Thursday, January 27, 2011
Thanks for the on-going support
I am sitting alone in the land of the golden arches having a coffee and realizing that their are a some very cool and supportive people in the Mount Pleasant community. I want to thank Victoria Musheff and Sully Witte for their on-going support in my endeavor to raise money for my daughter Halley and the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation. Your support keeps my spirit lifted and keeps me focused on finishing this sometimes daunting mid-life mission. I thank you both for helping me to get the word out and for providing me with a connection to the community that I have come to call home. I also realize that none of this would be possible without the support of my best friend, Bobbi. I miss you a lot more than you will ever truly know.
Sand Flies, Sun Burn and a Walk Through Paradise
I woke up early at the Bridge Street Hostel to the sound of Two Maori fellows having a loud and heated discussion in the next room. They were speaking in their native dialect and I found myself entranced by the rhythm of their voices and the intensity of their discourse. After trying unsuccessfully, to avoid placing my bare feet on to the stained and filthy carpet I showered, drank some black coffee and downed a hard and tasteless energy bar.
I made it to the bus stop five minutes before departure time and once again, was the only American and middle aged fellow on the bus. The rest were an eclectic group of young people from various countries heading off for a day of adventure. In my mind they were light weights. Most were doing a one day trip, where they take the water taxi from Kaiteriteri and go to Anchorage or Bark Bay for the day, returning later after having leisurely strolled the golden beaches of the Abel Tasman. I however, was determined to complete the 54.4 kilometer great walk from Marahau to Wainui and then would double back from Wainui to the pick up point at Totaranui. This would make the actual distance traveled around 67 kilometers.
After arriving at the drop off point a voice from the back of the bus said "are we at Kaiteriteri yet?" Apparently all of his friends had gotten off the bus and had left this twenty something Columbian kid sleeping on the bus. The only way he could get back was to walk the almost 12 Km to Anchorage where he could eventually pick up a water taxi. So the day started with a young Columbian Fillipe, a Canadian girl, two Israeli girls who had just finished their two year stint in the army and a middle aged American fella with sore knees. As the young Columbian lad was quite dejected about his ordeal I walked with him to Anchorage. We had an interesting conversation along the way and I learned much about his life and his views on everything from his love of family, his thoughts on religion and his perspective on the murder of the Columbian world cup soccer star. He currently resided in Canada and like so many young people today, he was seeing the world.
Over the next Three and a half days I hiked through some of the most beautiful coastal scenery that I have ever encountered. I have walked along coastlines in other places in the world but never have I seen the vivid and vibrant colors of the Abel Tasman landscape. The deep royal blue fringed by the shallower turquoise waters combined with sand that was truly the color of gold, was surreal and breath taking. As I photographed it continually, I realized that there is no camera that can really portray the beauty of what I was really seeing. I wish that everyone could see it the way my eyes were seeing it. Full vivid color in an endless landscape of blue sea and golden sand shrouded by green mountains and granite rock formations.
After leaving any specific bay you would often climb steeply in to the forest canopy filled with ferns, palms and a variety of lush green plant life that I have never before experienced. All the while I could hear bird calls that were completely foreign sounds and that heightened the awareness that I was in a distant and primal place, completely unspoiled and void of any impact form the modern world. Near the end of each days hike, you would come down from the mountain trails and would begin to see the familiar vibrant hues of blue and gold through the green canopy of the forest. Gradually you would descend on to another beautiful bay where you would set up your tent and marvel at the panoramic views and the fact that you just walked miles through some of the most stunning landscapes that you have ever transversed.
In a minor note, the sand flies were tough, the minor sun burn irritating and the sore muscles were ever present. Having a meal of freeze dried lamb with freeze dried potatoes and a nice drink of chemically treated water overlooking the Tasman sea......priceless.
