Cape Kidnappers

A nice slow morning today! A bit of a sleep in, a bit of writing, and a wander over to an award winning cafe (and reasonably priced) for the best eggs Benedict either one of us have ever tasted.






We had plans for the afternoon but be still managed to squeak in a wine tasting at the nearby Elephant Hill winery.



Today we were bent on making the hike out to Cape Kidnappers.



Not only is it home to one of the top 5 ranked golf courses in the world, but it is also home to the largest land based population of gannets.

It is a 20-22 km hike out and back along beach the entire way. You have to have the tides well timed as the entire journey (including gannet viewing) takes around 5 hours at least.




We were hoping to camp here but this site looks full...


Within their first few years of life gannets fly over 3000 km to Australia. Researchers are not entirely sure why they do this. Especially because, once flying to Australia, the gannets then return back to New Zealand where they mate, breed (most often for life) and finish out their lives (which can be over 25-35 years!).











Stunning views. Smelly birds. Sun in all its intensity.


Oh yeah, and those stunning views!









We were surely rewarded on our return hike when a pod of four Orca whales (two adults and two youngsters) surfaced off the shore, in perfect viewing distance. What a way to finish a long day! Well, that an a gourmet meal!


-J

Hawke Bay

I may have found the first place in New Zealand that is actually calling my name. Yes, there are lots of beautiful places here, but none of them have pulled at me — until now. I woke up in the middle of the night, with the waves of the bay crashing ashore, very peaceful and calming and a thought went through my head:

I think I could live here.



I'm sure it has nothing to do with the Cape Kidnappers Golf Course just up the road. Nothing at all...

But first, how we got here.

Our next stop after Rotorua was Taupo, the entrance to the Great Lake Taupo district. Again, very touristy, but we are on a mission to do the Tongariro Alpine Crossing which is one of NZ's great walks, taking a full day and crossing some of the most remarkable terrain on the north island.

Arriving at the i-Site in Taupo, we are informed that the walk is cancelled for the next day due to poor weather. We debate holing up in Taupo and area for a day and setting out on the hike when the weather clears, or trucking down highway 5, over the Maungaharuru Range and into Hawke Bay and wine country.

We tend to go where the wine is.

Besides, the walk will be there later. We'll come back for it.

After the Marlborough region, Hawke Bay is NZ's second biggest wine area. Napier and Hastings are the main towns and being on the coast, we anticipate more touristy beach towns, but the art deco architecture, which Napier is reknowned for keeps it from sinking into that category. We have a quick drive through, spotting some of the art deco and the New Zealand Aquarium, which we make a big asterix noting to return.

We head for the small area of Clifton, outside of Hastings, home of Clifton Motor Camp, right on the sea shore, quiet and simple. Along the way are charming little towns, quiet and simple again with little beachside cottages and wineries and more wineries. None of the touristy kitch we are anticipating. It's a very pleasant surprise.

The southern tip of Hawke Bay is called Cape Kidnappers, named as such by Captain Cook after some Maori folk kidnapped his Tahitian slave boy. When Cook fired on the Maori vessel, the boy jumped overboard and all was resolved. Here on the tip is the world largest gannet sanctuary which you can visit either by taking a tractor ride along the shore (when the tide is out) or hiking the 10 K trek along the shore (when the tide is out). Having missed out on our walk in Tongariro, we decide to do the hike today. More to come on this.



And... did I mention the golf course? Cape Kidnappers golf course, which can be viewed in all its glory at www.capekidnappers.com. From what I can see, it looks to be a once in a lifetime opportunity. Unfortunately, the green fees are affordable only once in a lifetime... But, it might just be time to splurge! We meet Tony down the way here at the campsite and he just so happens to have a set of clubs he can lend me. Coincidence? I think not... And Brian, also with a caravan here, can set me up with a few tees and balls. It's calling to me! More on this venture to come as well...

Did I mention I think I could live here?

Tony is some sort of inventor...from what we can figure out. He sometimes lives in the Clifton Motor Camp. Other times he lives in nearby Havelock North, other times in Panama, other times in Switzerland. He seems to have money from his inventions. He invented a process for painting lines - on roads and tennis courts and spent years traveling the South Pacific doing all the tennis courts for the resorts. Currently, he is working on redesigning wind turbines. "They have it all wrong" he explains. Inefficient, prone to breaking down. His new design will revolutionize all of this.




His former wife, "Mrs. O" (as he calls her) died six months ago after a long illness. Tony tended to her throughout it all for the past ten years. He is still grieving. Mrs. O was considerably older than him. They were married three weeks after first meeting and were together nearly fifty years, "It was a privilege to look after Mrs. O" he says.

