Rotoiti

I was dropped outside of bulls and, with heavy heart, said my farewells to Team Spork. Tanja took my tramping boots back to Christchurch for me (bless her), and BJ promised to lovingly babysit my guitar on his journey around the South Island (bless them both). Within five minutes I had hitched a ride to Taupo. The guy who picked me up worked on a land-based drilling rig and was driving his new 4WD home. He had interesting stories to tell about the lifestyle of an oil rig worker and the dangers it involves. Respect. I camped up that night at the free camping space at Rieds Farm again and fell into company with a group of Bros, drinking beer and playing guitar.

I was walking to the road the next morning when a car pulled over and asked a ride if I wanted into town. “Sorry, I’m headed to Rotorua. But thanks.” I said and kept walking. The car did a U-turn and came back. “Ah, why not. I’ll go to Roters.” So this young share milker on his day off drove me all the way from Taupo to Rotorua just for the sake of having someone to talk to. I hope I did not disappoint him.

I met up with a good friend in Rotorua and was spontaneously hosted by an elderly couple of infinite energy and open heartedness. Fond memories include Jim driving us around all the tourist spots, collecting golf balls, swimming to the wall, scrabble & jigsaw puzzles, and good talks.

Uncle Peter and Auntie Joy picked me up the next day and took me back to their home in Rotoiti. Of my four cousins only David was there. David and I took the dog for walks, swam in the lake and played guitar together. I strained a finger jumping from a cliff and not quite catching a rope-swing. :) I went with the family to church on Sunday and set Peter up with Skype. Tamar, being still in Switzerland, loaned me her car. I had it warranted and was free to roam northwards! So awesome.

Dörfligers being Dörfligers, Redwoods being redwoods.

Auckland

With an arm out the window and music on the stereo, I drove north. I involuntarily took the scenic route up Coromandel Peninsula, cutting through to Thames and back on to Auckland. I picked up two hitchhikers for a short stretch. My first impressions of Auckland matched my prejudices fairly accurately. At one point I was on a two-lane road, which became four, then six. Numbered exits began to appear and there was an increasingly pervasive fear that I was being swallowed by some sort of mythical monster disguised as a city. Not really knowing where to go, I took an arbitrary exit. It turned off onto a smaller highway which I also had to exit from. Eventually I was down to mere bumper-to-bumper two-lane traffic in an industrial zone somewhere. I did eventually find something remotely green and parkish but it was a strange experience getting there.

Roman’s apartment is smack in the middle of Auckland City where he lives with his partner and works as a radiologist (he gave me scrubs! Real ones!). As incredible coincidence should have it, Bev just happened to be in town on a business trip. As the only member of my close circle of Kiwi friends I hadn’t been able to catch up with, I was quite pleased with this arrangement. We stayed up and talked like back in the good old days. I picked their brains and procured a list of literary to-do's. If fantasy is your thing, listen up. Other genres are in there too but I hold their opinion in high enough esteem to say it's all good.

David gemmil: quest for lost heroes, midnight falcon, Troy, legend, echoes of the great song.
Patrick rothfuss: in the name of the wind (king killer chronicles)
George r r martin: a game of thrones (song of ice and fire)
Scott lynch: the gentlemen bastards.
House to house.
Terry Brooks: the sword of shinara.
Dragonlance series: dragons & twins series.
Earthdawn rpg world
Neuromancer
Charles cheffield: summertide series & anything.
Peter F Hamilton: fallen dragon
Alistair Renolds.
Robert heinlein.
Peirce Anthony - adept series, battle circle, sus the rope, var the stick, neck the sword
Bright lights, big city
Roger zelasny: the chronicles of amber (just the first three)

What do you mean there are no stairs?

I stayed at their hotel on the spare bed and wandered the city with Bev’s workmate’s girlfriend (names are not my strong suit) for a day. The city boasts the country’s most expensive lift, the Sky Tower, which costs NZ$55 to ride. It is rumoured that people actually willingly part with real money for this service. Contrastingly, we were let into the Auckland museum for free. It was donation based in any case but I was impressed that they weren’t accepting money from Cantabrians. In fact when I think about it, the amount of national support for Christchurch is heart warming. I like being proud to be Kiwi.

