The Road to Queenstown: Driving Down the South Island

2/8/14

    It's been a full week since I last wrote, and that week has been extremely eventful.  Accordingly, I have taken almost as many pictures over these last seven days as I have during all of my prior time here in New Zealand.  My parents and I left Blenheim immediately after my last post, and we made our way westward into Nelson, where we checked in to the Grand Mercuire hotel.  This last week traveling with my family has been a welcome break from constantly staying in hostels; they're always a great time, full of friendly and energetic people who, like me, are out to see the world, but the quality of these hotels I've stayed in recently is appreciated tremendously.  Many of the buildings in Nelson demonstrate a very traditional English sort of architectural style, and our new hotel was no exception.

Just across the street was a similarly quaint little English pub, where we took the majority of our meals during our stay in Nelson.  The pub was called 'The Honest Lawyer,' which I thought to be quite funny, though the humor was lost on my parents, both of whom practice law.

    We stayed in Nelson for two nights, and we were happy to discover that the Speight's Ale House there was showing the Super Bowl on all screens.  It didn't prove to be much of a game, but as this isn't a blog focusing on sports commentary, we won't be dwelling much on the analytics of that.  All I'll say is this: good on ya, Russell, for getting yourself a ring and doing Richmond proud.
    The acclaimed Abel-Tasman national park lies just outside of Nelson, so we were determined to drive out there to pay a visit after being prompted to do so by so many people we've met in New Zealand.  There we encountered the biggest beach that I personally have ever seen in all my life, with sand stretching out towards the water for what I estimate to be at least half a mile.  In that sand, I left a very patriotic mark of our passing:

Just across the sand was a striking range of mountains, one of which was cloaked in a perfect blanket of clouds.

    We made our way down the west coast of the South Island after departing Nelson, heading for some of New Zealand's most iconic glaciers.  We pulled off the road to stretch our legs on a hike to the famous 'pancake rocks,' which proved to be well worth the time invested.  I can best describe them as narrow towers of jutting rocks that rose up out of the ground, each being multi-layered and looking much like a mineral stack of pancakes.

We also encountered an incredible surge pool right next to the pancake rocks, where you could watch swells of water come rolling in from the Tasman sea and crash upon the rock face, spewing a watery mist high up into the air.

    We stopped off in Franz Josef after about six hours of driving, where we would be able to access the acclaimed Franz Josef glacier for which the town was named.  The morning after our arrival, we went on the necessary hike to access the glacier (or glay-seeah, as the Kiwis call it), and were blown away by an array of gorgeous waterfalls scattered along the trail.

    At the end of a short hike, we were greeted by a rising wall of blue ice sandwiched between looming mountains on either side.  The glacier was a real sight; the intense blue color it displayed from top to bottom stood in stark contrast to the dark rock of the surrounding mountainsides.

The spectacle that the Franz Josef glacier and its surrounding waterfalls provided us proved to be the perfect stop to bisect our drive south to Queenstown, and well worth the slightly later start that we got off to on our drive that day.
    We expected our only stop on our second day of driving to be the popular Lake Wanaka that lies just outside of Queenstown, but we happened upon another short hiking trail that led to a waterfall just after getting through the Haast pass, and we quickly elected to explore it.  This again turned out to be an excellent decision, for the waterfall proved to be one of the most magnificent I've yet seen in my travels here, despite a ridiculous amount of sand flies upon the nearby riverbank.  (Sand flies, by the way, are a nasty sort of bug here in New Zealand that bite you relentlessly, leaving unpleasant red spots on your skin that itch like crazy and always remind me of the chicken pox).

    Our last stop approaching Queenstown was Lake Wanaka, as expected.  Though I had previously heard much about the lake, nothing prepared me for what I encountered.  The lake was enormous, and equally beautiful thanks to the sprawling mountains surrounding it.  This, I thought, must be the beginning of New Zealand's best impersonation of the Great Lakes.