He has a new partner now. Sandy was Mrs. O's nurse, the only other person Mrs. O would allow to touch her while she was ill. The night Mrs. O died Sandy drove out to Cape Kidnappers to find Tony and check in on him "I was not in a good state, and she knew it".

They've been together ever since "People tell me what I'm doing is wrong," he says, "being with Mrs. O's nurse and so soon after her passing. But I don't care - people will say what they want. My family supports me". We suggest that perhaps Mrs. O might think it was O.K. since Sandy was the only other person she would let touch her while she was sick.

He tells me that the golf course up the hill, Cape Kidnappers, is something very special. "The very best in New Zealand and one of the five best in the world". I tell him that I'm a golfer. "You'd better get up there then! Need some clubs? I just happen to have an extra set out the back."

A plan is coming together!

-K

Just Add A Little Soap

Welcome to Wai-O-Tapu Thermal Wonderland! — Geo-thermal fun for the whole family just outside the stinky rotten egg town of Rotorua! Ride the Jane Knox Geyser, get lost and steamed alive in the Thunder and Inferno Craters and then cool off in the The Champagne Pool! Whoops, just kidding — it's not really cool. It's over 100 degrees C. Ouch! Too much fun!




Actually, despite the ridiculous name, Wai-O-Tapu Thermal Wonderland (Wonderland? What corporate honcho had that idea?) the geo-thermal park is quite well done and has none of the attributes a wonderland might bring to mind. We were anticipating skin scorching rides and puffy mascots like Sulphur Sam, but instead we get a well laid out track around collapsed craters, boiling pools of mud and steaming fumaroles.






At 10:15 a.m., everyone rushes out of the park, back to their cars and drives 5 minutes down the road to see The Jane Knox Geyser ejaculate right on cue. It helps that they add a little soap to get her going. We inquire if we can walk down to see the geyser and are firmly told no. Rushing tourists determined not to miss the spouting geyser have been known to run walkers down — it really is a wonderland!




After the big show, we continue our walk around the park. The area is associated with volcanic activity dating back 160,000 years and is located within the active Taupo Volcanic Zone. Highlights include the geysers, the bubbling mud, and all the natural colours in the rock and pools due to the different mineral elements. Lowlights include the stinky hydrogen sulphide which when you get a good whiff of, makes you feel a little queasy...



















The nearby town of Rotorua is pretty much the geo-thermal centre of New Zealand and is apparently built on nothing more than hot air and water. Every lodge, motel and campsite advertises hot spring pools and mineral baths. The town doesn't stink of sulphur as much as the guidebooks make out. You get the occasional whiff driving in, and once in town, you can't help but notice the steaming geysers and bubbling mud all around that produce the rotten egg smell.

We hole up at a campsite just outside of town that has hot spring pools (of course) and it's not long after dinner before we're in them. A couple of glasses of good Hawke's Bay Cabernet/Merlot and a toasty mineral bath and you're ready for some shut eye. As Jenn said, walking back to the camper van, "My legs feel like jello." And we were out pretty quick.

We meet a gentleman in the hot spring pools who says we're staying in the "best campsite in all of NZ" because the pools are so good and the site is well priced. He regales us about all the deaths and burnings from the hot pools — like the Chinese boy who couldn't read the warning signs and tragically jumped into a boiling pool and received burns to 80% of his body. "That was just three or four weeks ago," he says. "He didn't make it."

Or the half dozen deaths a year that happen in the motels with hot spring pools. "They're not ventilated properly, you see? And people breathe in the fumes, pass out and then asphyxiate."

The locals know all the gory stuff.

-K

The nicest folks you ever did meet!

I'm grouchy today. It takes us longer than it should to get off this morning and, in my "all or nothing" mood I feel as though we've lost a better part of the day. We do stop off at the Waihi Beach market on our way out of town to pick up some local organic produce. Gorgeous watercress, cucumbers, heirloom tomatoes, peppers...as well as locally grown macadamia nuts and homemade Indian samosas filled with spinach, potato and sorrel. How can I stay grouchy amongst all of those good things?

We aim to stop at a vineyard in Bethelem, NZ but surprisingly (or not given it's name) it is closed on Sunday. Onwards we push.