We went to a couchsurfing meetup in Auckland. My mission was to find people to go diving with up at Poor Knights near Whangarei. Sure enough, the next day my new Canadian friend Mary and I were on the road to Tutukaka.

Diving Poor Knights

We camped in Tutukaka and went to the dive shop in the morning. Our trip included a 50 min boat ride out to the Poor Knights Islands, gear hire, a refresher course, lunch and two guided dives. The dive site is in a marine reserve and the East Australian Current (EAC if you’ve seen Finding Nemo) runs right through it so the water is warm, visibility is awesome, and the fish are plentiful and varied. We did blow NZ$310 each for the trip, but it was totally worth it. More info here.

Returning from the dive we docked at around 4pm and were on the road by 4:30pm. I dropped Mary off in Auckalnd and continued southwards through the night. Google reckons the stretch is 440km and takes 6 hours. Add in a dinner stop and a brief farewell and I pulled into Uncle Peter & Auntie Joy’s driveway sometime after 11pm.

I was actually able to see my cousin Jordan for around 20 mins the next morning before we each rushed off on our own endeavours. Joy and David dropped me off at the visitors centre in Rotorua. I caught the bus to Napier with 5 mins to spare, had me some shut-eye on the way over, and rolled into Napier with enough time to run to the hotel, book a room, throw my backpack inside and board the transport bus to Sean and Tanya’s wedding. Yes, it was a mission, and I knew it would be one, but hell it was worth it. And besides, I’d made it. Nothing quite like cheating the devil.

Sean’s Wedding

Many years ago, somewhere around 2002 when I was but a wide-eyed young student, full of curiosity and potential, I studied at Canterbury University and lived in a flat. Gondwana flat we called it, although the significance is now lost on me. Sean and Jay studied Computer Science while Tanya did Law, and I lived in the big room next to the lounge with my girlfriend Sophie. Sophie and I moved out at the end of the year leaving the Gondwana Tribe to fend for themselves. Years spun by, flatmates came and went, and they moved once, but the heart of the tribe remained: Jay, Sean and Tanya. So it came as little surprise to me a few years back to learn that after years of should-I-shouldn’t-I-ing, Sean and Tanya had finally made the logical step and were together. Fast forward several years more, and Sean and Tanya announce their wedding plans. A location is decided, a date it set, and invitations are sent. Incredibly enough, I receive one. Mission Estate Winery eh? The fools, they know not with what they dabble.

Now say "I do"

I extend my holiday out by two weeks. Fast forward to present day, stepping into a funky wedding bus after a driving marathon, a few hours sleep and bus trip. There are familiar Christchurch faces on the bus, as well as strange north island ones. Excluding me, people are dressed in suits, dresses, bow ties, dress shoes, high-heels, hats, and other things you’d expect to see at say, a wedding. Including me? Let’s see... I’m wearing my best jeans (which I’d carried around the north island for just this moment), my best white t-shirt (the hole burn in it from lighting fireworks on a rooftop in Colombo on New Year s Eve is barely visible), and my only pair of non-boot, non-jandal shoes — the white cross-trainers (no, those are not blood stains, well they might be but don’t ask). However I HAD showered. That morning to be precise. And then taken a three hour bus trip and run through Napier with a rucksack on a warm day. Yes I stood out like a kite in a thunderstorm (the vineyard staff said it was okay for me to wander through the dining area but to please be inconspicuous as it was a private function) but I was there and it was awesome.

Sean and Tanya said their vows and tied the knot in the traditional vow-saying, knot-tying way. Jay made the best best man’s speech I’ve ever heard. In rhyme. I’m a dream-boat apparently. Thanks Jay. Food followed by speeches, drinking, disco and merriment. Oh, and my great achievement of the evening? Getting Jay on the dance floor. You could almost hear the tiny screams as the little pieces of his dignity died horribly one by one, ballroom dancing to 80’s disco. I even found a nice big picture so that everyone can see.

