Solo Adventures

I drive and drive and drive... for what feels like centuries, but in reality is 4 hours.

The sun is shining through my window on one side, giving me a lopsided tan and burning my hands and my legs (through my tights I might add! Damn you depleted ozone layer!)

I want to get to the bottom of the South Island and hit the west coast before looping back to Christchurch for Christmas.

I turn towards Kakanui. I navigate multiple turns through endless farmland to a raved about free camping site. When I do finally arrive it's all worth it because, oh my GOD is it ever spectacular! It sits perched above an infinite beach, which is also easily accessible. It's surrounded by lush plants and trees and even contains (GASP) grass! I gladly pay the $5 suggested donation and run down to the beach to watch the surfers. I feel like I'm back in Tofino.

I spend the next day in Oamaru, a funky cool town that boasts “Home of the Steampunk Headquarters.” In the Victorian Quarter all the old buildings are made of limestone and the shops sell Victorian clothing, art, nicknacks. People ride down the street on old bicycles decked out in full Victorian garb. It's so enchanting that I spend the entire day there, before returning to my amazing camping spot. I want to catch a glimpse of the yellow-eyed penguins, but don't want to pay the $20 to see them. I decide that if I'm meant to see them, I'll see them naturally.

The next day I'm off to Dunedin. On the way I stop at a public library to do some writing and by the time I leave it's already nearly 4:00. The drive into Dunedin is treacherous: intense winds blow as Deisi struggles up and down the steep hills. A heavy fog settles in the mountains and I truly feel as though I've just arrived in Scotland. The town itself is busy, hectic. It's best known as a university town and I can see why: it's bustling with young people and tourists alike.
I stop to explore some of the ancient architecture, but I don't end up staying long... College kids yell out car windows to one another, a gaggle of teenage boys catcall me in the square and two girls, who appear to be 12 years old, sit in an alley passing a pipe back and forth. This is so not my scene and I have a splitting headache so I head towards one of the free campsites on the outskirts of town to relax. The site allows for only 5 vehicles to camp and all 5 spots are taken, every other spot is marked with signs that decrees: NO OVERNIGHT CAMPING. I park as close as possible to the arrow indicating the camping area and hope it'll be okay. When I come out of the bathroom I see a security guard speed off and I spot what I assume is a ticket. Thankfully, it's not. It's a pamphlet entitled: “Where to Camp in Dunedin.” Yeah, I get it, thanks for the subtle hint. The nearest free spot is way out of town in the direction I just arrived from. Great. I make the journey back. In the morning it's still foggy and grey and I am so annoyed with this place that I make no effort to see any of the beaches and instead head straight to Balclutha and then down into the Catlins. 

 The Catlins are incredible. I do countless rainforest and waterfall walks and explore the endless beaches. I stop and ask a nice German couple if they would like me to take their picture. We talk for a while and they tell me I should go to Curio Beach to see the yellow-eyed penguins. I consider it. Back at the DOC campsite in Papatowai I chat with a friendly conservation officer. She tells me about her time living in Canada. She insists I MUST go to Curio Beach at dusk to see the penguins. I take this second recommendation as a sign, hastily eat my dinner and make the long drive out to the beach. I'm so glad I did. The penguins make their way one by one up the flat rocks and into the bush to feed their nesting babies. They are so cute as they waddle up the rocks, hopping from one to the other, they even stop as if to pose for photos. The German couple is there and we chitchat. They've just come from school in Auckland and recommend some North Island sights. I return to the campsite and watch The Walking Dead till my laptop dies. One of my best days in New Zealand for sure.

The next morning I want to see more of the Catlins but my lack of navigational skills leads me down a long gravel road. I see some of the rain forest, but end up turning back in frustration. On my way back I get caught in a massive herd of sheep and have to pull over as hundreds of bleating wooly creatures swarm past my van followed by a farmer on an ATV. I'm so thankful to return to paved streets and loop back to Balclutha and all the way to Alexandra where I stop for supplies. It's hot and muggy so I sit for a while by the river. I go to make lunch and make a terrifying discovery: the entire back of the van is covered in a thick layer of dust. All the blankets, cooking utensils, every surface, I can hardly breathe. Awesome. I drive all the way back to Wanaka and find a laundrette in town. Wanaka is a popular tourist destination and the gas station laundry charges $10 a load. I'm disgusted by the price gauging, but even more disgusted by the dust. I know I have no choice, I can't sleep in this filth and can't shake out the blankets on account of the oncoming rain. As my laundry finishes I consider using the showers, but they are $1 a minute. I'll stay dirty, thank you very much.

