Jordan wanted to see some friends before we settle down to work and she finds a good deal on flights so she decides to head to Aus for a quick trip. I opt to stay in New Zealand and sight see (I'm coming for you eventually Aus, but I want a solid month to explore.) We return to Christchurch for her flight. It's been a couple days since our last showers so we meander through town in search of a backpackers hostel we can sneak into. Sadly, because of the earthquake, accommodation options are minimal. As we look around the city, all of Christchurch's young citizens are out and about. It is, after all, a Saturday night. Now I have no problem with being unshowered, unkempt, and generally unattractive, but at that moment I felt like the lowest type of low class. Keep in mind, we just came from Tofino where there is one bar (that's more of a pub) and it's totally acceptable to attend in gumboots and plaid. In Christchurch, EVERYONE is dressed like they belong in a magazine. The girls are wearing glamorous cocktail dresses and high heels, the guys are in dress shirts and trousers and smell of expensive cologne, even the doormen are wearing suits! And here are Jordan and I, in our ripped jackets and toques, unshowered and seeking motel pools in hopes we can sneak into their shower rooms. Needless to say, we receive some looks and never do find those showers.
We drive to the airport and park on a side street to sleep as Jordan has to be up at 4 am to head to her terminal. I drive her to departures and give her a huge huge and return to my spot to catch a couple more hours of sleep. In the morning I walk down the street to McDonalds to use their bathroom and help myself to their wifi and hey, I may as well treat myself to a McD's breakfast! It's been forever.
"Hi, I'll have an Egg McMuffin meal with a coffee."
The girl behind the counter looks perplexed even though this location has its own barista counters with high grade espresso machines and every flavour shot imaginable and this is why:
In New Zealand there is no such thing as drip coffee.
People are fond of instant coffee, (it's actually not bad) there is the occasional coffee plunger, you can get espresso, cappuccinos, lattes, whatever! But just a "coffee" is hard to come by. I read her reaction and immediately correct myself, "Just an Americano."
"I don't think we can do that..."
LIES! I know they can.
"Okay, just an espresso then."
"So... like a short white? A macchiato?" (even though I can clearly see the word 'espresso' on the order board.)
"I just don't want cream or milk in my coffee!" I cry, exasperated (it's early and I am without caffeine.) I shouldn't have such high expectations of McDonalds and this 15 year old girl is obviously new and not privy to the world of coffee options, but it shouldn't be this hard!
"Well... I can get them to make it without milk."
"Yes. Please. That would be great, thank you," I say, relieved.
She spends about 7 minutes voiding my order and re-ringing it through. I'm pretty sure she overcharges me. My coffee arrives and it's full of milk. I drink it anyway.
I get a text from Aileen's daughter, Vanessa, offering to take me site seeing. I google map her address and screenshot the directions and take a deep breath.
Travelling alone doesn't bother me at all, I feel comfortable driving the van and navigating the highways. I feel safe in this country and safer now that I have an itinerary of campsites, but driving through Christchurch scares the bejesus out of me! It's already a huge, spread out city with lots of 1 way streets and traffic, but since the earthquake roads are completely closed, detours are in place and bridges are deemed unstable, not to mention there are huge potholes and ongoing construction. I know Vanessa's street is off Columbo, I know where Columbo is. What I don't anticipate is that my chosen route will not be available for access and that I'll get completely turned around due to detours. I do find my way there in once piece just as Lucinda phones to ask if I've gotten lost.
The girls take me up Deyer's Pass looking down onto Governor's Bay. We can see Lyttelton, Quail Island, all of Christchurch. It's unreal. Lucinda has a lunch to attend, but Vanessa, Neo and even baby Arlo take me out to the container mall (a really cool makeshift mall that has sprung up entirely of containers) as well as the square and some other sites. We stop at the great and historical cathedral, once a grandiose and beloved landmark which now lies half fallen and surrounded by fencing and scaffolds. It's humbling. Vanessa tells me they may not be able to repair it. I imagine what a beautiful city it must have been before all the devastation.
Back at her house we're joined by Lou, Hoff, and Aileen. We order takeout for dinner. I'm so in love with the fact that you can get burgers, fish and chips AND Chinese food at any given take-away restaurant.
Aileen and Ollie offer me their spare room again AND invite me for Christmas.
