Every Witch Way

The above was printed on a campervan spotted from Wellington to Taupo.

From Wellington to Auckland I spent a rainy night in Taupo, which is beautiful, but I have to say one of my least favourite places in New Zealand. I will be staying for two nights there on my way southbound to do the 17km day trek known as the Tongariro Crossing. It's said to be one of the most beautiful walks in the world, past craters, lakes and forest.

On the 22nd I stayed at a hostel called City Garden Lodge in the Parnell district of Auckland. Normally I wouldn't mention a hostel, but this one has significance for me. It is right next to Neil Finn's house and studio! And he and his brother are recording an album and rehearsing for a bit of an unveiling concert to take place next week. I could have just died. I have dreamed of being that close and straining my ear in the peaceful night to hear even a possibility of Neil Finn strumming. Well I got the chance to do it in an unstalker fashion! So exciting.

Paihia in the Bay of Islands was the next stop. It was so warm after the chilly south I was in heaven. I took a cruise to see many of the 141 islands that make up the "Bay of Islands". The water was calm and crystal clear and full of dolphins with a few babies out for the day. Magical.

Early on the 24th we left for Cape Reinga. We stopped at a Kauri forest, home to the second largest type of tree (behind the California redwood). These trees live for thousands of years and grow very slowly. When the Europeans came they chopped down thousands of them for houses back in the UK and masts for their ships, because the trees grow extremely straight and tall. Just to give an idea of how tall, they could use a whole tree trunk as a mast for a ship.

From the forest we headed up to 90 mile beach, which is only about 30 miles really. No one is sure why it's inappropriately named. We took our all terrain vehicle onto the sand and drove up the shore, swerving into the waves and around the beach. Exhilerating. This lead to Cape Reinga, where the Tasman and Pacific meet and mix in a foamy dance. There is a definite white line where the two collide and it stretches into the horizon. Maori people believe that when they die, no matter where they are in the world that their spirits travels up 90 mile beach to Cape Reinga. There is a tree at the point, the most northern point in New Zealand, and their spirit seeps through the roots into the ocean. Then they make a journey back to Haiwaiki, a spiritual homeland. Their culture is filled with so many wonderful stories, which I hope to further experience on the intensely Maori east coast.

Later this morning I head to Whitianga (fi-te-anga) on the Coromandel peninsula.

After seeing "Zach" again in the Bay of Islands ordering some fish and chips: I realize the damaging part of thinking I've seen a friend (because I'm far from home). It clips my wings. And the freedom, first true freedom, and independence I'd been working towards drops from me suddenly. I realize part of me is still back there, still sitting in Boston Common, calling me home.

New Zachland: My Twilight Zone

Christchurch has to be my favorite city so far. There are other days and places that have surpassed it, but as a city it's my most fondly remembered. Getting there was a long drive, but apparently it was to prepare me for my days of endless driving in Australia. We drove up the east coast, through the alps. We stopped for a view of Mt Cook or Aoraki (cloud piercer in Maori). The name of the lake we stopped in front of escapes me, but it was formed by the Tasman glacier and the waters were a milky, icy blue. The is caused by the "rock flour" that is chisseled off of stone as the glacier receeds. I've been seeing water like this all over the south island and it's truly remarkable. This is where I saw two of Zach's many New Zealand twins. When I first arrived in Wellington I counted three people who could have been mistaken for Zach in a line up. Over the past two months those three have become nine! Lake Tekapo was our lunch stop, another glacial lake, watched over by a small church where the driver offered to marry any of the passengers. (I think he meant he would perform the ceremony, but it may have been a proposal.)

What was meant to be two nights in Christchurch ended up as five. I fell in love when we drove up to the Cathedral in the afternoon and I caught a first glimpse of Cathedral Square with it's performers, artisans, food stalls. My hostel was right across from the art centre of Christ's College and next to the Botanical Gardens and Canterbury museum. The tram passed by my window each morning, rumbled on like a reminder of my St. Kilda childhood. I spent a lot of time inside the Cathedral, climbing the 134 steps to the lookout, mesmerized by the stained glass, and just thinking. It was a great place to relax and wind up my time on the south island.

The last day I took a day trip to Akaroa, which was meant to be a French colony, but the British rushed down to plant their flag as the French sailed in, so it became a French settlement instead. Relaxing and charming day trip.

From Christchurch we had a quick drive up the coast to Kaikoura. It's a small town set on a bay with mountains jutting into the sky all the way up to the water. Upon arrival we drove around to one of the largest seal colonies in New Zealand. There were countless seal pups swimming through the seaweed and diving off of rocks. I got up early the next morning to watch the sun rise from the Pacific off the hostel verandah.

