain in a horse and wagon, just to find another and another beyond that. A feeling of desperation comes over me; I really don’t want to drive those mountains. Please Mrs Tomtom tell me I’m not going that way. And, luckily, because this island isn’t all mountains, I do get to go around most of these hills and just enjoy them from afar for a change. What a relief!

My trip odometer hit 3,300 miles today!!! That’s all two lane roads except for maybe 20 kilometers of motorway. And about 70% of those two lane roads have been mountain roads. And I did it all by myself! That is why my back hurts, and I doubt this car will ever be the same either. When was the last time you did that? Yes, I am feeling a bit smug.

Did you know you can’t just order black, brewed coffee in NZ? They don’t understand that.  All coffee is espresso or instant or plunger. In a coffee shop it’s only espresso. They have a Tall Black, but it’s espresso.  I tried to ask for coffee with some room for milk and the young man looked at me confused and said “Um, you mean, like, uh, latte?” And I realized where I was and said yes. I can’t wait for plain, brewed coffee.

As I continued driving along with my latte (which does not keep you awake as well as brewed coffee) I again noticed a very beautiful, serene and bucolic country side. Since this is early summer most of the sheep are getting naked. I pass one large, strangely shaped building that I hadn’t seen before and I am wondering what it is for when I see a large man and a really large sheep having a wrestling match on a table. I realized it is a shearing shed and the sheep is having nothing to do with the process. It was quite humorous and I wonder if all the sheep are that cantankerous.

As I approach the area around Rororua I see my first plume of steam rising in the air and I get all excited and want to try and follow it, but there is only a gravel road leading to that area and I’m not allowed down unpaved roads per my rental contract. Like I haven’t already beaten the you-know-what out of this poor car. Between the horrible curves and grades in the mountains, all the new paving I’ve driven over, my little mishaps with the hub caps and sign post, and the fact that it looks like an itinerant lives in it, this car may never be rentable again. Anyway, little do I know there will be many, many plumes of smelly steam in and around Rotorua.  As I get into the town the very distinctive rotten egg smell seeps into the car. What a funny way to live. I guess all the inhabitants are immune to the smell and since it fuels their economy, it’s a good thing.

I make my way to my motel, a five star motel which I managed a good last minute price on because of the time of year. It is a motor lodge again, which I find funny because they are so out of favor in America. But I love them on this trip as I park right outside my door and since I live out of my car, I am constantly going back and forth and it is very convenient. I picked this motel because every room has a spa bath and I really need one for my back. The room is great- big, two beautiful stuffed armchairs, king bed, table with chairs, desk, flat screen TV, kitchenette with all the utensils. The bathroom has heated flooring, big glass shower and a huge, deep three person spa tub. This is the deep kind so I don’t have to bend my back - just like the doctor ordered. I want to live here! And off the bathroom is a small walled courtyard with table and chairs, completely private. When I checked in the owner was there and she gave me a basket of cookies and milk, newspaper and magazines and told me about all the amenities in the complex. It’s just so unlike America. We don’t trust it if it’s not a chain.

I immediately called the spa on the lake for a spa treatment and reservations in their non-children pools. But first I fill my own spa as I won’t be going to the sulphur spa until the evening and my back demands attention now. It’s lovely, deep and relaxing. When it’s time to go to the sulphur spa I just follow my nose. I park in the lot and go around the building to look at the lake. Underneath this water is actually a spent volcano. It is quite eerie. Almost chalk white in most spots with some large, corroded rock outcroppings and steam rising up in areas. I feel as if I have landed on another planet except for the seagulls who manage to find a few spots of open, non-scalding water. I go inside and am directed to changing rooms and then walked to the natural rock spas. These are four pools of shallow sulphur water from the lake that are regulated at 36, 38, 40 and 42 degrees celsius. I start in the coolest. I wade in and lay down. The natural rock and plantings give a grotto feel to the pools and you can see the lake as the spa is right on the shore. There is some stuff floating in the water, but it’s mainly plant material from all the planting. They must have to constantly strain the water and I actually see a man come and do it while I’m bathing. I move from pool to pool, 36 is too cool, 42 is too warm. I finish in 40 with the Japanese men. Doesn’t that sound like a cliché? Well, when I come out of my treatment, the grotto is filled with a bus load of Japanese. They’re in heaven! After my wonderful mud and honey scrub, wrap and head massage overlooking the lake, I return to my wonderful motel and retire for the night.

