South Island at last!

I arrived to wellington, NZ's capitol after trekking the Tongariro crossing for a day, and canoing the Whanganui river for three days. I needed a rest.

New shoes, old friends

Although Wellington is the capitol on NZ, you can't expect too much of it.
It's a rather small city, with three big main streets, two parallel to each other and one crossing them, and around them only modest urban residential buildings.
The main streets are packed with heaps of cafe's, restaurants, bars and pubs, many camping gear shops and fashion, clothing and such.




On my last trek I tore the sole of one of my shoes, so I went to the shoe repairman, to try and glue it back together. As I entered his shop, without even saying “hello”, he had only four words for me: “get a new pair”, and so I went and bought another pair of Salomon hiking shoes – expecting only pain in my following treks – trying to soften the shoes a bit.

I got a text message from Rob, the English guy I met in Auckland and then Taupo, saying he arrives to wellington that day, so we set to meet again, and maybe continue to the south island together, along with Teresa, the German girl I met in Raglan, who was due to arrive the next day, to travel with me in the south island for 10 days.

A tale of five balloons

The next day we sat together all four of us – Rob from the UK, Teresa from Germany, Marissa from the U.S.A and me. Internationality at it's best.
The chemistry was instant, and we had lot's of fun cruising the streets of wellington together, eating, drinking and laughing together. I was delighted to find familiar faces around me from all my travels, and was even happier to find that they get along great.

We were joined by Maren, another German girl who arrived from Auckland to meet Rob, and was the completing link in our happy new family of five.

I was scheduled to cross to the south island on that day, but left my (god damn) lights again in the car, so I had to postpone the crossing to the next day, while I call a mechanic to jump start it, but it wasn't all too bad, as Rob's crossing ticket was for the next day as well.

Before taking the ferry we decided to camp as much as we can inorder to lower expenses and raise enjoyment, so I bought a second hand 3 people tent with Marissa and Teresa, as Rob and Maren will sleep in the van.



We took advantage of the last day in the north island, and decided to drive to the world famous pino-noir vineyards of Matrinborough, to have some upper class wine tasting, before we are roughing it down south:







South Island stories

The next day we've boarded the ferry – Rob's huge yellow van (called “Cool Runnings” - over the movie about the Jamaican bob-sledding team), and my blue Mitsubishi Magna (packed with two blond girls – called “The Chick Magna”).






The Ferry ride itself was beautiful. The weather was perfect, as the huge ferry made it's way through narrow green straits of tree covered mountains collapsing steeply into the ocean.
We arrived to Picton, a numb little town on the other side of the ferry, at about 17:00, so we decided to stay the night there, and drove 5 minutes outside town, to find a beautiful and peaceful campsite on a riverside, and camped for the night.

Queen Charlotte Trek – or “Off with his... leg!”

The next day we started the Queen Charlotte trek, following a privately owned natural reserve stretching seawards from Picton. We were informed that a part of the reserve is closed for “pest control” (basically it's a farmer walking around shooting possums and Israelis), we decided to go on the two day trek, starting from the end of the reserve, and walk back about 23km in two days, and take a water taxi back to Picton.

We took a water taxi to the starting point, and the view was amazing! Rocky hills and bushy slopes were decorating the blue sky and turquoise-green waters. We started walking through the forest, stopping every five minutes to admire the scenery.








The 5 of us were walking together, looking like a school field trip:



Although the walk was relatively easy, I started feeling the groin muscle cramping again, back from the one day Tongariro trek I did a week before – I am getting old...

When we started walking, the weather was great, but only after two hours it started pouring, and the trail became muddy and slippery. I guess that's why they say NZ has 4 seasons every day...


Two easy hours later, we arrived to our camp site, where our prebooked hut was waiting for us. Because we were 5, and the hut was booked for 4 people (had we booked for 5, we needed to pay for another hut), we had to sneak one of the girls from the back door, not to be seen.



We took all the groceries we bought that morning, and prepared a huge dinner, with lamb and steaks, pasta and rice, and even awarded ourselves a Michelin Star for the meal.

Half way along the meal we ran out of wine, so after finishing eating, Rob and me walked in our flip-flops in the mud for 20 minutes back on the trek to the neighboring campsite, to buy 2 more bottles, which cost too much, and lasted for about 10 minutes after we got back.




We woke up the next day for a beautiful weather, and walked another 3 hours to our pickup point.

