These Boots are Made for Sloshin’

(note: my blog font has turned into a nightmare.   Sorry!   I’ll fix it soon.)


Our seven-day trip into Mt. Aspiring National Park’s gem-country was epic, capped on either end by getting to spend time with Emily, Chris, and the kids! The trip featured endless river crossings, breathtaking valleys, looming-soaring-glacier-capped peaks, turquoise waters, plenty of scrambling, and a curious absence of wildlife.  1Wildlife in New Zealand barely registers on our U.S.-honed sense of wonder, unfortunately. There are no large native mammals. In fact… no native mammals at all, save for a bat. Birds are king here, and voracious hunting of introduced species (deer, opossums, rabbits) means that you see little more than cute little winged creatures in the woods. In a way, it’s nice not to worry about bears and the like. It feels like we’re in ancient, ancient forests where life is just finding its beginnings.

The fam escorting us to the banks of the Makarora River where the trail “begins.”



Day 1: trailhead to Young Bivy.

We got a late start, but the whole family saw us to the first river crossing — the mighty Makarora. We donned flip-flops and battled sandflies during the gear switch once across. It was ten minutes down the trail when we realized we’d left the golden nuggets of our food supply in the fridge at Chris and Emily’s. The chicken, the roast beef, the cream cheese, the pesto… for a few moments we were at our wits end with disappointment. Then we accepted our involuntary vegan fate, and walked on! We made it to the Young Bivy (a small two person shack accessible to us thanks to Chris and Emily) with a bit of autumn light left in the day, and we were thankful to skip setting up camp and move straight into dinner!

young bivy from the hill above

Day 2: Young Bivy to Young Basin

We climbed, dangled, and stretched across numerous spurs, ravines, and gulleys to reach the Young Hut (cabin) in time for lunch. As we neared the treeline a few hours later, ominous clouds started to flow down the mountainsides. We greeted the head of the Young Basin in all its alpine glory at 2 p.m. The next step is to climb Gillespie pass, but we weren’t sure we could make it up and down the other side before dark in inclement weather. Instead, we huddled against boulders cooking dinner and crawling into our sleeping bags well before the sun disappeared!

Day 3: Gillespie Pass to Siberia Valley

Having slept the entire night on top of my empty pack (for insulation from the cold ground — Jim Blanchard would be proud), we were more than eager to get going at first light. The trail to Gillespie Pass is straight up, gaining a foot in elevation with almost

climbing up Gillespie Pass in the Young Basin


every step! The views were so incredible and a reward in themselves. The descent took hours, and Siberia Valley found us smiling but exhausted. We tacked on another mile or so before finding a camp, making a few meals on the trail (literally), and calling it a night!

Day 4: Siberia to Top Forks via Kerin Forks and Jumboland

Lots of ice and a mysterious ground fog kept us company as we packed up and headed down the trail. For once, the walking mirrored the kind of hiking we are used to in the states, and we reached the Wilkin River in record time. We puttered around the banks to find the best crossing and finally settled on a place that was thigh deep. Our two person stability crossing (hold each other’s shoulders, take turns moving) had us on the other side and enjoying lunch and sunshine in a meadow before 11 a.m.! Then we scrambled for hours along the valley walls to Jumboland Flats (named for Jumbo the horse) where we beelined for Top Forks Hut several miles up the valley, crossing the Wilkin each time its meandering got in our way. The sunset glowing off the Mt. Pollux glacier welcomed us

Mt. Pollux and its impressive glacier

to a warm hut where Brian, keeping watch on camp for his hunting buddies, offered us wine and myriad other treats they’d flown in by helicopter. SCORE!

Day 5: Top Forks to the Lakes

Our last day of new trail scenery was full of open alpine meadows, aquamarine waters, and snowy crags with a soundtrack of flowing creeks, calving glaciers (LOUD!), and chirping birds. We set off for Lake Diana, and chose Castilia at the fork in the trail — the very head of the Wilkin River! We scrambled over boulder fields and back and forth across creeks for two hours to finally slip into the bowl that contained the icy blue lake. We had a quick lunch and beat a hasty retreat against the incoming gloomy clouds. Back at the fork, we set off for Lake Lucidus and were

Pat taking in the alpine valley views.

promptly awarded with our goal. The return to camp was relaxing, and Brian had us warm and wined in no time!

Day 6: Top Forks to Kerin Forks

This was our only day without new scenery, so it almost felt like a rest day. We took our time and lazed our way through all the ravines, gullies, down-climbing, etc. back to Kerin Forks. We had the hut to ourselves and Pat got the fire going so well we didn’t even need our sleeping bags!

River crossing: the theme of this trip!



Day 7: Kerin Forks to Makarora

We quickly learned why so many people either fly in to Kerin Forks or take the jet boat in and out. This stretch of the walk is, in a word, boring. The river flats fail to stun after days in remote Jumboland. Pat said he felt like his was back in Iraq with the helicopters flying overhead all day long. Avoiding cow-pies was a major focus of the day. All told, outside, walking with your best friend isn’t a too terrible a way to spend a day, and we were in no position to complain. The Makarora had risen after two evenings of rain, and so we struggled one last time against river current in soggy boots before arriving at the highway. I managed a ride in no time and returned with the van to deliver us to showers, pesto, and a cozy, dry evening!

More photos by clicking here.

References

References
↑1 Wildlife in New Zealand barely registers on our U.S.-honed sense of wonder, unfortunately. There are no large native mammals. In fact… no native mammals at all, save for a bat. Birds are king here, and voracious hunting of introduced species (deer, opossums, rabbits) means that you see little more than cute little winged creatures in the woods. In a way, it’s nice not to worry about bears and the like. It feels like we’re in ancient, ancient forests where life is just finding its beginnings.

