Archive for the 'Travel Tales' Category

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The Far North

Published on March 17, 2007 in Travel Tales. 0 Comments

After Waitangi we headed up further north and ended up at some farmhostel along SH 10 called “Kahoe”. Amazingly though this is actually, probably, the best hostel in the whole of New Zealand. Even though it’s right beside the highway the atmosphere is really really laid back and the Italian host and the New Zealand hostess really have that genuine friendliness the Lonely Planet is always raving on about. It must come as no surprise then that the two nights we intended to stay soon became three, and then four, and that we later came for two more nights, no three… But more on that later.

After thoroughly enjoying real pizza’s for the first time in four and a half months and having a taste of the home-made gelato we had to be moving on, and so we did. We went up north even further, to Ahipara, at the end of 90 mile beach. This beach goes straight on for 90 kilometers (not miles) towards Cape Reinga, the northernmost point of New Zealand. On the way you get to bodyboard down giant sand dunes which may sound cool but is actually exhausting – where’s the skilift? But anyway you end up at Cape Reinga where there’s a small lighthouse and a signpost pointing in all directions and stating the distance to London, Vancouver, the equator and so on.

Anyway, we were in Ahipara the day before the tour and decided to go for a swim on the beach. The wind was really picking up and there was a drizzle, so we decided to take the car to keep our towels dry even though it was only a short walk from our hotel. We also took a jacket to keep warm once out of the water. Good common sense, eh? It turned out that we needed something to weigh down our jackets and flip-flops or else they would not be blowing in the wind but be blow away by the wind, so we took a bag full of books to do that.
After an invigorating swim we went to pick up our stuff but found that there was nothing to pick up anymore. We knew that theft from cars is a huge problem here but we didn’t expect this: that after 20 minutes, they would nick everything from a bag of books to your old flip-flops. We didn’t really mind the books or the jandals though, the problem was that the carkeys were in the pocket of that jacket. They didn’t take our car, but if we’d left it there overnight it was a sure thing to happen. And we, ofcourse, had no spare key. Some locals tried to help us get into our car by forcing a wire in the door, but were all (there were at one point six cars and eight guys standing around our car) unsuccesful. Luckily, the owners of the motel we were staying knew a guy from Toyota and after about two hours he showed up and had the car open in about 5 seconds. This was just the start though, as we still had to move the car to safety. It took him about an hour to work around the steering lock and so we were finally able to get back and relax, after three hours of standing in the cold. We made the headlines though:

Two tourists from the Netherlands lost their backpack and contents including clothing and their holiday photos after a friendly middle-aged man spotted them looking at the sea at Ahipara on Tuesday and encouraged them to go swimming. When the pair, who had only just arrived in the Kaitaia area, returned to the beach their belongings had disappeared.

That wasn’t really what happened ofcourse, but it was still fun to see our little adventure on the front page.

There was one more annoying thing: the locals messed something up inside the drivers door: it wouldn’t open from the inside anymore. ARGGHH. We went to the garage, were told to wait two hours, the mechanic came, ripped the door open, did his mumbo-jumbo and said it couldn’t be fixed without new parts. ARGGHH! He then said it wasn’t really worth the money with this car and walked away, and we drove away. Once on the highway, there was a rattling noise whenever I took a turn, a noise that hadn’t been there before we went to the garage. ARGGHH!!!! We went straight back to Kahoe Farms where we received a warm welcome back. I got a screwdriver, ripped the door apart, lay on the cold floor for two hours and ended up fixing the door. Without new parts. That shitty $#^@@$&* mechanic!

Around the East Cape & Up North

Published on March 6, 2007 in Gallery Updates and Travel Tales. 8 Comments

The past week and a half we’ve travelled around the East Cape, one of New Zealand’s least touristic area’s, staying at Gisborne, where we were awoken at 3.30 am because of a leak in the roof just above our bed, then to Tokomaru Bay where we stayed at a great hostel called Brian’s Place, onwards to Hick’s Bay (where the local shop stocked magazine editions from March to October and where we stayed at Mel’s Place wich didn’t have flush toilets but a rather short “long drop”) to end our journey around the East Cape at Opotiki. We actually met a nice French guy (find the contradictio in terminus) there who tried to persuade us to try the green mussels so common here in NZ, but I decided to leave the molluscs to the French. The hostel’s owner, Steve, was a nice guy as well and he let us watch ‘Lost’ at his home since the hostel didn’t have a TV. So if you just happen to find yourself in Opotiki search out the ‘Opotiki Beach House’.

