May 07

It's days like this that remind me why as people we are meant to go through hard times, feel intense pain and sadness because without those periods in our lives we would not be able to truely appreciate beauty. I always thought the expression 'tears of joy' was just that an expression--until today it actually happened to me. It's funny when I think about it because it wasn't like the scenery I saw today was any more magnificent then other days, but for whatever reason today hands down was the best day of my life--and no I didn't meet the father of my children or discover the cure for cancer, but what I did find was joy--simple, easy unconflicted shear happiness.
When you can wakeup in the morning and feel excited for the day--you know that no matter what you do it's going to be okay--in fact better than okay--great. I wokeup yesterday in Queenstown did some errands--bought a poncho much to my embarrasment, but alas my rain jacket just isn't long enough and with the steady rain in weeks past it made sense to push my pride aside and take my turn as a grim reeper of sorts in my navy blue cape. Then I went to the grocery store picked up some goods for the trip ahead and even though I waited in line for a good 20 minutes, then had the cashier screw up my bill...multiple times..nothing could touch me today...I was just that at ease. Those days when everything just feels so right in the world that you find yourself effortlessly smiling as you walk along the streets...smiling for nobody in particular...but smiling because you just can't help it--that was me.
I filled up the tank, made pleasent conversation with the girl who rang up my order and was on my way to Te anau--the access town to the infamous Milford Sound. The weather had called for the next week to be rainy, but I wasn't going to let it phase me...especially with the fact that for the first time in ages I was listening to music from the radio because I was finally able to get some reception.
With a coffee placed so perfectly in my cupholder, the windows down I was off and running. The roads to milford seemed to stretch for miles in straight lines--was a different feel to the road then I had gotten used to in weeks past--the winding roads and sharp turns...but today I was able to just coast, let my mind wander and take in the mountains, crisp fall air and patches of blue sky admist the grey clouds. That's the thing about clouds in this country--they don't just occupy space in the sky...they linger here...sometimes they even seem to rise like steam or smoke from the ocean and forested mountains...but never the less they have purpose--they make a statement.
Instead of letting the beauty just pass me by--I really stopped and appreciated it today. Sometimes if I found a mountain or the way the light hit the river that I passed a kilometer back still playing in my mind...I would just stop the car wherever I was and walk back to that place, camera in hand and capture that image. Funny thing was more often then not when I walked back to those places they never seemed as breathtaking or striking as they did in those fleeting moments when I drove by--but again today was different...today I had to go back and see them just one more time.
As I drove on the skies not only cleared up but it became the type of day you were meant to drive in--although it is the tail end of fall and nearing the beginning of winter, the sun penetrated with such intensity that I felt my face redden under it's touch. The wind was out in full force today as well--with the leaves having already begun changing colors I found myself captivated by the leaves collecting in the wind, whirling around and dancing...it was like that moment in American Beauty with the plastic bag--something so simple as leaves...yet I just couldn't take my eyes off them.
Birds resembling humming birds with black and silver tipped wings dived down across the road ahead of me playing games with the open road and the dusty gravel...calling me to speed ahead, but always remaining just out of reach, but just enough in focus that again I was mesmerized by these hundreds of small creatures.
The clouds...again the clouds they seemed to lose their numbers as the day went on and the skies cleared, but their presence continued to be felt--at times they seemed so bright that you felt you were looking at the sun itself, the edges illuminated...I tried to sit back and take them in and try to figure out what they looked like...I couldn't. these weren't clouds meant to be described as whales or bugs bunny...they were nature personified.
And then it happened...the tears I felt them at first well up in my eyes...I caught a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror..and was confused...I wasn't feeling sad so what was going on. And then it hit me...I was happy...I felt alive...whatever things have happened in the past, whatever is going to happen in the future it just didn't matter...not at that moment...at that moment everything was perfect--I don't throw this word around lightly...but that day it just was.