Turned into Tourists! – Making Up For Lost Time

Apologies for not realizing I failed to mention what we’d be doing when we finally LEFT WANAKA!! We’ve officially turned into tourists. We started small, hitting up events and trips in the local area. Today, after we get all our “jobs” done and get our things “sorted,” we’re officially beginning our NZ country-wide adventure!

Chef Anna, super-preggers with twins and the beautiful Gabby in the background at Kai. (Nicole! This is your doppleganger!)

Highlights of our segue into our permanent vacation mode included an amazing, lazy-Sunday drive up the valley into the mountains to enjoy the fall “colours.” Then I wrapped up my last four days at Kai, and Pat did the “Gauntlet” – a drinking performance required upon abandoning employment at the Ale House. It’s seven ounces of every beer on tap, followed by three heinous shot-concoctions chosen by co-workers as fast as possible. He says it was painful! Afterward we ended up at a co-worker’s house attempting to play Balderdash, but mostly drinking wine. I retired early and found upon waking that the boys had started bare-knuckle boxing late at night. All were nursing injuries and were quite pleased with themselves.

After a visit to a gypsy fair where all the “gypsies” shocked me with their advanced age, we attended the local soccer game and then collected ourselves for our second NZ backpacking trip. As the entire area fills out in

Gorgeous autumn in Wanaka!

fall colors, we’ve been getting more and more anxious to start our adventure. For this reason, we decided we were going hiking rain or shine, even though the forecast was the former. The Raspberry Creek carpark greeted us with gusting wind and freezing precip. Our side-trip out of the valley to the Rob Roy Glacier was surprisingly pleasant, although much of the glacier was fogged in. The remaining three hours up the valley was some of the most violent, epic hiking weather ever. Gale force winds, stinging rain… if it was snow, we’d have been in a full-on blizzard. I felt like a cave-woman traipsing across Siberia. We arrived soaked to the bone and a bit brutalized.

glaciers and beautiful country viewed from Cascade Saddle


A long night of poker and eating by the fire slowly rebuilt our confidence. My alarm clock in the morning were the Kea (like “Kia”). What I had thought was a photoshop joke turned out to be true — there really are alpine parrots in New Zealand, and they really are insanely curious about you and all of your things. By noon, we’d collected our spirits and managed a rewarding trip up Cascade Saddle in full sunshine. The view from the top was worth every step — glaciers, soaring snow capped peaks, verdant river valleys — amazing! That evening we arrived back to the carpark under glowing pink skies.

Puzzling World photo ops


Our social life blossomed in the absence of grueling work commitments. On the way back to town, we stopped in to volunteer at the nursery. Then we joined in the local poker night — free to enter and my prize for 3rd place was a $50 bar tab! The next night was a wild karaoke evening with the very-British, very-composed Martin putting on a fabulous “Prince” performance and Pat and I testing our talent on “Love Shack.” We also managed to visit “Puzzling World” – a quirky tourist attraction complete with outdoor maze, and three astounding visual illusion displays from Holograms to Following Faces to water flowing uphill… it was great! They even had fascinating toilets!

Peter and I in the final moments of his Shave for a Cure.


Our coup de grace was a Thursday filled with a fun AGM ending in wine and hors d’oeuvres and then attending Peter’s “Shave for a Cure” at the Albi (Albert Town Tavern) where he gave up his eight-year dreadlocks in the name of cancer research. Afterward, we danced and sang karaoke all night until it was time for the requisite night cap at the Mint Bar. It was an amazing “last night” in Wanaka, and an excellent prelude to our week-long foray into the New Zealand bush!

Click for more photos of our Wanaka Finale.

Click for more photos of our Mt. Aspiring trip.

The End of the Beginning: finding perfection in Wanaka

After a grueling marathon of trading my time for money, I am ecstatic to have so much freedom! This week has been filled with blissful moments, including right now here in

Brute strength for hire - Pat slinging 50 pound bags of laundry is all in a day's work

my “office” — leaning against the grassy high-water bank, gentle breezes playing with my as hair as tiny waves brush the shoreline and snow capped peaks keep a watchful eye on the setting sun.

My first taste of the aforementioned freedom landed me in the front seat of Pat’s Saturday delivery van.We headed several kilometers down the road, marking time by the vineyards sprinkling the pastoral countryside. Cromwell is the agri-hub of Central Otago, and properly home to a giant fruit statue mentioned in guidebooks. We took the

requisite photo and even got to go for a short stroll around “Old Town” – the charming remains that survived the creation of a reservoir

foreground - American tourists. background - the giant fruit statue!

that left a scar on many locals long ago.

Sunday was my first entire day off with Pat in over 40 days — since our anniversary. We celebrated properly! We followed up a casual morning with a bike ride along the incredible Clutha River. The emerald green water against the pale, autumn landscape is a show-stopper! We ended the first leg of our journey at the Luggate country pub where a young fiddler/pianist serenaded the crowd. After goodbyes, we pedaled a new route home, luxuriating in the late afternoon sun. All told we took in over 50 kilometers worth of spectacular vistas, and Pat fell in love with mountain biking.

One of the endless, breath-taking vistas of the Clutha River trail!

On a whim, we stopped into the notorious cinema and discovered we’d make the next show if we hurried. We caught “The Social Network” on its final showing and were appropriately charmed by the mis-matched seating for which the theater is famous — you can even take in the film from the front seat of an old car! I left the theater completely satisfied wearing a smile that foreshadowed the next day’s fun.

