Yes, Derek, work.

March 8th - April 11th, 2008

While in Sydney I booked a $40 per night, eight bed hostel room at a hostel in Melbourne which was my last choice (it was the same hostel chain as the first one I stayed in back in Auckland which, if you recall, didn't impress me) as all of the other hostels were fully booked. At the time I booked, I didn't know that Melbourne would be such a busy place, but as one local I met said, "the Australians visit Melbourne on holidays while the tourists visit Sydney." Upon my arrival after another reflective train ride, I learned that the reason for the high priced dorm was that it was labour day weekend in the state of Victoria. I was very fortunate to have arrived at such an eventful time. With only one day to tour and a strong reluctance to spend money, the entertainment was all provided to me free of charge. I planned an approximately ten kilometer walking route of the city, and during the walk chanced upon no less than eight events including the Melbourne International Auto Show, three separate but large fairs, the Loreal Fashion Show, the Future Music Festival, an other smaller carnivals and music shows. I allowed myself to spend $18 for entrance to the auto show but everything else was out of my budget. Simply walking the streets was entertainment enough, however.



While at the Melbourne Auto Show I snapped this picture of the all new Hyundai Pony (It's a joke Mom - it's a Hyundai but not a pony).

I made use of Melbourne's efficient tram service to the Spirit of Tasmania ferry terminal the following morning. Upon boarding, I was most pleased with the amenities and comfort of the ferry line which I spent nine hours aboard. Standing at the stern of the departing ferry, I sadly watched Melbourne shrink away realising that it would likely be a very long time before I return to the city, but I will return. During the crossing we passed a distant pod of whales but saw nothing else until the first beautiful glimpses of Tasmania were revealed. The terrain is very similar to that of Vancouver Island.



The city of Melbourne from the stern of the 'Spirit of Tasmania'.

Only because it was least expensive, I booked a night at a hostel in Devonport called the Tasman Backpackers. I had very good fortune in selecting this particular hostel. As it turns out it is a working hostel where most of the occupants are working on farms nearby. The hostel even offers a bus service to the farms. After a good night's rest, I inquired on a whim at the front counter of the hostel if there was work available. Again, unknowingly my timing was perfect for the start of the apple picking season and I was offered work on the spot. Looking back, I realise how fortunate I was to find work, transport, and accommodation all in one location. I'm not used to not having access to easy transport. Finding a farm labour job without transport is, not surprisingly, difficult.



Here's a picture which shows a lighthouse located in Devonport about twenty minutes from where I'm staying. It's the only touring I've done of Tasmania so far. While at this location, I felt like I could have been by the ocean in Victoria. Some people at the hostel fish here late at night for squid. I haven't fished yet but I was given a fishing rod, so perhaps I'll try my luck.



The 'Spirit of Tasmania' ferry at it's dock. This view is what I see when I play guitar at the park. The ferry provides inspiration to earn some money and get back to the mainland, after a tour of Tasmania, of course.

Apple picking, apple picking, apple picking, apple picking, yes, apple picking is repetitive, but now that I'm done with it I look back at it with fond memories. Payment for the picking comes with each bin filled, so one tends to work very hard until ones body pays for the hard work. By the end of the first week, all of my body was sore. The following week, I was in apple picking shape and was able to pick fast enough that I earned more hourly than I had ever earned before - then the rain came. When it rains, there is no picking done and as a consequence, no savings made. I became concerned about the reliability of apple picking and searched for other opportunities. I found work at a place know as the 'carrot factory' which tends to be more reliable (I knew it was more reliable work because half of the people staying at the hostel worked there and worked while I stayed behind during the rain) I didn't think a job could become more mind numbing than apple picking but the carrot factory taught me otherwise. I can summarize my task there in one short sentence as follows: I lift a twenty kilogram box of carrots from a conveyor belt and stack in on a pallet as high as I can reach for eight hours a day. There are a few good things about this job such as, getting paid to exercise, I can think of what to write on this page as well as a whole lot else as I'm sure you can imagine, and they pay is reasonable which enables me to save for my upcoming travels. On that note, I will likely not be updating this blog while I'm stacking boxes barring something sensational happening in my life. For now, thanks for reading, and why don't you come back around the second week of June to read some more of my life's drama? Cheers!

There's never been a happier apple picker. I took this picture at the first orchard I worked at called Avro's.



I couldn't resist taking a photo of this scene at Avro's Orchard. Climbing up the ladder was a pain but occasionally I was awarded with pretty view.



Yet another apple picking photo. Apparently, judging from the many photos I took, apples had quite an impact on me. This is taken at the second and final orchard I worked at called Sassafras.