I made it to the bus stop five minutes before departure time and once again, was the only American and middle aged fellow on the bus. The rest were an eclectic group of young people from various countries heading off for a day of adventure. In my mind they were light weights. Most were doing a one day trip, where they take the water taxi from Kaiteriteri and go to Anchorage or Bark Bay for the day, returning later after having leisurely strolled the golden beaches of the Abel Tasman. I however, was determined to complete the 54.4 kilometer great walk from Marahau to Wainui and then would double back from Wainui to the pick up point at Totaranui. This would make the actual distance traveled around 67 kilometers.
After arriving at the drop off point a voice from the back of the bus said "are we at Kaiteriteri yet?" Apparently all of his friends had gotten off the bus and had left this twenty something Columbian kid sleeping on the bus. The only way he could get back was to walk the almost 12 Km to Anchorage where he could eventually pick up a water taxi. So the day started with a young Columbian Fillipe, a Canadian girl, two Israeli girls who had just finished their two year stint in the army and a middle aged American fella with sore knees. As the young Columbian lad was quite dejected about his ordeal I walked with him to Anchorage. We had an interesting conversation along the way and I learned much about his life and his views on everything from his love of family, his thoughts on religion and his perspective on the murder of the Columbian world cup soccer star. He currently resided in Canada and like so many young people today, he was seeing the world.
Over the next Three and a half days I hiked through some of the most beautiful coastal scenery that I have ever encountered. I have walked along coastlines in other places in the world but never have I seen the vivid and vibrant colors of the Abel Tasman landscape. The deep royal blue fringed by the shallower turquoise waters combined with sand that was truly the color of gold, was surreal and breath taking. As I photographed it continually, I realized that there is no camera that can really portray the beauty of what I was really seeing. I wish that everyone could see it the way my eyes were seeing it. Full vivid color in an endless landscape of blue sea and golden sand shrouded by green mountains and granite rock formations.
After leaving any specific bay you would often climb steeply in to the forest canopy filled with ferns, palms and a variety of lush green plant life that I have never before experienced. All the while I could hear bird calls that were completely foreign sounds and that heightened the awareness that I was in a distant and primal place, completely unspoiled and void of any impact form the modern world. Near the end of each days hike, you would come down from the mountain trails and would begin to see the familiar vibrant hues of blue and gold through the green canopy of the forest. Gradually you would descend on to another beautiful bay where you would set up your tent and marvel at the panoramic views and the fact that you just walked miles through some of the most stunning landscapes that you have ever transversed.
In a minor note, the sand flies were tough, the minor sun burn irritating and the sore muscles were ever present. Having a meal of freeze dried lamb with freeze dried potatoes and a nice drink of chemically treated water overlooking the Tasman sea......priceless.
Friday, January 21, 2011
The journey from Wellington to Nelson
The following section is completely taken from the "Encyclopedia of New Zealand, 1966.". I thought that it gave a very good explanation of the Cook Strait and the waters between the North and South land masses.
Cook Strait is the stretch of water separating the North and South Islands of New Zealand. It connects the South Pacific Ocean and the Tasman Sea through the centre of the New Zealand land mass, and is 14 miles at its narrowest, between Cape Terawhiti on the south-east coast of Wellington, and Wellington Head near Tory Channel. Much of the shore of Cook Strait on both sides is composed of steep cliffs. The beaches of Cloudy Bay, Clifford Bay, and Palliser Bay are composed of boulders with steep and high storm beaches. Although these bays shoal gently down to 70 fathoms, where there is a more or less extensive submarine plateau, the bottom topography of the strait is complex. The major features of this bottom topography are, however, an eastern Cook Strait Canyon with steep, and in some places, precipitous walls descending eastwards into the bathyal depths of the Hikurangi Trench which lies off the east coast of the North Island. The upper part of the canyon divides into three arms: the South Arm, lying near the centre of the strait with its head south-west of Wellington; the Middle Arm with its head south of Tongue Point on the South Wellington Coast; and the Wairarapa Arm with its head at the 20-fathom contour near the western side of Palliser Bay.