Like many of the New Zealand landscapes I had encountered before, the lake was absolutely stunning, and I found myself hard-pressed to keep my eyes on the road after we'd piled back into the car to resume our journey to Queenstown.

This is what a road in New Zealand looks like.
    After a short drive from Lake Wanaka, we rounded a bend in the road and found ourselves upon a vista looking out over the valley in which Queenstown is nestled.  It's a spectacular valley, and I was immediately filled with a sense of overwhelming satisfaction that this was the place I'd be calling home for the next six months.

    I've been in Queenstown for several days now, but I think it would be best to recount that experience in a separate entry.  Which, fortunately, I will begin composing immediately after posting this one, and will likely contain just as many photos, most of which I snapped during a helicopter tour of Milford Sound.

To be continued (very, very shortly),

Jack

LOTR Film/Special Effects Studio & Wine Country in the South Island

2/1/14

            It’s been a while since I last posted, and a lot has happened in that span of time.  Before I left the North Island behind, I decided to pay a visit to the special effects studio outside of Wellington known as the Weta Workshop.  Weta does all the props, costumes, and special effects for the Lord of the Rings and Hobbit movies, as well as many other well-known films, such as The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe series, The Adventures of TinTin, and Avatar.  They even did a lot of work for the famous Halo video game franchise.

            The first thing you see upon arriving at Weta is three gigantic statues of the trolls from The Hobbit, mimicking the positions in which they were turned to stone by the rising sun.  The statues are located just outside the front door, and they look big enough to be life-sized (though who can really say, with none of us having much lived experience with trolls).  Walking into the Weta cave, as it’s called, you encounter a bunch of glass cases containing props used in the movies.  These cases contain everything from swords to axes, helms to hauberks, Uruk-hai weapons to hobbit feet.  Perhaps the coolest things I saw were the original Sting blade, the legs and feet of Bilbo Baggins, a full suit of Easterling armor, and the wizard hat and staff of Gandalf the Grey, as well as Radagast the Brown.

            Of course, Weta also featured an extremely overpriced gift shop, and I indulged myself enough to buy a replica of Sauron’s ring of power (which I haven’t taken off since).  I thought about getting Aragon’s ring instead, but immediately after trying it on I realized I couldn’t pull it off nearly as well as Viggo Mortensen does.  Weta also offered guided tours through their actual workshop, so that you could see their designers and prop makers in action, as well as even more original props from the films they’ve worked on.  I went on one of the tours, and though the workshop was small, it was well worth the low price of admission to see firsthand.  There were countless weapons and pieces of armor from Lord of the Rings, the giant castle from Prince Caspain (which isn’t so giant after all, and is constructed entirely from foam) and even a fully functioning warthog from Halo, which several of Weta’s employees have apparently used as their wedding vehicle.  We saw props being constructed for some random TV show that I forget the name of, and I was brimming with questions for our guide, which she patiently answered.  The mounted machine gun on the warthog, it turns out, is the only non-fully functional part of the vehicle; it spins and makes a lot of noise, but it doesn’t fire bullets.  And the creative genius of Weta’s employees was only used on props and costumes from Lord of the Rings that lacked any description whatsoever; otherwise, they stayed completely true to Tolkien’s books, as Peter Jackson wouldn’t have it any other way.

            After about an hour of touring through the workshop, I headed back into the Weta cave to watch a short documentary they show every thirty minutes that goes into detail about how they’ve done some of their more renowned special effects, as well as the process by which many of their masterful props are manufactured.  It was a brief film, but just long enough to paint a picture of the wonders accomplished by the Weta workshop and the people behind that work.