Despite a (formerly) packed work schedule, I still religiously scoured the local community bulletin each week for cultural, fun, or healthy community opportunities. Thanks to the sharp drop-off in my work commitments, I was finally able to make the native plant nursery volunteer mornings! The people were fantastic, the views from our tea-time platform were incredible, and I had forgotten just how much I love playing in dirt!

Vineyard View - amazing! The wine isn't bad either. 🙂

As a double bonus, not only did I receive a vowel key containing the first ray of hope that I might wrap my tongue around New Zealand’s bewildering and prolific Maori names, BUT I also found myself in the company of avid local backpackers who hold the key to wilderness you’ll never read about in any guidebook. Score!

The unique feature of the week has been several unhurried afternoons. We managed to do some free wine tasting at the local, biodynamic vineyard. The icing on the cake was the commanding view of the lake and islands from our hillside perch, complemented by an array of quirky sculptures belonging to an outdoor exhibition being hosted there. The following day, we also lucked into a peaceful moment at the hill top war memorial overlooking the downtown. This is the end of our New Zealand beginning, and it’s been rejuvenating to see so many new sides of Wanaka!

wanaka panorama

Finally, yesterday was one of my top ten days in New Zealand. My friend Hayley and I set off across the chilly Cardrona valley before the sun began to warm it, landing in Queenstown just as shop doors were opening. We couldn’t have imagined a more laid-back or productive day. We visited “op-shops*” galore, did a Warehouse** run, found an unlikely used book, got some shells drilled for jewelry making, recovered on the lakefront, shopped some MORE, AND managed a visit to New Zealand’s “most scenic” enclave.

One of dozens of Arrowtown's charming scenes.

We fell instantly in love with rural Arrowtown as we wandered its charming streets enjoying our ice creams and the rustle of the leaves in the sunshine. We didn’t want to come home! The only casualty of the day was one of my brand new gym shoes. It fell, without my noticing, out the side door in one of three “car parks.” Ironically, I was so smitten with having gotten new shoes I had actually photographed the new alongside the old the day before. What I thought would be a photo to illustrate my excitement to friends and family has become a memorial to the short life of shoes that traveled a long and complicated road to my feet. Despite dedicated recovery efforts, I’m still a shoe down. C’est la vie! Problems like this are a sign of a happy life, no?

*”op-shop” is the New Zealand nomenclature for a second-hand store, referring to the “opportunities” that grace the shelves and racks.

**The Warehouse is New Zealand’s version of Wal-Mart.

Tonight is Pat’s last evening at The Ale House. It’s compulsory to do “The Gauntlet” upon ending employment — 7 ounces of every beer on tap followed by a three shots chosen by co-workers. Our days in Wanaka are numbered, but we’re enjoying them immensely!

More photos here.

Ring of Fire: will an earthquake kill me?

Probably, unless you’re a news junkie (Garrett?), you’ve not heard of “The Moon Man.” He is a lunar scientist in New Zealand who has successfully predicted both major Christchurch earthquakes based on “king tides.” It’s my understanding that a kingtide is described by both a full moon AND the closest moon-earth relationship possible. The last kingtides were apparently 212 years ago, if I remember what I read.

Moon Man says the biggest kingtide yet is coming in five days and he expects another big earthquake along one of New Zealand’s countless fault lines. He’s been accused of fear-mongering and been run out of the country. Some are believers (Pat’s boss is flying to the North Island for the duration). Pat and I are both skeptical, but I’ve learned my lesson about doubting mother nature*. Don’t laugh. We’ve made a disaster plan in case we’re not together if/when something happens (pretty easy when your family consists of two people) and stocked up on food and water. It feels a bit silly, but I suppose it would be sillier not to. With the Ring of Fire going off the way it has lately (Christchurch, Christchurch again, Japan…), I’m not betting against it!

To avoid worrying our mothers unnecessarily, I’ve set this blog to auto-post on the 21st — after the “kingtide” has come and gone. If something reallly does happen and we can’t communicate, you’ll know we’re safe!

So, what are things to think about when you bother to contemplate this sort of thing? Because Lake Wanaka is enormous and has the potential for major flood/tsunami destruction, we’ve chosen to meet on the road outside our gym which is up on a hill. Plan B, supposing the hill falls down or the area is inaccessible, is to meet out at an intersection near Pat’s work where there is nothing but wide open space. That’s also where we’ve stored some of our more excessive earthquake preparation purchases. Because we’re mobile anyway, we don’t really have to think about blankets, flashlights, extra clothes, cooking fuel, etc., as we have that stuff all ready to go!

All right. Fingers crossed for no earthquake. Probably I will forget all about it in the next few days. So, Moms, if you read this and you haven’t heard from us AND you haven’t heard about a major New Zealand earthquake — we’re fine, just absorbed in long work days!

*once when I was 18, I was climbing Static Peak in the Grand Tetons with two friends. A typical afternoon storm rolled in and brought with it the static electricity that I had grown accustomed to – living all my young life in dry, stormy Wyoming. One of the guys, after working at a nearby camp all summer, suggested we follow the camp’s safety precautions in this sort of situation and all get into “the lightning position.” The other guy readily agreed, while I turned my nose up at such silly nonsense. After ten minutes, they rejoined the picnic, flanking me on both sides. As I smuggly enjoyed my ramen noodles, I suddenly felt small, quick rapid tugs on the back of my hair, then heard five or six snaps, then saw a bolt of lightning race across our heads from right to left before letting out a deafening crack. I threw myself down hard on the ground as the ache of electrocution throbbed in my limbs. In an instant panic we were all shouting, grabbing gear, and running for the edge of the peak. We scrambled and stumbled our way to an overhang a quarter-mile below where we promptly flipped on the rescued video camera and recorded — Blair Witch style — our breathy accounts of what had just happened to us. When the rain that followed the lightning had dried out of my hair, I discovered a large chunk of the back had been fried off — truly a close call. Next time, I’ll get in the lightning position.