Although the scenery was indeed beautiful, it kinda repeated itself, so we were happy not to extend the trek further.










The pickup point was a posh resort, where half naked old people were basking in the lying sun. we tried to spice the place a bit, and after drinking two pints of beer, decided to jump from the pols on the dock down to the water. There were only 4 poles, so I had to climb on the ladder's metal handles (which were high enough...I'm REALLY tall, you see...) and we all jumped from there to the water, to the roaring sound of the old people cheering. After climbing back up from the water, the guy taking the picture said he missed that, so we had to climb back on the poles, but when I tried to climb on the two metal handles with my wet feet, I slipped and banged my leg on the wooden dock, and fell face down to the water – getting a huge slap on my cheek from the water. My friends thought I jumped, so they all randomly decided to jump to the water, so we still don't have a good synchronized picture.

The water taxi came and took us back to Picton, where we drove away to nelson to get ready for the Able Tasman Trek.

The Able Tasman














We got up in a random parking lot near nelson, crawling outside the tent like a day old butterfly out of its cocoon. Running water is a luxury, a shower is non-existent, a small patch of grass is your home and million of crickets are your friends.





The drive to the beginning of the Able Tasman Trek took was short, and after waiting for the girls to get ready for 2 hours (changing the skirt to a walking pants, packing the bag again, and then deciding that the pants make them look fat, so unpacking the bag, changing back to a skirt, packing the bag and then deciding that the skirt doesn't match the bag, so unpacking the bag and changing into an evening dress...) we left our cars in the parking lot, and started walking the trail.





Although we had an awful 2:3 boys to girls ratio so Rob and me got stuck with most of the equipment (both of us took the big rucksack [MUCHILA]), and the girls were lightly prancing with their day bag, lady luck was on our side, as the weather was clear and sunny, and spirit was high.

The trail was beautiful. We started walking along the shore of a sandy bay, and then climbed up











hill though bushy wild forest. The rest of the walk was easy enough for us to be able to enjoy the view of a dozen golden bays and rugged slopes.









We stopped for lunch in one of the bays, and enjoyed sandwiches of salami, yellow cheese and avocado (evenly spread – of course!).
The rest of the walk was great, and after about 5 hours of walking we arrived to the first hut – very simple and modest on the shore of Anchorage Bay.

We laid out everything on a big picnic table outside, and cooked dinner and drank wine.
The weather forecast for the next two days was terrible, as heavy showers were supposed to come, but we crossed our fingers that this time, like many others – the weatherman is wrong.
He wasn't.

At 4:00 I woke up to the sound of a rumbling thunder and huge drops of rain falling on the thin roof.
Forcing myself to keep sleeping (wasn't that hard...), I woke up again at 8:00, and went outside the hut to see EVERYTHING is soaking wet. The grassy knoll on which the hut was situated turned into a river of mud.



We packed all of our important stuff (clothes, cameras and wide, of course) in my big rucksack, and payed a water taxi 12$ to take it to our next destination. We split the remainders between our bags, and started walking in the pouring rain.
The walk itself wasn't hard, as the weight was taken of my shoulders (I still had to carry the heaviest bag... ) but the rain made the walking quite a pain in the ass, and we were happy to arrive to the second hut at Bark Bay, after only 3 hours of walking.

The plan for the third day was to to wake up at 6:30, and leave for a two hours walk to Onetahiti Beach, to meet our Kayaking guide and kayak back to Anchorage Bay, where we'll take a water taxi back to our cars.

The Onetahiti Beach was amazing, probably one of the best beaches I've seen, and we hung


around there for about an hour, eating breakfast and relaxing before the guide arrived.







The Kayaking trip was enjoyable, as we paddled in big 2 persons sea kayak, around tiny rocky islands, where we saw many seals and beautiful birds.

We stopped for lunch in another beautiful beach, where we started to fool around, swimming and jumping from rocks, recreating various matrix poses, and generally making a havoc.




















The rest of the kayaking trip was fun but short, and we still had a lot of energy when we came closer to the bay, so we had a little kayaking race. I won't say who lost – let me just say I didn't lose.








After the Able Tasman trek we got back to our cars, and drove up north to Takaka, where we are now, washing our clothes, and just relaxing from the trek.








The drive was amazing, as a beautiful valley was reveled driving down from the mountains:




In the next few days we will hang around here – The Golden Bay, and then head down to the west cost, to see all the thing this incredible place has to offer.