As I made my way to lake manapouri the skies began to darken...but it wasn't enough to stop me from getting out of my car and seeing this lake up close. It's funny I don't judge nor fault people who can just drive by mountains, lakes, etc. and call it a trip...to me that's like coasting through life and never really taking in the sights and sounds...never experiencing love...it's just not living. So, I got out of the car wandered along the pebbled lakeshore and looked out and what I saw was mountains in the background coated in a dusting of snow...but what really stuck a cord with me was even through the thick cloud cover there was this one strong, brilliant blinding ray of light that escaped the masses of clouds and shone through on the lake...now I'm not a religious person...more like spiritual, but honestly it felt like I was meant to see that ray of light--as I walked around the lake...it seemed to follow me and as I turned my back to walk back to the road...the light flickered out like a lit candle...leaving only the smokey grey clouds behind.
I headed into Te Anau around 4 that day and ended up staying at the Lakeside holiday park. As I parked my car I decided to walk around the campervan site and checkout the facilities...as I neared the kitchen/lounge area I saw it...it was brightly illuminated, colorful, and it's presence could be felt far beyond the confines of the room...there in the lounge was a huge giant screen tv...not just a tv, but a tv with an episode of the simpsons streaming across the screen...it was then that I knew life really couldn't get any sweeter then this.

After one of my better night's sleeps I awoke excited and ready to tackle glacier country for the third day. After spending a couple of days at Franz Josef I made my way to Fox Glacier--the less touristy glacier of the two. Little did I know what I would be getting myself into that day...Driving to the glacier...well scratch that driving in the morning in general is always an interesting experience because Gerty well, she doesn't really like to discuss it but she's in the midst of menopause...in other words nightly hot flashes leave the car windows steamed up come morning...now that wouldn't be a problem if she could properly defog herself...takes way too long for my liking so I have been forced to resort to using the 2.99 CRAPowel I bought at Warehouse (NZ's equivalent of walmart) ..not to be confused with it's distant relative the towel...because the CRAPowel is the most non-absorbant thing ever...anyways the morning ritual is always me attempting to wipe the windows down enough so that I can partially see out of them. Anyways as I got to the parking lot near the glacier at around 7:30am I was met with the first tour bus of the day arriving at the exact moment I did. As I walked towards the main path to the glacier, I found my shadow illuminated in the early morning light...not by the sun but by the shear brightness of the flashes of cameras and overly bright neon ponchos of the Japanese tourists...from the blinding light I would have guessed hundreds...but there were only about 25 or so. As I politely smiled I walked along the path stopping every so often to take a picture as I tried to shield my camera from the rain...at this point it would be probably good to mention how paranoid I have become about protecting my camera from water of any kind after the last digital camera falling victim to salt water...anyways my camera at all times...rain or shine is wrapped in a plastic bag which is then placed in the camera case...the camera case is then placed in a plastic cream cheese container that is lined with a plastic bag which in turn is you guessed it covered in a plastic bag...so basically taking the picture is the easiest part of the ordeal...it's the getting to the camera that proves the more time consuming endeavor.
In the near distance I could hear the tour guide of the Japanese rambling, and the slight vibration of the ground underfoot told me that not only were the Japanese coming...they were getting closer.
As the ground shook, and the flashes went off one after another...I found myself getting slightly annoyed...not to say that I have become this nature snob...but the times I do get to be on the trail...I like to just take in my scenery and not have to be continually distracted by hoards of tourists...so anyways I felt the word forming at my lips, the sound of the vowels echoing in my throat...but alas the word wouldn't come out...as much as I wanted the trail to myself I didn't have the heart to scream "GODZILLA" just to see if in fact they would clear the trail.
At some point along the trail you are warned about a stream crossing...normally not a big deal, but because of the last week's steady downpour...the now once trickle of a stream was a pretty fearsome rapid...when I reached the 'rapid' I decided to walk a bit along the bank to see if I could find a good place to cross...as I did this the Japanese caught up to me...they seemed just as perplexed as I was about crossing the stream. Anyways eventually I found a route...that although it got me a bit wet seemed the safest and easiest way to get across...meanwhile the japanese had decided to use their many years of engineering ingenuity to craft some sort of bridge to cross the stream...I decided to cross back over the stream and offer my services to whomever wanted...so with my hand extended and my other hand gesturing towards the route I took...I nearly grabbed hold of one of the japanese woman's hands when the tour guide quickly ran up to the woman with the outstretched hand...and although she spoke japanese I could have sworn she uttered the words...'remember hiroshima' and with that the woman took back her hand and the japanese went back to bridge-building.