[Redacted] Bar Ends Badly?

I am completely blown away. As a matter of personal standards, I’ve refrained thus far from writing about the appalling management at the [Redacted] Bar where I have worked since December. However, after tonight, I can’t help but share the Golden Moment.

For background — the [Redacted] Bar is owned  by two men who — in my experience and opinion — are nice, fun, easygoing guys. It makes it hard to believe  the murmurings that claim they are impulsive and abusive to their “duty managers1*A “duty manager” is a term from New Zealand liquor laws. Any establishment that serves alcohol must have a “duty manager” present at all times. To be a duty manager you need six months of experience working around alcohol in New Zealand and then you have to take a class and pass a test about liquor laws. At a fundamental level, duty managers are only responsible for what’s happening with alcohol. However, from a business’ perspective, in lieu of the duty manager requirement, it makes sense to have this person also be the shift manager. Because all duty managers have purchased their credentials, it’s not altogether uncommon for them to lack critical components of a management skill set — most noticeably in the personnel department..” Next there are two general managers — one who is spot on and rather hilarious and doesn’t really deal much with staff. The other is a young woman for whom, thanks to a growing series of unprofessional behaviors and responsibility failures, I have lost a lot of respect. Below them, there are three “duty managers.” The first is a brilliant ray of sunshine, the next is a sweet, often exasperated young woman, and the last is generally aggressive and abusive. I’m sure it’s obvious that the characters involved in the Golden Moment are Unprofessional General Manager (we’ll call her Helga) and Abusive Duty Manager (let’s say she’s Bertha).

The unstable and abusive [Redacted] Bar’s “Bertha.”

The night before the Golden Moment was St. Patrick’s Day. “Bertha” was on as Duty Manager. Working with her is unnerving in the same way being a repairman in a psychiatric ward could be. Everything seems to be  going fine, until she suddenly explodes over tiny things. In a brush of true irony, she’ll do a 180 the following shift and have another explosion over the same issue, but with the opposite demand. Couple this with the negatively administrated [establishment’s] standard to “always be doing the right thing at the right time,” and we have a recipe for unavoidable drama.

As per usual, we had our normal after-work rush sprinkled with periods of calm. There were too many of us working (four people behind the bar tripping over one another, plus “Bertha”) – a common occurrence that frustrates everyone. “Bertha” had already seized many opportunities to give the younger staff aggressively delivered directives about busywork they should have thought to do the minute no customers were clamoring for attention. “Go wash the already-clean TAB tables! Empty the super hot glasswasher! Restock the two missing chiller glasses!”

I made the unforgivable mistake of preempting Bertha’s powers of observation. Four of us were standing behind the bar with no customers in sight. I told the most senior girl that I was going to go do a chore in the bottle store and to call for me if it got busy again. Not two minutes had gone by before Bertha stormed into the bottle store and demanded to know “what the hell” I was doing.

I tried to reply, but Bertha seized the opportunity for one of her rants. She pummeled me with a diatribe that went something like, “No! You can’t be  out here doing NOTHING when we’re BUSY! Get back in the bar RIGHT NOW! Behind the bar is where I need you!” Amongst her explosion, I managed to squeeze in an explanation that we weren’t busy when I started doing what I’m supposed to do when we’re not busy.

When we walked through to the bar, all three other staff were standing there doing nothing, just as I’d left them.

I said to Bertha, “This is *exactly* what it was like when I left.”

Bertha yelled over her shoulder, “COME HERE!” as she stormed into the back room.

I poked my head through the doorway, she locked her eyes on mine, and just about spit as she demanded “GET OVER HERE RIGHT NOW!” and pointed vehemently at her feet.

Now, I’ve been in plenty of similar situations with Bertha. I am always the “bigger person,” taking her verbal abuse on the chin while staying calm and collected in spite of the fact that almost everything she throws a fit about is illogical. This time, I was more flabbergasted than ever before. I was about to get yelled at for a completely reasonable choice. Not to mention I firmly disagree that yelling at anyone is acceptable management behavior.

So I calmly and evenly said, “No. I’m not going to come in here so you can tell me off. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Bertha totally lost it and yelled, “FINE. THEN GO HOME!”

You may find it mildly surprising that this was not the Golden Moment.

I happily left, having just lucked into having St. Patrick’s night off with my sweetie and satisfied that I’d sent a fair, clear, calm message to Bertha that the way she treats people is unacceptable.

Free Holiday Evening Off!!

Throughout the evening, as I told my story to people, I discovered that what she had done is supposedly illegal 2once someone starts a shift in New Zealand, they can’t be sent home until they’ve worked a certain amount of time.  Or at the very least, they still have to be paid for their time, even if they are sent home, and that no one who knows her was even a tiny bit  surprised at her behavior.

The Golden Moment took place the following evening.

Unprofessional General Manager Helga was filling in as duty manager. I assumed the prior evening’s bizarre yet all-too-common events were water under the bridge, like always. When Bertha arrived an hour later, I said hello to her and received a glare in response. I poured drinks while Bertha disappeared into the back room.  I looked around and realized Helga was gone, too.  About 20 minutes passed and Bertha came striding out of the back room, and snootily announced, “Helga wants to see you in her office.”

The door to the the tiny closet used to conduct business was open, so I wandered in and grabbed the second chair .  Helga took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and said sternly — in her no-nonsense British clip – “I’ve just spoken to [Bertha] about what happened last night and you NEED to go apologize to her RIGHT now. When a duty manager tells you to do something you NEED to do it.”

The unprofessional GM “Helga.”