I don't know how I got so lucky to have this wonderful family in my life, but I am ever grateful for their warmth and hospitality.
And on that note, my solo adventure begins!
Friday, 26 December 2014
Saturday, 20 December 2014
Abel Tasman? And back again...
We drive through Mouteka and up towards Abel Tasman. Because we dilly-dallyed a bit leaving Nelson it's getting late in the day, but we figure we must be getting close as we follow the signs that read: "Abel Tasman National Park."
I am truly excited because everyone I've met has raved about this coast. We ascend a steep windy hill into lush jungle fauna. We stop at some caves but discover they can only be viewed through a tour, the last tour is just about to leave and costs $15 a person. Yes, we are that frugal and don't want to commit to an hour tour with forty Asian tourists all over the age of 60.
We make another discovery at this pit stop: our trunk will NOT open and therefore we can't really access our cooking utensils, food and other life necessities. We trudge on a little less excited.
We see a sign: ABEL TASMAN NATIONAL PARK and follow the arrow down a dirt road. We follow said road deeper and deeper into the woods. The road meanders along steep cliffs and barely allows room for two cars to pass each other. Jordan drives 10 km/h and we still kick up heaps of dust, plus we are starting to run low on gas. Where are the sparkling seas? Where are the penguins? What the hell is this place? I'm disappointed and embarrassed that I dragged Jordan to this treacherous place.
We reach a grassy area and a sign decrees: "FREEDOM CAMPING: $5 A PERSON"
We pull towards the information area to get some answers. We are obviously in the wrong place (or Lonely Planet is a goddamn liar) and we are slightly creeped out by this utterly secluded place void of any other campers so we opt to head elsewhere. But first: to try and sort out the trunk. Jordan pulls wildly on the handle, I go inside and push, we try to pry it with a stick: nothing.
There are a couple guys doing some sort of construction nearby and one comes over and asks if we're alright. We explain our trunk situation.
"Sometimes the dust gets into the central locking system and jams it up," he explains, "I could grab my tools and have a look if you'd like."
His name is James and he has a beautiful shy puppy named Jade. He pops off the back panel and gets to looking at the lock. He tells us he is helping to build stages for the upcoming Luminate Festival: 8 days celebrating the power of women and consisting of meditation workshops and drum circles. It sounds heavenly. He discovers the problem: there's a broken bit in the handle which will need to be replaced. In the meantime, he shows us how to open the trunk from inside. He is one of the sweetest, most genuine people I've ever met, but then again, all the Kiwis I've met have been the same way. We start back towards the road.
On the way back down we nearly die twice as crazy tourists in vans coming flying blindly around corners. One woman in a camper panics when she sees us, slams on her brakes and starts backing awkwardly into the mountain where her vehicle promptly gets stuck. Jordan and I sigh and get out to help her boyfriend push it out. We feel we've paid our good deed forward. We stop at a hotel bar to use their wifi and have a cider (our necessary purchase.) We sit in their 'beer gardens' (read: a gravel pit with picnic tables) and try to research other camping options but nothing is nearby and the iSite is closed. We go to the iSite parking lot anyway and cook dinner there. When we first arrive there are several other vans, but gradually, one by one, they disappear until its only us and a van with a German couple.
"Excuse me, do you know if we can camp here?" they ask.
"Probably not, I'm not sure though."
"The nearest camping site is 40 minutes away and we want to be here for the morning. Where are you guys going to sleep?"
"I guess on a random side street," I tell them, "it's worked of us so far."
They look terrified by the idea. They watch us suspiciously as we drive away. We find a quiet street and park across from a huge field, but on the way we've encountered a new problem in the ways of a terribly loud rattle occurring in our undercarriage. We begin to fret that the van is damaged from our rocky road escapades. We summate that its no problem that can't be dealt with another day and fall into a restless sleep.
In the morning its pouring rain. We drive back to the iSite and sit under the protection of our trunk while sipping coffee and waiting for them to open.
At 9 am we get directions to the ACTUAL Tasman Abel Coast (an easily missed street, I truly hope that I'm not the only tourist to have made this mistake.) Even though it's pouring rain we want to see it so we take the scenic route throughout Kaiteri. The rattling had stopped (we assume it was a large rock that got caught up there and managed to release itself.)