P.S. I've tried to find a computer with which I can upload a video from my camera in Devonport but it appears that one may not exist. I'll keep trying. The video is pretty funny in my estimation and might be worth checking this page again for an update in a few weeks.

P.P.S Tobias, assuming you see this some day, I for some strange reason can't send email to you from my hotmail account. Do you have an alternate email address?

The video promised months ago is finally up! It's an example of the life of an apple picker.

Work???

Feb 24th - Mar 8th, 2008

Something about travelling on a train inspires optimism in me. I don't know if it's the industrious sounding clankity-clank of the train's mechanical parts, the efficiency of the transport, or the rapidly changing surroundings, but during a train trip I can usually come up with a pleasant plan for my future. It's when I am once again burdened by my checked baggage that reality reclaims its hold on me.

The 'Overlander' train from Auckland to Wellington NZ.

This is a picture taken from the seat on the 'Overlander.' There was some film footage being taken from the helicopter which followed alongside the train for about a half hour.

Most of the terrain was very similar from Auckland to Wellington except for these volcanic mountains one of which is Mt. Raupehu which contains the ski resort where Terry hopes to operate his Argo skiing service from.

I had grand plans working more on sailboats in Wellington, New Zealand (I failed to mention on my last post that I had worked for a short time varnishing a sailboat in Opua) in order to earn some money for a trip up Australia's East coast with some friends from Victoria, (an anonymous reference to my 'friends' but they are very good friends indeed. We're talkin' H. Russell and Amanda T.) but I concluded that it would be much more wise for me to earn Australian dollars. It doesn't take much reasoning for me to make an excuse to continue traveling, so my time in Wellington was thus, half touring and half arranging my Oz work visa.

Being more noteworthy, I'll write about the half spent touring Wellington. The first full day was an incredibly beautiful, calm summer's day. I climbed to the top of Mt. Victoria which offered me a 360 degree view of the city and its suburbs. The city is built on steep terrain around a very large bay surrounded on both sides by ocean. It was a view that only a panoramic photo could do justice so the only picture I have of Wellington is from ocean level. Day two in the city and it revealed its true nature to me. Below is a short video which provides some insight into why Wellington is coined 'The Windy City.'

Wellington, New Zealand from ocean level.

Apparently Canadians aren't the only ones who say 'awesome.' Here's a nice bike I spotted in Wellington made not so nice by the personalized license plate.

WARNING - you may want to reduce your volume!

What I said in the video :

"So, I'm in Wellington right now. I'm not too sure why they call it 'The Windy City.' (Don't know what I say at this point) Really, it only is windy over sixty km/h on average for over 170 days a year. It's not very windy here at all. It's quite calm and relaxing." What a smart alec I am...

As you may recall from a few posts back, I shared my 'English propers' experience when I was asked to stop playing my guitar. As it turned out, the YHA (YHA of course, is and acronym for Youth Hostel Association) I was staying in at the time was a temporary home to many folks similar to the 'propers' resulting in a somewhat dull environment for a single male. Fortunately, I was rescued from certain dullness when a mountain unicyclist (muni for short), guitar playing, neuroscience graduate student from Santa Barbara California named Eyal entered my dorm room. Eyal was on a two week vacation starting in Wellington to take part in the Karapoti Classic mountain bike race. Eyal and I had many a good time playing guitar, riding or in my case trying to learn to ride the muni, and discussing our respective theories on criminal neuroscience. Eyal raced an incredible distance of fifty kilometers during the race in around seven hours. In comparison, I was able to ride the muni successfully for one pedal stroke lasting about 0.6 seconds. While Eyal got his share of exercise during the race, I too felt inspired to expend some energy by speed-touring the expansive Te Papa Museum. Although an impressive museum, I was a little toured out at the time and was anxious to check my email for a reply on my Australian visa application.

Work visa in hand, I had the good fortune of booking the same flight to Sydney as Eyal who was to spend the second week of his vacation in Sydney. After departing the plane we were bused to the terminal in Sydney's very busy airport. Sydney was larger than I had imagined (the trains for public transport within the city were two floors high) and as beautiful as all the hype I'd heard said it was.

This picture is taken from my seat on the plane from Wellington to Sydney just after take off. The three mountain peaks in the distance are all that I saw of New Zealand's South Island.

Eyal looking for the Sydney Opera House (in his defence, he was actually not looking for the Opera House but for his accommodation for the night).

The public barbecue at a beach in Coogee where Eyal, Dorothy, and I made food and music.