I replied, “Helga, I’m more than happy to apologize to her, but you should know I didn’t do anything wro-.”

As per her appalling, recent standard, Helga cut me off, saying, “Jema, I don’t care, and I DON’T want ANY attitude about this. YOU NEED to apologize to her and if you don’t like it, you can finish  3“Finish” is how New Zealanders (and maybe Aussies, Brits, etc?) refer to getting off work. You friend might phone you and say, “You finish at six, right? Want to grab a drink afterward?” RIGHT NOW.”

A short back-and-forth ensued with me asking Helga if it was okay for managers to behave unprofessionally  and Helga telling me to stop giving her attitude and that if I didn’t like it I shouldn’t work there anymore. I left the office shining Helga on with my lack of “attitude” and mulled my options of either apologizing to Bertha or ending my Wanaka stint at the [Redacted] Bar.

When I walked out front, Bertha was talking to customers. I resisted the urge to go up to her and make a small display of my apology. Instead, I turned on my heel and went into the back room to evaluate  my position. I had five shifts remaining, having already given my  planned notice  awhile ago. So, I went back out front, picked up my bag, filled in my time card, found Helga, and apologetically said, “Look, I’m sorry, but this is really inappropriate, and I just can’t.   So, I guess I’m going to go.”

And that  was the Golden Moment.

I feel like things went about as well as they could. I didn’t come apart and yell back, I kept my cool, and I stuck up for my principles. I didn’t agree to continue being abused in exchange for money. Now I have an unexpected thirteen days to plan our onward  journey, catch up my archives, and enjoy life in Wanaka!

References

References
↑1 *A “duty manager” is a term from New Zealand liquor laws. Any establishment that serves alcohol must have a “duty manager” present at all times. To be a duty manager you need six months of experience working around alcohol in New Zealand and then you have to take a class and pass a test about liquor laws. At a fundamental level, duty managers are only responsible for what’s happening with alcohol. However, from a business’ perspective, in lieu of the duty manager requirement, it makes sense to have this person also be the shift manager. Because all duty managers have purchased their credentials, it’s not altogether uncommon for them to lack critical components of a management skill set — most noticeably in the personnel department.
↑2 once someone starts a shift in New Zealand, they can’t be sent home until they’ve worked a certain amount of time.  Or at the very least, they still have to be paid for their time, even if they are sent home
↑3 “Finish” is how New Zealanders (and maybe Aussies, Brits, etc?) refer to getting off work. You friend might phone you and say, “You finish at six, right? Want to grab a drink afterward?”

Hippie Logistics: How to Live in a Van

living in a van - a Mazda Bongo hippie van! Hippie van living wasn't easy, but we definitely picked up tips on how to live in a van

Living in a van wan’t easy, or always warm. By the end of our Mazda Bongo hippie van experience, we’definitely become experts on how to live the van life. Organization, less-is-more, and don’t sweat the small stuff!

We are back to living in a van again. When we first figured out how to live in a van back in December, it seemed like a pretty big deal. What started as a test of our ability to endure hardship, has actually become a pleasant existence! Thanks to my pastoral proclivities, hippie van living will probably not feature on any large scale in the next 40 years. For now, though, it’s great!

(Related: How Much It Costs to Live in a Van)

Rather listen than read?

FAQ’s about How to Live in a Van:

Where do you shower?

Thanks to my commitment to fitness, this is not a problem. A look in my laundry bag reveals the mediocrity of my present life: work uniforms and workout clothes are all I need to do all I do. The first of my living in a van tips: join a gym, work out everyday, and shower thereafter. We did have one mishap when our gym wasn’t open!

Where do you go to the bathroom?

Well, see #1. The gym is usually my first stop in my daily van life. If not, that means I went straight to work, where there are also toilets. In a pinch, touristy Wanaka luckily has lots of public restrooms scattered around the town. Grocery stores and gas stations are a last resort. This part of living in a van is not a problem in tourist towns.

gym bathroom in Wanaka that I used while I was living in a hippie van

Living in a van means having many bathrooms”

Where do you get your food?” 1This how-to-live-in-a-van question posed to me by a lawyer from New York.

The grocery store. Ha ha! No, really. They have fruits and vegetables and whole grains and meat and everything. Okay”¦ the back of our hippie van has a wooden shelving unit that is our pantry. We have a “chilly bin” (cooler) for dairy, meat, etc., and we have two cookstoves on which the tall man makes delicious meals like stir fry, tacos, lentil stew, chicken and rice, etc.

Tall man cooking food in the back of a hippie van - creating a good cooking set up is a big part of figuring out how to live in a van

Perks of hippie van living – your own personal bearded chef! Creating a good cooking set up is a big part of figuring out how to live in a van.

How do you wash your clothes?

Laundry is tricky when living in a hippie van. It’s similar to RV living. We could hand wash in tubs, but laundromats are cool. I will own one some day.

Where do you sleep?

In the hippie van! Okay, this can actually be a tough one.

We do our best to sleep for free. This is the point of living in a van, isn’t it? When we can’t we sometimes stay in campgrounds. For Americans who have to pay to camp, this friend referral link for HipCamp – like AirBnb for camping – will cut your cost by $20. In New Zealand, DOC has some really cheap ($5) or free campgrounds. In Canada, Crown Land can be camped on for free. Japan and Australia both have lots of free camping. In the US, you can camp free in National Forests.

man sleeping in a van - how to live in a van - build a sleeping platform with storage underneath

Our hippie van “sleeping quarters.” Living in a van requires some logistical hurdles not unlike RV living, but it’s worth it!