I will now translate. It was beyond the comprehension of anything I had ever sailed through. The fact that these ferry captains do this type of navigation on daily basis is amazing. It seemed as if we sailed through an endless maze of green mountains and enormous craggy rock formations that just rose up out of the waters. At times you would pass a mountainous bay with several houses or buildings at the base and one couldn't help wonder "How do then get to the local shops?"
As we finally turned in to Picton harbor I could hear people making audible gasps out of the window. all around were dolphins, escorting the ferry in to the harbor. If I didn't know any better I would have thought I was on the Cook Strait ride at the some new Disney theme park, except this was reality and we weren't herded in to some gift shop after the ride.
After grabbing my gear I found my way to the inter-city bus and headed off to Nelson. The ride to Nelson was unbelievable. Stunning views the entire way. Past low land planes of beautiful vineyards, green mountains and massive Forests that seem to go on forever. Finally we Looped around in to Nelson on the Southern shores of the Tasman Bay.
Cook Strait is the stretch of water separating the North and South Islands of New Zealand. It connects the South Pacific Ocean and the Tasman Sea through the centre of the New Zealand land mass, and is 14 miles at its narrowest, between Cape Terawhiti on the south-east coast of Wellington, and Wellington Head near Tory Channel. Much of the shore of Cook Strait on both sides is composed of steep cliffs. The beaches of Cloudy Bay, Clifford Bay, and Palliser Bay are composed of boulders with steep and high storm beaches. Although these bays shoal gently down to 70 fathoms, where there is a more or less extensive submarine plateau, the bottom topography of the strait is complex. The major features of this bottom topography are, however, an eastern Cook Strait Canyon with steep, and in some places, precipitous walls descending eastwards into the bathyal depths of the Hikurangi Trench which lies off the east coast of the North Island. The upper part of the canyon divides into three arms: the South Arm, lying near the centre of the strait with its head south-west of Wellington; the Middle Arm with its head south of Tongue Point on the South Wellington Coast; and the Wairarapa Arm with its head at the 20-fathom contour near the western side of Palliser Bay.
I will now translate. It was beyond the comprehension of anything I had ever sailed through. The fact that these ferry captains do this type of navigation on daily basis is amazing. It seemed as if we sailed through an endless maze of green mountains and enormous craggy rock formations that just rose up out of the waters. At times you would pass a mountainous bay with several houses or buildings at the base and one couldn't help wonder "How do then get to the local shops?"
As we finally turned in to Picton harbor I could hear people making audible gasps out of the window. all around were dolphins, escorting the ferry in to the harbor. If I didn't know any better I would have thought I was on the Cook Strait ride at the some new Disney theme park, except this was reality and we weren't herded in to some gift shop after the ride.
After grabbing my gear I found my way to the inter-city bus and headed off to Nelson. The ride to Nelson was unbelievable. Stunning views the entire way. Past low land planes of beautiful vineyards, green mountains and massive Forests that seem to go on forever. Finally we Looped around in to Nelson on the Southern shores of the Tasman Bay.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Across to the South Island
Last evening I met Jon after work and we went back to his house for another meal. Barbecued locally made lamb sausages, great beer and an amazing cheesecake made by Tanya. It's strange how you meet people that you never anticipated meeting and you make an instant connection. (Thanks John! AKA Elvis). Their beautiful and energetic little girls Sascha and Nadia stole a piece of my heart and I will remember this wonderful family with a smile on my face.
The next morning Tanya and the girls picked me up outside the hostel and drove me to the inter islander ferry. On a cloudy Friday, I crossed from the North to the South Island and caught a bus from Picton to Nelson. The Drive in to Nelson was nothing but stunning vistas of vineyards, cloud covered mountains and sweeping tree covered valleys.
