But before got there we managed to make a stop at our first full on Tourist destination and one of those things you find on postcards all over NZ. Its called Punakaiki, or more commonly the Pancake Rocks. Although it was built as a tourist funnel, where you follow the party in front of you along a paved path between guardrails and all the nature is sucked out of it, the rocks themselves didn’t disappoint. They are certainly an attraction for good reason.
After a good tourist outing and a good nights rest on the beach, we were finally on the road that went nowhere. We had made plans when we were in Greymouth to wwoof at a hotel in a little town called Little Wanganui, about 18k south of Karamea. We had a loose idea of wwoofing at the hotel and then maybe going for a tramp, but man it’s a good thing we are flexible because everything and I mean everything was off at the Little Wanganui Hotel. This place, in a word, was purgatory. For all you non-religious folks purgatory is this place that’s between Heaven and Hell and were you go to atone your sins. Its not happy, but its also not fire and demons. And that is exactly what the Little Wanganui Hotel was. As soon as we stepped in the door, the time warp of soul sucking confusion began. This place was strange, first and foremost, not a quaint hotel, or an organic restaurant, nor a real vegetable patch. It was a pub, and a dirty grungy end of the road pub at that. Not that there is anything wrong with that, or the people that visit these places, but it was far from the impression painted on the wwoofing website. To top it off the place was under transition, being bought and transferred, and the owners, both previous and to be, were changing hands and living in-house as we sat and watched. It was pretty bizarre, the family from Christchurch had moved into the hotel living quarters, while the old owner and her daughter moved into a house bus in the back yard. That’s kinda weird but while living in the house bus, with her daughter, she was still the owner and running the hotel for about a week till the new owners took over. For us it meant we had 2 sets of bosses, all of whom were massively dysfunctional.
Here is crazy purgatory story number 1, and part of the reason dysfunction was rampant… The owner in the house bus, Kristy, had a husband that had died 9 months ago, which spurred her into action to follow her dream of traveling the world with her daughter. Her husband’s name was Dave; Dave was punched in the head and died on the spot in the bar. The lady who lived across the street punched him in the head. The lady across the street had been really good friends with Kirsty, they had grown up together, she also had a kid who was best friends with Kristy’s daughter. Somewhere along the way they had a falling out.
Now crazy story number 2: The new owners, well soon to be owners I should say, from Christchurch are a family of 4, Mom, Pop, son, daughter. So about 4 weeks ago Pop gets a really good bellyache, and it gets so bad he goes off to the hospital. Well good thing he did, because his liver was clogged and sending bad blood up his intestine, which killed a section of it. So he had to have emergency surgery and only had about a 30% chance of making it. Any way he pulled thru and 2 weeks later they moved into the Little Wanganui.
Crazy story number 3: Upon arrival we found 2 other wwoofers. Right and Kirsty from Estonia. Nothing against Estonians but they are weird and they speak English a bit funny too. So Right and Kirsty are only in New Zealand to go woooofing (to get an idea of how she talks imagine a crazy Russian mixed with a cartoon heifer that moo’s, then multiply the volume by ten). They are in New Zealand because “One day we decide go on vacation. We choose New Zealand because it has no big animals or poisonous things like Australias”
Now that stuff is just way to good for me to have made up, but it really explains the absolute bizarreness of this place. So between these three sets of crazies, we had 3 bosses: Kirsty who is completely over it and just partying in her own bar giving us little mindless tasks. The Chch family who makes us clean up but tries to not boss us around because they don’t own it yet. And the woofers who have been there for a long time and tell us to work slower and tell us how to weed because, “the last wooooofers (remember Russian cartoon cow) from America dids it all wrong and I have to do again.” Now take this and compound it with the fact that are tasks involve cleaning a lard deep-fryer, all the food coming out of the freezer, cleaning a kitchen that’s not been tended too in about 15 years, no fresh food, every person imaginable strolling thru the kitchen and you’ll understand why we were going crazy. But (and a big but here) no one cared what we did and we had lots of time to ourselves. With 3 bosses, and no one to report to, tasks just came and went and no one worried. Also everyone was very nice, not like good friends nice, but kind and not all up in your business. This allowed us time to start working on Pine needle baskets, which served as our primary time killer and some form of sanity. Every thing was very chilled out, but not fulfilling, just like purgatory. As such we didn’t last, we were there for less than 48 hours. I know that’s unbelievable considering how much I’ve written, but this place was something else, a black hole from the rest of the world.