Final Thoughts

Rocks in the rucksack – or: repress kick ass

Trekking with girls is hard.
As much as I enjoy their company – the average girl complains more, carries less and is generally more spoiled than the average men, when it comes to hygiene.
This difference blurs in cities, but when you go out to nature, it gets clearer.
I cannot say how many times I've heard about mosquito bites, dirty plates and heavy 15 liter bags, in the past week.
It's not that we are that stronger or that it's not hard for us too, it's just that maybe it's the ego talking, or maybe we just understand that complaining won't change a fucking thing.


Makeup

As I was traveling the north island, I only met nice people. If I stumbled on a conversation or a person I didn't like, I'd leave and went to meet another person. Most chats were shallow and short, and most friendships lasted a day or two – a whole week at most, in the case of the scuba dive course.
In that surroundings, you got the best of the people around you, and they got the best of you.
I remember from south America, having traveled with two good friends and my brother, that we had a lot of arguments and disagreements, and being in the north island for the past month – I wasn't quite able to remember what was the fuss about.
Arriving to the south island with a pack of 3 friends around me, I hoped we will get along great, which we did until a couple of days ago.
After spending 24 hours a day for a week with people, something changes. All people, me included, start being more stubborn, more petty and ugly things arise.
Until now we didn't have any big clashes, so maybe its just a premonition, but I am beginning to have familiar feelings of tension between people, and I am hoping to find a way of diffusing this tension before it boils.
Unlike my experience in south America, if things get ugly I plan on leaving this pack, as I don't want to ruin good memories, and sometimes leaving is the best option.

Trekking at last

I arrived to Toupo exhausted after my motorcycle expedition, wanting to do nothing but rest.
Taupo is a cute little town, resting on the shore of the biggest lake in NZ, bearing it’s name. Being a major cross road for tourist, among the activities you can do here you’ll find sky diving, bungee jumping, paragliding, jet boats and all the adrenalin kicks you want.

After checking in a nice hostel in the middle of town, I met my friend Rob, who happened to be in town, for lunch.
That evening I went with some Irish guys from the hostel to have a few drinks, when I got an SMS from a girl who responded my “I’m looking for a travel buddy” ad in an online web site, saying she’s also in town, asking if I want to meet her for a beer.
There are a few ways to meet people and travel with them, the most common of which is to meet people in your hostel, but another good way is to post an ad online, or post a note in busy hostels across town.
It’s actually quite amazing how many people are traveling alone. I was surprised to find that about half of the people I meet are traveling by themselves, and the other half is groups of people or couples.

I met up with Marissa, and we immediately got along great. She’s a 28 years old American, living for the past year in London, traveling in NZ for another two months, so we decided to start traveling together, and see how it works out.

I - Sivan, the hobbit

The next day, which was my 30th day on the trip, we drove to the Tongariro national park, for me to go on the one day Tongariro Crossing trek (Marissa already done the trek the day before).
I was supposed to meet Sarah, a friend from diving course, to go on the trek with, but she decided not to go, so I decided to go alone.

We checked in a hostel just on the edge of the national park, and I signed for the trek, going the next day at 7:10 am.
The next day, needless to say, a bus full of anxious tourists was waiting at 7:20, for a single Israeli guy to honor them with his presence, as he was busy running back and forth into the hostel, picking up things he forgot (like his meal, rain coat or common curtsey).
I got on the bus having 100 eyes rolled at me, to see that the only seat was in the far end of the bus, so I slowly made my way back, to the sound of gasps and TZK TZK TZK’s.
The bus made its way to the Tongariro national park.

The Tongariro national park holds NZ’s best one day trek (by reputation), and is one of New Zealand’s “9 Great Walks”, which is a group of the best treks in the country. The park itself is compiled of 3 huge volcanoes (still active – last eruption 1993): mount Tongariro, mount Ruapehu and mount Ngauruhoe, which is the location where the movie “Lord of the Rings” was filmed, the latter being the mountain used as mount Mordor – the final destination of the hero’s adventure.

Unimpressed, I began the hike at the Soda Spings.
It’s been about 5 years since my last real trek, and it felt strange walking in the narrow path, over flown with memories from South America.
The walk was flat and nice, sun still dormant under the mountain sky line, and after 30 minutes’ walk I got to the first steep part since July 2004.

Sivan vs. the mountain – round one.

My god.