Yup, he's going to kill me in my sleep

To Christchurch, one last time

I actually made it to the barbecue the next day, despite not planning to. I was offered a ride to Wellington and had enough time. Mark and Maluz hosted me at their parents place in Wellington. I’d hosted them in Zürich and they were returning the favour. They fed me and dropped me off at the ferry the next morning too. It was great to see them again.

Max and Rowena met me in Picton. We ate sandwiches for lunch and drove back to Christchurch for my last few days. I spent some time visiting friends I’d missed, packing and planning. Brenda dropped me to the airport early one morning, and I was on my way.

Marlborough sounds

Goodbye Christchurch (90% power restored), goodbye Southern Alps

Melbourne

Uncle Norman and Auntie Karyl picked me up from Melbourne airport and dropped me at Grandma’s. I slept, I fixed her computer, I shovelled some dirt, I messed about in the garden and I pruned the vine. We went to dinner each night somewhere new, chatted to Maureen over the fence and talked about how big the new fence was, checked on the Monarch cocoons, visited the same lovely Irish family we visited last time, and made an excursion out to the country to visit relatives. I had freshly pressed orange juice every morning with muesli and yoghurt. Grandma wouldn’t let me pay for anything. Uncle Ted drove all the way into town to have dinner with us one night. Honestly, after being on the go for so long it was a wonderful, much needed rest. And I got to see Grandma again.

I spent some time at Uncle Norman’s and Auntie Karyl’s place – both at the old house and at the new house they built in Safety Bay. We went to a St. Patrick’s day celebration at the yacht club with a traditional Irish dance show. I watched the sun set. I caught up with some of my long lost cousins. I saw Bree briefly, spent an afternoon with Fiona and had coffee at Donavan’s new coffee shop.

Melbourne from the Dandenongs

I caught up with Jase and Rosey, some couchsurfers I’d wanted to host in Zürich but couldn’t because I was in hospital at the time. Jase was busy, but Rosey and I drove into the Dandenong ranges and walked around, visited her Grandma, visited a bird sanctuary, picked up some stuff at the supermarket and came home for a barbecue. We talked about heaps of stuff; heavy metal, music software, electronics, laser cooling, education, gaming. I crashed over at theirs spontaneously.

I went to a couchsurfing meet-up one evening and chatted with some interesting folk from around the globe. They sold Monteiths at the bar we were at. Very impressive. I shared a train ride home and a good conversation with a new friend. Then it was back to Grandma’s for a few hours sleep before my flight to Surfer’s Paradise.

A bird in the hand...

Gold Coast

I was hosted at the last minute by a guy in a million dollar mansion. We saw a magic show, ate sushi, and went out on a Tuesday night. He was moving away and threw a farewell party, inviting a bunch of his friends, couchsurfers, and whoever else wanted to come.

I took the bus to Byron Bay to visit Thomas, Maik and Zoe. I stayed there only one night, but it was good to be back all together again. I already wonder when the next time will be. My suspicion is that it will be at Zoe’s bar in Wales. And Zoe will bake us cake. She promised. I went swimming, sat around and talked with the boys, drank the vilest swill ever to have been sold commercially (Coopers Stout), watched drunk people harassing a protesting environmentalist who’d climbed up a tree and wouldn’t come down, hung out with a group of new age Christian hippies drinking chai latte and twirling staves, walked along the beach and generally enjoyed myself. I like Byron Bay. It’s a little touristy but it’s clean and it’s beautiful.

Coffee Culture, Lyttelton
December 2010, back when it still exited.

Rangiora
New Year's Day 2011, the great beer and steak getaway.

Byron Bay, Australia
March 2011, reunited once more.

