Coffee with Friends

Today is a rainy April day, a good day to tuck into a cup of coffee and catch up with old friends. The strange part of this April showers is the golden leaves that hint frost, not flowers, will follow. At home you are stepping out but here in kiwi land everyone seems to be tucking in for the winter to come. I can feel myself embracing the days of hibernation ahead, but for the moment we are still rolling around the South Island in Rupertina.

We left the West Coast about a month back, and it is becoming apparent that we have been here awhile now as many of the roads seem familiar and we meet friends along the way. We stopped over for a night in Hanmer Springs and enjoyed a couple glasses of wine on the vineyard and a fantastic feast. Sheryl and Richard were busy hosting a convergence of all sorts of folks but we had a few moments to catch up while I enjoyed returning to the vines and tasting how the grapes had matured during our absence. Adam and I were looking forward to yet another festival, this one featuring folk music, in exchange for a few hours on “toilet duty.”

The festival was outside of Christchurch (a big city for NZ) and over Easter weekend (a big holiday), so we were expecting a couple thousand folks to show up. Of course, like many things NewZealand, it turned out to be much more intimate with only 300 people in attendance, mostly families. We were far from disappointed (except for the lack of dancing) as the festival grounds, the people and the music were all amazing. The 3 times fiddle champion and the 7 times pipes champion of Ireland were both performing and holding workshops, accompanied by a standout character named Mickey who belted out tunes with cartoon like exaggeration and enthusiasm. The sound was fantastic, I have never seen fingers move faster and the mind-boggling part was that it still made acoustic sense! During the day we got to enjoy music workshops with the performers, who are all quite human and inspiring, but musically a bit over my head. Sixth grade orchestra didn’t quite prepare me for the irish boys or the bluegrass theories, but I certainly enjoyed when they started to play and I think I started to understand a bit how the structure works…very fluidly! The evening concert was studded with all sorts of folk artists and a couple hours of “blind dates” where the festival-goers join in groups and put together a tune to play for the evening show. I think everyone at this folk fest had spent years with their instrument. Other highlights include: remembering how to do a front flip on the trampoline, baking muesli bars in a bona fide oven, using the janitorial supplies to mop the kitchen floor in exchange for a hot cooked breakfast, and dancing in circles at a square dance (yes that is how good we are!).

Are you wondering how toilet duty went? I was pretty apprehensive about loo duty at first. Especially at a festival… I kept having recurring nightmares the few nights before we arrived remembering the state of eew-ness that happens at places like the Country Fair, where people seem to over indulge and forget how to properly use the toilet. Fortunately, this turned out to be a pretty simple job, with so few people, and quite respectful ones at that. Upon departure, we received quite a few thank yous and were even recognized at the concert. The worst part was a mild stink wafting from one of the pots on Monday morning. Not bad at all! My thanks goes out to all those tidy folks who whistle while they do their duty. A little further down the road, this experience made me appreciate a hilarious sign we found in a backcountry potty posted by the DOC (the folks who clean out and fly the poo out of the long drops). “Servicing the backcountry toilets is one of the worst jobs at the DOC… No matter how much you hate the world PLEASE don’t throw rubbish in the loo. If it seems a bit stinky in here, there is probably a raft of toilet paper on which the poo is floating. If you want to sink it, there is a stick in the wood shed you can use to give it a stir.” Well at least they’re honest, and if you know anyone who shines your porcelin throne, don’t underestimate their appreciation for a simple thank you and a quick wipe of any splash you leave behind.

ChCh. We wait in the city of Christchurch with some lovely friends from Luminate for a part of Oregon to arrive. Mr. Scott Anderson chugs in on the train with some love from home and familiar valley humor. The three of us continue to crash with Jimi and Gemma, two kindred souls who share their home with us. Gemma is a self-declared food nerd, a textile artist, and a lover of farmer’s markets while Jimi is a funky junk bike refurbisher, an eclectic tea mixer and into musical jam. We share some good meals, tuck in and watch some movies, take a “Sunday” drive in their huge old 1965 Jag (equip with aviator and safari hats) and have a picnic in the park after collecting goodies at the market. We try and devour a bucket of TipTop ice cream in the afternoon and they introduce me to ginger wine, my new favorite beverage. Can you imagine a sweet, spicy wine? A sip takes you to ginger heaven. I suggest you find yourself a bottle!