After a bit of research, I learned that living and working in Sydney would not be a very profitable venture. If Eyal didn't have accommodation at an all female nursing dorm I may not have heard of the work available in Tasmania. Yes, that's right, Eyal had accommodation in an all female nurses dorm - that lucky son of a gun. He found the digs through a website called couchsurfing.com where people invite travelers to stay at their residence at no charge. He just happened to hit the jackpot at the nurses dorm. I was invited to a barbecue with Eyal and his host at a beach in Coogee, just South of Sydney.

We had a most delightful barbecue where we enjoyed Australian produce and beef which is so very good, followed by a quick nighttime dip in the ocean and guitar and singing on the beach. At this stage I was already very fond of Australia. It was during the music session that Eyal's host, Dorothy, from Germany, informed me of the plentiful work to be had in Tasmania - a place I expected to miss out on this trip to Australia. Once again, not much of an excuse was needed to keep moving and the following day I booked a train to Melbourne and a ferry to Devonport, Tasmania.

Like Smigel, My Body Adapted To Its Environment

Feb 7th - 23rd, 2008

My reason for returning to Opua and the 'Caravan of Love' (as the caravan is now known, for no reason, I repeat, no other reason than the fact that the local radio station played "Love Shack" by the B-52s on three different mornings during some of Tobi and my gigantic breakfasts in the caravan), was for a few more days of chartered sailing. At this stage in my trip, however, I'd learned to make definite plans only to laugh later on at how much they change. There was also some talk of Tobias and I being able to take one of the sailboats on an overnight trip as a bit of a reward for all of Tobi's hard work on the docks. I figured that I had a lot of sailing in my future but I couldn't have imagined the numerous opportunities I'd end up having to get out on the great ocean blue.

Only a few hours after arriving in Opua, I became ballast on Terry's (the owner of Great Escape Yacht Charters) boat, Morara. I was taking part in a bi-weekly race put on by the Opua Yacht Club. As ballast, my job was to scuttle as quickly as possible from one edge of the rolling boat to the other at just the right time, all the while ducking as low as possible to avoid the swinging boom. Other responsibilities such as "pull the windward winch until there's no luff, and get ready to gybe to starboard," which at the time meant nothing to me, often took me too long to decipher and then the revised instruction would become, "just pull the fuckin' winch handle!" Despite the good nature of the racers, they still liked to win which lead to some vulgarity. Sailing and vulgarity go hand in hand. To gain more experience in sailing, after the race I asked another racer, named Ron, who was short on crew if I could crew on his boat the next race. He accepted and we agreed on a meeting time and place. Already, on my first day back in Opua, I had sailed in a race, and had plenty of future plans for sailing.

Cleaning both my body and the dishes became a little bit more difficult while I was away from Opua. I wrote on an earlier post that the caravan had no amenities but that we simply had to walk down to the driveway to the sink and shower. An inebriated driver who was maneuvering out of the tight parking lot the bathroom was next to seemed to have become frustrated and took his anger out on the gas pedal. Being in the forward gear, the car piled its nose directly into the shower, sink, and fridge of the boatyard shed, narrowly missing the toilet. So, we then had to stroll into town for a shower at the yacht club. Most notable of this whole incident was the fact that the inebriated driver was a police officer in the nearby town.

Glad that I brought a book to read, I watched Ron, the man I was to sail in the next race with, sailing far offshore having forgot about me. He did strike me as the type who might forget, so I was content watching the race from the shore and reading my book. But soon after, I looked up from my book to find out who the people in the impressive looking race boat where yelling at and then I realised the only person in the area they could be yelling at was me. I headed down to the dock to find that they were asking me if I wanted to join them for the race. I said, "yeah!" and hopped on board. Thy asked me what experience I had and I proudly, "ballast!" During the race, their orders once again, meant nothing to me. This race team, however, didn't even bother with words after the first try, resorting instead to physical force. I was at one point repositioned by one of the racers picking me up by my shirt. This team was serious, and their seriousness resulted in a first place finish. They obviously chose the right person for ballast.

'Cadillac', the race winning boat of champions which I 'ballasted' on.

Racing was a great experience and a good way to learn to sail, but what really attracts me to sailing are the times I can relax and enjoy the ocean. With my racing days behind me, Tobi and I had the good fortune of being able to take one of the charter boats for an overnight trip to the Bay of Islands. Our destination was a bay on Motukiekie Island. When we arrived we had the bay to ourselves. After setting anchor we took the dingy to the island for a small walk. What appeared from a distance to be regular grass on the island was actually very long, dense grass that felt like foot deep snow when walked upon. It made an excellent bed for weary sailors. While I lay on the grass, I felt as though the world was rolling back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, not having developed my sailing legs yet.