Back to Surfer’s Paradise for a bachelor party I’d been invited to via Bev and Sarika. Without going into too much detail, they’d rented a penthouse suit on the 54^th floor. The party had all the things you’d expect, and we were liquored up and in town by 10pm.

View from the 54th floor, Surfers Paradise

Next day Bev and I went to see my cousin Lee who was working for a nearby circus. We caught the morning show, then earned our admission by helping them to take the circus down. It was a day’s heavy labour in the hot sun on a hangover, by the end of which I was covered in dust and properly spent. But I loved it. The whole circus is really a big family with everyone pitching in and doing everything. The clowns also sell coffee and do repairs, the acrobats sell tickets, and even the dogs perform. They fed us and drove us home. It was great to catch up again.

Sydney

The city felt weird, actually. There were so many Asians it hardly felt like Autralia at all. Most of the restaurants are Asian restaurants. Even the pool halls play Asian music videos. Thomas and I met and hung out for a day. We played pool, drank beer and walked around. I played guitar with a guy on the roof and saw a girl vomiting outside an Irish pub. Spectacular.

Beer = Happiness

Yup. It's Sydney all right.

Zürich

Sydney to Hong Kong, to London Heathrow (terminal 5), and last stop in Zürich Flughafen. I caught my first earful of swiss-german in London Heathrow, and it suddenly dawned on me then that I was going home. I was oddly looking forward to it, back to my routines, to work, to Kung-Fu, couchsurfing and DnD. We arrived home on April Fool's Day. It was the first bit of fine weather they'd had, and it was spring. Flowers were out, birds were singing. We headed over to Andy's rooftop for a bbq, some beers, a guitar session and to watch the sun set. Pretty good homecoming methinks.

What Now?

Isn’t it funny how life isn’t always what you expect it to be? It seems like change is in the works once again. I won’t spill all the beans now but there’s a surprise to be revealed. After all, life is a journey which ends in death is it not? (No, I’m not going to die – I'm just saying that the adventure doesn't necessarily stop here). To be continued...

I'm currently taking advantage of my uncle's PC and internet connection in Rotiti. Blog time. (Further editing made on a different uncle's computer in Melbourne, but that's just detail.)

A week in Reefton

I spent my week in Reefton with my mum mostly hanging out, writing the previous blog post and playing guitar. We did a two-day walk from Black's Point up to Kirwins mine and back down to Boatman's Road. The first day turned out to be considerably longer than I'd anticipated, and my knee complained a bit and was swollen and complained a bit on the way out. However despite being short on humor on the second day, I made it without incident and it was a fantastic tramp.

Fond memories include: seeing Forch on his first day of retirement; surprising Kate in the supermarket; getting to the top of Kirwins; getting to the van from Kirwins.

A week in Christchurch

After my week in Reefton expired I took the van and the boat east to Christchurch. Basically this time was reserved for hanging out with Max and Rowena, and for revisiting old friends. Max wanted to see how the dhingy floated, and decided it would be a good idea to row it to Quail Island and back. It wasn't really, but after a lot of rowing we got there and back again without catastrophy. There was an old computer science study group meetup, Sean's bachelor party (where I got lost in town, only to be found by the FCC lads, only to be lost again), and a bring-your-own-roadkill pot luck event (aka Pot Doom) which Marissa put heaps of effort into organising (big thanks!). I shot a young deer grazing Max's orchard, which was perfect timing for our Pot Doom event. I visited Marissa & Sagar, Jay, Ella, Luke & Brett & Jill, the Brights, and Eleanor & Mark during that week not to mention a good chat with Sel.

Row, row, row your boat madly across the bay	Meat is murder...

Shaky Quaky Christchurch

We were fine. The house is a swiss-style log chalet, so it just wobbled and flexed. Even the foundation was fine. A few glasses were broken and some shelves were emptied out on the floor. But otherwise? All was well. We lost power but had candles. We had spring water from the hill. The chimney was metal, not brick so we could light the fire. We even took in four refugees from Lyttelton whose houses ceased to exist. We were all quite shaken though - particularly from the aftershocks during the night. Many of us slept in tents out on the lawn. Max just said everyone was crazy, and slept in the house. I spent the evening in the little hut up on the hill.

