Sharknado alert!

Margaret and the boys rented boards and went surfing this morning.  My role was to watch from shore and tell them what they were doing wrong and to eat our bag of potato chips. They all really appreciated my input.  I did not get any photos, but Walter caught a nice wave which I wish I would have captured.

At one point while they were surfing I caught a glimpse of a dorsal fin, which threw me into a mild panic until I saw a pod of dolphins rolling in the surf.

We came back to our cabin in Kiama and the manager showed us the local news flash that three great white sharks were spotted this morning about a half mile from here at Surf Beach.  We had walked by that beach last night and it was a candidate location for today's surfing although we opted for Seven Mile Beach which is a few miles to the south.  Nobody seemed much troubled by it.

Then while we were eating lunch, we saw this water funnel a few miles to the north.  The same manager said that they get a couple of these per year.  Again, nobody seemed much troubled by it.

It is time for a sequel.

Don't worry.  We won't head back into the water until we get the all clear.

Complementary Soap

Some people collect coins.  Some people collect baseball cards.  Walter collects complementary soap (or is it complimentary soap?).  He generally collects it on first arrival which hinders our ability to exercise proper hygiene.  It also puts us at risk of exceeding the 50 lb luggage weight limit on the way home which would make it some pretty expensive free soap.

The Blue Mountains

Back in New Zealand, we had picked the brains of various Australians about what we should see and do once over here.  The Blue Mountains invariably came up.  People always spoke highly of them, but generally with a slight qualifier that they were not quite of the grandeur of New Zealand’s Southern Alps.  They are just outside Sydney, so we elected to check them out for the day and see for ourselves.

The Blue Mountains are what I would call a Grand Canyon style park.  You approach the park from the top and then walk down into the canyon.  (Editorial note:  We are no longer tramping, nor are we hiking.  In Australia, the proper term is “bush walking”).  We just scratched the surface of this park, but we thought it was quite impressive looking at the sandstone outcroppings and waterfalls, and gazing down into a vast forest of eucalyptus.

Pretending to think deep thoughts...

I am wondering if Margaret and Walter have taken out any large life insurance policies on me lately...

We should have read this sign...

A small waterfall...

Nature..

A large waterfall...

We dubbed this the corn cob plant...

Waratahs vs Blues

The time had come to go to a rugby game in person.  On Saturday, the Blues (based in Auckland) were taking on the Waratahs (based in Sydney) at the Allianz Stadium in Sydney.

Here is a quick pop quiz for you.  What is a Waratah?

A) The state flower of New South Wales

B) A thirsty rugby fan jostling for position in the beer line

C) A pair of taxidermied kangaroo testicles ubiquitously sold in Australian souvenir shops

D) A Caucasian guy playing the didgeridoo for tips at Sydney harbor

The answer is (A) at least according to the thirsty rugby fan sitting in front of Margaret at the game.  We did see the other three choices in Sydney however.

As you might expect, rugby is a tough game.  I am not sure if it is football tough, bull-riding tough, or cage-fighting tough.  I just know that we saw some very hard hits without benefit of helmets or pads, bleeding brows, and concussion tests.

Our family allegiance was split during the game.  Walter sided with the Blues – I think partly because he likes to draw attention to himself.   I leaned toward the Blues as well given that we had spent six weeks there versus three days in Sydney.  We all had a tendency to get caught up in the home crowd enthusiasm for the Waratahs.

We learned a bit more about the game, but we have a ways to go.  We know when to cheer.  We boo when everyone else boos, but we don't necessarily know why we are booing.  We only know one player’s name and we only know that player due to a fan behind us yelling “Skelton, you fat f***” every time Skelton dropped the ball.

We saw many a “collapsed scrum” followed by a bit of arguing and finger pointing regarding whose fault it was that the scrum had collapsed.  A certain pair of Morton brothers could excel at this verbal aspect of the game.

The game gets really exciting when the teams are flying down the field in waves and the ball is really moving.  However, this can be PTSD-inducing for me as I have flashbacks to a play that I witnessed 33 years ago.