The next morning Tanya and the girls picked me up outside the hostel and drove me to the inter islander ferry. On a cloudy Friday, I crossed from the North to the South Island and caught a bus from Picton to Nelson. The Drive in to Nelson was nothing but stunning vistas of vineyards, cloud covered mountains and sweeping tree covered valleys.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
My milk shakes bring all the boys to the yard
So here I am feeling like I'm in some bizarre skin head limbo. The two angry drunk fellas are surveying the room with malice intent as a group of Asian kids have taken over the pool tables.
I am in the process of doing my laundry in the common area where an array of people much younger than myself, are engaged in conversations, playing ping pong or snogging on the couches at the end of the room. Could it get any stranger? Why yes it could. People are now dancing to "My milkshakes bring all the boys to yard.". You can't make this stuff up folks.
In a few days I will cross the Cook Straight over to the South Island. Over the next month I have one insane great walk after another. As soon as I get to Nelson I will head off to the Abel Tasman Coastal track, then back to Nelson, re-supply and off to the Heaphy track. After that it gets even crazier.
Maybe this place isn't so bad after all.
I am in the process of doing my laundry in the common area where an array of people much younger than myself, are engaged in conversations, playing ping pong or snogging on the couches at the end of the room. Could it get any stranger? Why yes it could. People are now dancing to "My milkshakes bring all the boys to yard.". You can't make this stuff up folks.
In a few days I will cross the Cook Straight over to the South Island. Over the next month I have one insane great walk after another. As soon as I get to Nelson I will head off to the Abel Tasman Coastal track, then back to Nelson, re-supply and off to the Heaphy track. After that it gets even crazier.
Maybe this place isn't so bad after all.
Meeting the locals
What a crazy world. Here I am floundering around at the bottom of the North Island in the beautiful city of Wellington when I hear from my best friend, John AKA "Elvis," Costello. John is apparently involved as part of a covert on-line community bent on the destruction of the civilized Western world. Apparently he and other like-minded fellows, play war games and strategize world war two battles that occurred in places such as Normandy. (Hard to believe John has such a beautiful wife and children). It just so happens that one of the chaps that he plays with lives here in Wellington.
Jon...from Wellington met me at my hostel after he was done work. He stopped by and we headed to the waterfront area for a few beers and a chat. It was cool enough that he took the time to do this but then we were sitting there having a beer and he says "do you have a car with you?" Anyone who has followed my blog knows that cars, New Zealand and I, are not a good combination. Turns out Jon was offering me the use of a car while in Wellington. After the beers we hopped a bus back to his house for a meal where I met his partner and their two adorable children.
Jon....if you get a chance to see this...thank you so much for your hospitality. You live in an awesome place and you have a wonderful family.
Jon...from Wellington met me at my hostel after he was done work. He stopped by and we headed to the waterfront area for a few beers and a chat. It was cool enough that he took the time to do this but then we were sitting there having a beer and he says "do you have a car with you?" Anyone who has followed my blog knows that cars, New Zealand and I, are not a good combination. Turns out Jon was offering me the use of a car while in Wellington. After the beers we hopped a bus back to his house for a meal where I met his partner and their two adorable children.
Jon....if you get a chance to see this...thank you so much for your hospitality. You live in an awesome place and you have a wonderful family.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
I want to thank my daughter Halley for her quiet inner strength and her determination to live a happy life filled with love for her family, Cameron and her many friends. Your smile is infectious and the note that you hid in my bag makes me smile whenever I feel alone. So many of us complain about our aches and pains and the variety of ailments that we have to deal with. You were dealt an unfair hand as a little girl and have never let this disease define you. You are truly my hero and I know that one day you will live a life free of needles and constant worry.
I also want to thank your mommy and my best friend and wife Bobbi. It is easy for me to be out here living my dream raising awareness and trying to get donations. From the day you were diagnosed it has been your mother who's strength made everything possible. I remember when I got to the hospital and cried when I saw you, so little sitting on that big hospital bed. Your mom told me that I needed to pull it together so that I didn't scare you and make things worse. So much for the big world adventurer.