Lots of strange co-incidences. I was in town the day before the earthquake, doing a last round of catch-ups and running errands. Maik and Zoe sent me a text saying they had just hitched a ride from Oamaru to Christchurch. I offered to pick them up from Burnham and visited a friend until they arrived. The net result is that they ended up being out at Bergli when the quake hit, rather than in the CBD. Zoe had a big asthma attack later that evening. Out of caution we drove her to the Christchurch public hospital, by which time she was fine. So we went for a walk around Hagley Park, ate at Burger King in the CBD and walked around the cathedral and gave $10 to a druggy spinning a fantastical story. We remarked how quiet it was. The next day it was all gone.

My grand scheme was to fly from Christchurch to Wellington on the day of the quake to see Queens of the Stone Age. However, Mother Nature said NO. The airport was closed, so I sent a text to Thomas saying he should sell my ticket. He replied that the QOTSA concert was postponed till tomorrow. There was still hope, so I rose at 5am the next morning, drove with Maik and Zoe to Kaikoura, hitched to Picton (I was picked up by a shaken up guy who's holiday home in Redcliff had had a cliff land on it), caught the Interislander across to Wellington, dropped my stuff off at a backpackers, showered and rushed off full of enthusiasm to St. John's pub to meet Thomas and Tanja at 4:30pm. Only to learn that the concert had been cancelled. So after several beers and a dirty gin martini later ("shaken, not stirred" was my running gag for the evening) I was drunk enough that it didn't really matter. Almost as good.

North

Thomas headed south the next day. Tanja and I went north. We hitched to Palmerston North and were picked up by a tattoo artist who had wonderfully colourful ideas on some of the big questions in life, involving magnets, fibonacci sequences and Mayan calendars. His knowledge of tattoos was awesome, and he told us heaps of really interesting stuff. His theological theories could have used a little more... research. And he gave me a dice! I will use it often.

Palmy North is a bit of a rural town. Not much happening. We entertained ourselves playing guitar and drinking beer in the backpackers with our Swiss and Austrian roommates.

Hitching from Palmy was probably the hardest bit of thumb-work I've done. We had to walk for ages - I was carrying a rediculous amount of gear, which was a) heavy, and b) my own stupid fault - to get out of town. One woman picked us up and took us to the next minor town. Her dog Shadow loved licking faces (bearded or no), and she had a learners license. Meh. She dropped us at a good spot and we waited. After having no success, I brought forth the guitar, sat on a rucksack and played while Tanja thumbed us a ride. The presence of the guitar was an instant success, and I had but finished one song and we were on our way with an old tractor driver from Napier. When we asked him what there was to see in Hastings, he shook his head and said "Nothing. Sorry." Well he dropped us at Rush Monroe's ice cream place. We played guitar in the town centre with some local kids and stayed at a backpackers full of fruit pickers (it was picking season).

Other fond memories include: Mr. Scratchy; corrupting Tanja with marmite; and the grumpy guy at the internet cafe.

Team Spork

BJ and Claire arrived in Hastings. I had previously hosted BJ in Zurich, and after we realised we'd both be in NZ at the same time we decided to meet up somewhere. And here we were! BJ had his mandolin with him, I had my guitar. There was space for Tanja and I in the back of the car, and we had our own tent. Even my luggage fit. Don't you love it when plans just work? We went to the Tim O'Brian concert there, where we discovered Mr. Cackle. Wow. I have never seen anyone so completely oblivious to their own annoyingness. Think pushy, egotistic, over-enthusiastic, super-talkative and shouting-loud all at the same time. And completely unaware. Did I mention he could cackle? Was truly a sight to behold.

Tim O'Brian was absolutely amazing, by the way. Played every type of bluegrass he could think of on mandolin, fiddle and banjo, backed by a guitar and an acoustic bass. Awesome.