After a lovely stay with these outstanding kiwis (once on the news as “Samaritans” for taking in twins who had lost all of their belongings while travelling to a hitch hiking scam artist) Scott, Adam and I decided to go on another tramp and take advantage of some beautiful weather. Rupertina works a bit harder lugging the three of us up Arthurs Pass to Scott’s Track (truly!) along McGrath Stream (of course!) and up Avalanche Peak (?). We stop for fuel for the beast and pies and custard for ourselves before making the climb. Butter chicken, venison masala and camembert mince inside a flaky crust, are you salvating yet? Mmmm, yet the English influence is a little tragic when it comes to desserts. The custard sat on the dash of Rupertina and jiggled menacingly as we continued driving to the start of our track. Somehow it ended up inside the boys stomach but they still made it up the pass and back down the scree field all the way to our cozy little hut. Highlights include: meeting an Alpine parrot showing off for the camera, double skunking Scott and our new tramper friend at cribbage, the depth of stars unrivaled by any sky I have seen before, four wandering Europeans stumbling into camp two hours past dark and drinking a bottle of rum, and a frosty morning that heats up so quick when the sun hits the hut roof, a small downpour ensues.

We hang out in Christchurch a few more days, enjoying a kitchen and a bikeable city with coffee houses and funk shops, unique groceries and lovely weather. Jimi’s folks live out on the peninsula, next to a hazelnut orchard that needs some helpers for harvest. Adam and I are keen to do a bit more wwoofing so we find ourselves in the house of Bill, the German bike tour guide, Nikki, the horse riding, adolescent therapist Kiwi mom and Luca, their five-year old son who observes accusingly that we really like bananas. They live with five chooks and a couple paddocks of hazelnut trees, where we get to spend our mornings. We eat like birds here, but the work is not too strenuous. Four hours a day of scooting along the rows picking up the nuts, popping them out of their husks, and tossing them into a bucket. We get to chat and dream while we work, and of course once we delve into the deep topics we laugh at our long conversations about crude sounds, Brüno and farts. Luca asks his Poppa the question of the day “Was I the one you wanted?” and kids become an even greater mystery to me. Can you answer that one?

Bill took Adam and I on my first mountain bike ride. I sort of hated it but tried to stay positive, it was a hard one for someone one who is generally awkward on two wheels. Not too many casualties, a broken shoelace and a small tip over was the worst of it. By the time we had huffed and puffed to the top I was quite tired and looking for a couch, not an adrenaline rush or potential crash and burn. I rolled slowly back down after enjoying the view of the bay at sunset, looking forward to yoga.

We met Jimi’s folks next door. When asked what kind of stew alpaca makes, they respond “you wouldn’t eat family, would you?” They are an old English couple and we have a nice chat over gumboot tea and ginger slices. They have the best eggs with uber yellow yolks, according to Gemma.

We decide it is time to move on South before winter sets in and cold covers the fiordlands and Mt Cook. It is still quite brisk, but we’ve seen a fair bit of sunshine as well, this being our first really rainy day.

(Please note the coffee shop closed, the blog only got this far and another week of adventure ensued. This time we have been inundated by constant rain and the fiordlands are flooding. It is morning and we just cooked up some toasties with cheese, egg and apple chutney and are enjoying some Lady Grey while sitting in the front seat of Rupertina in a Rugby Car Park.)

Let’s see. We spent a night at Lake Tekapo and marvel at the stars. It is one of the darkest spots to view the night sky and we were lucky to catch a break in the clouds. Living in the van when it gets dark at 6:30pm means we usually crash pretty early. It’s amazing what a world of difference electric light makes! Watching the stars makes me sleepy. The next day we head off to fulfill one of Adam’s lifelong goals (he has an affinity for mountains) towards Aoraki, aka Mt Cook, a lovely, huge, impressive and mildly aggressive mountain. In the visitor center are three fat books filled with memorials to the many lives claimed by crevasses, falling rocks and falling from big rock. I wonder what draws people to challenge this formidable and seemingly indifferent element of nature. A risky challenge that glistens with promise, especially on a day like the one we found it when it glimmers with sunshine, whispy clouds under a blue blue sky. The promise of what though? A mystery of alpine altitude uncovered or your true strength revealed? While we hiked around the valleys below a huge slice of glacier tumbled away. I looked to the sky for an answer to the thunder and saw instead a huge puff unfold like icing sugar powdering the mountain in one go.

Night time finds us pulling into Twizel, a very small town populated with trees and only a few humans and one main square. Freedom camping is always a little strange, going to bed wondering if someone will knock on the van door in the middle of the night or very early morning. And unless you are out of town a ways, finding access to a bathroom is pretty important. This time we park next to a hotel and use the potties near reception.

