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Richard...the merino mullet toting local farmer. Now a merino mullet is a special brand of mullets...it's a kiwi mullet. It has the poof and fluffiness of the number one road kill in new zealand--the possum and the curly-q tail or 'party in the back' of a pig. Now, I met richard while staying in a campground in the outskirts of Invercargill. As I made my way into the kitchen for a late dinner of sorts with my latest Irving novel in hand I found a comfy chair in the corner and sat down. A good 10 minutes later the real 'encounter' of the week occured. Richard introduced himself as a local who lived at the motor camp full time and was kind enough to point through the window to his trailer...the one with the year round christmas lights and huge fishing pond in the front with fake fish in it. We then got into a 'heated' discussion about his childhood love of farm machinery and how that translated into an adulthood spent collecting model farm miniatures. Now, richard was a rather expressive man always using his hands to gesture...it was hard not to take note of his hands or rather fingernails...each nail was cut in an alternating pattern of long, short, long...with an equal amount of dirt deposited underneath. Richard also had a lovely habit of calling me 'sweets'...not to be confused with 'sweetie'...but sweets. He then told me how his lifelong dream was to go to disney WORLD...funny I said, mine was to travel and see the WORLD.

It has been a little over a month since I have been on the rowdy road and it is only in this past week that I can say I feel like I've finally hit my stride. Waking up around 6:30/7 every morning to a backpacker breakfast of sorts--meaning whatever I can scrounge around that is cheap and easy. By the time I finish packing up and hit the road the first signs of daylight are usually painting the sky piercing reds, oranges, pinks and purples and the sun is in that low almost blinding spot on the road where you have to squint and pray that what's making your tires screech and your car rattle is actually the road.
This past week I have made my way down from Te anau to Dunedin via the Southern scenic route. I realize that means nothing to you...but anyways it's some sort of reference. I spent four nights in Te Anau where days were spent hiking the kepler trek (one of the great walks of new zealand) and exploring the little town.
On June 1st, I drove to Milford Sound along milford road which is rumored to be one of the most beautiful drives in all of new zealand. I would concur that is if I could have seen a damn thing I was driving through. The cloud cover was so dense that it seemed almost a pity to waste my petrol, but alas I knew going to new zealand and missing the milford sound would be like going to the united states and not seeing the statue of liberty...in other words it wasn't an option.
I apparently arrived just in the nick of time for the last cruise of the day in the sounds. Without time to grab a jacket I was off and running. Now, the first clue that should have alerted me to the fact that this cruise was more 'hands on' then your typical cruise of the sounds was that it was called 'the encounter.' the second should have been the fact that onboard everyone seemed to be wearing these red rain jackets...it felt like they were all part of an exlusive club...a club of rain jacket misfits and I was on the outs. Now the third and final clue would be that the once classical easy listening music streaming through the speakers started playing the all too familiar jaws theme music...and then it happened the small cruise boat went head on into a waterfall...now if you have never been on a boat headed straight into a 750m high powerful force of mother nature...then I can honestly say you have never lived before. It felt like the ultimate white water rafting experience as the small boat rocked back and forth with the front of the boat at times nearly pointed to the sky...we crashed into the falls and while everyone screamed in excitement it hit me...so that's what the rainjackets were for. To say I looked like a wet dog would be an understatement I looked like the dead lifeless soaking rat the wet scraggly dog dragged in, but alas who can complain when your traveling on a small private cruise ship through a neverending landscape of fjords, hundreds of thousands of little waterfalls and the picture perfect rainbow cutting across the hazy, now slightly clearing skies of the MILF...milford sound that is.

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!