The Great Escape

Crossing one of the waterways leaving Pupu Springs

Our foray into Abel Tasman marked the beginning of the end. The following days comprised the final pages of our first New Zealand chapter. We visited “Pupu Springs” – the “world’s largest freshwater spring” at sunrise one day. The water appeared to boil up out of the ground into a giant, clear pool — stunning!   It’s against the rules to come into contact with the water in any way, shape or form. “Say No to Didymo” is a phrase every Kiwi must know — a parasite that infects waterways and turns them into slimy, orange-brown messes. We also got as close as possible to Farewell Spit — the arm of land that stretches out into the watery abyss. Wharariki Beach (Far-rah-ree-kee) is infamous for is furious winds, which introduced sand into every crevice of our clothes, ears, shoes, eyes, noses, and mouths that it could find. (For the record, the intensity of a screaming wind tunnel was fun to experience).

The rains did arrive, which became a snow storm as we crested Lewis Pass. One morning, just moments before a downpour, our carton of eggs crashed to the pavement. Dedicated to the religion of ‘waste-not-want-not,’ there was nothing to do but make scrambled eggs in the rain! We did get to see the high-elevation results of all that precipitation bathed in a sunrise one morning. What a way to start a day! We even found a hard-to-come-by side-of-the-road spot to camp one night that didn’t require the usual ritual of vacating before sunrise. What a luxury!

Playing Gin in the van

We found creative ways to burn time the last few days before departure. We spent a long afternoon at the Hanmer Springs library getting work done, we tasted at our first-ever distillery, and we played rummy and drank sherry in the van all while unknowingly making the security guards at the earthquake-relief housing across the street very uncomfortable. In preparation for our forty-hour airport travel stint, we stayed at an atypical holiday park. While we enjoyed the usual amenities, we were treated to several characters. Usually holiday parks are full of people on holiday. This place ended up being more like a trailer park full of permanent residents, but with communal facilities like an RV park. After dinner, a man who claimed to be a shaman and a spirit priest told us about his visions. Later that evening, a wild-eyed, wild-haired, rough-neck sort laid claim to the poster on the wall encouraging passersby to order their free copy of a publication that clears up confusion regarding the “Great Conspiracy.” The A-frame check-in lobby had several mounted animal trophies. Of all the dinners being cooked, ours was the only one that contained something green and didn’t involve frying in butter. Among the plethora of jigsaw puzzles, we found a complicated San Fransisco scene that gave us hours of entertainment and something to do while listening to the crazies.

Working on our jigsaw puzzle at the weird holiday/trailer park.

Finally it was time to go to Christchurch, meet Emily’s brother Will, and fly to our families! We had an awesome evening sharing stories with Will and chatting about everything under the sun. I think he forgave us for keeping him up late on a work-night, and we are incredibly thankful to him for sharing his slice of paradise in Diamond Harbour with us. (And for babysitting our van during the New Zealand winter!)

We had to fly to Auckland a day early, since our international flight departed at 7 a.m. To save on an already astronomically expensive trip, we activated ‘Operation Sleep In the Airport.’ I researched it online and found the sweet spot in a few travel forums. The ‘Observation Deck’ wasn’t always quiet, but it was dark and we caught enough Z’s to feel fairly normal in the morning. Twenty-eight hours, five airplane movies, three airports, and one confiscated pair of tiny medical scissors later we greeted my father in the sweltering Arizona heat and began a priceless adventure!

Quake destruction, fierce beach winds, and more by clicking here!

Abel Tasman

Fern Trees feel tropical!

Find a seasoned New Zealand tourist or a well-traveled Kiwi. Ask them to name their favorite New Zealand destination. Chances are six in ten that one of the first phrases you’ll hear is “Abel Tasman National Park.”

This slice of paradise is near the end of an unexpectedly sun-warmed road. An untouched coastine boasts tropical-esque white-sand beaches, emerald and sapphire waters, and green hills that reach down often to dip their toes in the water. Thanks to a little lucky geography, the seas are generally calm.

Isolated coastline!

Of course a place of such natural beauty would be hard-pressed to escape the “Great Walk” status. Regular readers of this blog will know “Great Walk” really means extortion-grade prices. Fees for staying in huts or at campsites triple, cutthroat wardens beat the trails demanding to see permits, and by-the-day prices don’t decrease in the winter when “day” means eight hours instead of seventeen.

Given the latter, we opted out of the sea kayaking option (we’ll save it for later in the spring when we get to the Coromandel). Our collective passion to sleep in our van for free whenever possible motivated us to taste Abel Tasman by day, and drive away at twilight. Thanks to multiple access points, it’s possible to day-hike right into the heart of the park.