Tobias Hartmann in full control. If I put a picture of me sailing the boat, I'd look far less confident, I assure you.

The view just before setting anchor on Motukiekie Island.

Our boat in the bay on Motukiekie Island.

Grass bed overlooking the boat in the bay.

Toby and I watched a movie before turning in for a night on the boat. It was an artsy french movie with Japanese actors speaking French, but overdubbed in German. Toby was kind enough to tell me the storyline in English with his German-New Zealand accent. So, there I was sleeping on a sailboat for the first time, watching a movie which went through multiple layers of translation, thousands of kilometers away from home. It was a unique experience and a highlight of my trip thus far.

The second day of the sailing trip was pure bliss. We jumped off the bow of the boat, rowed the dingy around the bay, stopped in another bay for lunch and beer, played guitar, and snorkeled. It was my idea of a good time.

Terry and Cindy were feeling the need to take on a new challenge while I was hanging around the dock. Terry, being an avid skier, decided to start a business transporting skiers to remote locations using an Argo (an eight-wheel-drive vehicle which was for sale in New Zealand after having been used in Antarctica). I was very entertained when the two of them tested the amphibious vehicle for the first time in the ocean by the dock. As a thank you gift to Terry and Cindy for letting us use the boat, Toby and I had three hilarious pictures framed of the two of them driving in the ocean with big grins on their faces.

The Argo with Terry at the helm.

Between walking to town for showers and my daily sailing strips, I was getting into good shape. Toby and I had taken another of the owners boats called a 'Flying Fifteen,' or a 'fanny wetter' out on a couple of occasions. Like its namesake, this boat was a small racing boat which one has to hang over the side to level the boat in high winds. Not only did I get a wet 'fanny' but I had an excellent abdominal workout. Despite all this exercise, I gained body fat from the incredible amount of food I was consuming daily. I was developing the typical sailors body, very tanned, a slight amount of body fat for insulation, and sore muscles all over. It felt great but I am by nature a skinny city boy and was becoming poorer by the day. I figured I'd strike it rich in Wellington (Welliwood), home of 'Smigel' and his "Lord of the Rings" friends, and booked a train ticket there.

The last few days of my time in the Northland were filled with heavy rain resulting from the remnants of an offshore cyclone. I spent the rest of my time hiding in the comfy caravan which surprisingly didn't leak, reading the K.I.S.S. learn to sail manual. I now know what 'luff' means, so I left Opua feeling satisfied with what I'd learnt.

FLORAL DEPARTMENT INSIDE JOKE WRITTEN BELOW. OTHERS MAY WANT TO DISREGARD.

When we stopped for lunch on the second day of our sailing trip, there was a flashy speedboat named '007' complete with creepy old man in a speedo.

The Real Deal

Feb 4th-6th, 2008


"Perfect, he looks like a surfer," I thought to myself when I met my surf instructor before driving to picturesque Taupo Bay Beach. His appearance gave me confidence in the Isobar Surf company and relieved some apprehension I felt when booking the two day learn to surf package. The brochure for Isobar looked too professional to offer a true surf experience. In addition, the beach house I was to stay in was also a true surfers house, complete with surfboards hanging off the ceiling, buckets for cleaning sand off feet at each entrance, and an unfinished but cozy look. At the back of the house was a dorm room for the guests with six beds which were all occupied while I was there. Both days, delicious and huge meals were served. One was not expected to help out with food prep or cleanup but the atmosphere was such that it felt natural to help out. To add to the great accommodation were the four two hour surfing sessions over the course of two days. Great instruction helped me get up on the board consistently during the first session. When I'd successfully stand on the board, I'd scream "wicked!" for the benefit of the instructor. He was convinced that Canadians always say "wicked" when they get excited. It felt natural, maybe we do. I love to surf. There's something that appeals to me about being abused by the ocean, so I was drawn back to Opua to do some more sailing.

This is a picture of Taupo Bay Beach.
Rips are actually a surfers best friend, so long as he one doesn't lose their board...

Worn, I had to quit surfing but took the opportunity to snap a photo of the surf.

More Filler Until I Get My Act Together

March 2nd, 2008

Mullets are making a strong comeback in New Zealand. For all I know, the same could be occurring in North America. Are they? Quite different from the late 80's - early 90's mullet, they remind me of 'Rufio's' hair from Steven Spielberg's "Hook" with the added touch of a large rat tail. It's hard to tell in a mirror, but I'm pretty sure after having my hair cut in this country, even I have a mini-mullet. Now, if I could just get my hands on another fluorescent wetsuit, I'd feel twelve again.