I was expecting/hoping for a bit of crowd hooliganism, but we did not witness anything more offensive than the Skelton fan club.  This was a bit surprising as the crowd drank a lot.  The concession stand sold four beers at a time.  In general, all four beers went into the same rugby fan.

The final: Waratahs 23, Blues 11

Passionate rugby fans ready for the game.  Get that father his four beers!

The action unfolding in front of us...

The Blues demonstrating a figure skating pairs' manuever...

Shouldn't he be dressed up like a flower?

Sydney

Sydney is a big city.  In other words, it is bigger than Portland which I am used to.  The metropolitan area has 4.6 million residents which is more than all of New Zealand.

We have stayed the last four nights in the beach suburb of Bondi which is renowned for its famous surf beach.  Even though our apartment is at least a km from the water, at times it seems like everyone is carrying a surf board.  You see surfers on trains and buses with wearing their wet suits sometimes still with a little sand on them.  I told the boys that I was going to get a surfboard and ride the buses in my wet suit - not bothering to surf of course.  I have a bit of history in this behavior as my friends will attest.

Bondi seems to be the place where the beautiful people congregate.  My family fits right in here, but I am not sure that I quite meet the minimum standard.  Thankfully, the beauty police have not asked me to leave the beach.  The water and the coastline are stunning as well.   The water is a clear turquoise and the cliffs are a pleasing sandstone.

We made two excursions to the Sydney Harbor - one at sunset and another the following day to catch a ferry to nearby Manly.  The first time we drove – or rather Margaret drove and I am sure it was the second most stressful event for her of our Sydney stay.  It was near the Friday rush hour and it felt like driving into Manhattan (not that we have ever done that) with a sea of taxis and buses.  We started to enter a parking garage until we saw that the parking charges were going to be $57.  Thankfully, we found a street spot shortly thereafter and thereafter all was good.  The opera house, Sydney Harbor bridge and the array of boats on the water all impressed us.  Friday night in the area is a pretty happening place with vast seas of downtown workers socializing after the week as well as tourists touristing.  I will just say that it is far cry from my usual vacation in a simple cabin in remote Alaska.

I think we have raised at least one city boy.  Lucas loves it here.  He studies the maps, advocates to see it all, and is just intrigued by it all.  Maybe he will become an urban planner someday.  Compared to me, he is a public transportation savant who has mastered the public transportation system of buses, trains, and ferries.  After our stressful drive into downtown, the next day we took six bus legs, two trains, and two ferries with Lucas playing a prominent role in charting our course from point A to point J.  Margaret's most stressful Sydney period was when we allowed Lucas to venture out on Sunday evening on his own with his bus pass, no specific itinerary, and our only operational cell phone.  Her thoughts jumped back and forth between "I hope he makes it back ok" and "How am I going to explain this to Renee if he disappears?".  He showed up twenty minutes after the agreed time, which is enough to further heighten parental stress, but not enough to warrant a call to the authorities.

The coastline near Bondi...

 

Walter in the shore side sandstone.  He claims to be more of a granite enthusiast...

 

 

Frolicking in the surf at Bronte Beach (adjacent to Bondi, but extra cool so that was where we went)...

 

 

 The iconic Morton family with an unidentified funny looking building in the background...

 

At the top of the buttress of the Sydney Harbor Bridge...

 

 

Two nice photos taken by Walter...

 



 

 

New Zealand Recap

It is hard to believe that we are done with the New Zealand leg of our trip.  We are looking forward to returning some day and we make sure to point out to the boys that the return will be about 6 years from now when they are both off at college.

We should be exhausted, but we are not.  We counted it up and we moved our base of operations 31 times during our stay.  No wonder we lost so much stuff (we will need to post an updated lost and not found summary).  We never stayed more than three nights in one place and we only did that twice.  We drove about 7000 km total (roughly 100 miles per day on average).  In all of those kilometres/miles we are proud to say that Margaret and I only drove on the wrong side of the road once each.  Our furthest southern point was Lumsden on the South Island (more or less the latitude equivalent of Portland) and our furthest northern point was Russell (about the same latitude as San Luis Obispo).