Scraping ice off the INSIDE of the car windows at sunrise!

Despite waking to frost on the INSIDE of our van windows 1,000 feet up from the valley floor and thirty miles down the road, the day blossomed into sunny perfection. Memories of the quaint sea-side towns we’d wandered through on the journey out lingered during our breakfast of surprisingly-tasty-Motueka-bought mussel pate. Down the road, through the mists rising off the icy-fields, we spied a tiny young woman with her thumb out. Laura is a former university student from Wellington caretaking her friend’s rural property in exchange for living on it. She gardens a few days a week for grocery money. She has no car, but manages to hitch the 10 miles pretty reliably every work day!

Lovely little sea creature!

A few adorable towns after our Laura-drop, and we crossed the park boundary. We made Separation Point our goal, and passed through every type of Abel Tas landscape on the way there — bogs, hills, woodlands, cliffs, beaches, and lowlands. I’ve recently fallen in love with barefoot running theories and spent a solid hour picking my way through the slow-to-warm pea gravel and hard pan. The park was deserted on this unexpectedly gorgeous winter weekday, and we saw not a soul. We hunkered down to eat lunch in the sunshine, watch the sea lions lounge, and bask in the sparkles from the glittering sea.

One of my favorite beaches, with lots of tiny, washed up jellies

On the hike back, we got to prove just how in-need we are of a vacation from the more trying aspects of our current lifestyle. (Living in a tiny space, spending every hour of every day attached at the hip to the same person, daily finding a successful compromise between our goal to sleep for free in our van and our goal to avoid offending anyone or giving van tourists a bad name.) We ended up using the hike back as an opportunity to have a little break. We eventually kissed and made up, right after Pat felt his very-first-ever earthquake!

More photos by clicking here.

Overdose!

View from the “geographical center of New Zealand” in Nelson

Knowing we were skipping out on about 10% of our New Zealand visa threw a wrench in our travel style. Suddenly we were anxious about having time to see and do everything we wanted to do. We switched into hardcore mode, and hit the road. We tackled the entire West Coast in nine days- an area that typically would have taken us three weeks. I suspected our frantic pace couldn’t last, and I was right.

We made it through three trips, and four bouts of sightseeing before crashing. It happened after our unremarkable Wangapeka hike. The plan was to follow up our West Coast explorations with a long backcountry trip in the renowned Nelson-Lakes area. We arrived in St. Arnaud — staging ground for the region — completely exhausted, cold, and cranky. We checked into a hostel and I never wanted to leave. For three days I felt like a total schmuck – sitting on the doorstep of stellar New Zealand wilderness with absolutely zero desire to go backpacking. I had officially OD’d on nature.

Gothic main cathedral in Nelson

I attached my computer to my hip and spent the days consuming hot drinks, strolling down to the lake, and lamenting my apathy. I knew this would be the last weekend of snow-free hiking in the mountains. Unfortunately, nearly 48 hours of vegetating didn’t cure me. Having completed all our chores (van dishes, laundry, etc), we had no excuse to continue spending money to sit around indoors. Faced with zero desire to sight-see or hike, we cursed our choice to eliminate farm work exchanges  (wwoofing) from our lifestyle. Wwoofing enriches our lives in a multitude of ways, and it was ridiculous to give it up in the name of being sure we’d see and do everything on our bucket lists. A week spent wwoofing with a well-chosen New Zealand family is just as memorable and fun as a hiking trip or time spent sightseeing.

Unable to stomach more time in the trees, we headed for the nearest concrete jungle — the city of Nelson. 45,000 residents enjoy the sunniest weather in the country. We scouted out items worthy of our to-do list and finally got to see Super 8. Different than I expected, but good movie! We also took strolls around parks, wound our way up to the geographical center of New Zealand, shopped at the Farmer’s Market, checked out the flea market, ate a year’s worth of creamy bleu cheese, went wine and beer tasting, and treated ourselves to pizza and ice cream! My favorite “wine” educational moment was learning about how the amount of foliage cover, the timing of picking, and the effects of rain on the grapes change qualities in the wine.

“Tasting” with our fun brewmaster friend!

The Nelson area is the bread basket of the south island and also grows and exports world-famous hops. Local brewers craft some amazing products, and one provided us with an entire afternoon of free entertainment. He’s a retired rough-and-tumble former mechanic whose “Cheeky Little Lager” label is a woman’s bikini-clad backside. I was shocked to return from the loo to find the first ‘taste’ was a 10o.z. glass filled to the brim! This guy – a self proclaimed ‘piss-head’ – loves to have drinking buddies. A fountain of profanity and politically-incorrect comments flowed from him for the hours we spent tasting. Wow!