A Mindless Musician's Mixed Blessing

Feb 26th, 2008



Quite possibly the most embarrassing thing I've experienced happened to me last night. I was very happily practicing my guitar and singing in the YHA, Wellington at 11:00 PM, sure that no other person could hear me when I heard a knock on the door of the dorm. Before I could open the door, a second more violent knock rapped. Two older English 'propers' immediately began nattering at me, " you're probably keeping half the hostel up," "it's a loud instrument," and "it's late!" as soon as I opened the door. I patiently waited for them to vent their anger and replied, " Now that I can say a word, I'm sorry, I didn't realize it was so loud. Thanks for telling me." The response sounded calm and collected when, in fact my heart was fluttering and I believe even my eyes went red from blushing. My hands even shook as I wrote this moments after closing the door behind me. I felt horrible.

Now that time has passed and I have had time to reflect, it was nice to finally piss someone off with my music. To my knowledge, it has never happened before. I guess I am coming out of my shell. When a person expresses themselves outside of their shell, they're sure to irritate others. I choose to accept the fact that the pair having not complained about my singing is a sign that I wasn't singing too far off key and nothing could make me happier!

Positive Learning Environment

January 28th - February 2nd, 2008


Next on the Northland itinerary was my week of diving with Dive! Tutukaka. I was set to get my open water diving license in one of the world's best dive spots, the Poor Knight's Islands. Last to arrive to the to the group of eight young classmates, I was welcomed by having a photo taken of me the second I sat down. The photo was for my diving license and was not very flattering as it was 7:30 in the morning. After the laughter resulting from the 'morning face' photos of all of the group subsided, we walked to the classroom for a cheesy PADI learn to dive video, the first of a series of too many. Cheesy but informative, the efficient class instruction helped get our class into the water on day two. Beside the point is the location of the water we were in, as breathing under water even in a swimming pool is a great experience. The novelty wears off soon, however, when one starts seeing what actually exists in the water of a public swimming pool. Six hours in a swimming pool over two days! I was tuckered already and had yet to really dive.

I've always wanted to experience weightlessness and scuba brings one very close to what I believe it would feel like. The first dive was magical of course. After only a few minutes under water, a juvenile Eagle Ray passed by right in front of us along with literally thousands of fish who were angry at us for invading their personal space, but were too small to act on their anger. I'd say there are three levels of object observation when under water. One would be the very visible scary category (i.e sharks, eels,), secondly, the comfortable (angel fish, plant life, anything under 10") , and finally, the minute (tiny fish, nudibranchs, the ones that hide in tiny cracks and pits in the rock). Viewing the minute is possibly the most enjoyable because one has to use breathing to really get close to a small object without disturbing the surroundings. Breath in deeply and float up, breath out and sink. That's how one controls body position accurately when diving. It's so much fun and I'd highly recommend diving to anyone who might be bored with land.

The dive charter boat our class had to ourselves. The first trip out, I rode on the top of the boat. The swell was pretty big and I got soaked even up there. It wasn't uncomfortable, though, because the water offshore was a nice 23° C.

The Poor Knight's Islands about 25 kilometers off shore.

Our group's last diving location. To the right of the photo was a cave called the 'Boom Boom Cave' which we entered. When waves crashed into it, it made the most amazing 'boom' sound which could be felt through my body.

See that little white spot by the hole in the rock? That's my head just after aborting an attempt to climb into the hole. I was yelled at by everyone in the bay to stop climbing. Unknown to me before my attempt to climb in the cave, one can be fined up to $50,000 NZD for landing on the Poor Knight's Islands. Apparently, the islands are 'Tapu' ( Maori for 'sacred, taboo') due to the Poor Knight's violent history and it's now also a nature reserve. Who knew? We had a good laugh about it back on the boat for a couple of reasons; one, while climbing up the rock, I received a cut on my wrist - it was as if the island bit me back, and two, because the instructors decided to let us jump into the water before telling us a little history about the islands which they never have done before. Of course the first time the instructors neglect to tell the group the law of the islands, some hot head has got to try climbing on them.

Strong German.

January 21-27th, 2008



Adding to the strife of walking the six km sopping wet trail with all of my heavy gear, was the growingly consistent grey and very humid weather. However, while on the walk it was not hard to imagine, despite the rather horrible weather, the potential beauty of Opua and the Bay of Islands. I looked forward to sailing for the first time so much that when I rounded the last bend before Opua and the picturesque Great Escape Yacht Charters (pictured below on a nicer day than when I first arrived) was revealed to me, I could hardly contain my excitement.

Great Escape Yacht Charters' dock.