But when you’re in a city like us, you have to be careful when sleeping for free. No one likes weird hippie van people parked in front of their house (at least I didn’t at my former residence). To make matters more difficult, there is actually an anti-van culture in New Zealand. As is common, the few have ruined living in a van for the many. 2Human waste has been found in places frequented by campervans, causing local communities frustration aimed at anyone living in a van. I suspect New Zealanders might look to their own citizens a little more often in the blame game — a recent police report elaborated on actually catching a local in the act. Nonetheless, the stereotype is stuck in the popular mind. To complicate matters further, many campervans are rentals with outspoken paint jobs. The worst are “Wicked” campervans complete with offensive quips painted across the rear of the van. One of the best living-in-a-van tips I can give is to be ready to deal with lots of stereotypes.

wickedcampers hippie van offer something more like RV living with all the amenties

Living in a van can be difficult with awful hippie vans like this everywhere. How to live in a van 101: avoid wild paint jobs!

The local city council has hired a man with a passion for ousting campervans from public places. His name is Roy and he goes around at 4 a.m. pounding on the windows of any vehicle that looks like it could be slept in and announces that the police are “following him around” and will “be here in a few minutes to give you a $500 fine and take your van off you for up to two weeks if you’re still here.” A Kiwi friend of mine says he and his friends just tell Roy “where he can stick it” and Roy leaves nasty notes on their windshields, but that’s all. However, in May, a law goes into effect that allows campervans to be fined up to $20,000 for “freedom camping.”

So, how do we deal with this sensitive issue? Don’t laugh. I keep a chart of all the different places we’ve found to park while living in a van. I make sure that we don’t stay in the same place more than once in seven days. These spots include parking lots, quiet neighborhoods, industrial areas, and dead-end roads. We also vacate these places right around sunrise 3which in the height of summer’s longest days was a bit miserable. We’ve had offers from friends to park at their houses, but that’s a bit awkward since there is no social script for that sort of thing. Do you announce your arrival? Have a chat? Do you say goodbye? Do you just leave them be? If we got asked to leave someplace, we’d take a friend up on their offer. Let’s hope it never comes to that!

Where do you “live?”

This is the best part of living in a van! The lakefront has a long, narrow parking lot with a dazzling view to accommodate all the tourists. The best wireless internet deal in town 4Internet is NEVER free in New Zealand. Even at the library!!! is from the information center on the waterfront. When I’m not at work or running errands, I park at the waterfront, write, email, organize myself, cook, do paperwork, make U.S. phone calls, clean “house,” etc.

Couple on shore of mountain lake while living in a hippie van and figuring out best practices for how to live in a van

Another perk when you live in a van, places like this are your front/backyard!

So why is living in a van great?

First of all, when not at work, I’m always “outside,” which I love. Also, the simplicity of living in a van is a beautiful thing. My mental health is directly related to how “organized” or “sorted” I feel. If I have lots of unaccomplished adult tasks in my life — laundry piled up, dirty dishes in the sink, floors need vacuumed, clothes need folded, clutter on the kitchen table needs put away — a sense of failure keeps me stressed out until those things are accomplished. At “home,” it’s common to deal with that stress by snuggling up with a book or vegging out on the internet or T.V. for hours. Living in a hippie van, you have to face the music. Everything takes place on the same surface, which, in its final hours, serves as a bed. Therefore everything has to be done by bedtime!

working area inside the hippie van - an indoor clothesline is part of the system for how to live in a van or RV living

This is the essence of living in a van.

There you have it: how to live in a van!

We try to tread lightly in our hippie van. We recognize that if everyone was living in a van, even if they were all New Zealand taxpayers like us, the resources that aren’t currently at capacity (parking, bathrooms, etc.) would be maxed out. I am thankful to get to try out this hippie van living and learn its lessons! ♣

Read about jobless, traveling van life in Hippie Logistics: Part II.

If you’re new to the lifestyle, you’ll relate to:  Why a Hard-Working Perfectionist”¦ Doesn’t Want a Job
Flying to your van-travel destination? Get there with free flights!
When you want to take breaks from living in your van, Become a Housesitter.
If you need to cash up, consider these 24 Jobs for Travelers.
When you start craving being a part of something, Work Exchange!

References

References
↑1 This how-to-live-in-a-van question posed to me by a lawyer from New York.
↑2 Human waste has been found in places frequented by campervans, causing local communities frustration aimed at anyone living in a van. I suspect New Zealanders might look to their own citizens a little more often in the blame game — a recent police report elaborated on actually catching a local in the act. Nonetheless, the stereotype is stuck in the popular mind.
↑3 which in the height of summer’s longest days was a bit miserable
↑4 Internet is NEVER free in New Zealand. Even at the library!!!

The Mailman Drives a Moped: quirks in Kiwi-land

Only two more weeks of work left in Wanaka!! Before we depart, I thought I’d record, for posterity’s sake, what it’s like here.

The Luggate Hotel (synonymous with "Pub") where I work a few times a week. (It's owned by the owners of the Bullock Bar where I also work).

My favorite thing about the town, of course, is the scenery. It’s a bustling, picturesque tourist hub. I couldn’t pull 70-hour work weeks for months on end in a city and stay reasonably sane. I need greenery, water, snow capped peaks, etc. I love waking up and spending my days under the watchful eyes of the “Wanaka Woman” – the town’s dominant ridgeline.

The "Wanaka Woman" watching over the town - I think she looks sort of like a regal mummy with her arms folded over her chest. But you can imagine what the popular opinion is.

The summer weather, by central Otago* standards, has been terribly “cold” and “rainy.” These terms attempt to express that it’s been more like 70’s and often overcast, than high 80’s and blazing sun. Because I gave up my summer to work when work is plentiful and placed my bet on a fantastic fall, I am a bit relieved. So far, it’s the right choice. Now fingers crossed for a warm autumn!