It's still raining and we are without proper waterproof footwear but want to see some of the coast (the entire trek is 3 to 5 days) so we decide to do it barefoot.
Now let me just start by saying that this summer in Tofino it was not at all uncommon to see people walking through the woods barefoot. In fact, it's a great way to avoid ruining your shoes with the unavoidable mud. Also, since I've arrived in New Zealand I've notice people walking barefoot down city street and in grocery stores so I didn't think it would be a big deal. That was not the case at Abel Tasman Park. Other hikers, decked out in expensive gear, leered, scoffed and made snide comments. An older woman actually scolded me.
I don't see what the big deal is, it was so warm out and it was a relatively flat walking path and we didn't go that far. Granted the entire "tramp" ended up being close to 4 hours and our feet were slightly tender after, but no worst for wear.
We start back down the coast as we're running short on time before Jordan flies out of Christchurch to Aus. We drive back through Nelson and towards Picton in search of the "Campbell Memorial Reserve" touted as a free camping site off the highway.
We pull into a street with a huge banner that reads: "FREE OVERNIGHT CAMPING." We drive down a driveway containing some weird townhouse-like cottages and stop at the 'office' for information. The office is, in fact, someones apartment and on the sliding door there is a tiny post-it note that faintly reads: Just come in, I won't hear you knock. Lynne.
I hastily enter the home and find myself smack dab in the middle of their kitchen.
"Hello?" I call. No response.
"Hello?!" I shout, a little louder as I begin backing towards the door.
'Lynne' appears.
"Sorry to bother you," I say, "But do you know where the Campbell Memorial Reserve is?"
"I have no idea. Are you looking for overnight camping?"
I nod.
"Well you're in the right place! Just keep going around the corner."
"Down this driveway?" I ask suspiciously.
"Yup! And right on the corner, and bundle up hunny, it's going to be a cold one."
I climb back in the van. Jordan looks at me, puzzled as to why I just walked into someones house without knocking.
"Apparently we can park down here," I tell her.
We drive a bit further.
"You mean this gravel pit with a wire fence and broken school bus?"
"Umm.. let's stay right, maybe she mean another corner."
We end up down a super narrow road that leads us to: a dead end, with no space to turn around. We barely get the van out and flee the creepy village.
We locate the "free campsite." I use the word "campsite" loosely as it is a gravel pit on the side of a highway. It is packed with vans and has a single bathroom with undrinkable tap water. But it's free! And it's convenient!
We go back into Picton, since we are so close and after all, it deserves a second chance right? There, we each pay $5 to use the shower. I wanna make my $5 count so I take an hour long shower. I bask in the scalding hot water, I wash my hair, TWICE, words cannot express the joy I felt in that moment during my first "real" shower in over a week!
We explore a bit more and walk out to the spit. It seems promising but the Harbour Views are mediocre at best. Sorry to harp on you Picton, but I'm not won.
We stop back near Kaikoura at the Okiwa Bay Reserve. It's an INCREDIBLE free campsite that is surrounded by trees and grass! Real live grass! It overlooks the ocean. We are excited because we want to hike to the waterfall and see the baby seal colony that Garrett has told us about. We drink a bunch of wine and treat ourselves to hot dogs to celebrate our pre-Christmas together before we part ways for 2 weeks. When I wake up it's POURING rain, I'm talking buckets, and all the other campers have left. It's also 1:00 in the afternoon. We decide the baby seals will have to wait for another day (BOO!)
It's back to Christchurch we go...
I am truly excited because everyone I've met has raved about this coast. We ascend a steep windy hill into lush jungle fauna. We stop at some caves but discover they can only be viewed through a tour, the last tour is just about to leave and costs $15 a person. Yes, we are that frugal and don't want to commit to an hour tour with forty Asian tourists all over the age of 60.
We make another discovery at this pit stop: our trunk will NOT open and therefore we can't really access our cooking utensils, food and other life necessities. We trudge on a little less excited.
We see a sign: ABEL TASMAN NATIONAL PARK and follow the arrow down a dirt road. We follow said road deeper and deeper into the woods. The road meanders along steep cliffs and barely allows room for two cars to pass each other. Jordan drives 10 km/h and we still kick up heaps of dust, plus we are starting to run low on gas. Where are the sparkling seas? Where are the penguins? What the hell is this place? I'm disappointed and embarrassed that I dragged Jordan to this treacherous place.