South Meets North

Dec.5

I hate to leave my beautiful view over Tahunanui Beach. It is wide, sweeping and ever changing with the tides. I watched the sand bar grow and recede each day and move from place to place. The water sparkled in the afternoons with such intensity and the para-sailers bobbed above in the breezes like little balloons let loose. As I drove away along the beachfront a swim race was taking place and people were cheering and following along the on the walkway next to that perfect morning blue sea. I relaxed here. I chiropracted, homepathed, therapueted, mineral and sea salt bathed my bad back. I also climbed big hills and walked in choppy sand, but it was worth it. I skipped a lot of things I should have seen and I’m trying not to feel guilty about that, because I enjoyed watching the world go by from my perch in the penthouse. Sometimes it’s okay to just sit back and watch.

And not 15 minutes from Nelson I had to start climbing those mountain roads again. All I could think about was –OW!  How many mountains between here and Picton and the ferry that takes me to the North Island where they only have a few mountains? Lots, but I also got to go through  fertile valleys of vineyards and fruits of all sort: cherries, apricots, berries, avocados. Bountiful! And on into Picton I drove. I forgot to mention the other day I did a perfect parallel parking job on the left hand side of the street on my first try. Perfect. So today when I drove to the absolutely picturesque little waterfront in Picton and saw a simple spot to just back into, I thought, piece of cake. Until I scraped the side of the post I didn’t see. Yep --at least a foot long, paint and all, off the side of the car and right in front of everyone enjoying the views of Picton!  At least it’s on the same side of the car I ripped off both of the hubcaps. The worst part is I didn’t really get upset. I’m so relieved I haven’t had a flat tire or break down on some lonely mountain road, a few minor repairs don’t seem to faze or embarrass me.( This does not go for any of my kids in my family cars!) So then I figured I better just go get in line for the ferry; which is pretty much getting in line and waiting in your car for an hour, then slowly driving on to the really skinny ramp into the large, dark cavern where you just leave your car for three hours. I almost rear ended a car on the way in—I’m going for the trifecta!

The ferry itself, Kaitaki, the largest in NZ, has everything: a café, a food court, a bar, a theater, family lounge, several large areas with reclining seats, souvenir shop, info booth, playground and lookout areas. I staked out a reclining seat next to a window and then bought a sandwich to eat on the way out of port through queen Charlotte Sound. The route is gorgeous and hard to believe the ship could turn at some points. This area is all sounds so it is speckled with islands and fingers going out into the Cook Strait between the two islands. The ship had to make some tight turns and at times it looked like we were going straight into cliffs and then we would make quite a tight turn for a big, heavy ship. The trip past the rocky points, heads and islands was beautiful and worth the ferry ride alone. After we hit open water I went to try and nap. Unfortunately it was freezing in the recliner area and after an hour I gave up. In the family area I could hear singing so I went to investigate. A group of Maori’s was sitting around and one had a guitar and another had a uke and they were singing folk songs. At first it was just a few of them, but it got going and they started singing more songs in their native Maori language, which is very pretty and seems sort of Polynesian to us. One man got up and did a certain dance and then a woman got up and did an answering dance. They all laughed at each other and clapped. Then a bunch of the women and girls got up and started dancing with hand and arm movements that all coordinated. It was beautiful and fun. Then the Maori men, old and young, joined in. Many people had their cameras out and were filming. We all clapped and no one wanted it to stop, but we were in Wellington. What a treat to witness, and how special to be a part of a culture that has held on to so many traditions they were so proud to possess.