            On January 23^rd, I drove my Jeep into the cargo bay of the Interislander ferry and made ready to depart for the South Island of New Zealand.  I arrived in Picton at 8:30 P.M., and drove directly into the small town of Blenheim, where a few of my friends I’d met in Auckland were staying.  Blenheim is the capital of wine country in the South Island, and there really isn’t much to do there aside from touring the local vineyards and indulging in wine tastings, which are mostly free.  Each day I spent in Blenheim I would go for a run first thing in the morning along the banks of the river that cuts its way through the valley, and then head out to local wineries with my friends from the hostel to try as many different wines from the region as we could manage, usually getting to eight or nine wine estates per day.  I bought a case worth of varying wines for my parents in preparation for their arrival in a week’s time as a late Christmas present, and also got an idea of which wineries I could recommend to them and which we could bypass without any great loss.  The best winery in the region was called Brancott, and I visited it a total of six times, without the quality of its wines ever diminishing in the slightest.

            My parents flew into Blenheim on the 31^st of January, and I checked out of my hostel to head out to the local airport and pick them up in my rickety old Jeep Cherokee, which I’d done my best to clean up in an effort to make it presentable for their arrival.  The three of us checked in to the Hotel D’Urville on Queen Street, and I made a show of presenting them with each of the bottles of wine I’d accumulated over the course of my wine touring the past week.  We went out for a hike up the Wither Hills our first morning together in Blenheim, and then we spent the afternoon visiting my favorite wineries and sampling their best wines.  My parents shared my opinion of Brancott Estates being the best winery in the valley, and we bought five bottles of their wine between the three of us. 

            The Wither Hills hike was actually much nicer than I expected; we encountered a bunch of sheep on our way up, and upon reaching the summit we were afforded a spectacular view of the city of Blenheim below, the patchwork of vineyards surrounding it, and even the oceanfront a few kilometers off in the distance.  It was really only a hill that we had climbed, with a maximum altitude of 950 feet, but the time spent with my family and the isolated panoramic views that the summit afforded us made the morning’s hike well worth the time we invested in it.

            Tomorrow, the three of us will be piling back into the Jeep to head out to the long hiking trails of Abel Tasman, and then we’ll hopefully be posting up in Nelson for the night, where we’ll watch the Super Bowl on the following day.  After that, we’ll be making our way down the west coast to visit the postcard-worthy glaciers of the South Island, as well as the famous Milford Sound on our way into the skiing metropolis of Queenstown.  It’s likely that I’ll be spending the remainder of my stay in New Zealand there, looking for a suitable long-term job and soaking up the wonders of the surrounding sounds, Lake Wanaka, and Remarkable mountain range.  If I’m lucky, I might even land a job that offers a free pass to the local ski slopes.  I’ll write again before that, I’m sure, and more pictures of the wonders of New Zealand will of course accompany the posts that are yet to come.

Happy to have the family along for part of this epic journey in the fantasyland of the Southern Hemisphere,

Jack

Lord of the Rings: Film Sites Around Wellington

1/15/14

    A few days ago, Simon, Kellogg and I went out around Wellington on a self-guided Lord of the Rings tour with our German friend Jani and our Taiwanese friend Jim.  There are several Middle Earth points of interest just outside the city where scenes for the movie series were filmed, and we thought we might as well explore them while we had time to kill here in Wellington.  The first place we went to see was the path that was used as the road out of Hobbiton, which is located at the edge of the city limits on the slope up Mt. Victoria.  You might remember it best from the scene when Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin tumble down the hillside from farmer Maggot's property and hide under a log from a ringwraith that is searching for them.  It wasn't much, being just a road that appears in a few scenes of the film for only a matter of seconds, and we didn't find the log, but it still looked just like it did on screen.

    After we'd seen the road from Hobbiton, we figured we might as well climb the rest of Mt. Victoria, since we were halfway up already.  At the summit of the mountain (which was really more like a hill), there was a very nice lookout, which offered a fantastic panoramic view of the city of Wellington.