Needless to say I ended up getting the trail all to myself as I embarked on the final 10 min. of it towards the glacier...with many a pictures taken I headed back to the carpark...only to be greeted with the japanese still trying to cross the stream and eventually admitting defeat...

About a week ago while in Westport a young 20 something bloke from Holland struck up a conversation with me in the information center in Westport...little did I know this random encounter would be quite literally a biblical experience for me. Now Remko, who can only be described as that foreign exchange student from the movie 'can't hardly wait' who is so insanely happy that his mouth is permanently fixed in a smile and if you didn't know better you could quite easily be convinced he had just won the lottery...he was that happy of a guy. Anyways over the course of our discussion I learned that Remko was not only supposed to work at Tararu Valley, but he was also supposed to arrive on the same day that I was...our chance meeting in a random little city...coincidence?...I think not..but fate. What I got from Remko, besides a lot of 'yaw's" was a renewed spirit...not that I had forgotten, but he reminded me of the thrill of the adventure of traveling...of being able to go anywhere at the drop of a hat...to make your own fun...and that when else in my life will I have this much freedom and that maybe the weather might be shit one day...but really what did a little rain hurt anyone...I am in the midst of a once in a lifetime opportunity which should be lived out to it's fullest rain or shine.
So, this past week I went up north to karamea and oparara and as far south as Franz Josef glacier...which is where I am currently. The drive to karamea was like the ascent on a rickety old rollercoaster...the roads were all unsealed and the higher you climbed up the mountain, the more you felt yourself being pushed back into your seat and josselled from side to side. Now, I hadn't planned on visiting Oparara and Karamea but thanks to Remko I made the detour to this beautiful remote, rugged area of land--and it was definitely worth the drive.




Although the weather was a bit cloudy, as you can see from the pictures the area is beyond beautiful. The rugged untouched feel of Scott's beach for some reason conjured up images of wild horses straight out of 'misty of chinqatinc?' running along the beach wild and free...I have no idea why that came to mind considering it was like in 3rd grade I read that book...but that's what flashed before my eyes as I strolled the beautiful baren beach. The waves were so fierce and the winds strong...driving along the coast I really can feel the edges of this country like a jigsaw puzzle piece in a way that I can't say I've ever really been aware of when along the coast in the U.S....
Things I don't want to forget...the feeling of tracing my hand in the pink sands along the coast near Punakiki...
walking along the bach and listening to the rain beat down on the crashing waves creating a piercing cracking noise...
the foam collecting on the beach from the force of the waves like the foam atop a beer or the bubbles in a bubblebath...the feeling of collecting the sudsy ocean froth in your hands and watching it slowly evaporate...sand formations chiseled away by the ocean mimicing the rocks behind them, the swirl patterns formed by the mixing of the pink and white sands along the beach...the juxtaposition of dead and alive---driftwod, seaweed, uprooted trees next to raging fiercy alive ocean waves...teasing the tides to see just how close I can get before they try and catch me in their powerful surge....

In this past week I have hiked through caves to make my way to limestone arches, frolicked along beaches, ascended muddy hills for picturesque views of Lake Brunner, perused jade shops and little antique stores in Hoktika, found myself late at night exploring a cave that was illuminated by the light of actual glow worms....as I entered the cave the shear darkness of everything left me blind using only the feel fo the banister to guide me through the grotto...where I was surrounded by a wall of glowing light...much like the feeling of turning off the lights in your room and seeing glow in the dark stickers come alive...I went to punakiki and saw rocks that looked like stacks of pancakes that surrounded a blowhole...that every 10-15 minutes would cause a surge of water to powerfully explode shooting straight up...the moments leading up to the explosions felt like when you overloaded a dryer and the dryer starts to shake as it's on it's last cycle and ready to near explode because of being so jam-packed...