So off I drive off into Wellington my biggest town so far. No idea where I’m going (they just dump you off in some back port somewhere) until Mrs. Tomtom finds a satellite. Then I am on a real, expressway, only they call it a motorway and it only lasts about 10 minutes, but that was kind of neat being all backwards on an expressway. And once I’m out of town I’m driving along the coast again with cliffs on one side and the sea on the other. As I round a big bend I come smack dab against Bali Hai. I look out to sea and across several ribbons of slightly differing shades of blue green ocean, through a mist and beneath a few, frothy clouds I see a mountainous island and in my mind I hear the sound track from South Pacific and Bloody Mary singing Bali Hai.  It’s right here, right now. Unbelievable.  I pull over because I have to have a photo even though it will never show what I saw.

I push on knowing I have to make it a couple more hours to get to my hotel. I have a funny little place booked tonight and it will be interesting to see how it turns out. It’s a brand new motor inn that sounds like it’s trying to be modern and funky. Hopefully better than the Bates motel. The rest of my ride settles to inland and pastoral. I’ve never used that word before, but I think it’s a good word for the landscape. Lots of rolling hills, sheep, cattle. I pass a very sad field of sheep. They are naked. Sheep are not cute when shorn. Their skin is sort of pinky, grey and wrinkled and they look embarrassed. They should be kept indoors until a little peach fuzz is happening. Then, I am ashamed to admit, I have McDonalds for dinner. I have to go to the bathroom, my gas tank is full, it is the only place to stop, it is 5:45, and I don’t know what would be available at 8:00 in the town I will sleep in –ok? Tastes the same.

I finally arrive at my little motor inn. The interesting thing about NZ is it’s a small country, about the size of Japan or Colorado, so there are not lots of big hotel or motel chains. Every place is usually locally owned and run by the owners and often they are on site. Tonight the owner takes me to my room. Every room in NZ always has coffee and tea set-up and they always give you milk for your coffee when you check in. And all the coffee is what they call ‘plunger coffee’, which is what we call French press. Or you can have instant coffee too.This inn also left me cookies and mints and a newspaper in the morning. It was very compact, but also very modern, well thought out and attention paid to all the details. They also offered to deliver breakfast for a fee. In all, it was a very pleasant surprise. I had survived the ferry ride and my move the North Island. Tomorrow, stinky Rotorua.

Abel Tasman and Back

Dec.2

I couldn’t take a step without extreme pain in my back and leg this morning. I couldn’t possibly hike or tour or even drive far. The driving has just been too much on my back I guess. I had to find a chiropractor. I asked Neville where the nearest ones were and I picked a woman who seemed, from the Yellow Page ad, to be like mine back home. When I get there and was shown into her office I saw an adjusting table that looked just like the one my chiropractor uses. Amazing.  I’ve been to three different chiropractors in Milwaukee and they all have different techniques. But the one I found here happens to have the same technique as the one I use back home. God is watching over me! She checked me out and basically my spine was locked from the neck to the base, my pelvis was locked up and my knees and ankles too. The scrunching and leaning forward and driving those mountain roads had completely locked up my entire body, along with the help of my arthritis. She spent a good amount of time unlocking as much as she could and I made an appointment to come back tomorrow. I still hurt, but at least every step is no longer jarring.

On my way home I decide to drive by the beach. I find a small road that leads to a parking path on the beach. This sandy beach goes all around a huge bay for miles with mountains in the background. I decide to get out and walk in the sand even though I planned to take it very easy today. It is just so beautiful and the sun is shining and people are out walking their dogs. I walk down to the water’s edge and immediately take off my sandals and start wading. It’s warm!  I can’t believe how nice the water is. I stroll for about five minutes one way and then turn around. The people with their dogs are letting them run without leashes. The dogs are having a wonderful time. Most of them are chasing balls and sticks into the water and splashing and going wild with excitement. They meet another dog and do the doggie meet and greet and then take off like cannons chasing each other. I stand and just watch the dogs for awhile.  As I’m sitting drying my feet one of the owners comes and sits and remarks on the beautiful day. We strike up a conversation. Turns out he’s a carnie and saved his dog from the pound, (a beautiful well behaved dog I had fun watching) and she loves riding around the country with him as he moves from town to town, and this is one of the few beaches they allow dog unleashed. This is very typical of all New Zealanders -- friendly and nice and always willing to strike up a conversation.