It was also incredibly windy at the top of Mt. Victoria; the breeze was so strong that it had the power to easily throw you off balance, and threatened to knock you over altogether.
    Our next Middle Earth destination was the elven city of Rivendell, which is probably the place I've had the second-highest expectations for, next to the Shire.  The film site for Rivendell was about forty minutes outside of Wellington, and there were signs leading us to it the entire way.

Our disappointment upon arriving at Rivendell, though, was overwhelming.  The place looked nothing like it does in the films, and it featured only a single tree that made an on-screen appearance in the corner of a scene when the elven lord Elrond welcomes the fellowship into the city.  Mostly, the tree was just used for movie promos, with Legolas and other elves posing for photographs just beside it.  At the supposed Rivendell film site, we also found an information sign for tourists that asked the question, and I quote, "Where are all the elven buildings, waterfalls, ridges and autumn trees?"  The sign went on to answer this question, explaining that unfortunately, all of these elements were added in after filming by CGI artists.  This is what Rivendell really looks like:

Fortunately, though, the river just outside of Rivendell that Arwen crosses as she flees the pursuing ringwraiths was located nearby, and we found that to look much like it does in the films.

    After our disappointment at discovering that the elven city of Rivendell is indeed entirely fictional, we headed out with curbed expectations for the mountain rift into which Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli venture in their effort to recruit the army of the undead.  Upon arriving at the film site, we found that in fact there exist many such rifts in a valley of rocky outcroppings, and it was difficult to tell which was the one that appears in the movies.  In fact, there was a four hour return hike through this valley of cliffs, and it seemed it would take us forever to finally decide where the actual film site was.  As the sun was setting, and most all of the rocky crags looked roughly the same to us, we were happy just to snap a few photos and try our hand at climbing up the cliffs.  In doing so, we were quickly rewarded by shoes full of pebbles and a few frighteningly dangerous rockslides that soon discouraged us from pressing our luck any further.

On our way through this valley, we were happy to find a dead branch that looked very much like a replica of Gandalf's wizard staff.  It was lying just off to the side of the trail, and we wondered if some other Lord of the Rings fanboys had found the staff themselves and left it for others seeking the film sites to find.  We all posed for pictures with the staff, doing our best "you shall not pass" impressions, and in short order were turning around to head back to the car and into Wellington.

    I'll be here in Wellington for the next week, awaiting the departure of my ferry for the South Island on the 23rd.  I've met some really awesome people here at the hostel, who I'll be happy to spend the next week with before I'm southward bound.  My parents will be coming to visit me on the South Island soon after my arrival there, and I expect the three of us will be doing a good bit of hiking and adventuring as we travel down to the southern city of Queenstown together, where they'll fly out of to head back to the States.  I'll hopefully be staying there for a while to find a job during New Zealand's ski season, but there will be more updates to come before then.  By all accounts, even according to those Kiwis that live here on the North Island, the adventure only gets better down south, and I will as always endeavor to post about everything that's worth writing about (though the internet is supposed to be even worse down there, so that should make things interesting).

Feeling like a local of Middle Earth now,
Jack

Above the Clouds: Climbing Mt. Taranaki

1/10/14

Three days ago, Simon and I ventured into the New Zealand wild just outside New Plymouth to climb Mt. Taranaki.  We had read in our New Zealand travel guide that Taranaki is the most beautiful mountain in the entire country, and we came to New Plymouth for the sole reason of seeing it for ourselves.  Upon arriving at the base of the mountain, we quickly realized that this endeavor would be no simple hike; only about halfway up the mountain we could see massive deposits of snow, despite the fact that it is the middle of summer here in the southern hemisphere.  With nothing more than a bottle of water each, we started to make our way up the trail.

            The path up the mountain began in what looked more like a gravel road than a hiking trail.  As we ascended, the path got narrower and narrower, until it became two strips of crude gravel pavement that provided access to a small lodge on the mountainside.  This driveway was incredibly steep, and I found myself wondering what kinds of cars could even make it up to the lodge.  Surely, I thought, only the mightiest of four by fours would ever stand a chance.