When I first spoke to Great Escape about doing a five day learn to sail course, it was with one of the owners of the company who also happened to be Canadian. Before the conversation was over, the lady had mentioned that they may need some help with work on the dock. I had hoped that I might work on sailboats before I left for New Zealand, so the offer for work was somewhat of a dream come true. When I walked to the office on the dock and was greeted by an employee - a German named Tobias who enthusiastically greeted me and showed me to my unexpected new home, 'The Caravan... Of No Luxuries Aside From A Roof'. All amenities such as a shower and sink were located at the boathouse just down the driveway. Tobias has been living in the camper for months while working at Great Escape and was kind enough to let me stay with him for the week. Two people were required to do the five day learn to sail course, so I had to wait for someone else to show interest in order to go out for some lessons. Fortunately for Thursday and Friday, someone else was interested taking lessons with me. While I waited for lessons to begin, I hung out on the dock learning a little bit about placing boats on moorings, but mostly just reading. A six year old boy named Leo was on the docks on Wednesday and asked me to help him fish. I am not a fisherman but I thought I'd try help him with what limited knowledge I have, expecting not to catch anything. Fishing here in NZ is much different from Victoria, however, in that when one puts a line in, one usually catches a fish. I wasn't aware of the success rate while fishing here in NZ, so I casually dropped the line in water. Soon after got a bite and pulled out a 6" snapper. Of course, I was completely unprepared to catch anything, so I had nothing to remove the hook with. I felt horrible for the poor thing. I needed to put the fish out of its misery, so I asked Tobias to grab a bludgeoning tool. One violent strike with an old tiller on the fishes head ended its struggle. I only hope the 6 year old I was 'teaching' was less traumatized by the event than I.

'The Caravan... Of No Luxuries Aside From A Roof'

When fine weather finally arrived in Opua, I walked up to a lookout tower to take some photos and felt inspired to make a new mini-vid with hopes of torturing those unwise enough to view it. My Momma wanted me in the video, so I had to block half of the beautiful view to appease her. I'm sorry for that. Feel free to forward your complaints to her.

Video #2

Looking towards Opua in the Bay of Islands.

Tobias Hartmann sitting with the first complete dinner I have ever prepared for another soul (aside from my dog) inside the caravan. Yes, I was so proud that I took a photo.

Now that you have met Tobias, I'll share a quick anecdote. I thought while spending so much time with a German dude I might as well try learning to speak some of his language. At one point during one of our improvised lessons, he stopped me and said that I pronounce everything I say in German like Adolf Hitler. At first, I was offended but the I realised that much of my exposure to the German language previous to this trip has been video footage of Hitler. Tobias and I had a good laugh after the realisation. I've since learned to tone it down a little when trying to speak German.

The last two days spent at Great Escape before I headed of to scuba diving were spent on the water. It was an amazingly free feeling for me switching off the motor and moving under sail for the first time. I became immediately hooked on sailing. I now have grandiose ideas of sailing the world sometime in the future.

One of the boats I sailed on during the learn to sail course.

If you look closely you can see the racing boats going in the opposite direction to our boat. We joked about racing in the regatta, but we didn't even make it to the start line before the race was over.

Tick one off the list.

January 19-21st, 2008


January 19, 2008 was a very special day as it was the day I saw my first New Zealand sheep. They looked so content. I now have crossed it off my top 10 list of things to do here in NZ. After fifteen kilometres of driving and in that space 4768 sheep viewed, I thought if New Zealand has a rugby farm team they are surely called the 'Lamb Kings'. My impression is that New Zealanders would be just as embarrassed by this identity as Victorians seem to be with the 'Salmon Kings'. I viewed these striking, graceful, and intelligent creatures from the bus which was heading to Northland - the subtropical land of plenty.


Aside from my now ritualistic guitar playing sessions on the beach, nothing of great significance occurred in the town of Paihia. The weather was grey and rainy for the three days I spent there. On the second day I took a bus tour up to view the Kauri Forest, Cape Reinga, and 90 Mile Beach (90 Mile Beach is actually 64 miles. There are conflicting stories as to how the beach got its name, so I won't bother with one of the stories for now). First stop was the Kauri Forest. Kauri are the largest NZ tree and second only to the Sequoia for timber yield. However, rainfall and poor light made it difficult to take a worthwhile picture, but they were impressive. The Kauri trunks are branchless up to the canopy of the forest about 30 meters in the air. Next, the bus rolled to the extremely windy Cape Reinga at the northernmost point of New Zealand where the Pacific Ocean meets the Tasman Sea in a fury. The collision is visible from the point and makes for a good show of two powerful forces coming together. Results of the two forces were our final destinations, the 90 mile beach and the sand dunes at the beach's north end. On these sand dunes, the tour company had everyone barrel down the 100 meter high dunes on a bodyboard at high speeds (people have been clocked at 80 km/h and I felt like I was near that). Two runs down the dune were enough for me. Sand covered and exhausted from the climb, I declined an offer for another run down the dune, and so did everybody else on the tour. We then began our drive down 90 Mile Beach which is also a state highway with a speed limit of 100 km/h. Even with the tour bus travelling at 100, I had enough time to nap and wake up before the beach ended. Normally I would refuse to nap when I'm driving in new territory, but the beach was the same the whole drive, aside from one bluff somewhere on it. It sounds like I may have been bored driving on the beach, having had a nap and all, but the experience was unique and well worth it.