I have never needed air do badly, I am really getting old.
I was climbing my way through hard black volcanic rocks, my knees were shaking, legs were crumbling under the pressure, blood was gushing all over my body and the heart racing at 120 km/h, desperately reaching for air – having to stop every 5 steps for a breather. It was so long ago since I’ve done this – I can’t even read the expiration date on my HUMTZAT HALAV.



I got to the top of the first steep part After 40 minutes of climbing and I was exhausted and humiliated.







Mountain wins by a knock out, first hill, 40:13 minutes.

“It’s all in your head…”

I forgot how much trekking in mental.
After a certain point of exhaustion, your muscles get used to the tension; you stop hurting and just keep on walking and walking in a mantric pace.

The view around was amazing. Before me rose mount Ngauruhoe with all it’s glory, a huge cone of frozen volcanic rock, black and red all around, and a few patches of white snow at the top.
The weather was unbelievable – perfect blue skies, without a cloud to see; walking alone in the beautiful yellow wide plateau – I finally felt I have arrived. You don’t cross half way around the world to stay in hostels, or chill out on sandy beaches, or even meet people from around the world – you go to see the land.

I was circling around the impressive mountain mass for another hour, when I arrived to a crossroad. I could whether to climb the huge cone (3 hours return, and maybe throw a ring inside), or keep on going the regular trek. Click the Video, to see the answer…


Climbing Mt. Tongariro

I kept on going, and decided to climb Mt. Tongariro, which is the second highest in the reserve (1932 meters). It was a beautiful walk, taking you over a ridge of the mountain, overlooking an amazing panorama around. After 45 minutes I got to the mountain peak, and had lunch. The view from the peak was sublime, having mount Ngauruhoe with all its glory, and the snowy peaks of Mt. Taranaki (another reserve) far behind it.



Sole music

I went back to the road I’ve left, and kept on going around beautiful blue lagoons, turquoise sulfur pools and red and black volcanic ash.








Around half way through the trek I suddenly heard an increasingly loud sound of a tear, and something being dragged. I looked down and saw that the sole of my shoe was torn half way, and I was dragging a million little rocks with me. I guess that 5 countries of trekking took their toll on these poor shoes, but being stuck with a half torn open alligator shoe sole, wasn’t what I was hoping.
If having my sole dragged (literally speaking) wasn’t enough, my crutch muscle suddenly cramped – I guess the first hill took its toll.
Still, the view from above was amazing, and luckily the way down was mild, so I really enjoyed the walk all together.



After walking 8 hours and 19km (!) in my first trek in NZ, I arrived to the gathering point in the car park, and waited for the bus to pick me up at 16:30. At 16:25 I didn’t see anybody around me, so I decided to go look for the bus, and not surprisingly, I found 98 rolled eyes again, waiting for me (one guy decided to take an early bus), so as I got on the bus and walked the isle to the back again, I felt like Forrest-fucking-Gump, seating by myself. Life is, indeed, like a box of chocolate.

Row-Row-Row your boat…

I met Marissa again, and drove to the Whanganui national reserve (pronounced “Fanganui” – apparently all “wh” is pronounced “f” here), where the 239km Whanganui River lays.
The Whanganui Journey is a 2 to 5 days canoeing trek, where you can cross 145km of bright green waters meandering through steep bushy hills. This trek is also on the “9 great walks”, which I had my mind set on doing all 9.

We decided to do a 3 days journey, so we rented a two person canoe, and put all of our stuff in black drums, incase we capsize.
The start point was at a small village called whakahora (pronounced “Fuck-A-Whore-A”, which became our cry every time you got your toe hit something hard…).

We started rowing along the winding river, but advanced really slowly, as the river depth is low in summer time. The scenery was beautiful, and the calm pace allowed you to really admire the view.













On the way we met two really strange people kayaking in the river in the nude, one of them saying it’s his 24th time down this river.





After 8 hours of paddling (37.5 km!), we arrived to our first stop – John Coull hut. After bringing all of our stuff from the canoe to the hut we realized that there are no pots or pans in the hut, and that we have no way of cooking the food we brought. We had to ask the guy maintaining the hut for pots, pans and cutlery, and made dinner (whole bag of pasta with crème mushroom, what else?), and played cards (I lost, but I suspect she cheated…).



We got up the next day, and kept on rowing down stream. The green waters were murky so it wasn’t so nice to swim in, but the canyon grew wider at some parts, and really narrow on other, so the ride itself was great. Once in a while the valleys on each side had hidden coves in them with white waterfalls; so on the way we decided to stop in one of these coves, swam in about 30 meters, and saw an eel trying to eat a duck. The duck wasn’t even half amused as we were, so he tried to fly out of the cove, which made us try to fly out of there too.