After bodyboarding to our heart’s content (bodyboarding is what everybody does when they first learn to surf: catch a wave just lying down on a short board in stead of trying to stand up) for three days there, we moved on and made our way up to the Coromandel Peninsula – a drive of about 400km which we managed to do in one day. We originally planned to stay in Hahei but once there every motel, hotel, hostel and farm- or homestay was fully booked. Except one but that was probably because noone could find it. We couldn’t anyway. So we backtracked to Whitianga, not a place I’d thought I’d spend another night. Just look at the november archive (see sidebar) if you want to know what I mean. The YHA there was full as well though, but the lady at the reception referred us to a couple taking in travellers every now and then, so that was allright.

Now, we’re up north again, like we were over four months ago. We went around the Coromandel and then we took highway 2 north. That turns into the motorway about 50km south of Auckland, which is as close as you’ll get to a ‘snelweg’ here in NZ. It starts out as a four-lane motorway, but as you cross over Auckland (it actually runs straight over the city) it gets up to ten lanes. Traffic is horrible though, it’s not like back home where it’s either moving or going really slow. Everybody is just doing something, driving 75km/h on the right lane (that’s the fast lane since you drive on the left here), overtaking on the left side (that’s the wrong side since you drive on the left here) (which actually is legal here), etcetera. The average speed on Motorway 1, the biggest road in NZ and about the only one with asphalt, is about 70km/h. Seventy! on the $%%^@ motorway! Trucks driving on the centre lane at 60km/h, people overtaking, lanes just splitting up at an exit (one goes on, one does not), lanes becoming exit only or a “slow traffic lane” that suddenly comes up on the left side (which is the slow side here since you drive on the left here) and disappears again only a kilometer later. And then you get around the corner to the harbour bridge. There are four lanes going in each direction here, but the original bridge was only wide enough for two, so they added two more lanes on each side of the bridge, but these are seperated from the other two lanes going in the same direction by a curbwalk. And there’s a police car on this curbwalk with one of those matrix signs stating ‘keep right’, and everybody ofcourse tries to zip in to the right (you don’t even know if he’s talking to the outside lanes or the inside lanes, but hey) so the traffic comes to an almost complete stop – from 80 to 20 in five seconds. I could feel my heart pounding five minutes after.

I know I probably didn’t make much sense in the last paragraph but hey, if I wasn’t crazy before, I certainly am now, after the New Zealand Motorway. I’m sorry to tell you that this PC doesn’t have a USB plug so I can’t upload any photo’s. I did add some over the past few days though so you might not have seen those yet.

De Zeepok

Published on February 26, 2007 in Travel Tales. 7 Comments

Het klimaat in de Hawke’s Bay regio is, zoals gezegd, bijna mediterraan. Lekker op het strand liggen dus. En aangezien m’n moeder gek is op schelpen en je toch niet met lege handen thuis wilt komen na een half jaar aan de andere kant van de wereld ben ik niet te beroerd om ook even schelpen te rapen.