I visited cape foulwind and got to see hundreds of kekeno seals nesting along the rocks...basking in the sun while others danced in the waters waddling along like pregnant women in their final trimesters....


Now the number one question I get asked is 'aren't you lonely traveling by yourself?' ...the truth is yes at times it can be lonely, but for the most part I have truely come to own and believe that loneliness is in fact just a state of mind. I mean I'm sure we can all remember a time when we were amongst a group of people and couldn't have felt more alone...in these past weeks I have had the opportunity to meet fellow travelers along the way...but more importantly I have learned to savor the connections I make no matter how small...I mean call me crazy, but I have come to a point in my life where the 5 minute conversation I have with the local townie while getting my coffee can feel just as intimate and real to me as the 5 hour talk I have with the random traveler...in other words life on the road has humbled me and made me that much more appreciative of my fellow man. What more why are people so scared to be alone with themselves? I mean I full heartedly believe that no experience is worth doing if I couldn't feel completely comfortable doing it by myself...in other words it's that comfort with yourself that I think is most important and is something I am slowly but surely learning. I mean also...there are some benefits like hello repeat outfit offender and nobody has to know...or what about all those times of awkwardness or clumsily falling that nobody has to bare witness to...anyways I am completely comfortable and happy with the amount of alone time and time with my fellow traveler I have...so no more 'are you lonely' questions folks!
Well, it's raining like cats and dogs outside...so I'm going to go find some illegal place to park my car for the night...beats paying for a campground...and hopefully tomorrow it will be nice enough out that I can get some viewings of the glacier...and even if it's raining I'm still going to seize the day because that's what Remko would want me to do!

They say when a woman gives birth and experiences the magical sensation of holding her newborn for the first time she is overwhelmed with her first true feelings of unconditional love...a love which I can only relate to how I feel about Gerty (and yes Betty has been renamed.) Now, Gerty is a 1997 piece of automobile history if you ask me and is quite particular in her likes/dislikes:
Name: Gertrude...Gerty for short
Likes: Long drives on the beach, parking underneath the stars, driving insync to the likes of Cat Stevens and 80s anything and everything
Dislikes: bumpy nonsealed roads, radio stations broadcasting how Jesus will save her soul and road rage
General Description: Child bearing hips good for supporting extra baggage in the trunk, has a few character defining dents and scrapes..all aquired in pursuit of tracking down villains, robbers, rapists, the likes, an engine that purrs like a lifelong smoker and yes her favorite book is "The Little Engine That Could" and she thinks hybrid cars are the yuppys of today's generation and much prefers old clunkers like herself
...but enough about my love child.
So this past week was spent driving from Nelson to Farewell Spit and back to Nelson (where I am currently.) Driving in general in this country is a real pleasure...with the lack of traffic due to the fact that sheep outnumber people in New Zealand makes long drives much enjoyable. Setting out on highway 6 I found myself overcome with feelings of excitement and a bit of nerves as well. I mean having the freedom to travel the whole entire country for a good two months...making your own route, starting and stopping wherever you want is a type of independence I had never experienced before. Of course this made me sing aloud to all my guilty pleasure music selections on the radio with a little headbanging thrown in there for good measure, roll down all the windows and make a point to stop at almost EVERY possible detour along the way...including the very exciting world of wearable arts museum and a rock that resembled an old man's face.
I drove through magestic mountains that can only be described as straight out of fairy tales, with snow-capped mountains, lush green dense forests covering the base of the mountains, clear rivers cutting through the base of the mountains...the roads through the mountains were extremely windy giving my abs a good workout from the constant shifting of the steering wheel from side to side...I found myself like a true tourist stopping every 10 feet to pullover and take a picture only to realize 10 feet up the road was an even better spot to take pictures...again thank god for the lack of traffic because it allowed me at times to travel under the speed limit so I could SAFELY get a good look at the everchanging jawdropping beautiful scenery surrounding me. Quite frequently there were detours to different beaches along the way. The beaches were all beautiful some with the typical white sand, but the more up the coast I traveled the more I encountered golden sandy beaches...it is hard to adequately describe the feeling that arises when you walk the span of a beach, sit atop some rocks on the edge of the beach and look back on to a seemingly endless path of your footsteps spanning the entire beach...and knowing for that one moment in time without a soul in sight you own that beach...and yes in a couple of hours the tide will come in and wash away your footprints just like it has with past travelers, but for that moment you have made your mark on the world.