It was your mom who learned everything about type 1 diabetes and who knew how to calculate the right doses of insulin and measure carbohydrate intake. It was your mother who with her usual strength of character, learned everything that needed to be learned, and who instilled that knowledge and sense of independence in you.
I also want to thank all of you who have stepped up and donated on behalf of my little girl. there is no more important gift that I could receive from all of you as it helps to move us forward in our search for better technologies and hopefully a cure. Your kindness inspires me and demonstrates to my family and daughter that anything is possible.
I also want to thank your mommy and my best friend and wife Bobbi. It is easy for me to be out here living my dream raising awareness and trying to get donations. From the day you were diagnosed it has been your mother who's strength made everything possible. I remember when I got to the hospital and cried when I saw you, so little sitting on that big hospital bed. Your mom told me that I needed to pull it together so that I didn't scare you and make things worse. So much for the big world adventurer.
It was your mom who learned everything about type 1 diabetes and who knew how to calculate the right doses of insulin and measure carbohydrate intake. It was your mother who with her usual strength of character, learned everything that needed to be learned, and who instilled that knowledge and sense of independence in you.
I also want to thank all of you who have stepped up and donated on behalf of my little girl. there is no more important gift that I could receive from all of you as it helps to move us forward in our search for better technologies and hopefully a cure. Your kindness inspires me and demonstrates to my family and daughter that anything is possible.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Hitching a ride with the one legged Yorkshire man
In one of my cost saving efforts, I decided to try hitching again today. This time I was on the road and heading to the town of Wanganui in the hopes of hiring a kayak. Not so simple as it turns out. Apparently no companies will allow you to kayak the river by yourself. As Mark from "blazing Paddles," out of Ohakune informed me. "It's very dangerous and you have to go as part of a group." Anyone who really knows me understands that I am not a group kind of fellow. Because of time constraints, I will plan to come back at the end of February and see if I can complete this one along with other paddling adventurers.
So back to the hitching. There I was at the side of the road, having already been picked up once by a friendly and amiable chap from Taupo, when a blue van pulled over and started to roll back towards me. I went to the driver's side window and soon recognized a heavy Yorkshire accent similar to my uncles Don's from my childhood in England. "Hop in" he said, made even stranger when I realized that my driver was missing his left leg. He had one of those titanium prosthetic legs. Very state of the art, and very shiny.
I don't know why, but for me these types of situations often cause a certain level of stress. It was like the elephant in the room or in this case the blue van. We were making small talk and here he was completely missing his left leg. Do you ask where's your leg? Do you talk about all of the hiking you've been doing. I was quite unsure of what the correct amputee protocol was at this point. It ws then that the conversation turned to fishing. Apparently my driver (James), was an avid fisherman. He then went on to tell me how some of his friends had hooked a juvenile Great White shark. He informed me that there are plenty of them around the coast of New Zealand. I never found the courage to ask him about the leg, nor did he offer any explanation. I could only conclude that it had to be a Great White.
So back to the hitching. There I was at the side of the road, having already been picked up once by a friendly and amiable chap from Taupo, when a blue van pulled over and started to roll back towards me. I went to the driver's side window and soon recognized a heavy Yorkshire accent similar to my uncles Don's from my childhood in England. "Hop in" he said, made even stranger when I realized that my driver was missing his left leg. He had one of those titanium prosthetic legs. Very state of the art, and very shiny.