Iedereen die in Nederland wel eens schelpen heeft geraapt, kent vast wel het verschijnsel ‘zeepok’. De zeepok komt ook in Nieuw Zeeland voor, maar is een stuk groter en kleurrijker dan in Nederland. In plaats van een halve pinknagel zijn deze ongeveer zo groot als het bovenste kootje van je duim. Ook zijn ze op de schelpen die ik zag liggen een stuk talrijker dan hun Europese broertje. Na jarenlang strandjutten op Schier wist ik gelukkig dat zeepokken kunnen stinken als de hel, dus ik was zo verstandig ze buiten te leggen. De volgende ochtend echter moest ik inpakken: wat te doen met de nog immer onwelriekende schelpen? “Tja,” zei Stella, “hoe mooi zijn ze? Als ze echt heel mooi zijn kun je ze uitkoken (in een pannetje dat niet van je zelf is gnagnagna), dat helpt, anders moet je ze maar laten liggen…” Goed, uitkoken dus. Schelp in het pannetje, water erbij, deksel erop, en op het vuur. Niet lang daarna kwam het water aan de kook en begon de pan een parazintuigelijk smerige geur uit te braken die de gehele gastenkeuken vulde. Ik heb geprobeerd me te verzetten maar algauw werd het mij teveel en goot ik kokhalzend de inhoud van de pan door de gootsteen en smeet ik de nog immer stinkende wulk ver, ver weg. Sorry mama…

Ik heb het nog op kunnen brengen van de overige gepokte schelpen wat foto’s te maken. Hierop is ook duidelijk zichtbaar dat er nog een beestje in de zeepok zit. Deze volgen binnenkort, zodra ik niet meer misselijk ben…

Tongariro Crossing

Published on February 14, 2007 in Gallery Updates and Travel Tales. 4 Comments

Yes, finally! After continually checking the weather forecast for the past two weeks, we finally found an opening between the clouds, and yesterday we got up and walked the Tongariro Crossing. Many say it’s the best one-day hike in New Zealand, some even claim that it’s the best one-day hike in the world. Is it? We’re about to find out…

When we start our trek across the mountain, the sun is still hidden behind the Tongariro mountain range, and a chill wind blows across the plain. The road winds gently upwards for an hour or so until we come at the Devils’ Staircase. Here, we start our ascent. Even though it’s relatively a small one, only 300m, we have to pause several times on the way. It really is steep. It’s also because of the altitude: the staircase starts at 1400m: by no means very high, but it’s clear that the oxygen level is lower here.
At the top of the staircase lies the South Crater. We have to cross it before we start our second climb, to the Red Crater. At 1886m this is the highest point of the crossing. From the Red Crater you have an amazing view to all directions. To the west, Mt. Taranaki is clearly visible, even though it’s over 100km away. To the northeast you can see the three Emerald Lakes and the Blue Lake, and Mt. Ngauruhoe (a.k.a. Mt. Doom) takes up most of the southwest corner of your vision. From here, you have to rapidly descend through fine volcanic debris to the Emerald Lakes, about 250m lower.

Emerald & Blue Lakes

Not long after the Emerald Lakes you’ll pass the blue lakes and go over a ridge, and this is about the end of the impressive stuff. It is, however, still a good three hours from that ridge to the end of the track. About 1/3 through the descent you’ll pas a hut, but don’t get too excited. This isn’t Switzerland, and a hut isn’t much more than four walls and a roof. So no coffee or hot chocolate with whipped cream, sorry. The remaining two hours really are a pain. The spectacular scenery is long gone and you just want to finish. Not to mention we didn’t want to wait an hour for the next bus so we had to jog down to catch the 3.15 one…

Looking back to Mt. Ngauruhoe and the Red Crater

Let’s get back to the big question: is the Tongariro Crossing really that nice? Well, it’s nice. It’s definitely a great hike, and yes, it’s probably the best in New Zealand. But I daresay it’s not the best in the world. In more than one way, it’s very comparable to that certain hike from Italy to Switzerland. It starts sloping upwards very gently, then there’s a steep climb, then it goes mostly flat, and at the end there’s a long and rather boring descent. But I must say I prefer the Swiss version. No, it doesn’t have volcanoes or Emerald Lakes and there’s no steam rising up from the ground, but somehow, the fact that there’s not at any given time a trail of a few dozen other hikers behind you, like there is here, and that you can sit down at that hut and have a nice cappuccino and even a portion of kaiserschmarren just makes it that much more enjoyable. Again, I feel New Zealand is largely a victim of it’s own success.

Talking about mass tourism...