I drive out to the beautiful Boundary Creek Campground where I stand in the pouring rain wiping down every object and item in the van. It's worth is though to settle into an immaculate van, I almost feel my retched body is unworthy of climbing into such clean sheets.

It's still raining in the morning so I head out towards the glaciers. The Haast overpass is quite stunning, lined with tremendous waterfalls. I stop in the Haast Township (which includes two restaurants and one motel) for coffee and a rest. I'm hesitant to go back out as the weather has become monsoon-like, but it seems like it's going to get worst before it ever gets better so I begrudgingly hit the road towards the next DOC site at Lake Papanui. I can't believe that people are still flying down the road at over 100 while I maintain 80 at the most and let every other vehicle pass me by.
Finally (and not a moment too soon) I arrive at my destination. I spot a sign that says: “During High Rainfall Water Can Reach This Point.” I park as far away from the sign as possible. My arrival is well-timed as the small campsite fills up with like-minded motorists. I retire to the van to continue perusing Truman Capote's In Cold Blood (I like it because its the literary version of Dateline NBC one of my guilty cable pleasures.) I make the foolish error of opening my trunk for all of 10 minutes to make spaghetti and when I return to my nest of blankets the van is crawling with sandflies.

This is a new talent I've developed: killing sandflies. The buggers have covered my feet and face with bites, some of these bites have become bruised welts they're so bad. I have tried to live in peace with them, I tried wearing socks and using bug spray and keeping my doors closed, but it's no use. I have no choice but to destroy them. It's not something I enjoy, you see they can't just be swatted, they're too fast and they see you coming and evade the oncoming hand or book, plus if you do make contact they'll just flutter off, stunned but no worst for wear. No, these demons must be pinched and squished to death. I track them around the van, clutching a handful of toilet paper, waiting for the right moment to strike. Luckily I've discovered their favourite places to congregate: at the top corners of the windows where they stay undetected until I fall asleep. I've become a woman obsessed: my eyes flitter about the van, waiting for one to dare show itself. I'm scared to leave my van even to use to toilet for fear of more getting in. I slather myself in bug spray every few minutes, because I swear if I get even ONE more bite I will fly back to Canada that instant (obviously I am being dramatic, I will, however unleash a string of obscenities the likes of which my fellow campers have never heard.)

The next day its still raining, but its eased up, so I head to the glaciers. I stop at Fox Glacier. But because of the river swelling and landslides the park has been closed and the viewing point is 200 meters. I can't see shit. I try neighbouring Franz Josef, viewing area is at 2000 meters. Great. I hike up a little ways in hopes of catching a glimpse, but get caught up in another downpour (and never do spot the glacier.) I'm seriously bummed. 

 In the Franz Josef Township I enquire about a day pass at the YHA Backpackers.
“$15” the man at the counter says.

He must catch my expression of shock and horror cause he quickly asks, “Do you just want to use the shower?” I nod and I guess he recognizes my desperation cause he lets me in for free. I can't thank him enough. (Whoever you are, I love you!)

I talk to JD on iMessage and tell him about my day. He tells me how awesome the glaciers were when he saw them (SALT ON MY WOUNDS!)

I consider staying but have no idea when the trails might re-open and need to escape the rain so I head up the Westcoast to Hokitika, a cool little town with a fabulous beach walk. I go to the nearest DOC site that is out of town and in the middle of no where, nestled amongst sparse farms. It's the strangest spot I've camped yet. A weird, chicken-like creature lurks around and I am forced to park in the mud. It looks as if people have been camped for months, yet no one is around. Eerie.

I put the blinds up and watch Seinfeld (thanks Vanessa and Neo!) until my laptop dies. I've foolishly rushed through through In Cold Blood and am out of reading materials so I go to bed.

The next day I start to Punakaiki (aka the Pancake Rocks.) I stop frequently along the winding west coast to dip my feet in the ocean. It's the nicest day I've had yet. The pancakes rocks are SO COOL! Layers and layers of rock emerge from the roaring ocean and intense blowholes. I love that the formation of these rocks is speculated on, but ultimately still a mystery. The whole walk around them is only about 15 minutes so I go into town in search of a beach. The one I find is the nicest yet: more layered rocks line a deep hidden cove surrounded by trickling waterfalls, whitewash explodes onto the rough shore. I lay in the sun and since I'm sans book, I stare off into space. 

Time has flown by and since I don't want to be stuck in holiday traffic I start making my way back to Christchurch down Lewis Pass. I stop to camp near Victoria Forest and sandflies immediately accost my van. No matter, I've gotten good at reaching my cooler without getting out of the car and I've grown quite fond of peanut butter sandwiches.