 I spend the rest of the day on my patio watching the world go by, reading and writing and researching the North Island of NZ. I see the para- surfers go surfing on the bay while the sun is sparkling all around their boards and gaily colored kites that pull them through the water. In the evening I finish my bottle of champagne and watch the sunset and the children’s teams playing soccer in a nearby field.

Dec. 3

I awaken to more back pain and limp to the chiropractor. She says I’m better than yesterday and loosens up even more joints. She loads me up with some natural anti-imflamatories and says she wishes she could keep working in me. I do too, but I leave on Sunday.

I get in my car and head for Abel Tasman Park. Pain or no pain, I’m going to see this famous park. It might only be from my car, but at least I’ll have said I have seen it. I hope the drive isn’t too curvy so it doesn’t undo what the chiropractor just did. Most of the way is pretty easy even though Mrs. Tomtom needs an upgrade on her maps; she didn’t know about the new highway in one area and really wanted me to turn around for about 5 miles. And, I actually got to go on a divided highway for 5.3 kilometers. It wasn’t a real expressway, but it was divided so I felt like I was back in America albeit on the wrong side of the road and the slow lane is the left lane. Weird. And it’s cherry season! I drove through orchard country and the cherries are ripe and for sale. Acres of trees are covered over with netting to protect the fruit from the birds. I stopped and tried one and they were great. $10 a kilo: pretty costly, but exciting.

I was heading for the town of Kaiteriteri, (I can’t pronounce any place I’ve been to or am going to) to take a sea shuttle into Abel Tasman. The park itself is accessed by water, air and road, but is easiest from where I am by water. It is the busiest tramping track in the summer, probably because it is the most accessible to both islands and large cities. Many people will kayak the park, or sail or motor themselves because so much is accessible by water. It has crazy tides with up to 6m difference between low and high tide which has a huge impact on walkers. After driving the last 5 miles of a really winding road (ow!) into Kaiteriteri , I head to one of the shuttle stands and ask about easy walking tours and they show me where they can drop me off and I could just sit on a beach or I could walk an easy track. I decide to go - I got this far. In for a penny, in for a pound.

I head to my car to get my provisions: hat, walking shoes and stick, insect spray, sun block, rain gear, water, nut bar, cell phone and bag. Enough stuff for a week, not three hours. Then back to the beach where I meet the boat. They have a really nifty catamaran that has an electric ramp that unfolds onto the beach so they just drive up to shore, hit a button and the ramp unfolds. You never have to get your feet wet. We take off into gorgeous turquoise blue water on a sunny 70 degree day. The park unfolds to our left with great cliffs, rock formations and tropical forests, and eventually is on all sides of the boat. I am awed by the immensity and the beauty and the fact that there really is no flat land to walk on. Hmmmm.The boat will take me to any of six stops and will also pick up trampers and campers, so some people have lots of gear as they are going out camping and some long haul campers will get picked up on this trip. My stop is the second landing and I am the only one dropped off there. It is a huge cove with a semi-circle of golden sand backed by waving grass and palm trees and cliffs rising behind it. It’s right out of all the photos you see of south Pacific island paradises. As I go down the ramp the guide tells me where the easy walk is, where to be for pick up, and what time they will come back. I’m not too concerned. There are several other boats in the cove, people and a ranger station here too. I am not at the end of nowhere.