Well, check out the gallery for more photo’s! It’s only a small preview of course, I don’t have the tools to stitch all those wonderful panoramic views together here, but it should still give you a nice impression of the first half of the crossing :)

Fungus Gnats

Published on January 25, 2007 in Travel Tales. 6 Comments

Two days ago we did a Glowworm Tour in Waitomo. Glowworms are not actually worms but are the larvae of the Fungus Gnat, a creature looking somewhat like a large mosquito but without the mouth pieces. The glowworm lives in caves, where it spins spider-like threads and emits a faint blueish light. Insects that have strayed into the caves are attracted by this light, get stuck in the threads and *munch* *munch* *munch*…

This might sound kind of groce but it was actually the most stunning thing I have ever seen. The tour starts off with the group putting on helmets equipped with torches, and then walking into the cave. A good few meters in, all lights are switched off, and you are in total darkness. You can’t see anything at all. Nothing. The guide then lights the torch again, and we set off to the boat. In this dimmed light, your eyes already adjust somewhat to the darkness, and once in the boat, with all lights dimmed, you can suddenly see the lights above your head: thousands and thousands of small, blueish lights a few feet above. The longer you spend in the boat, the more you begin to see. At first, the lights itself were the only visible things, but later on you can discern the boat, and the people around you, and the sides of the cave you are in.

Since the light that the glowworms emit is really dim, it’s virtually impossible to make photo’s of them without a tripod: even a ISO 1600, f3.5 and a shutter of 30 seconds, they were only faintly visible, and a bit blurred ;) Our tour operator has a small photo gallery though, and I’ve posted two of the photo’s below. Visit their gallery for more photo’s and bigger versions.

Glowworms hanging from the ceiling Glowworm threads hanging from the ceiling

Gelukkig Nieuwjaar!

Published on January 2, 2007 in Travel Tales. 5 Comments

Dunedin heeft een bevolking van ongeveer 130.000, waarvan bijna 29.000 studenten, en is daarmee de vijfde stad van Nieuw Zeeland. De ideale plek om oud en nieuw te vieren, dachten wij. ‘s Avonds begaven wij ons naar de Octagon, het achthoekige plein in het centrum van Dunedin dat door de Lonely Planet wordt beschreven als “the hub of activity in Dunedin” – en de ‘hub of activity’, daar moet in een stad met 29.000 studenten wel wat te doen zijn, dachten wij. Ter vergelijking: in Amsterdam schommelt het aantal studenten rond de 32.000 (bron).

 

The Laughing Cow

Het begon zo goed: al dagen van te voren was begonnen met de bouw van een podium, we hadden oliebollen gebakken (je denkt toch niet serieus dat je in een land waar de enige ronde kaas “La Vache qui Rit” is – dat hier overigens “The laughing Cow” heet – oliebollen kunt kopen?), bowl gemaakt en Scrabble gespeelt (…). Enfin, we begaven ons rond half twaalf naar de Octagon, en het lawaai nam toe naarmate wij dichterbij kwamen. In een straal van ongeveer 250 meter gold er echter een alcoholverbod. Geen knallende Champagne dus. Eenmaal bij het podium aangekomen bleek dat de acts bestonden uit nummers van Bruce Springsteen en Michael Jackson, gecovered door lokale zangers en zangeressen (niveau Idols derde ronde).Het aftellen begon: 5. 4. 3. 2. 1. … Opeens horen we een bekend geluid: het pssssscht van kruit dat ontploft. We draaien ons om, en zien één (1) Romeinse kaars lichtkogels afschieten, twee meter de lucht in. De Octagon juichte en joelde, en wij lagen slap van de lach. Even later gingen er nog twee of drie conventionele pijlen de lucht in, en iedereen ooohde en aaahde. Wij sloten ons aan bij drie kleine meisjes die de polonaise begonnen waren en baanden ons zo een weg door de starre mensenmassa, weg van de Octagon.

Met weemoed dacht ik terug aan de Amsterdamse Grachten, waar de oliebollen gretig geconsumeerd werden, waar de drank rijkelijk vloeide, waar vuurwerk de straten nog uren zou blokkeren en de lucht zou kleuren…