Not much else happened in Paihia due to the poor weather. Of note, however, was the beer I shared with some good ol' British mates while we swam in the warm ocean during the rain. It was a fine way to spend an evening learning about the intricate culture of Britain's youth.

The lighthouse at Cape Reinga.

Where the Pacific Ocean (right side) meets the Tasman Sea (left).

Sand dunes at 90 Mile Beach.

90 Mile Beach.

Under The Influence.

January 12-19th, 2008

With every intention to remain on the move like the traveling man I now am, I booked seven days in a downtown Auckland backpackers under the understanding that I would be able to use those nights whenever I chose to within a year. This understanding in mind, I planned on staying in Auckland for only three days, using the time wisely to plan for a trip up to the Northland area of New Zealand. The Northland area is the bit above Auckland and, of course, has the northernmost point, Cape Reinga. Three days were required for planning as I hoped to do five days of sailing and diving lessons respectively, two days of surfing lessons, and to do some sight seeing which I will fill ya'll in on next few posts which will be coming soon.

It's funny how three days of work can turn into seven isn't it? The first evening at the hostel was meant to be a productive planning night. An overcrowded kitchen, however, inspired me to have a nice little picnic up the extinct volcanic cone called Mt. Eden. I'd heard from some folks in the dorm that it was a worthwhile venture, but upon setting out for the picnic, I hadn't a clue where it was. To lazy to go back up the unreliable elevator back to my room to get a map, I set out guided only by instinct and kind locals. Six worthwhile kilometers later, I reached the top. Mt. Eden is probably Auckland's finest viewpoint with an unobstructed 360 degree view of the city.

The top of Mt. Eden looking towards downtown Auckland. This photo was taken my second time up. The night before, there were about 15 black and white cows in the bowl grazing. The cows cause the terracing in the grass from their trails. It was nice to see cattle in a public park, but where there are cows there are cow pies. Extreme caution is suggested if one chooses to tramp around.

Having returned to the hostel from Mt. Eden too tired to do any more planning for the trip, I retired to bed for the night. I woke determined not to procrastinate the planning any more and headed straight for the travel info center of the hostel. I planned in earnest until about 11:00 am, (It took so long because at the time, I didn't have a clue of what to do) then took a break from planning in my room for some lunch. Moments after preparing my gourmet lunch of an apple and nut bar, a girl entered the dorm and the sidetracking began. My modest lunch took an hour to eat due to conversation with the Swede. Next, I found myself heading back to Mt. Eden with her where I had already been less than 24 hours ago. Most shocking, and once again, due to the female influence I even shopped for some clothes.

That's me posing with a statue of David and my new shirt. I found the shirt in a Japanese clothing shop and I bought it because it was peculiar: peculiar because there's a picture of a statue of Alexander the Great wearing headphones and a caption below it boldly stating "I SMASH." I'm wearing the shirt as I write this.

Would this sidetracking have occurred without the influence of a female? No. For the next two days, I was under female control going as far of track as to temporarily change travel plans in order to travel with the Swedish gal. Of course, I'm just kidding about 'female control.' I actually spent a great couple of days touring Auckland which I would never have done without the lovely female influence. Because I now had somebody to do dorky touristy activities with, Anna, the Swede, and I rented bicycles and rode twelve kilometers out to Achilles' Point on a 10 km bike path which passed no less than five nice swimming beaches. On route, we stopped for a picnic. Simply adorable, I say.

Picnic at an Auckland beach. Brilliant!

Looking back to downtown Auckland from Achilles Point. The coastline you can see is where we rode our bikes.

As previously mentioned, I almost traveled south with Anna, thereby ditching my plans for the north. Conveniently for me, as my heart was set on heading north, the hostel receptionist would not let me transfer my booked nights thereby giving me reason to continue on my original plan. Anna headed south early the next morning and I finalized plans for my grand Northlands tour. When booking my sailing lessons, I was offered work after a conversation with the Canadian proprietor of Great Escape Yacht Charters cleaning boats. Work opportunities here are plentiful. I haven't done any work on the boats yet, but I'm heading back to see about work soon.