Nelson is by far the most friendly place we’ve experienced in New Zealand. We even met a Kiwi friendly enough to pass as a midwestern American! Coincidence that she spent a summer working at Disneyworld? We also met some awesome folks at “The Playhouse.” We were treated to five one-act plays in a fascinating straw-bale turned theater-cave. While the maturity of the content was surprising given the majority of entries were in the youth (high school) category, they were pretty well done!

For our final night in Nelson, we checked into “The Palace” a hostel in a cool, giant old Victorian with lots of character. We made a giant warm stew and spent the evening watching movies. Finally, we were off for our final adventure before making our super-secret-stealth journey back to the states!

Photos of NZ cultural hilariousness, a child at an ATM, and more by clicking here!

To Go or Not to Go?

The "generation" photo - pretending that we're there in Yellowstone two years ago (2009)

An agonizing decision has been simmering on the back burner for the last eight months. Ever since he was little, Pat’s maternal family and all extensions thereof reunited every other year on a summer vacation. Pat has wonderful childhood memories of dude ranches, Alaskan cruises, and fun under the summer sun. In 2009, for the first time ever, Pat had to settle for a vicarious experience of Yellowstone-with-the-family by perusing facebook postings every night. Ever since then, reunion 2011 has been on our minds.

We attended weddings all summer 2010 and then answered the “what’s next” question by taking a hard look at our goals and dreams. We intensively researched a Pacific crossing by sailboat and discovered we’d have to wait around the States all fall, winter, and half of spring. Having given up our “professional” jobs — the cornerstone of house, kids, career — and with several people reminding us that our window of opportunity for starting a family is “rapidly shrinking,” we were anxious to get going on goals and dreams that require joblessness.

New Zealand - North and South Island

After spending the summer… spending, we decided to combine goal #1 and 3 — start seeing the world and take advantage of the before-age-30-working-holiday visa in either Australia or New Zealand. We love being in the mountains. New Zealand is covered in peaks. It was an easy choice. We received work visas in our inboxes within three days of applying, then shopped for the cheapest tickets. The timing worked out to visit lots of family and friends before leaving, and the “Are you coming back for the reunion?” question came up several times. We couldn’t predict where our adventure would take us, but we assured everyone we had every intention of trying.

Fast-forward to three months before said reunion. The allure of a return trip to the States had grown and grown. Not only would we get to see family, but we’d missed Christmas, AND both of my sisters and their families were now visiting my parents in the weeks before the reunion. It was an opportunity for the proverbial two birds with one stone, with an extra two birds factored in. However, the price tag on a ticket across the Pacific is in excess of $1,000. If you’re reading this blog, you probably think that’s a lot of money. When jobless and trying to live on about $4,000 a year, I think I need more than one four-letter-expletive to accurately depict the meaning of $1,000 in my current life.

Countless friends and family members lent their ears as I wrestled with “to go or not to go?” I felt pretty grim as I finally and reluctantly decided with the “don’t go” contingent. “Your family will understand,” they said. “You’re worked hard for this once in a lifetime opportunity, and they know that it’s just not practical for you to come,” they said. “You’ll lose time you can never get back on a visa you’ll never be eligible for again,” they said.

What I don't have much of - NZ scrilla (any scrilla, really. Scrilla = money for all you non-gangstas out there)

With a heavy heart, I dialed my parents to let them know the trip we’d been hoping for for months wasn’t going to come to fruition. They offered condolences along the lines of “That must have been a hard choice,” and then we talked about the weather, shared stories about recent happenings in our lives, and discussed plans for the future. As we were saying goodbye, my father dropped a bomb. “What if we paid for half the trip?” My jaw dropped, and I would later learn my mother/keeper-of-the-almighty budget almost dropped the phone as her eyes went wide. Speechless for a few moments, I finally managed, “Um… what do you mean?” Well, my dad’s work involves living alone for weeks at a time in hotels near mineral mines where he trains employees to use a mining efficiency program. He was offering to use his compensation travel bonus to help our hopes of seeing our families become a reality. I was so shell-shocked, my parents actually had to ask if I wanted to take them up on the offer.

The only condition was, everything had to be a surprise. Neither of my sisters could know. I proposed to Pat that we surprise his family too, and the plan of action was in motion! The gift of homecoming and family is one of the best in the world. I’d gone from glum to gleeful within an hour, and hung up the phone on cloud nine!