After a while we “parked” at the shore and went for a short 45 walk to a bridge called “bridge to nowhere”, as it was built as part of a road, but after completion the road was canceled, so the bridge is just standing there, leading from one side of the mountain to the other.







Although it’s not too physically hard to paddle, the canoe trek is like any other trek, as you grow weary and anxious, and at the end of the day you just want to get there already.
After 6 hours’ paddle, and as it just started raining, we got to the second site – Tieke Hokienga. This site was run by two lovely Maoris (a husband and wife), and upon entering the gated of the site they gave us a Maori welcome, with a traditional song and greeting (touching noses with a Maori – that’s something you should mentally prepare yourself to…).
After making dinner, I sat and talked with them (about religion, what else…), and they were incredibly warm and hospitable.

The next day we got up early, as the rendezvous time was 14:30, and we had another 21km to paddle through. The weather was bad, and it was pouring huge amounts of rain.
Paddling in the rain was really fun, because the river is faster. After paddling 3 hours, we got to the exiting section of the river, a small stretch of white rapid waters. We thought we were better than the river, but half way through the rapids, a huge wave came and covered the canoe with water, throwing Marissa and me overboard. Wet like two soaked rates we dragged the canoe (and our dignity) to the nearest shore, where I worked 20 minutes to bail water out of the canoe.



I was really hungry after that, but we didn’t have any food left, so I had to make do with wet mushroom pasta.

After canoeing for 3 days and crossing 87km, we arrived to the rendezvous point on time, and made our way back to the car.

Time to kill

The next day I received a message from Teresa, the German girl from Raglan, saying she decided to join me in Wellington to go on the Able Tasman trek together (first south island stop), and she’s flying in on Feb. 14th, so that meant we have 4 days to kill, so we decided to drive around mount. Taranaki, which is on the south west end of the north island. The mountain is really beautiful, and although it was a rainy day, we got some nice views of it. The next day we drove to Wellington, and we just got here and checked into a hostel.

Wellington is the capitol of NZ, but isn’t the biggest of towns. It is supposed to have a nice club scene, so we will check it out until Teresa gets here, and then cross to the south island to hike the Able Tasman trek.












Final Thoughts

Honey moon

Afer a month of traveling, some things are getting clearer.
Although it may sound self-centered – I suddenly feel I returned to being the center of my world.
Back home, in normal day-to-day routine, you interact with a lot of people in different social environments – family, work, relationship, friends and such, and some people tend to try and satisfy themselves, and other tend to satisfy others, and with me being the latter, traveling in general, and alone in particular, brought me back to being the center of my world again.
I eat when I’m hungry, sleep when I’m tired, and don’t really have to be considerate of anyone’s feelings. If I’m lonely I socialize, but if I don’t like certain people - I leave, owing nothing to anyone. This feeling is both free and lonely, and is emphasized whenever I leave people I like along the way. Suddenly I’m alone again, realizing once more – for better or worse, I am the center of my world.

Hooked

I am officially disconnected.
Only after talking to my mom, I realized I missed the election in Israel. When you are in it, it seems like the most important thing in the world, but not being hooked to the media feels great. Although I really wanted to vote (couldn’t – no embassy), and though I think politics is important – disconnecting yourself from time to times is liberating, and only now I see how addicted we are to news (especially bad ones) and how much we live our lives in constant anxiety. Life here is so calm and tranquil, and the worst things happening here is having a bad hair day – people are nicer, calmer, less competitive, and generally – happier. Throughout my traveling I’ve never seen a country which I thought is better to live in than Israel, but NZ might contest that statement.

From city life to back country

Up until now, all of my experiences were urban. I was diving, but based at a small town, I was surfing, but after hours was chilling in a hostel – I was waiting to start roughing it, “back country” style.
In that sense, Marissa is a great partner. She is way more outdoorsy than me, trying to convince me to buy a tent and camp all though the south island. I still don’t know if that will happen, because that way you hardly meet new people, but staying at the two huts in the middle of nowhere on the Whanganui River really was an amazing experience. I guess, like everything in life, it will be all about the balance between the city and the outdoors.

I’m having a great time, and starting to miss everyone back home.
Have a great week, and stay in touch.

Sivan.