*Otago is the area in which we presently live. It’s sort of like a “state,” but NZ doesn’t have states.

Typical Wanaka architecture - so weird!

The architecture, specifically in the neighborhoods, can be quite strange. Apparently the avant garde style of the day is in futuristic materials with classic lines from the 1970’s. The look is very “Jetson’s,” and I can’t say I like it very much! However, wood and stone are also popular and have contributed to many beautiful structures.

One of my favorite Wanaka homes - I think the stones and wood take the edge off the 70's style.

Wanaka, by Kiwi* standards, is a very, very expensive town – one of the most expensive places in the country. Things are astronomically priced, in general. We can’t wait to see our monthly grocery bill plummet when we leave here. It will be interesting to start comparing Wanaka with the rest of New Zealand. To my shock, kiwi fruit — practically the national fruit — is $4 a kilo! A pint of cheap beer here is $6. It’s come to seem quite normal, but I guess it’s similar to the U.S. when considering the difference in minimum wage.
*I’ve said before that New Zealanders call themselves Kiwis, right? After a rare bird found here?

Random Wanaka adorations:

1) The mailman drives a moped. This is so funny to me. There are big vans for packages and the like, but all other mail arrives by moped!

2) No traffic lights! This is a common feature in all of New Zealand. Traffic circles are a cheaper alternative to lights and are used everywhere. It’s also far more common to have yield signs at major intersections. It feels a bit dangerous sometimes, but usually it’s just nice.

3) Pembroke Park — a giant expanse of nothing more than grass just off the six main blocks of town.

4) Bullock Creek — a quaint little stream that regularly cross in my comings and goings.

5) Stubbies! – this isn’t just Wanaka, but all of Southland, I’m told (Southland is equivalent to the Midwest in the states). Stubbies are what they call shorts that are higher than mid-thigh when worn by men. I find it hilarious that all these blue collar men are running around building things, doing construction, managing sewage treatment plants, farming and ranching, acting as plumbers and electricians and engineers while wearing insanely short shorts. I’ve taken to running down the street after them snapping covert photos.

Stubbies!

These are the same men who turn up for a “Deer Stalkers Demo” at the bar where I work.   Imagine my mild surprise when I walk into the keg room to find two dead deer on the floor.   By 8 p.m. that night, a stage was set up, a pulley was hung, and the bloody platform was surrounded by a transfixed audience of mostly beer drinking males.   Wanaka!

Clockwise from top left - the deer in the chiller as seen from the bar; the demo; the deer in the chiller as I first encountered them; the aftermath and our new chef who "cooked off" "heaps" of the venison (it was amazing).

Overall, I like Wanaka lots. It would be an amazing place to come as a tourist. It’s a little sleepy from a resident’s perspective. I’m looking forward to being done with work in a few weeks and finally partaking in all the play Wanka has to offer — kayaking, amazing bike trails, wine tasting, glacier hikes, Puzzling World, in-town day hikes, etc. So excited!!

Deer/Elk farms are popular here. This one is by the airport. I drive past each time I work at the Luggate country pub.

toMAYto, toMAHto: Kiwi-isms and two-month highlights

Well, I am officially tired of working! Staffing shortages at both my jobs have led to 70+ hour work weeks, which was not how I intended to spend my time in Wanaka. The goal was to work in a South Island playground to maxamize fun on our days off. Well, turns out I don’t have any! I know I’m not getting much sympathy from those who know me well. Somehow I always do this to myself. I guess I’m an addict? I consider quitting one of the jobs everyday in favor of more time to relax, plan our onward journey, write, and maybe lay the groundwork to do more freelance work on the road. I quickly lose myself in circular reasoning involving the fact that I don’t love either of the jobs, and the pros and cons are strangely polarized.

On a lighter note, Kiwi-isms are seeping into my speech, and my vigilance is waning. Ketchup here is “toMAHto sauce.” In an evening shift, I reference this particular substance anywhere from 6 — 20 times. To avoid repeating myself, I’ve given this one over to the dark side. Otherwise it’s, “Would you like ketchup? [quizzical look] I mean toMAYto sauce. [continue look] You know, toMAHto sauce?.” At my other job we have lots of tomatoes — slow roasted, cherry, and sliced — so “toMAHto” is rubbing off there as well. Kiwi’s also say “reckon” instead of “think.” As in, “How many do you reckon we’ll have in tonight?” Or “I reckon it should only take twenty minutes or so.” I reckon the word has taken up permanent residence in my vocabulary!

Activites of note during the last two months included:

  1. Birthday celebrations! Pat planned a fantastic day for our birthdays (we’re a year and three days apart). Sleeping in, breakfast at Tango’s cafe, hiking up Roy’s Peak, picnicing, and a fancy dinner at The Landing — he’s hired!

    My favorite view from our birthday hike up Roy's Peak

  2. Challenge Wanaka — a huge iron distance triathlon (165 miles!) held in and around Wanaka. It’s a big deal. Elite athletes and common folk come from around the world and pay thousands (yes, thousands) to enter. A few of my coworkers did it, and I volunteered at a running aid station. It was intense to be finding out what an athlete wants only seconds before grabbing it in time to jog alongside as they sprint past.

    An athelete coming down the Challenge Wanaka trail

  3. Dog sitting! Barker and Scruffy were our companions for six weeks. Barker is a cranky old man who loves you but doesn’t know how to be anything but protective and gruff. Scruffy is a silly, sweet, bum wagging dog who is completely loyal. They were fun, and we miss them!

  4. Anniversary No. Five — P at and I just keep on keeping on! We’re still laughing most days and still very much in love. We spent a few days at a lodge in the New Zealand wilderness to celebrate. It was so good to get away and spend time together doing nothing!