So as far out as it was on arrival, it was a celebration on the way out. We still had a few k’s to the end of the road, which is clearly why we didn’t find the goods at little Wanganui, and nothing but joy and sing-a-longs were enjoyed along the remaining cruisey drive to the end. And man it was good to get to Karamea, we popped into the grocery grabbed some sweet corn and headed to the beach for a big celebration. Rebecca and I shared a big glass of Gin and Juice, had a huge beach bonfire, grilled up our corn and shared an amazing sunset all by our lonesome on yet another beautiful beach.
With our woofing plans thrown out the door we mosied back into Karamea and tried to sort out the next move. We searched the local spots to see if anyone needed more wwoofers, since we are constantly trying to find good people to connect with, but everyone was full. But as I’m finding if you have the right attitude, the good people find you, and so was the case as we met our newest friend Glen. He was the man behind the counter of the Global Gypsy Gallery, a part thrift store, part internet café, international goods shop, local organic food, ride share board, and art/photo gallery all in one. To say the least exactly my type of shop and as such Rebecca and I killed more or less half a day trying on costumes, eating snacks, chatting with Glen and boobing on the internet. Some awesome costumes were found, I got a new hat and Rebecca found a medieval Indian fairy dress, and most importantly we had a new friend and a new plan.
With no woofing to be found, we decided to go for a 7 day tramp. We need some supplies so I was off to the grocery, just across the street, and low and behold I found our Canadian friends from our time at the hostel in Greymouth. They told me they were off caving and I asked to join them. With great enthusiasm Rebecca and I teamed up with the 3 Canadians and our wandering French-American couple also from the greymouth hostel. Loaded 7 deep into a tiny Mitsubishi hatchback, with me in the trunk, obviously, we headed up and into the hills to find some caves. It was amazing. Huge cricket like bugs called Wetas, Massive spiders, and endless nooks and crannies to explore. It was a blast.
Then to top it off we went on another wee wonder, and found this amazing limestone arch called the Opara Arch. It was amazing. New Zealand never fails to provide wonder and inspiration.
After a car-sickening ride down the mountain, we parted ways to another beach campout, simply one of my favorite re-occurring themes of the west coast. We woke in the morning excited to start our tramp but we had another couple things to get done before heading out, but then with the theme of Karamea we threw the plans out the window. Our new friend Glen had got together with some folks the night before and found us a place to wwoof at, the folks who sell their produce in the Global Gypsy. As soon as we heard this we knew it was the best thing to do. Only hang up was, they couldn’t take us till the next afternoon. So what to do? The solution, we decided, was to go tramping to another hut and spend the night and come out the next day. Brilliant!
It sounded brilliant and in retrospect our plan was brilliant, but it was one of those hikes that’s a character builder. With little knowledge and a simple thing in the local public pamphlet that said 6 hours route to a hut up the Karmea Gorge, we thought sounds like the one. Well like all things NZ this was something else. Not a trail but a true route finding adventure that was more like Jungle bushwhacking, rockclimbing, rope repelling, stream crossing, boulder traversing, slip sliding, all-body punishment. It was all of 6 hard hours to the hut, oh and did I mention it was monsooning out. It was raining harder than I’ve ever seen it rain in Oregon. Fitting I guess seeing as we were in a Jungle. This was not the woods, or the forest. This was the real rainforest, dense bush, vines twisting from every which way, huge trees, fern filled, dampness everywhere JUNGLE. So the hut was the most glorious place ever. A big fire and lots of calories consumed we drifted off to sleep to the sound of the river. The next day it was out the way we came, although admittedly easier with it not pouring rain and sunshine breaking thru the dense canopy.