The following morning we drove up to Picton, where I caught the ferry back to Wellington. It was so heartbreaking to be leaving the south island. It is truly an amazing place. As we pulled out of the lush Marlborough Sounds there was a glimpse of tiered and towering rocks reaching from the sea and in the distance the Kaikoura peninsula where the Southern Alps rose like the broad shoulders of kings. A beautiful last sight.

I'm in Wellington visiting with Gwill for a few days. He finally bought his ticket to London. Exciting! He'll be leaving in a couple weeks. Tomorrow I'll be heading north to sunny, warm days.

i will meet you in the next life when we are both cats

I have a lot to write about. Unfortunately that will all have to wait.

A dear family friend, Pamela Collins, has lost a struggle against diabetes. We had hope after she finally found a kidney donor that her quality of life would improve and she would flourish again. Unfortunately not all gifts are what they seem.

Pamela was an amazing artist. She captured Winter Harbor, it's simplicity of life and complexity of nature, perfectly. It always made me feel quite important to hang one of her paintings on my wall.

I saw her just before I left. She was in pain, swollen and tired. But she had an accepting, positive spirit even though she was less than well. Her smiles only occasionally would break with a sigh, a kind of surrender to the unavoidable. She brought humor to every situation, as much for her sanity as the company's comfort.

Today I sit in Cathedral Square in Christchurch. Angels and saints before me. While family and friends gather across the globe for her wake, I remember her here in what seems the London of the South Pacific. A city she would have loved to paint. She walked around with me all day, told me where to look and how to go.

When I talked to mum she told me about a day, decades ago, when little me did a jig and demanded of Pamela "You dance". I am lucky to have known her all my life. She was an engima to me. Someone who was able to live in their art, to really see the beauty behind the mundane. She lived in a magical little house, more like an English cottage, surrounded by flowers and cats and delicate treasures. I always aspired to live the way she did. She was sarcastic at times, had a wonderful British humor. She was beautiful and graceful. She was peaceful. Truly a soul that had been here before and was improving with each visit. She was a part of my family and I loved her.

she's running to stand still

Far behind again. Only a few days pass and I've been west and south and north and west and east and back again.

Dunedin was a great city. I actually gasped as we came over the hill, because it's honestly tons bigger than I had imagined. Everyone emphasizes Queenstown which, in comparison to Dunedin, is a small and barely a city. Home to about 30,000 (out of a total population of 100,000) students, it's definitely a university city.

I took a Portobello village bus to Company Bay on the Otago peninsula, just east of town. From there it was a 4km walk up the most serious hill I've ever encountered. It's a wonder cars just don't slide backwards down it. At the top was the charming Larnach castle, built in the late 1800's by a local businessman. His family lived there for years and then death and family bickering left it uncared for and unowned. In the 1960's another family bought it, renovated it and set it up as a public attraction. Set in the hills overlooking the scenic peninsula (home to rare yellow-eyed penguins) with lush gardens and hidden pathways it made a nice day trip. All around the grounds were Alice In Wonderland figures, such as the cheshire cat in a tree and Alice herself in the greenhouse. I had scones in the ballroom cafe and headed down the hill fighting the intense winds.

It was earlier than I had anticipated when I got back to town, so I went to the Cadbury factory for a bit of a tour. It was Sunday and the factory wasn't fully operational, which was okay because they gave us triple chocolate samples to compensate. Oh yes, it did compensate. There's not too much to say about that adventure (as you are probably not too interested in how they make chocolate bars, but how they taste) except for YUM.

Early the next morning I left Dunedin for Invercargill. We drove through what is called the Catlins, in the southeast corner of the south island. It was blustery and cold, but the scenery on this stretch was amazing. The first stop was Kaka Point where the driver told us an interesting story. In the 1930's a young farmer's daughter in Kaka Point fell in love and was married. When the wedding night came she discovered that her groom was actually a second bride. To avoid a scandal the "groom" bribed the father, saying she would reveal the secret if he didn't give her money. He refused and instead turned her over to the authorities. It was uncovered that she had previously married five other unsuspecting women and bribed their families. On to Nugget Point, where we walked out to the lighthouse and saw seal pups sunning themselves on the petrified forest and rocks below. We past Surat Bay, Owaka, Tautuku Bay (where families had built houses on an inlet accessible only at low tide), Curio and Porpoise Bays (where dolphins will race up to swimmers in shallow water) and Slope Point (the southernmost tip of the southern island). At Slope Point we took photos of trees, pushed onto their sides (almost uprooted) by the severe winds. The wind roars in as there is nothing between this point and Antarctica so it has 1000s of km to pick up speed.