We continue on to Wanaka, a touristy town situated on the edge of a big lake. I find a little organic shop with a window seat, an excellent cup of coffee and tasty treats and hole up here while Adam rides his bike up and down a big hill. We find an excellent place to freedom camp for the night, a development on the outskirts of town in a small field where we are out of everyone’s way. In the morning folks walk their dogs up here and we meet one named Sophie who is headed to Oregon in about a week, to work with her husband up on Mt Hood to put in a terrain park. If you see her say hi. While in Wanaka I hiked up to Roy’s Peak to get a view of the lake. It was a super sunny clear day and I was very sweaty after a couple hours of up up up through sheep fields and tussock grasses. The view was worth it! And I met some nice sheep too.

Our time in New Zealand seems to be getting short, we still have a few months left but a lot we hope to do as well. We spend an afternoon planning what we’d like to do this week and then a general sketch for the rest of the time we are here. As always, there is more to do than time to do it and making priorities and plans can be tense and frustrating. We still want to do some tramping, visit some of our new kiwi friends, live in a couple communities up north and explore the north island. Realistically, we like to stay for a while in each place to soak up some of the authentic flavor, preferably WWOOFing so we can stay with locals and help out. So covering that much in a few months is near impossible. We plan out some tramps to take in the fiordlands, but of course it is weather dependant and a storm front moves in as we plan. So once we decided on a course of action, the flow of nature changed our course again. Long story short, we made our goals and now we are just following intuitions and the whims of this lovely island.

Instead of our planned 5 day tramp through the Wilkens Young valleys, we found ourselves on an overnight hike up Blue River Valley. Another tramp through a damp forest of beech trees, the roots forming steps and mushrooms popping up all over the spongy floor. Did you know purple mushrooms existed? One of my favorite environments, a forest full of surprises. A few hours tramping and we reach a nice flats to camp in and set up the tent while rain threatens. We spend an afternoon wandering up the river and spend a leisurely evening in the tent. We wake up to rain pattering and enjoy a wet hike back to the Blue Pools, a new perspective for me as the rain makes glasses impossible to see through. I hike with new vision, the leaves blending to a solid green and the path turning into an undulating river of brown and imperceptible depth. I used “the force” and was very tired by the time we got back to a cozy Rupertina.

On the next road, we find our first hitchhiker. His name is Tom and he is from Alabama. Tom wore beads in his hair and traveled most of the year, making money by renting out a few houses in the states. He liked to talk about all of his friends he’d made in NZ and likes to drop down into caves and is starting a schools for schools project between the US and India. He was meeting up with an Estonian he met on couchsurfing website, who we also picked up along the way. She was much more normal than the last Estonians we had met, although she was meeting up with a strange man to go kayak in the Milford.

We end up in Te Anau. There is supposed to be rain, rain and more rain for the next few days. We arrive around 9pm and find a car park at the foot of the Kepler track to sleep in for the night. A forcast of rain is a little forboding when your only free respite is a van you share with two bikes. For me living in a van and being a traveler is a huge challenge, and Adam is very patient and understanding. I’m a homebody and Rupertina just doesn’t cut it. At the edge of my comfort zone for the past three months, in a van in the middle of a storm on a small island across the planet from home I find myself exhausted, utterly homesick and I crack in the most tender and protected spot I had bottled for 13 years. When my dad passed away I saved my mourning for a time when I could deal with it in the way a ten year old can’t. I never really cried all that much, I just leaked every now and again when I was too filled with sadness to keep it all inside. Well, it finally erupted, rivaling the storm that nature was brewing. And I was lucky Adam was there to hold me and help me remember to breath between the sobbing. I have never experienced grief like that before. And although the rains of the past few days have flooded the fiordlands, I think I may have added half the volume in tears. For the next few days, memories came flooding back and I felt whole and alive in a way I had forgotten. I got to share my memories with Adam and we spent a couple days eating BBQ potato chips and cottage cheese and tuna broccoli casserole, running around in bare feet, jumping in puddles, drinking coffee while it rained, painting pictures and writing memorials, and living! In the memory of my Dad. (ps. Pull my finger!) While it rained we decided to hike out to a hut on Lake Manapouri and let the storm rage, with us tucked in next to a warm fire. We shared more tears and laughs while we wrote letters to my dad and celebrated life and the happiness that comes when the people you love live on through you. This past week has been intense for both of us, but I couldn’t be happier. I am filled with gratitude for all of the people who have been a part of my life and filled me with love and compassion. Thank you all!

That’s enough writing for now, the next adventure awaits and so does more rain. We’re not bothered though, you get wet in the shower right? Off to play again and maybe even get in the ocean so close to Antarctica, who’d of thunk it. Love and miss you all Rebecca and Adam