For the remaining two days in Auckland, I endeavored to visit the sleepy and antiquated section of Auckland called Devonport, and also to visit the Auckland museum. Devonport has New Zealand's Navy base, and interestingly on the subject of the military, there's a volcanic island overlooking Auckland harbor which was fortified to defend New Zealand from suspected threats from the Russians pre-World War I and the Japanese in World War II. It was kind of like New Zealand's version of Fort Rodd Hill in good ol' Colwood, BC, in that it was never used. It was a quaint effort at defense for the country, but it did have some interesting and eerie tunnels dug throughout the hill as protection for the guns and soldiers, many of which are still accessible today.

Auckland harbor's humble defenses (for WW II).

Sample of the 'eerie' tunnels built into North Head. I forgot my flashlight so I got spooked.

The afternoon of my final day in Auckland was spent at the Auckland Museum which was contained in a beautiful granite building on top of a grassy knoll. Oh, how I love a good grassy knoll. In my opinion, any museum with authentic medieval armor is a quality museum. I'm easy to please in that respect. Aside from the arms and armor though, the museum had thousands of Mauri artifacts, local flora and fauna information, geological information (mostly about volcanoes) about New Zealand, and a whole floor dedicated to New Zealand military history which was actually quite powerful. New Zealand as a country has done much more than its fair share during both world wars. There's a lot to do in Auckland but I was ready to move on to my promising future in the Northlands. Conveniently the next morning the bus to Paihia came to pick me up and take me to the promised land of work and wealth.

Piha Beach

January 6-12th, 2008

Two hours and one reminder phone call after my scheduled meeting time with the Piha Surf Shuttle, I was off to Piha Beach. Under an hour out of Auckland, Piha Beach manages to remain flawlessly beautiful and uncrowded. About a half-hour out of the city, the tropical rain forest starts and so does the beauty of New Zealand (at least for me). The drive was one of the most memorable of my life. The rugged terrain, the green, the open ocean, the waves, and the small town of Piha all took my breath away. I found myself a nice place to set up camp in Piha Domain Campground and stayed there for seven days. I walked, ran, tramped (hiked ahaha, Em, they actually do call it tramping) swam, surfed, played guitar, read, wrote this, and just chilled in general. All of these good things lead to me having one of the finest weeks of my life.

The view of Piha Beach as I drove in from Auckland. I camped in that brown field on the right.

My camp in that brown field.

Nothing like a little black sand to remind you that you need a tan.

A video of Piha Beach.

A picture of me swimming off of the top of the below pictured waterfall.

Kitekite Falls - one of the many places I tramped to.

Easy Customs

January 4-5th, 2008

Remembering from the last post the I was given a hard time even at the check-in line at the LA airport, the customs at New Zealand comparatively was dreamy. They didn't even ask a single question or request to see any documentation. I simply stated my intentions of entering the country on a visa and the customs officer stamped my visa. That was it, I was able to enter the country. After a twelve hour flight and the stress I encountered at the LA airport, I don't think I could have handled any additional complications, so the express customs was what I needed.

Arriving in Auckland without a hitch, I stammered around in a daze. Even thought there's actually only a three hour difference in time, not much sleep on the plane coupled with the heat and humidity lead me to feel what I'd guess to be jet-legged. By mid-afternoon, having walked most of the downtown of Auckland, I lay down to sleep in Albert park. After I recovered enough to function again, I checked into the Nomads Fat Camel Hostel (don't go there if you like anything to be moderately nice) and immediately left because I wasn't fond of the dungeon-like rooms. I proceeded to walk around town for the rest of the night until, once again, I passed out, this time in a semi-proper bed.

Having compiled a long list of items to purchase before setting out on a week long camping trip to Piha Beach, I had my work cut out for me on the 5th. Despite my long list of obligatory shipping, however, I became distracted by the Auckland harbour ferry tour. The tour was outstanding. It took me under the Auckland City Bridge to Devonport, Mt. Victoria, North Head, and Rangitoto Island, but upon returning to the harbour, I realised more than before that time was tight for shopping. The shopping goddess must have been on my side as I had successfully completed all of the shopping by about 5:00 pm. Most importantly, I found a guitar which I now love. Thank you so very much Grandma and Grandpa. You are too good to me. Exhausted, I returned to my room where I met my roomies who were all very pleasant and went for some beers.

Albert Park - where I passed out after a long flight and a long walk through downtown Auckland.

Beautiful Auckland at night.