Marguerite and Peter are arguably the nicest people in the world. We met them outside the New World grocery store in Whangarie a week or so ago. Since we are driving the Cruzy and are larger than we are accustomed to, we always park on the periphery of the lots. We pulled up alongside this makeshift trailer only to jump out and realize that it was a dog trailer. Peter and Marguerite were on their way back from a dog show. They are the ones that raise Borzoi dogs. After meeting them in the parking lot they invited us to come and visit them in Te Puke (pronounced "Tay Poo-kay") when we were "down that way". Well, today we were "down that way". Did we visit them? You bet!

If I were in Canada and some random person that I'd met in a parking lot invited me to their home in another city I would most likely not go. Here though, we had no problem pulling up to the gate, waving, and driving on in.

"We were just wondering if you'd be popping by last night! Weren't sure where you'd got to" said Peter when we hopped out of the van. Really, I think they would have been surprised if we HADN'T come. They live outside of Te Puke in the hills surrounded by kiwi farms. There is a lovely view of the ocean (even the actively volcanic White Island!) if you walk a bit further down their drive.





The first thing Marguerite wants to know is if we've put our sunscreen on. When we admit that we haven't yet as we've been in the car driving she runs inside to get her spray bottle. "You simply must when here in New Zealand" she says, "We are very close to the Ozone hole". "Now, then, what about hats?", she also wants to know. I feel like we have an adoptive NZ mom looking out for us already!

Peter and Marguerite take us first to have a pat and play with the dogs. We say hello to all of them Duchess, Cesar, and Venus are the Borzoi's that they show. The whippet and the mix bull terrier are also there and we give them pats as well. They are all inside their specially made kennels that Peter constructed for them. There is room for 14 dogs out there (which they did have at one point!). We take Duchess and Cesar out for a run out back. I've never seen a Borzoi run or play and am surprised to find out just how agile they are. "Just don't move if you have one of them running at you" says Peter, "You don't want all that dog crashing into you!"







They name all the indigenous trees that line their yard for us and identify the bird calls as well. The play area for the dogs overlooks their neighbours kiwi orchard so we take a wander down there. I had no idea that kiwis grow on vine-like trees. When we first see the orchard of them we think it is vineyards - they look that similar. Up close however you see the hoards (and I mean hoards) of kiwis hanging. They will not be ripe for another month and a half or so. "If you run out of money you can come back here in time for picking season" Peter suggests. Oooh! Another job offer? Apparently it is back breaking work - though it does pay well if you can stick it out!










We stop at the avocado trees on their property as well. Before we know it Marguerite has gone to get a back a bag and Peter the homemade hook. He bounds up into the one of the trees and soon he is hauling down Hass avocados for us. "These will keep you going for awhile" Marguerite says. The bag keeps getting more and more full. She advises that we keep a few in the fridge so they don't all ripen at once. Peter hops out to the shed to get a few of the Fuerte avocados for us as well. They are rounder, have a very smooth bright green skin and are difficult to tell when ripe. "They won't change colour like the Hass," he cautions, "give them a gentle squeeze every day just to check".






We check out the view, meet their cat Little Puss and then get the grand tour of the house. There are grapes growing outside their bedroom window in a small enclosed outdoor space. Marguerite brings us ginger beer to sip while we chat. Peter loves to talk and has many great stories, of the dogs, of New Zealand, of his father. Marguerite patiently interjects now and then to add something to a story, to clarify or to correct. We see their collection of Borzoi china figurines and the photos on the wall of all the dogs they've ever owned. They are so very passionate about what they do that you can't help but become immersed while there.

Before we leave we walk down their road with the binoculars to take a look out over the bay. They identify all the islands for us and insist that, should we be back this way, that we stop in. They won't let us leave without a stack of pamphlets for places to visit as we head south ("I just pick them up here and there" says Marguerite) and ice cream cones - honeycomb - "the best in all of New Zealand!" they say. Seriously. We leave licking ice cream cones.



We are so overwhelmed at their generousity towards us. We hug and dare I say that I even feel a bit teary at the goodbye. These kind, generous, and genuine folks inviting us into their home. We do get their email address and you can be sure that if I see a Borzoi figurine anywhere on our travels I WILL be mailing it back to them.


-J

Transitions

It is the many transitions in the day that sometimes drive us mad.

The entire day is made up of small transitions. We are trying to recognize this is exactly the practice we need - getting comfortable and releasing into the moment that a transition brings.

This entire adventure is about transitions - large and small - and how we face them. We began by choosing to leave Toronto and Keir's job. Then selling the house. Those were the starts of the major transition for us, which at times was not always comfortable or easy. Yet, as we went along, things seemed to fall into place. The "flow" seemed to be encouraging of our decision.