We reach a grassy area and a sign decrees: "FREEDOM CAMPING: $5 A PERSON"
We pull towards the information area to get some answers. We are obviously in the wrong place (or Lonely Planet is a goddamn liar) and we are slightly creeped out by this utterly secluded place void of any other campers so we opt to head elsewhere. But first: to try and sort out the trunk. Jordan pulls wildly on the handle, I go inside and push, we try to pry it with a stick: nothing.
There are a couple guys doing some sort of construction nearby and one comes over and asks if we're alright. We explain our trunk situation.
"Sometimes the dust gets into the central locking system and jams it up," he explains, "I could grab my tools and have a look if you'd like."
His name is James and he has a beautiful shy puppy named Jade. He pops off the back panel and gets to looking at the lock. He tells us he is helping to build stages for the upcoming Luminate Festival: 8 days celebrating the power of women and consisting of meditation workshops and drum circles. It sounds heavenly. He discovers the problem: there's a broken bit in the handle which will need to be replaced. In the meantime, he shows us how to open the trunk from inside. He is one of the sweetest, most genuine people I've ever met, but then again, all the Kiwis I've met have been the same way. We start back towards the road.
On the way back down we nearly die twice as crazy tourists in vans coming flying blindly around corners. One woman in a camper panics when she sees us, slams on her brakes and starts backing awkwardly into the mountain where her vehicle promptly gets stuck. Jordan and I sigh and get out to help her boyfriend push it out. We feel we've paid our good deed forward. We stop at a hotel bar to use their wifi and have a cider (our necessary purchase.) We sit in their 'beer gardens' (read: a gravel pit with picnic tables) and try to research other camping options but nothing is nearby and the iSite is closed. We go to the iSite parking lot anyway and cook dinner there. When we first arrive there are several other vans, but gradually, one by one, they disappear until its only us and a van with a German couple.
"Excuse me, do you know if we can camp here?" they ask.
"Probably not, I'm not sure though."
"The nearest camping site is 40 minutes away and we want to be here for the morning. Where are you guys going to sleep?"
"I guess on a random side street," I tell them, "it's worked of us so far."
They look terrified by the idea. They watch us suspiciously as we drive away. We find a quiet street and park across from a huge field, but on the way we've encountered a new problem in the ways of a terribly loud rattle occurring in our undercarriage. We begin to fret that the van is damaged from our rocky road escapades. We summate that its no problem that can't be dealt with another day and fall into a restless sleep.
In the morning its pouring rain. We drive back to the iSite and sit under the protection of our trunk while sipping coffee and waiting for them to open.
At 9 am we get directions to the ACTUAL Tasman Abel Coast (an easily missed street, I truly hope that I'm not the only tourist to have made this mistake.) Even though it's pouring rain we want to see it so we take the scenic route throughout Kaiteri. The rattling had stopped (we assume it was a large rock that got caught up there and managed to release itself.)
It's still raining and we are without proper waterproof footwear but want to see some of the coast (the entire trek is 3 to 5 days) so we decide to do it barefoot.
Now let me just start by saying that this summer in Tofino it was not at all uncommon to see people walking through the woods barefoot. In fact, it's a great way to avoid ruining your shoes with the unavoidable mud. Also, since I've arrived in New Zealand I've notice people walking barefoot down city street and in grocery stores so I didn't think it would be a big deal. That was not the case at Abel Tasman Park. Other hikers, decked out in expensive gear, leered, scoffed and made snide comments. An older woman actually scolded me.
I don't see what the big deal is, it was so warm out and it was a relatively flat walking path and we didn't go that far. Granted the entire "tramp" ended up being close to 4 hours and our feet were slightly tender after, but no worst for wear.
It was too rainy to bring my camera so you get a stock photo. Deal with it.
We pull into a street with a huge banner that reads: "FREE OVERNIGHT CAMPING." We drive down a driveway containing some weird townhouse-like cottages and stop at the 'office' for information. The office is, in fact, someones apartment and on the sliding door there is a tiny post-it note that faintly reads: Just come in, I won't hear you knock. Lynne.