The consensus view is that we liked most everything, but probably our big trips (Milford, Abel Tasman, Bay of Islands) and our stays with families of friends (Kay and Ged Arbuckle and Malcolm and Vicki Coe) were the highest points.

Queenstown was the consensus vote for most over-rated (with a dissenting vote from Lucas). It is the self-proclaimed adventure capital of the world, so I guess we don't rate too high in that department.

We felt like we needed to compile a good set of fun facts based upon our New Zealand experience.  These aren't likely true, but we are sticking with our story.

1.    You are never more than 20 meters from a sheep or dairy cow while in New Zealand

2.    The average Kiwi consumes his or her body weight in fish and chips every 21 days.

3.    The single largest consumer of electricity in New Zealand are plugged in camper vans in holiday parks

4.   70% of all paper in New Zealand is used on tourist brochures advertising bungee jumping, helicopter tours, and the like.

5.   There are no Germans in Germany.  They are all in New Zealand.

6.   New Zealand trout are an endangered species

On to 'Straya in our next posts.

Bay of Islands

Our time on the North Island was winding down, but we had time for one more solid adventure so we headed north of Auckland to the Bay of Islands.  This is a beautiful natural area, but also a historic area for New Zealand.

We started our Bay of Islands stay with a couple of days in Russell which was the original short-lived capital of New Zealand in 1840.  Before that it was a whalers’ and sealers’ denizen known as the “Hell Hole of the Pacific”.  Its hellish days are certainly behind it unless you have an extreme distaste for turquoise waters, historic buildings, yachts, and wood-fired pizza.

As you might expect from the name, the Bay of Islands is a bay with numerous islands located in close proximity to one another.  It is far enough north that the sea water is quite warm.  I would not quite call it tropical, but it is an honest sub-tropical.  The waters are largely protected from the open Pacific.  All of those factors make it a good place for a sea kayaking so we arranged for a two day guided trip.  It was just the four of us and our guide Sam, who was quite a Kiwi character to say the least.

We had two double kayaks loaded down with tents, sleeping bags, clothes, food, cooking gear, fishing gear, snorkeling gear, etc.  We hopped from island to island stopping for a walk, snack, swim, snorkel, fishing excursion, or some combination of the above.   We also explored some sea caves which was both exhilarating and a bit nerve wracking.

Now back to Sam.  He was great, but quite unconventional as a guide.  He was quite the storyteller, hilarious, and a great cook.  He taught the boys rudimentary spearfishing and took Walter on a night-time paddle to check out the bio-luminescence in the water.  Those are the more conventional positive guiding characteristics.  He was also continuously rolling his own cigarettes, brought a whole bottle of wine for personal consumption, and dispensed with all discussions of safety and technique.  He certainly made the trip more memorable for us.

It was a pretty physical trip involving about 10 miles of paddling per day which is quite a bit for kids and for when you are carrying gear.  Margaret and Walter were paired up Day 1 and were constantly ahead of Lucas and me by 0.5 km or more.  Day 2, Walter and I were paired up and we all stayed even.  Either Lucas or I was the weak paddler – probably me.

In keeping with the theme of the trip, we did not successfully spear any fish.  Sam did catch a nice red snapper on day 1 which we filleted and pan fried – delicious to us all – even Lucas the supposed picky eater.   Walter caught a nice one on Day 2 which we gave a good stern lecture to and then turned it loose.   On the afternoon of the second day, we had all three kayaks rafted together and the boys were arguing over whose turn it was to fish (which both annoys me and warms my heart to know that fishing interests them).  Sam commented that he had been ready to become a father, but that the boys’ arguing set him back several years.  Margaret and I had a good laugh and it also quieted the boys down.