People would tell us that what we did took "a lot of courage". It never felt like that to us. Hard work and patience yes, but courage, we never really considered. In a way, it almost felt easy. The hardest part was everything leading up to deciding to leave, sell, go. Once we'd made that choice, it just happened. There was a lot of physical work in packing up the house, but whenever we would check in with each other, we both still felt a sense of calmness amongst the chaos.

So, how are we doing in the smaller day to day transitions? Well, we're transitioning to all the transitions. Sometimes we handle them with ease and other times we get swept away with frustration.

The fact that we live and drive in a camper van is a transition itself. Sometimes Scubby is a kitchen, sometimes a bedroom, sometimes a living room, other times a vehicle. Always we are adjusting the space to suit the time of day. In the van, transitions are made trickier by trying to figure out the location of any needed item. No matter how organized we try to be, finding an item can take ages. Scubby just eats time in a transition (and apparently also eats the items we are forever looking for!). Is the fridge switch flipped? Are the top vents closed? Are all doors locked?

What is it that makes a transition difficult though?

As we hiked along the coastal trail in Cape Reinga we discussed this topic. I posited that it was the amount of time a transition can eat up that makes it so challenging. Being someone who is supremely organized, I find irritation rising up in me whenever we get to a hiking spot and have to take another 20 minutes to get the van all sussed. What happened to grabbing the backpack and heading out? It is an exercise in patience for me.

Deep breath. Ground out. We'll be on our way when we are on our way.

I continue to recognize the moment of frustration when I am in it. At least doing so (when I CAN do so) seems to take a bit of the momentum out of the push to get a move on.

Keir thought the toughest part of a transition was a result of shifting your focus from one thing to another. When we were teaching, transitions tended to be a tricky time for the students. It was difficult for them to stop something they were giving their full attention to. With us, we are constantly having to switch our focus. Could that be it?

As soon as we get some flow going, let's say when we are driving, and we see somewhere we want to stop. Like a place to hike. It is then that the transition process begins. What shoes do we wear, what to do with the valuables, do we have water, what snacks will we need, what clothing options are essential, do we have sunscreen applied? And then there is the process of FINDING all these things.

There is also the consideration of the other person. You are either the one who is waiting while the other get him/herself sorted, or you are the one doing the sorting knowing that the other person is already ready to go (or knowing that they are waiting to get in to get sorted which feels as though there is a hold up).

When we apply these things from the small daily transitions to the larger life transitions, they still seem to work. I remember being so deeply frustrated with the amount of time it took me to recover from all the bad stuff at That Place. When am I going to be "through to the other side" I wondered? I was also consistently concerned with how I was affecting Keir. Was he disappointed in how I was handling things? Was he fed up? Worried? Too worried? My brain kept grabbing on to anything it could, possibly (most likely) even holding up the process.

Through our talks we are becoming more aware of how essential it is that we continue to face these daily transitions with openness and accept that they are part of our adventure, not the obstacles to it. Keir's new "rule" now is that each transition time is given 15 minutes flat out. This timeframe, we hope, will remove some of that anxiety around keeping moving. That's the kind of people we are... we always want to be purposeful and to be moving forward. It is a challenge for us to recognize that these transitions ARE purposeful and that when living in a 12 x 6 campervan we sometimes (well...often....fine...ALWAYS) need to surrender to the transition.

And isn't "transition" just another word for "shift"? Shift Happens...Transition Happens. Deal as best you can! That IS one of the cornerstones of this adventure. We have faith that, as we practice these myriad transitions daily that it will get easier - and that we will get more comfortable with the ever shifting universe.

Sounds cheesy yes, but in our life in Toronto everything was so controlled - no - routinized. Our entire life seemed to be edging towards removing any kind of unexpected transition. We had become well programmed in our lives. Even when it was clear that something needed to change, we were unable to make the change. In a way, all that I went through at That Place made the decisions for us. The Shift was coming, despite the fact that we held the walls up, resisting it, for as long as we could. Perhaps if we'd just recognized it and responded when it first became apparent it wouldn't have had to be so traumatic? Then again, if it wasn't traumatic it may never have shook us into making the change that truly needed to happen. A bit of the chicken and the egg there!

Pema Chodran warns of the perils of NEEDING to feel the ground under our feet. Reminding us that the ground under our feet is always shifting. That, anytime you feel "settled" and "secured", prepare for a shift, because it IS coming. He suggests that what we need to do is become comfortable with the shifting itself and not always be seeking the ground under our feet.


-j



P.S. We're going to try to initial posts specifically written by one or the other of us. If there is no initial then know that it was written collabotatively!