I hastily enter the home and find myself smack dab in the middle of their kitchen.
"Hello?" I call. No response.
"Hello?!" I shout, a little louder as I begin backing towards the door.
'Lynne' appears.
"Sorry to bother you," I say, "But do you know where the Campbell Memorial Reserve is?"
"I have no idea. Are you looking for overnight camping?"
I nod.
"Well you're in the right place! Just keep going around the corner."
"Down this driveway?" I ask suspiciously.
"Yup! And right on the corner, and bundle up hunny, it's going to be a cold one."
I climb back in the van. Jordan looks at me, puzzled as to why I just walked into someones house without knocking.
"Apparently we can park down here," I tell her.
We drive a bit further.
"You mean this gravel pit with a wire fence and broken school bus?"
"Umm.. let's stay right, maybe she mean another corner."
We end up down a super narrow road that leads us to: a dead end, with no space to turn around. We barely get the van out and flee the creepy village.
We locate the "free campsite." I use the word "campsite" loosely as it is a gravel pit on the side of a highway. It is packed with vans and has a single bathroom with undrinkable tap water. But it's free! And it's convenient!
We go back into Picton, since we are so close and after all, it deserves a second chance right? There, we each pay $5 to use the shower. I wanna make my $5 count so I take an hour long shower. I bask in the scalding hot water, I wash my hair, TWICE, words cannot express the joy I felt in that moment during my first "real" shower in over a week!
We explore a bit more and walk out to the spit. It seems promising but the Harbour Views are mediocre at best. Sorry to harp on you Picton, but I'm not won.
We stop back near Kaikoura at the Okiwa Bay Reserve. It's an INCREDIBLE free campsite that is surrounded by trees and grass! Real live grass! It overlooks the ocean. We are excited because we want to hike to the waterfall and see the baby seal colony that Garrett has told us about. We drink a bunch of wine and treat ourselves to hot dogs to celebrate our pre-Christmas together before we part ways for 2 weeks. When I wake up it's POURING rain, I'm talking buckets, and all the other campers have left. It's also 1:00 in the afternoon. We decide the baby seals will have to wait for another day (BOO!)
It's back to Christchurch we go...
Tuesday, 16 December 2014
Picton and Nelson
We leave Marfels Beach and head towards Picton. All along highway 1 every sign states: Piction, Picton, Picton! We have huge expectations for this infamous town.
When we do arrive, we're highly disappointed. The city centre is a measly two blocks. The harbour is nice but compared to what we've seen it's underwhelming. I guess the whole draw to Picton is that the inter island ferry travels from its port to Wellington.
We go to a used bookstore and the owner ushers us all out at 5:00 on the dot (after multiple warnings that he is closing soon.) Whatever. His assortment of 80's self-help books average at $12 a piece.
We walk past the museum: it's the size of a trailer, it costs $7 for entry and anyway, it's already closed.
We walk to the laundrette. The owner tells us its at least $10 to do one small load of laundry. The sky is overcast and adds to the overall gloominess of the town and makes us not want to walk to harbour. Needless to say we hightail it out of Picton and stay on the outskirts of town.
We have better luck in Nelson. We're greeted by beautiful beaches and gardens. The sky is grey but the weather is warm and balmy. We even arrive at the perfect time to enjoy the Christmas Parade (it is actually pretty impressive.) We check out different shops and go for coffee. We meander through the Queen's Garden (it's extraordinary! Hands down the nicest garden I've ever seen, anywhere!) We go to the library and work on our resumes and do a bunch of other grown-up crap.
At this point in our trip we have come to the realization that "freedom camping" isn't just some hippy free-for-all without rules and restrictions (illegal camping can lead to huge bylaw fines, we are truly lucky we made it this far unscathed) so we go to the local iSite. The nice lady gives us a map and says: "You can camp anywhere in these yellow ares as long as you're 50 meters near a public bathroom." We pick a sport near the marina and Tahunanui Beach. Actually finding the area is an epic pain in the ass and when we do we discover its totally industrial. We eat some dinner and walk down the boardwalk. We decide to treat ourselves to a movie night and since I just finished Gone Girl and Jordan has read it as well, we think it's fitting.
We go to a quaint theatre in town. The guy behind the counter is flabbergasted when Jordan asks for a "pop".