When our sporks combine...

On day two we drove to Taupo and stayed on Rieds Farm, a free campsite funded by local rate payers. It had mowed lawns, toilets, picnic tables and a river. Great times.

White water rafting was next somewhere north of Taupo.

Then the drive through the Forgotten Worlds Highway to New Plymouth. We passed through a "town" (according to the map) called Marco. I found a sign, and being the respectable tourist that I am, climbed it for a photograph. The weather packed in, so we stayed in a backpackers and hit the thermal spa the next day. Good call. I think my favourite memory in New Plymouth was BJ and I jamming outside the pub as we waited for our fish & chips. A cop approached us in mid-song, stopped and said "You boys should put out a hat". Chur.

Next day it was on to Wanganui, by which time the rain had eased. We camped in the campground and went kayaking the next day on the Wanganui river for a few hours. The rest of the team were headed to Wellington. They dropped me in Bulls and, aside for a broken spork (plus a few sundry backpacks), I hitched northwards alone.

Favourite memories include: 3x rush munroes; BBQ in hastings; the "meh" factor; action sandwiches from the back seat; being scolded by BJ for our collective musical ignorance; being bitch-slapped by a passing tree; jamming by the ocean in New Plymouth; sleepless sunrise haka on the beach at Wanganui; asserting burp-master status; crazy restaurant with 40min wait times and an empty till.

What an amazing holiday so far.

So I'm here in Reefton with a little time on my hands, and have decided to write a blog update. How did I get here? Guess there are some gaps to fill. Listen - I tell you.

So if we rewind to where we left off - after the Sziget adventure in August. I had a great night out drinking with a last minute Turkish couchsurfer and a local Irish expat in October, did a night hike with the local Couchsurfing group and a wild ride to Oktoberfest (photos will have to wait till I'm back home) in September, knee surgery (sewn meniscus + replaced anterior cruciate = fun fun fun) in October, and I played tour guide and helped my Kiwi cousin Tamar find winter season work in November.

And with that out of the way, I'm at December where the real story begins. Thomas and I met early one Friday morning, boarded an aeroplane and flew to London Heathrow, then to Singapore, then to Sydney, and then at long bloody last after 32 hours of flying with minimal sleep, no shower stops and no luggage we arrived in Christchurch on Christmas day. I had Christmas dinner with both my parents, Rowena, Maik, Thomas, Simon, Olivia and two other Swiss guys and stayed awake until it was over. Max gave me a rowboat for Christmas which he'd built himself earlier - wow. We stayed there a few days and our luggage arrived - broken, but there. I disappeared into town on the 26th to visit the old gamer crew at a lan party somewhere, crashed over at Paullo's current residence and returned on the 27th.

Then began Convergence. How does one explain Convergence to someone who's never been there? The simple fact is that you can't really explain some 300 people living out on a remote farm as a big extended family for a week or so. I did a music writing course, had lots of hugs, lived on a vegan-only diet (except for the one day we escaped to town for steak and beers), played lots of guitar, mantained (and quality-controlled) the sauna, learnt a haka, lost my voice, and came away with several new perspectives. More than that? You'd have to ask me personally and even then it's a tough one to picture. You just had to be there. Sorry.