Moving Meditation

I am a moving meditator. It is my meditation of choice. The quickest way for me to become aligned with what is around me. The easiest way for me to accept what just IS. The easiest way for me to accept myself as I am.

Hiking, kayaking, running... within minutes of starting any of these activities my mind clears. My brain stops chewing over whatever it was chewing on. If there is an "answer" to come, this is when it will arrive in me. I have clarity of inner voice. I can HEAR that inner voice and there is no questioning of it, no trying to unpack it and examine it from every angle.

Frank, our wise teacher back in Toronto suggests doing whatever it is that "gets you there - that gets you to that point" and also suggests to practice other methods as well.

I like guided meditations (like in Frank's class!) and can go along with them quite easily. I still struggle with my focus when in still meditations, though. I enjoy being still, but my mind tends to wander without me even knowing! I'll catch it and then feel as though I'm starting back at square one of the meditating again. Not sure if I actually am, it just feels that way. There feels as though there is a wee bit of success (if you could call it that) when I do catch it, but that is quickly followed with the feeling that I need to "begin again". Maybe that is the trick? To "begin again" in each moment? Perhaps I'll give that a go as a mantra for the next while!




-j

No. 8 Wire

After a long day of driving, we decide to stay another day at Waihi beach. It's not a difficult decision. The sun is out early and the beach is 30 seconds away. It's a long white sand beach with virtually no one on it. Jenn and I list our top five beaches and both agree that NZ makes the list. The beaches here are spectacular - long, empty, great sand, clear blue water, good waves for bodysurfing and always some interesting island offshore to wonder about. Who lives there?


After a morning swim and breakfast, we walk up the hill that overlooks the campsite and provides a great view of the beach, Bowentown and Waihi.




On the other side of the hill, we discover an equally fabulous view and some stairs leading to a secluded beach where there are afternoon anglers and a man named Neil with his two dogs, Holly and Poo (for Poodle).


Talking to strangers is something I am working on getting better at. Jenn seems to have no problem doing this - sometimes I have to remind her to leave people alone! I have noticed that my default response when encountering someone is to either ignore them or quickly acknowledge with a nod or wave and then immediately look away, carrying on with my very important business of doing nothing.

I would like to change this.

Therefore, I have taken it upon myself to be the unofficial campground greeter. This entails waving and smiling at everyone who enters the campsite to let them know that they are welcome here. Ironically, I leave it to friendly Jenn to give them the evil eye that keeps them moving along - no camping beside us, thank you! I always feel scrutinized by unfriendly, suspicious eyes when we enter a campsite (maybe it's something to do with twenty minute ordeal of choosing the very best site for our van which tips them off that we're trouble... more on that later).

In order to change this tradition, I greet everyone who enters with a friendly wave in hopes that I will receive the same greeting at another site.

I am still waiting...

We have met a lot of people who have dogs, because we gravitate to the animals ourselves and then start chatting to the owners. We have met a lot of fishermen and fisher ladies as we always have a million questions about the catch, the bait and the equipment. We have met a lot of Germans because, well...they just seem to be everywhere here! Someone in Germany is doing a remarkable job of selling NZ as a tourist destination.

Today we meet Neil (because he has dogs) who is originally from London, England and who moved to NZ in 2002, fed up with the sheer number of people in his country and the twelve hour work day he was keeping. He spent some time in Australia before coming here and taking a contract job as a toolmaker in a firm outside of Waihi. His partner is Laura - school teacher/equestrian instructor/cat breeder. Work is not always so steady, but they manage. They have a 5 acre farm with a riding ring, vegetable garden and a bach which they rent out. Neil likes motorcycles, cars - all things with motors. He really wants a boat.

A perfectionist and artist, he struggles with the New Zealand mentality that "everything here can be fixed with No.8 fencing wire." It's like duct tape, put a little No.8 wire on something and it's as good as new. Here, they call this, "'New Zealand ingenuity," he says.

Neil finds this outlook at all the places he's worked over the past nine years. "New Zealand is still stuck in the 70's, 80's work mentality with bosses that look over your shoulder and question everything you do". It is because of this, he says, that no one seems to care much about doing a quality job.

It is usually three quarters of the way through a conversation before we exchange names. We are both working on remembering to do this earlier. It is funny how you can get into a fairly involved conversation with someone here and not even know their name.

Neil invites us to his place just outside of Waihi, near the Karangahake Gorge. His invitation is very generous and reminds me of what can happen if you go a little further than a nod and a wave.