I don't know why, but for me these types of situations often cause a certain level of stress. It was like the elephant in the room or in this case the blue van. We were making small talk and here he was completely missing his left leg. Do you ask where's your leg? Do you talk about all of the hiking you've been doing. I was quite unsure of what the correct amputee protocol was at this point. It ws then that the conversation turned to fishing. Apparently my driver (James), was an avid fisherman. He then went on to tell me how some of his friends had hooked a juvenile Great White shark. He informed me that there are plenty of them around the coast of New Zealand. I never found the courage to ask him about the leg, nor did he offer any explanation. I could only conclude that it had to be a Great White.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Walking on Mars
When I first got to the town of Taupo, I looked across the lake and there they were looming in the distance. Mt. Ngauruhoe and Mt. Tongariro with Ruapehu as a large and ominous companion. For several days while setting up transportation to the Northern circuit I would look across and see them shrouded in clouds as I listened to locals telling me about the young asian girl who got lost and who's body wasn't recovered for several weeks, or the middle aged American couple who stubbornly ignored all warnings resulting in the death of the wife and a grieving husband left with the guilt of his stupidity.
My first day started off with my transportation never showing up. There I was at 5:15am, the sun comming up, and no ride. Just then a bus pulled up with about twenty foreign students who were doing the one day Tongariro alpine crossing. The driver asked me if I needed a ride and off I went.
The first day was amazing. I began my hike on a gradual incline with Ruapehu to my right and Ngauruhoe (Mt. Doom) in the Lord of the Rings film, rising to my left. I walked alone in the land of Mordor, steadily up through a grey covered volcanic landscape with vivid crystal blue skys until four hours later I arrived at the Mangatepopo hut, eight and a half kilometers from the Whakapapa village where I began. When I arrived there was a strange shirtless, heavily tatooed Belgian fellow sitting wide eyed looking up at the mountains.
The next day I set off on the Tongariro Alpine crossing. My destination was the Ketetahi Hut, almost nine kilometers away. The track begins at the western end by Mangatepopo Hut with a forty minute valley walk to the foot of the steep Tongariro saddle. This is a steep forty five minute ascent and the most difficult part of the track. There are many more descents and ascents throughout the day that take you past volcanic craters, the Emerald Lakes and along the edge of the Blue Lake. Along the way I met up with two hardy Kiwi women, led by the intrepid and adventurous Linda. Due to the looks of disdain at my apparent expression when they suggested climbing to the summit of Tongariro, I joined them on this additional hour and a half excursion. The views from the top were spectacular and I upheld the image of American male strength, and stamina. Inside I was crying like a little girl.
After finally reaching Ketehahi, Jimmy the hut warden entertained me with more horror stories of lost souls and emergency searches. He was part of the team that descovered the dead American woman flanked by her sobbing husband. The views from the hut looked out for close to a hundred kilometers across lake Taupo and beyond.
The next morning I walked sixteen and a half kilometers to the final hut. Once again the experience was surreal as I walked completely alone for almost eight hours. I walked through a volcanic waste land, encircled by mountains and active volcanoes in a land littered with strange neolithic formations and the ever present smells of sulphur emenating from steam vents that rise constantly from the surrounding landscape.
After a night at the final hut, I walked out another five hours (completely alone once again), and back to the village from where I started. As I had no official ride back I decided to hitch hike the 60 kilometers back to Taupo. I was picked up almost immediately by Grant, a Maouri fellow driving a red van. He took me about two miles to the end of the road but was going the other way. The next pick up was a couple on holiday from Wellington. They took me about ten miles out to the cut off to Taupo and National Park. The next fellow was a young Maouri chap called David. He was a meat cutter, recently promoted form working in the slaughter house. Took me all the way in to Taupo driving at a high rate of speed. Good chap.
My first day started off with my transportation never showing up. There I was at 5:15am, the sun comming up, and no ride. Just then a bus pulled up with about twenty foreign students who were doing the one day Tongariro alpine crossing. The driver asked me if I needed a ride and off I went.