    My favorite view on our anniversary escape

  5. Black Market Penicillin — because I am not a citizen of New Zealand, medical care is expensive. I knew from experience that I had tonsilitis, wasn’t getting better, and could get a whole lot worse. I was miserable enough to start asking farmers what kind of antibiotics they kept around for their stock. Miraculously, upon sharing my tale of woe with a friend, he exclaimed, “I have a course of penicillin!” (And yes, Mom, it was the right kind. It was prescribed, but he never took it. Don’t worry!).

  6. Care Packages! – Our families and friends have been giving us the royal treatment — first Christmas, then our birthdays, then Valentines Day, then a special supplies shipment and lots of little surprises… In the wake of 70 hour work weeks, coming home at night to a care package makes it all better!

More pictures, if you’d like, at:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=274349&id=500324216&l=3791b7adf6

My Boyfriend has a Fu Manchu

The short version catch-up: I’m still in New Zealand, still in the tourist-capital of Wanaka, and still bartending/waitressing at the Bullock Bar. New is – I’ve been house/dog sitting for a month, and I took a second job (!) in the kitchen of a cafe.

Pat in the kitchen where we house-sat

I’ve been working tons of hours or engaged in daily life or desperately needing sleep at all blogging opportunities for the last month! My work week is generally about 60 hours, and around that I squeeze in adult tasks like laundry, grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning, showering, fitness maintenance, and sometimes sleep. It’s been really nice, after living in the van for a month, to spend these six weeks at a house. However, I am realizing the more opportunities I have, the busier I am. Van life doesn’t allow for as many opportunities (I’m going to bake my own cereal! I’m going to try making kale chips!), and ironically it is less stressful.

Things have slowed down considerably at my first job. Now that we aren’t slammed every night, I’m mostly just working in “the grill.” It’s just the chef and I. When it’s busy, it’s “mental.” Never before have I seen a restaurant (that seats up to 55 people!) where a single person is the hostess, waitress, bartender, food runner, cashier, bus boy, AND the dishwasher! It works only because New Zealanders and most travelers are understanding and don’t expect to be waited on hand and foot. When people are rude to me or treat me like a scum-sucking servant, I’m embarrassed to say that they are *always* Americans.

My view from behind the bar in the Bullock Grill

My second job is a nice change of pace. It’s at the same cafe where I “trialed” and then the person whose shoes I’d have filled ended up staying. It’s probably the busiest cafe in town, in a great location and the owners are amazing, sweet people. It’s generally known as “Kai” or “Cafe Kai.” The whole name is Kai Whaka Pai, which means “food made better” in Maori. To my initial astonishment, it is pronounced “Kai Fuck-a Pie.” Whaka is a common Maori word. It feels strange to say it so casually all the time.   There are two or three of us in the kitchen who prep, plate food, cook, and wash dishes.

Laurie and James in the tiny Kai kitchen

Ironically both my jobs involve a component of dishwashing, and at first I was horrified. I feel, in American culture, jobs like housekeeping and dishwashing are heavily stigmatized. Here, having a certain background — be it engineering, admin, technology, teaching, etc — doesn’t make you anyone special. And very few people feel they are “too good” to do a certain task. I never would have expected being tricked into doing commercial dishes would have catalyzed personal growth, but here I am actually appreciating the experience!

Bullock Head Chef Reece backlit by the "washing up" area

As for the blog title, Pat is, for the first time in his life getting to experiment with the masculine miracle of facial hair. His post-pubescent life thus far has been spent in the military and behind an accounting desk. Suddenly he has a choice about his appearance and has gone wild! He hadn’t shaved or gotten a haircut since the day after Chris and Julie’s wedding at the beginning of September. A week or two ago, he finally got a trim and started his “manscaping.” It will probably be another month before he makes it back to the clean-shaven man I used to know. I just pray none of the stages in between involve a highway-patrolman’s mustache.

Pat's "chops and goatee" - one of the many stages of manscaping I have endured.

New Zealand Men Wear the Most Ridiculous Shorts

It’s the tail-end of a raging storm and I have been completely flattened by New Zealand New Year’s. I’ve spent nearly every night for the past two weeks behind a bar until the wee hours of the morning. I haven’t had the chance to see how busy other evening joints are, but we are absolutely slammed. After waitressing in the grill for five hours, I bartend for five more. The night before New Year’s, I sold over $3,000 in drinks, easily. I’m one of seven bartenders.

Christmas was fine. We both worked the days on either side of the holiday. Pat and I sort of opted out to avoid getting too homesick. We didn’t get each other gifts, but we did share a bottle of wine and some nice cheese on the shore of the lake!

Johnny the deer-hunting helicopter pilot, whom I adore, in the classic kiwi male get up - rugby shirt, rugby shorts (stubbies), and "jandals" (when worn by men, flip flops are ONLY called jandals).

It’s late spring here, and the local cherries can be had for $3 a pound in certain secret places. I’ve been gorging myself sick, but I love it and can’t stop. It rained so hard and so long here that the lake — over 30 miles long — rose ten feet. TEN FEET. We watched as the floating docks reached their limits and then slowly disappeared. Today the top six inches of the posts are finally peeking out of the water. I’m ashamed to say I haven’t been for a swim yet. After our first two weeks of unseasonably insanely warm weather up in Makarora, the next two weeks were chilly with constant gale force winds and rain. The forecast says a happy medium should be returning. Maybe that’s my New Year’s resolution. Swim in the lake at least once a week.

I’m busting out twelve hours tonight for New Year’s, so I’m off for a nap. Since New Zealand is one of the first countries to ring in midnight, let me preemptively welcome you to 2011!