Smelly, slimy, and with crazy wrinkled feet we found civilization and the best pies in NZ (Adams travel guide book tip, Saracens Pies in Karamea, buy lots of them!!!!) we headed for a new farm with eager anticipation and open minds for learning more, still inspired by our permaculturelist extraordinaire Larry. As soon as we pulled into the driveway and were greeted by two Nubian goats, we once again new we were on the right track, proving that not having a plan is sometimes the best one.
Gary and Rose’s Heritage Fruit and Veg, as is their business name was something extraordinary. A part permaculture, fully organic, business selling delicious edibles locally was exactly what we were looking for, but even more importantly it was backed by one of the most open inviting inspiring families of Gary, Rose, their 2 year old Curnin and 5 month old Deacon (D-Man!). They are a family running a business, living off the land, and constantly working on new projects to improve the land they live off of. At the moment it’s a mostly a work in progress, filled with a huge garden of exclusively raised beds that grow Salad mix, Pumpkins, Zucchinis, squash, carrots, radishes, corn, potatoes, and what ever else was next to come into season (mainly winter crops of brassicas we helped plant). The rest of the land is being developed to become a full-scale heritage fruit orchard. Plus they discovered and cleared away a few acres of blackberry bush to save around 80 fijoa trees. They are working hard to fix up the place and turn it into a solid business that is stable and has value adding potential (this means making jams, relishes, chutneys, etc etc).
Our roll as wwoofers there was to help this dream of theirs come true, and their way of doing this was not by giving you jobs, but by making you part of the dream itself. In everyway possible we were adopted family. When your out in the bush about 20k from town or any shops or anything, you just get in on their schedule. Oh and lets not forget the kids. There is down time where your not “working”, but your just part of the family and at any moment you could be asked to change a nappy, hold a 5 month old, or put pants on a screaming 2 year old. Full on, that’s all I can say really. It was also a real blessing for another wwoofer to be there at the same time as us. Katy was an incredible personality from Florida, but was a University of Vermont student so to say the least she was rad. She had stayed previously and decided to come back and we just happened to be there at the same time. I love how these things just seem to keep happening for us!
As far as work was concerned, we got up to all sorts of things. Most of my personal efforts were dedicated to building a chicken coop, some landscaping of dirt piles, and putting the plastic up on a tunnel house. I love projects that have finality to them, so sometimes the garden drives me nuts because its constant and what you do one day doesn’t have a real solid finish feel to it, so these projects were great. Rebecca mostly worked in the garden beds, turning over and making nutrient rich soil, weeding, transplanting, pulling out old crops to be replaced, and helping around the house making dinner on their wood-fired stove, tending said fire, and jarring rhubarb jam.
But by far the best part of this experience was the learning element. Gary and Rose are certainly different than me, and so is their dream. Much is similar, but also much is very very different. The main thing though was their openness and willingness to teach. They were open to let us be ourselves and discuss our dreams, and provide good feedback and helpful advices. As well they taught us everything they knew about soil health, business, and selective planting. And everything was an open forum, no question was tossed aside, and nothing was off limits. This is so hard to find in people, but it forces you to grow. Also to top it all off they took us on great adventures and shared with us their other side projects that bring them fulfillment, and they were nothing short of fantastic. Gary is definitely a music nerd and a sound nerd specifically, so they threw a party that was an open experimental jam, with little kids involved to highly talented musician all with a sound board, huge speakers microphones the works. It was such a great atmosphere for creativity and openness mostly thanks to Gary’s enthusiasm and non-profit organization the “Karamea Sound Machine.” They also found time to take us out the reef at low tide and go mussel collecting and Paua (abalone) hunting. It was a blast and we got to learn about more food native to NZ and see what the locals do. To say the least it was nothing short of amazing staying with them.
In the end Karamea delivered, crazy folks, hippies, artist and rednecks abound, but we found just what we were looking for. We may have found the end of the road, but for us the road continues to rise up to meet us.
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