Sailing came next. Max, Rowena and I caught some wild southerly winds from Lyttelton harbour and sailed in one 30 hour stint to Cape Jackson. We took shifts and came into the shelter of Cape Jackson at around 2am in blustering winds and high seas. The ship got pooped once and we damaged a kayak. We waited out the next day, then proceeded to make a run through Cook Straight starting at 5am and arriving in Ship Cove shortly after lunch. And this is where I must switch perspectives and tell the tale from Maik and Thomas's point of view. You see, we had agreed to meet these unforutnate lads in Ship Cove the day before, however having been loaned a somewhat unreliable cellphone connected to a somewhat unreliable cellular network, they did not get my message about meeting one day later. Oh, bugger. So off they went, paid their NZ$70 water taxi fare and waited patiently in Ship Cove for us one full day before we actually arrived. Did I mention that Ship Cove had no cellphone reception? Superfail. So by the time we arrived, they'd already paid another NZ$70 to head back to Picton to figure out what the hell was going on - only to be greeted by a hail of text messages, emails and facebook messages from me saying "hope you get this message but we're coming tomorrow" as soon as they came into coverage. Switching back to our perspective, we arrived to find the place deserted. I thought they might come a bit later in the afternoon so I brought a book and sat out at Ship Cove for the afternoon. When evening rolled around with nobody having showen up, I determined that something was up. Did I mention there was no cellphone reception? Ho hum. The next morning we sailed out into the middle of the Queen Charlotte Sound where there was reception, only to receive a hail of text messages saying "guys, where the hell were you? We're back in Picton". So 48 hours behind schedule we made first contact. One further surprise for me. Maik made the decision to skip the sailing trip altogether, and followed his lady friend (whom he met at Convergence) to the north island.

We met in Picton. Sean and Tanya were there too. Expecting bad weather, we spent two days on land doing day walks and exploring Nelson. My knee held out pretty well actually - better than expected. Several of the following days were spent cruising the Queen Charlotte Sound. Had a really nice evening with a fire on the beach, and discovered Punga Cove where they serve Monteith's Black on tap. Day walks, swimming, anchor hopping. Great times. We eventually left Sean and Tanya at Punga Cove and embarked on our sailing journey towards D'Urville Island where we caught a Bigeye Tuna and shared it with some local friends of my dad's. Then on across the bay to Abel Tasman, leaving at 2am and arriving to early morning torrential rain and gusting winds. It eventually cleared, and the bay was beautiful again. Turquoise water, golden beaches, native bush. Just paradise. We swam more, walked more, and eventually walked out from Torrent Bay to Marahau for some well earned tucker and a Monteiths. Hitched to Kaiteriteri with a French spear fisherman, bussed to Nelson, hitched on to Picton to pick up the van (we bought our driver Roses chocolates), drove to Christchurch, and that was the end of the salty sea dog story.

 The Crew

 Catch-and-release fishing

 Resolution Bay (Queen Charlotte Sound), Torrent Bay (Abel Tasman)

 

:D

Gone fishing. Blew NZ$500 on fishing licences, reels, lures and other necessities. Got the boat trailer registered, loaded the van and drove south. Fished the Rakaia. Fought through vertical drops, gorse, blackberries, wild roses, swamp and darkness. Caught nothing. Dropped the boat into Lake Clearwater and Thomas caught two Rainbow Trout. I caught nothing. Visited a friend in Ashburton. Ate the fish. Camped beside Lake Tekapo, launched the boat on it and caught nothing. Stopped at several rivers, but caught nothing. Went walking at Mount Cook village. Went out drinking for the weekend in Queenstown, left the boat there. Drove to Te Anau. Fished in Milford Sound, caught nothing. Walked to the Key Summit. Drove back to Queenstown. Launched the boat on Lake Wakitipu, caught nothing. We did eat the best burgers ever at Ferg Burgers though. So much goodness. Picked up the boat, drove to Wanaka and ate the best spare ribs ever at Uncle Mike's BBQ. Drove to the west coast and launched the boat on Lake Moeraki, caught nothing. Tried on the way, caught nothing. Tried in Reefton, caught nothing. Tried, tried, tried. Caught. Nothing.

So much hope

 Not. Fair.

Hooker Valley, Mt. Cook

Key Summit, Fiordland

And that was the end of our fishing trip. Oh! But we did walk up the Copland Valley to Welcome Flat and back. Five hours in torrential rain to get to the hut, spent a day soaking in the hot pools, and walked out in four and a half hours. It was the big test for my knee. I gave the heavy stuff to Thomas, and all was well.Was great to get off the beaten track and into the bush.

 Singing in the rain, and the hot pools