The first day was amazing. I began my hike on a gradual incline with Ruapehu to my right and Ngauruhoe (Mt. Doom) in the Lord of the Rings film, rising to my left. I walked alone in the land of Mordor, steadily up through a grey covered volcanic landscape with vivid crystal blue skys until four hours later I arrived at the Mangatepopo hut, eight and a half kilometers from the Whakapapa village where I began. When I arrived there was a strange shirtless, heavily tatooed Belgian fellow sitting wide eyed looking up at the mountains.
The next day I set off on the Tongariro Alpine crossing. My destination was the Ketetahi Hut, almost nine kilometers away. The track begins at the western end by Mangatepopo Hut with a forty minute valley walk to the foot of the steep Tongariro saddle. This is a steep forty five minute ascent and the most difficult part of the track. There are many more descents and ascents throughout the day that take you past volcanic craters, the Emerald Lakes and along the edge of the Blue Lake. Along the way I met up with two hardy Kiwi women, led by the intrepid and adventurous Linda. Due to the looks of disdain at my apparent expression when they suggested climbing to the summit of Tongariro, I joined them on this additional hour and a half excursion. The views from the top were spectacular and I upheld the image of American male strength, and stamina. Inside I was crying like a little girl.
After finally reaching Ketehahi, Jimmy the hut warden entertained me with more horror stories of lost souls and emergency searches. He was part of the team that descovered the dead American woman flanked by her sobbing husband. The views from the hut looked out for close to a hundred kilometers across lake Taupo and beyond.
The next morning I walked sixteen and a half kilometers to the final hut. Once again the experience was surreal as I walked completely alone for almost eight hours. I walked through a volcanic waste land, encircled by mountains and active volcanoes in a land littered with strange neolithic formations and the ever present smells of sulphur emenating from steam vents that rise constantly from the surrounding landscape.
After a night at the final hut, I walked out another five hours (completely alone once again), and back to the village from where I started. As I had no official ride back I decided to hitch hike the 60 kilometers back to Taupo. I was picked up almost immediately by Grant, a Maouri fellow driving a red van. He took me about two miles to the end of the road but was going the other way. The next pick up was a couple on holiday from Wellington. They took me about ten miles out to the cut off to Taupo and National Park. The next fellow was a young Maouri chap called David. He was a meat cutter, recently promoted form working in the slaughter house. Took me all the way in to Taupo driving at a high rate of speed. Good chap.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Waikaremoana
I just want to start off by saying....no walk on the bridge, or time spent cycling in the gym can prepare you for this. I could see Panekiri ridge in the distance from where I was camping. It seemed ancient and beautiful covered in green, with the exposed grey rock reflecting in the blue waters of lake Waikaremoana. Climbing it straight up with 30 pounds of gear on your back. Not so simple. It was one of those climbs that makes you question why you ever decided to take this crazy quest on in the first place. Four and a half hours of holding on to roots as hand holds, various slips that caused bodily harm to reach a hut at the top of a mountain where you will dine on freeze dried beef pellets with instant potatoes. Go figure.
The views from the top and along the way are truly stunning, and it is quite evident already, how fortunate are they that call this place home. After leaving the four day walk, I headed back to Taupo on a road that makes Ice road truckers seem like a bunch of little girls. For two hours I drove on the left-hand side with the steering wheel on the right hand side through a narrow winding dirt and gravel mountain road. My reward was a flat tire approximately one hour in to this terrifying journey. Once on route five towards Taupo I drove through beautiful farm lands over shadowed by distant mountains and past steam vents emanating from natural thermal baths that dot the landscape.
The views from the top and along the way are truly stunning, and it is quite evident already, how fortunate are they that call this place home. After leaving the four day walk, I headed back to Taupo on a road that makes Ice road truckers seem like a bunch of little girls. For two hours I drove on the left-hand side with the steering wheel on the right hand side through a narrow winding dirt and gravel mountain road. My reward was a flat tire approximately one hour in to this terrifying journey. Once on route five towards Taupo I drove through beautiful farm lands over shadowed by distant mountains and past steam vents emanating from natural thermal baths that dot the landscape.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)