            The real climbing began after we got up the driveway and past the lodge.  The pavement gave way to a dirt trail that wound itself around rocks and brush-covered ridges, until we found ourselves gazing up a massive flight of stairs built in to the side of the mountain.  Many of the stairs were covered in rocks that had fallen from above, and I often caught myself glancing upwards and to either side to ensure that no more rockslides were tumbling over the mountain’s ridges to crash down upon us. 

            On our way up the stairs, we found that already we had climbed high enough to be in the midst of the clouds.  They move incredibly fast when you are so close, and they seem to take a far less defined shape as wisps of white swirl away into the wind, much like the smoke from a campfire.  This path, I thought, was a very literal stairway to heaven.

            At the top of the long staircase, we were above the clouds and looking down on them.  They moved with such natural grace that they appeared to dance, and we settled down for a while upon a large boulder to watch the show.

  There was no longer any form of vegetation to be seen at this height, and we resumed our ascent up a long stretch of small rocks.  This part of the trek strongly resembled the climb up to the summit of Mt. Doom, if only a little less steep.

  There was no trail to be followed now, but the best way up the mountain was roughly marked by orange stakes jutting out from the rocks.  We found this to be much more helpful than the way up Mt. Doom, which provides no paths or guidance whatsoever.

            We encountered the first patch of snow about halfway up the stretch of small rocks.  The snow deposits became bigger and more frequent as we made our way up, until the small rocks became big ones and the incline of the mountain increased.  Here, we always required the use of at least one hand to continue making progress towards the summit, and often I had to hold my nearly empty bottle of water clenched between my teeth so as to free up both hands and be able to pull myself up the rocks.  At this point, we were essentially climbing as you would a rock wall, only without the burden of ropes and a harness.

            We continued in this manner for about two hours, until the incline finally leveled out and revealed a gigantic field of snow.  

There was a rocky peak on either side, the one on the right being the highest, and we estimated that we only had about twenty more minutes worth of climbing before we would reach the summit.  After pausing briefly to fill our empty water bottles with snow, we resumed our trek upwards.

            We reached the summit in fifteen minutes, and the panoramic view was absolutely breathtaking.  

We stayed at the top for about an hour, soaking in the scenery, taking pictures, and marveling at how high above the clouds we were.  We met several really friendly people who were doing the same thing, as we all took shelter from the ridiculously strong and equally cold wind behind the biggest rock that we could find.  Most of those that we met were Kiwis, and all but one of them were climbing Mt. Taranaki for the first time.  Everyone agreed that the stunning views were well worth the trek up.

            We made our way back down the mountain in about two hours, stopping only to fill our bottles up with more snow and empty our shoes of pebbles accumulated from sliding down the rocky parts of the mountain, much like we had on our descent of Mt. Doom.  We met another American who hailed from California in the parking lot as we reached the car.  After we found out we were all bound for Wellington the next day, he asked us if we had any room in the car, and I told him that we did.  We then discovered that we were all staying at the same hostel, which further simplified our travel plans.  His name was Boots, and he was a very laid-back and amiable fellow.

            The next morning, I called a number that I had seen written in soap on a Jeep four by four two days before, which was for sale at a very affordable price.  A guy named John answered, and I asked him if I might take a quick look at the truck.  He said I could, and I met him immediately afterwards at the spot where I had seen the Jeep parked.  It had sixty thousand less kilometers on it than our Honda, and it seemed to me a very solid car that had aged well.  I took it in for a pre-purchase mechanical inspection, and the mechanic wholly agreed with me…it had no major issues, needing only an oil change, a new oil filter, and a wheel alignment.  The engine was also reportedly in outstanding shape.  Given this information, I began talking with John to see if we could find an agreeable price, and we quickly settled on $1,000 (eight hundred U.S. dollars).  I’m now the proud owner of an army green 1995 Jeep Cherokee.  