I had the opportunity to venture on a couple of treks as well...the first hike I did was Takaka Hills which encompassed a combination of limestone, pastureland and beautiful views of golden bay...as evidenced from the pictures my only real competition for the trail came from the cows...and even when they weren't directly blocking the path their massive piles of shit were...I guess you can really say I have been viewing this country with fresh eyes because I ended up walking the trail 1.5 times before realizing I had already been up the path...but then again in this country it is so easy to get lost in the natural beauty.
I drove up to Totaranui, but not before doing a little tramping down to Aroha (another part of the Abel Tasman Coastal Track (one of the great walks in New Zealand.) I think I'm beginning to start to understand the magic of hiking...it is such a great opportunity to really clear your mind and sort through your life or at the very least scream at the top of your lungs to Ace of Base. The walk to Aroha was through a very lush, wet rain forest atmosphere with low-hanging banches, green moss covering everything and frequent corssings of little streams. The drive to Totaranui was along an unselaed very windy road and much to my delight I found myself caught behind a rabbit, bless it's dear soul, that didn't exactly understand the idea of jumping off the road to get out of the way and proceeded to hop for it's dear life ahead of Gerty...at times going well over 30km. At totaranui I explored the beach, hiked a bit more of different parts of the abel tasman track and did a lot of reading/journaling.
I'm almost embarrased to admit it, but I usually find myself going to bed at 8 at the latest and awaking at around 6am...there is just something so nice about rising and falling with the natural rhythms of the sun. One thing I wasn't expecting from traveling was becoming such a reader...I find I really crave the comfort of a good book along the road...not just for the obvious escape it provides, but for the intellectual stimulation that can sometimes be overlooked after months and months of traveling.
From Totaranui I hit pohara beach then made my way up the coast towards Farewell Spit...which of course had one of the biggest impacts on me thus far in my travels and I didn't have a working camera to capture the magical place...but maybe its better that way...forced me to really take in all the sights and sounds. I started out walking out along golden ashy beaches with the mountains in the background, white sandunes in the distance and a marshy wetland like atmosphere surrounding me...the type of place I'd envison you would find many a blue heron. The sand tended to make up little pocketed islands that were separated from one another by streams of water ranging from a few inches to a foot in depth...but easily navigable by foot. As I traversed my way from island to island, with a blue sky overhead, a few clouds in the sky resembling cotton that had been stretched apart and a rainbow far off in the distance, I could see a good 100 black swans gathering...With such a thin layer of sand separating the actual water from your foot it felt like you were tramping on a waterbed as each step gave way to a little bounce and giggle of the surrounding sand, the sand was covered in a rippled pattern that was mimiced in the water bodies nearby...created by the strong gusts of winds that at times were so strong that they caused my pants to act as sails. Some fo the black swans were flying low to the ground, creating an almost drumroll sound effect as they took flight and their white tipped wings flapped in the air, others floated along the water, but most just stood in groups debating whether to stay and make their way through the maze of sandy islands or venture into the great bay that lay just a few feet away. I can't tell you exactly why it's called farewell spit...maybe because it kind of looks like pools of spit...but for whatever reason I decided upon leaving the area to pay my respects by making a wish as I hocked a loogie and shouted 'farewell spit.'
This next week I will be heading to Nelson Lakes National Park and making my way to Westport and Greymouth...possibly, but who knows...that's what's so nice about this lifestyle...there are no set plans...everythings up in the air...and as long as I have gas in the tank and tunes blaring then this girl...or shall I say woman is utterly content. On that note a HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY to all you mother's out there that are reading this...but most importantly to my mom...I love you!

...of course my camera breaks so I lost some of the pictures...the rest I can't upload because it will take up my picture quota for the month on this site...but didn't get any pictures of farewell spit...although the mental images I have are indescribable...will detail soon!