As I stumble through the thick sand I note that it looks like pretty y low tide right now. I look at my map and notice that there is another, more difficult walk, which can only be done at low tide, but you get to cross a inlet marsh or mud flat. That sounds really cool to me as I’ve never crossed a low tide pool before. So I go the opposite way I’m supposed to go and hope it’s not too difficult. As soon as I get off the beach the wind dies down which is nice as it was a little wild and cool. I find myself crossing a small bridge into a sunny, quiet and lush jungle. Beautiful. Then I turn right and the path leads straight up a steep hill. Well, I think, I’ll see what happens to my back and turn around if things get bad. I gasp my way up and am really grateful I brought my stick. At the top there is one of those incredible views through the palms of the beach and the ridiculously blue ocean. It’s indescribable and that alone was worth the climb and the whole boat fee and trip. As I tear myself away from this view I see the path now goes perilously downward; this is even harder than going up as it kills my knee. But I see the tidal area beyond so I figure I may as well try. The stick prevent a full out fall and I make it to the bottom which is actually stairs it gets so steep. Once there I find a backpacking couple and the young woman looks very wearily at me and asks how steep it is. I tell her it is very, very steep, but goes down after that. I ask how long they’ve been backpacking and she says this is their second day, but the backpack is much heavier today. I don’t envy them.

I walk out on to the sloppy sand and am awed by its size and see why trampers want to take this shortcut. It cuts out about one and half to two hours if you can get here when the tide is out. This area must be about 20 acres. It is mainly sand with a few rock formations jutting up and some grass near the edges. When the tide is up it fills with water. At that moment there were just a few skinny, shallow streams flowing toward the sea. Quite a few hikers are crossing the area plus a large school group from Germany. I move to where few people are and start looking in the sand. I notice all sorts of little holes and tiny movements. I stand still. They are tiny sand crabs that climb out of their holes when no one is around. I see thousands of them because they glisten in the sun when they sneak out all wet from the sea water. I have always loved sand crabs and now I’m surrounded by them. I start trying to catch them. I stop one from going back in his hole and another one jumps out of his hole and grabs him and holds him. Suddenly the grabber pulls the other one into his hole and they both vanish. Oops, they might be cannibalistic. I keep walking around playing and having a great time. I notice all the other people are very intent on getting across this huge inlet. So intent they are missing this spectacle of the crabs. No one is seeing this. Once again people have a future goal in mind and are missing the moment. They are not present to what is happening right under their feet and I feel sorry for them.  Now I know the tide will rise and the real trampers need the get over the inlet, but many of these people are short hikers like me and really don’t have to cross the inlet at any special time. So why not enjoy it? And guess who I find are the only other people enjoying it? Along comes a couple with a little 2 year old boy. He is having as much fun as I am and his mother taught him how to pick up the crabs, so the two of us find all sorts of them hiding under logs in the streams.  We all stop and talk because the mother noticed my shoes and asks about them. She then notices I have really bad arthritis –very observant woman- and says they have something in NZ everyone takes and I should ask at the pharmacy.  Her husband shows me the baby flounder in the little streams. I couldn’t find them for the life of me, but he kept showing them to me. Very cool! They then gave me advice on where I should go on the North Island and that really helped me decide what to do with my limited time there. They move on to find lunch and I play a little longer. What a nice encounter.

Eventually I know I have to face the big hill so I tramp through the squishy sand and start up. My stick is my faithful companion and pulls me to the top where the view is still phenomenal. I get back to the beach and hike to the ranger station where there is a toilet. Nothing interesting there –sorry. Back on the beach I lay out my rain jacket, sit and drink water and eat my nut bar. Thus refreshed I don my hat and lay down to await the boat. After a 25 minute nap the boat arrives and its back to my car and back to my penthouse. I then clean up and walk down the street to the German restaurant I scoped out the other night. It is early and I am the only patron. I order a wheat beer, crispy schnitzel and spaetzle. I’m starved after only the nut bar so I eat most of the quite good meal and all the beer and walk back home. Then it’s therapeutic bath time and off to bed.