I took my new truck into a garage immediately after to have all the necessary work done, and Boots and I were quickly on our way to Wellington, all my worries of getting stuck in the deep snow of the South Island forgotten.

            We arrived in Wellington at about 6:30, and I was immediately struck by how much it reminded me of San Francisco.  It’s virtually indistinguishable from typical American cities, and the whole place is remarkably hilly, making for lots of dangerously steep roads.  Boots and I checked in to the hostel Kellogg and Simon had arrived at a little while before, and we went out to get some groceries to cook a hearty dinner and settle in for the night.

            Kellogg found a job working construction the next day, and he agreed to buy Simon and I out of our shares in the Honda, as he would be needing the car on a daily basis to get to and from work.  Simon and I spent most of the day walking around the city to get a feel for the place, as well as stopping in to hostels to see if we could work for accommodation.  We then browsed the job listings to see if there was any promising work in the area, but quickly agreed that another WWOOFing gig sounded much more appealing than anything we were turning up so far.  The day after, we drove the Jeep out to the shore to explore a few capes and beaches there, where we were very happy to find some seals lazing about on the rocks.  

We also took the Jeep off-roading, and it did incredibly well driving over beaches, rocks, and even through a shallow river.  Any doubts I’d had about buying an eight hundred dollar car were quickly put to rest.  It’s funny, but I’m somehow really happy to be driving an American car all the way out here on the other side of the world.

            I’m now sitting at the Wellington public library for some free internet, which I’m surprised to find is probably the slowest of anywhere we’ve been so far, despite the size of both the city and its library.  Maybe it’s just because there are more people using it, but I’ve been having real trouble uploading any pictures to either facebook or the blog.  One of my friends I’ve met here in New Zealand who is already on the South Island recently told me that the internet gets significantly worse down there, which I told her I find pretty difficult to believe.  Regardless, I feel like I can hardly wait to see all the famous sights of the South Island, but I’ll be here in Wellington for another month before my ferry leaves.  Simon and I will probably get a WWOOFing gig before then so as to save money on our accommodations, and I’ll write again as soon as we find out what exactly we’ll be doing.

Soaking up the city lights in New Zealand’s best imitation of America,

Jack

Camping out New Year's in Coromandel

1/4/14

    Six days ago, we ventured out to the Coromandel Peninsula to camp for the new year.  Our fellow WWOOFers from the Czech Republic, James, his fiancée Danica, and their mates Dan, Tony, and Sophie all went with us.  Upon arriving at the campgrounds, we went about finding the best site we could to set up camp.  We ultimately settled on a small clearing in a glade of tea trees, and within the hour we had a little commune-like camp set up consisting of four tents and a gazebo.  Here's our site, right after we finished setting up:

After camp was pitched and everyone settled, we all went down to the nearest swimming hole (which would be serving as our shower for the next week) for a dip.  The hole was about six meters (20 feet) deep, and right next to it was an eight meter tall rock face that served perfectly as a high-dive.  The water was cold, but all of us doing flips and can-openers off of the cliff was fun enough to make the goosebumps well worth it.
    We went for a long hike through the rainforest surrounding our camp on the second day, which was New Year's Eve.  The trail we took was called the Billy-Goat Track, and after a narrow hanging bridge, it led us up a long flight of rocky stairs to a range of mountains called the Pinnacles.

We walked by several really nice waterfalls on our way up, as well as an ancient looking railway-like system that hundreds of years ago was used to transport logged kauri trees down the mountain.  One of the waterfalls we encountered must have been the longest (and thinnest) fall that I have ever seen.