Once back in civilization, we opted for one more night in the area and then went to visit the Waitangi treaty grounds the next morning.  The original primary agreement between England and the Maori was signed here in 1840.  Lucas is supposedly writing an 8^th grade social studies paper on the topic, so I am sure our faithful readers could request a copy from him and he would gladly share his knowledge. 

We have been to several museums on the trip as well as a zoo and an aquarium.   These excursions have added an educational and cultural component to the trip.  They also consistently make me sleepy.  As part of the Waitangi trip, we opted for a Maori cultural demonstration.  The Maori representative asked the visitors for a volunteer chief to represent the guests.  I, of course, tried to push Lucas forward, but the plan back-fired and I was selected as chief. They must have recognized my leadership potential.  My appointment certainly woke  me up from my museum-induced grogginess.  The cultural demonstration was interesting, entertaining, and a bit intense.  I managed to avoid any breaches of protocol in my chiefly duties and have taken a liking to my new found status within the Morton tribe.

 

Walter and a tree in Russell identified as a Morton Bay fig tree.  The Morton family has always been passionate about their bay fig trees.

 

A typical Bay of Islands view.  Not bad huh?

 

The intrepid spear fisherman.  Just add water...

 



 

Red snapper is a quality product...

 

 

 

With Sam at camp...

 



 

 

Bay of Islands sunset...

 

 

Walter and Sam casting a jig in pursuit of squid.  Sam likes to wear his shorts "Bay of Islands style"...

 



 

Chief Rob does the "honga', a greeting of peace with his Maori counterpart and for good reason...

 

 

On the Farm

Some of our original motivation for traveling to New Zealand was undoubtedly our friendship and fondness for our friend Neil Cooper back in Portland.  Neil is an ex-pat Kiwi and owner of Seva Fen Capentee and Remuddling (aka Silver Fern Carpentry and Remodeling).  We figured New Zealand would be a pretty fun country to visit if there were more people like Neil. 

So we went straight to the source and looked up his sister Kay and her husband Ged.  They were kind enough to host us for a couple of days on their farm outside Otoharanga on the North Island.  They treated us like family and we had a very enjoyable stay.   We also got a chance to reconnect to Neil and Martha’s old friends Chris and Suzie who had camped with us at the yurt a few years back.

Kay took us down to a nearby black sand beach where we dug our own geothermally heated hot tub.  Walter displayed his adeptness with farm tools by taking a little skin off his foot with our hot tub digging shovel.  Merely a flesh wound and nothing to impact the day.

We also did a little tourist side trip for “black water rafting” which involves riding on an inner tube down a subterranean creek through a cave wearing a wet suit.  Glow worms are a big deal in New Zealand.  They are technically some type of luminous fly maggot, but they have wisely been re-branded as glow worms for the tourist economy.  We intrepidly sent out team of four into the cave and came out with four, so I’ll call that a success.

Ged and Kay own and operate (along with their daughter Helen and son-in-law Peter) a 400 hectare dairy farm with 370 dairy cows.  Ged gave us a tour of the farm and taught us a little about dairy farming.  The funniest moment to Margaret and me was when Ged demonstrated to us the operation of his newly commissioned water recovery system and covered feed area.  He uses recycled water to wash down a sloped covered concrete pad where the cows feed during the wet season.  Let’s just say that this recycled water has a certain biological aroma and several thousand liters of it spraying and aerating pushed our city boys’ noses to the limit.

Based upon our stay with the Ged and Kay, we have taken a vow of supporting the dairy industry by consuming a daily ration of Hokey Pokey ice cream.

Hot-tubbers in action near Kawhia…

 

 Pre-trip preparation involves jumping backwards into the water to prepare for an underground water fall…

 

Intrepid spelunkers getting ready to go down in the hole..

 

 

 

 

Walter in action...

 

 

 

We re-emerge from the bowels of New Zealand...

 

 

 

 

Farm living seems to agree with Walter…

Moo…

Rule #1 of farming is to always leave a gate how you found it…

 

With our gracious hosts Kay and Ged…

Abel Tasman

We have had a number of adventures since our last post.  Our period of silence started with five days in the bush on the Abel Tasman Track.