"Pardon?"
"Er... soda?"
"I don't know what you're saying."
"Like... Coca Cola."
"Oh... Oh! You mean a drink..."
I guess? (I've now learned that 'fizzy drink' is the accepted terminology.)
The theatre has about 10 seats, its an intimate experience and we strike up a conversation with a Swiss guy about whether or not the movie will compare to the book (it did, David Fincher killed it!)
We pass out in a parking lot at the marina.
We continue to do "adult" things the next day (run errands, grocery shop, go to the pharmacy, etc, etc) and lo and behold, what do we see cruising down Halifax Street? None other than the Kiwi-Mobile itself! It's here in Nelson and being driven by two absolute babes! I wave and then realize they have NO idea why I'm waving, hence the weird looks. I hope to run into them as I'm curious to how much they paid (and I have great segway to strike up a conversation with two travelling hunks.)
We make dinner at Tahunanui Beach (quickly becoming our favourite spot) and walk the bustling beach in the falling darkness.
In the morning we enjoy coffee from our fabulous new French Press (or, the less enchanting New Zealand name: Coffee Plunger) and sit it at the beach before we head to Abel Tasman at the head of the South Island.
When we do arrive, we're highly disappointed. The city centre is a measly two blocks. The harbour is nice but compared to what we've seen it's underwhelming. I guess the whole draw to Picton is that the inter island ferry travels from its port to Wellington.
We go to a used bookstore and the owner ushers us all out at 5:00 on the dot (after multiple warnings that he is closing soon.) Whatever. His assortment of 80's self-help books average at $12 a piece.
We walk past the museum: it's the size of a trailer, it costs $7 for entry and anyway, it's already closed.
We walk to the laundrette. The owner tells us its at least $10 to do one small load of laundry. The sky is overcast and adds to the overall gloominess of the town and makes us not want to walk to harbour. Needless to say we hightail it out of Picton and stay on the outskirts of town.
We have better luck in Nelson. We're greeted by beautiful beaches and gardens. The sky is grey but the weather is warm and balmy. We even arrive at the perfect time to enjoy the Christmas Parade (it is actually pretty impressive.) We check out different shops and go for coffee. We meander through the Queen's Garden (it's extraordinary! Hands down the nicest garden I've ever seen, anywhere!) We go to the library and work on our resumes and do a bunch of other grown-up crap.
At this point in our trip we have come to the realization that "freedom camping" isn't just some hippy free-for-all without rules and restrictions (illegal camping can lead to huge bylaw fines, we are truly lucky we made it this far unscathed) so we go to the local iSite. The nice lady gives us a map and says: "You can camp anywhere in these yellow ares as long as you're 50 meters near a public bathroom." We pick a sport near the marina and Tahunanui Beach. Actually finding the area is an epic pain in the ass and when we do we discover its totally industrial. We eat some dinner and walk down the boardwalk. We decide to treat ourselves to a movie night and since I just finished Gone Girl and Jordan has read it as well, we think it's fitting.
We go to a quaint theatre in town. The guy behind the counter is flabbergasted when Jordan asks for a "pop".
"Pardon?"
"Er... soda?"
"I don't know what you're saying."
"Like... Coca Cola."
"Oh... Oh! You mean a drink..."
I guess? (I've now learned that 'fizzy drink' is the accepted terminology.)
The theatre has about 10 seats, its an intimate experience and we strike up a conversation with a Swiss guy about whether or not the movie will compare to the book (it did, David Fincher killed it!)
We pass out in a parking lot at the marina.
We continue to do "adult" things the next day (run errands, grocery shop, go to the pharmacy, etc, etc) and lo and behold, what do we see cruising down Halifax Street? None other than the Kiwi-Mobile itself! It's here in Nelson and being driven by two absolute babes! I wave and then realize they have NO idea why I'm waving, hence the weird looks. I hope to run into them as I'm curious to how much they paid (and I have great segway to strike up a conversation with two travelling hunks.)
We make dinner at Tahunanui Beach (quickly becoming our favourite spot) and walk the bustling beach in the falling darkness.
In the morning we enjoy coffee from our fabulous new French Press (or, the less enchanting New Zealand name: Coffee Plunger) and sit it at the beach before we head to Abel Tasman at the head of the South Island.
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