    After we got back from the hike, we all got ready to bring in the new year.  We grilled out for dinner and then hung around the camp playing cards, waiting for midnight.  As the hour came near, Dan, Simon, Kellogg and I gathered up the fireworks we had and walked down to the ford in the nearby river, where we would set them off.  We each held out a firework boomstick that fired off a half dozen explosions high into the sky, and as the clock struck twelve we lit up the night.  The fireworks weren't so colorful, but they were very loud and equally bright, and after the boomsticks were spent a number of cheers went up from the surrounding camps.  We then set off the smaller firecrackers that we had brought along, tossing most of them into the river and watching them explode underwater (fireworks work on black powder fuses, which don't go out in water.  Makes for a good show).  We were all exhausted from a long day full of hiking, so we turned in for some sleep as soon as we got back to camp.

    New Year's day was full of rain, so most of us spent a lazy day around the camp playing cards and doing our best to stay dry.  The two Czechs, however, went for a drive into the nearest town (which was called Thames) and then ended up sliding off the gravel road and plummeting to the forest floor six meters below.  Their car wound up on its smashed-in front bumper, standing up with the roof against a tree.  Andrew and Elena both miraculously walked away from the accident without a scratch, but their car was far beyond totaled.  

    The day after New Year's, we headed out for hot water beach, where geothermal activity heats water under the sand almost to its boiling point.  With nothing more than a spade, you can make yourself a private jacuzzi; just dig down for about a foot, exposing the hot water, and mix in a bit of the cool ocean water to make the temperature just right.  Once we had ourselves a good hot tub, we switched back and forth from there to the ocean, trying to stay standing as the sizable waves broke over top of us and then retreating back to the beach to warm up again.

    That night when we got back to camp, three kiwis who were about our age made their way over from the site next door to introduce themselves and join in our game of cards.  Their names were Adam, Daniel, and Page, and at the end of the night they asked me to go for a hike with them the following day.  Since I wasn't too keen on my own mates' plans for a fishing trip on the other end of a four hour drive, I agreed to spend the day with the kiwis.  

    Adam was in our camp waiting when I woke up.  We set to cooking some breakfast and played a few rounds of a kiwi card game he had taught me the day before, which is incredibly similar to Uno, except played with a normal deck.  When the weather looked fair enough, we filled up some water bottles and headed out into the wilderness to find a trail that suited us.  We came across a few signs that promised a good outlook from above, and we followed a narrow and winding trail up to the top of a small mountain.  The view from the top was nearly perfect, the only blemish being a few power lines snaking their way through the forest below.  After our descent and a bit of exploring through the woods and along the river, Adam, Page, Daniel and I went back to camp to wait for the others to return from their fishing venture.  They taught me another kiwi card game that was roughly the same as our Kings' Cup, and we soon found ourselves lost in conversation, mostly about the profound differences between America and New Zealand.  They must have liked what they heard, because now they're all determined to come visit me back home to see the States for themselves.  By the time we'd finished playing and said our goodbyes, I found myself returning to an already sleeping camp.

    The next day wasn't meant to be our last, but we decided to break camp and head back to the farm once we'd assessed the weather as all but promising.  I traded contact information with the three kiwis over in the neighboring camp and told them I'd be seeing them when they got in to the States.  We had everything from camp packed into the cars in about thirty minutes (Adam helped us out a bunch, good man that he is) and we arrived back at Graham and Michelle's farm at about three o'clock this afternoon after an hour's drive.  We had our first proper showers since a week before, and we all put together a load of laundry for the wash.  I settled down to wait for that to be done and read a bit more of the book I'd started back at camp.  We had a dinner of lamb chops and curried vegetables, and after we'd done our dishes and hung our clothes up on the line to dry, Simon, Kellogg and I came down to Lizzie and her fiancée's place to check our emails...and, of course, update our blogs.

    We'll be headed back down south tomorrow, stopping only in New Plymouth for a couple of nights before we get to Wellington, which is the southernmost place on the North Island.  I'll post again when I next have internet.  I expect most of our time in the next few weeks will be spent less on adventuring and more on seeking out the most promising WWOOFing and paying job opportunities, but even still, there's always something to write about in New Zealand.  

Loving the New Year and so happy to have running water again,

Jack