Five days and 40+ miles on foot with backpacks.  We all completed it.  We all survived.  We all did well.  We all craved a hot shower upon completion (which is saying something for 14 and 11 year-old boys).

Abel Tasman has a reputation as one of the most beautiful and most visited Great Walk in New Zealand.  I believe it on both counts.  It is a coastal track with turquoise water that is almost tropical, golden beaches, interesting rock formations.   It has lush and varied trees and plants.  We got well acquainted with one of the national symbols of New Zealand, the silver fern.  At least, we think they were silver ferns.  They look like a cross between a large fern and a palm tree.  We stayed acquainted with our nemesis, the sandfly, although they were not too oppressive on this track.

This section of coastline has big tidal swings.  The track includes two big tidal crossings of bays that completely emptied at low tide.  You have to time your crossings for low tide.

A coastal track should not be equated with a flat track.  There may have been more cumulative up and down than Milford, but it all came in short, steep sections.

Ocean and bay water was warm enough for an occasional swim - particularly for the more aquatic Mortons (Margaret and Walter).

By no means is Abel Tasman a true wilderness experience.

• Water taxis provide access at various bays for most of the length.  They drop off and pick-up trampers, day walkers, kayakers, and lodge-goers.  We walked the full length and then took the water taxi back to our starting point.
• There were sea kayaking trips galore following the coastline in parallel with our walking.   Supposedly, Abel Tasman is the most popular sea kayaking destination  in the world (according to a sign we saw).  I believe it.
• There were stretches of private inholdings – some of which we were covetous of.
• We heard about a fancy lodge along the way where you could get a good cup of coffee.  We ended up having an excellent lunch of fish and chips there for a pretty penny.  Naturally, I washed that down with a cold beer followed by a long black (cup of coffee)

We stayed in four huts along the way. The huts got smaller and more rustic as we moved northward.  The track got progressively quieter as we walked northward.  We approved of both of these northward trends.

We had different contingents of trampers in the huts each night.  Unlike Milford, people are going opposite directions, skipping huts, doing partial sections, etc.  There were a small group of trampers doing most of the same itinerary: a very nice couple from Christchurch (Jane and Graeme), a 20 year-old Canadian who had been on the road for most of the last three years, and a Seattle photographer and his wife, and a handful of Germans.

At the last hut, the Whariwharangi homestead, we met some very interesting folks.  Trevor and Di were an Australian couple on the track both to enjoy the walk and train for their respective athletic endeavors.  They were walking 30 km per day while carrying a box of wine for a proper cocktail hour at the end of the day. Trevor had a big outgoing Australian personality.  He was in his 50’s and super fit.  Margaret asked him if he was a triathlete and he responded that triathlons were for wimps.  He was an adventure racer which involves four person teams heading into the bush for five days of orienteering, running, mountain biking, kayaking, and operating on one hour of sleep per night.  There is some rigor to the Abel Tasman track, but it stops well short of adventure racing thank god!

At Whariwharangi, we also met an extended group of three New Zealand families with a bunch of kids about Lucas and Walter’s age.  Surprisingly, these were just about the first school-age kids we had encountered during our adventures as most every kid in the world is currently in school. We felt like we were back at the yurt, roasting marshmallows with them, and socializing.

Now for the photo documentation.

The obligatory "starting the track shot"...

We did not take any photos of kayakers, but we have one of horse-yakers...

This photo does the water color justice...

Our first and swankiest lodging, the Anchorage Hut...

Margaret's art shot....

Crossing an empty Aworea Bay....

Have you noticed how wearing a backpack and hip belt makes a man appear even more svelte than he truly is...

Walter recharging his batteries along the trail...

A really nice spot with a good New Zealand name: Mutton Cove...

Sunset on our last evening on the track...

A classic international chess match in the Whariwharangi Hut...

Hitting the track for the last day...