I spent the night in Invercargill as it was my jumping off point to Stewart Island. I opted to fly and it was a great decision. We took off from Invercargill and like a bumblebee hummed and flitted up and to the left. The city gave way to patchwork paddocks to sand dunes to beach and out to the translucent green waters of the Foveaux Strait. Foam on the water spread like cobwebs. A rainbow appeared, evidence of the determined sun, through the showers. The colourful ring circled around us in a way I've never seen before. Beside us the engines roared and all around us the pressure and speed rushed like a waterfall. As we neared Stewart Island the sea became thick and cloudy. The trees clustered together and from a distance resembled soft moss. The descent was the only slightly unstable portion of the flight. The plane fell and rose only twice and we dropped onto the narrow strip of runway.

Stewart Island was wonderful. In many ways it reminded me of Winter Harbor and Acadia National Park. Much of it is protected land. And one of the smaller islands to the east, Ulva Island, is a sanctuary. They have rid Ulva Island of introduced predators such as deer, possum and rats and are placing endangered plants and animals there are a means of conservation. I spent three lazy nights here, walking the tracks and beaches, sampling the deserts in the few cafes that line the two main streets, and relaxing with my journal. It rained for most of the time I was there, but it didn't matter. The simplicity of their life on "the island" and the sheer beauty of the island's nature was a real treat.

On the return flight the waters and islands to the east, as we took off, were dark and calm. As we circled around to the west the sun shone thorugh the clouds in patches illuminating small areas on the ferocious strait. I turned back for a look at lonely Oban village, the only on Stewart Island, tiny and isolated on an island paradise.

That evening we drove on to Riverton and the following day to Te Anau, with a stop at Lake Manapouri. It just stopped raining as we arrived and I followed a trail along the narrow end of the lake to where it opened up. It was absolutely magnificent. The rain was misting in the distance and the mountains and hills were rising around us as the fog cleared away from the rocky shore. It was one of my favorite stops of the whole South Island. Te Anau was a quiet lake town and our jumping off point for Milford Sound.

Milford Sound is not a sound at all. It's actually a fiord. The difference being that a sound can be created many ways, but a fiord can only be created by a glacier, as Milford was. Just the road winding through Fiordland up to the boat terminal was awe-inspiring. The rainforest met the mountain suddenly. Massive ranges hung like towers over my head and I had to crane my neck to get a decent view. They rose from the green, broad and dark, dusted with snow. In their majesty and temperature they house azure glaciers on their shoulders, oddly blue and icy above the lush tangle of tree and fern. Waterfalls in their multitude sprung from the mountainside and rushed down gracefully like milky veins. We passed Lake Gunn, where trees had fallen to a watery grave. They lay, seemingly floating, just beneath the surface. Intact they reached out, trunk extending frail branches that were turning a slow mossy green. The lake was so still. It almost seemed a mirror image of trees left standing.

The boat trip through the fiord was breathtaking. We past seals sunning themselves on rocks and hundreds of long, languid waterfalls. There's no way to describe it and my photos won't do it justice. It was just beautiful. My journey on this island would not have been complete without this day.

That night was back to Queenstown and out for Indian food and "The Life of David Gale". Today was a grueling trek to Christchurch. I will go into that drive and my Christchurch experience in the next couple of days, because this is plenty to read for now.

the truth is i could no more stop dreaming than i could make them all come true

Fox Glacier was amazing. I decided not to do a guided tour onto the ice. It was expensive and it's not easy for me to keep up with a group, so I didn't think I would enjoy it too much. Instead I walked from Fox township 3 km to the glacier access road, another 3 km up to the carpark and then another 1 km to the terminal face of the glacier. From far away it looked covered in soil, jagged, and ugly. But once I reached the terminal face, and was close enough to jump to the ice itself there was a blue tint gleaming within the ice and it appeared to be covered in a dusting of ash. It was beautiful. I ate my lunch on a rock at the terminal face and started on the journey back to town.

Walking on the glacier access road I followed the river. The water steamed and rushed down from the ice. It lapped against the black sand and stone of the riverbed leaving a milky sheen of ice. I took a detour, walked over a bridge and climbed part way up a neighbouring mountain for views of the glacier reaching up into the alps. Then I followed the road through the rainforest back to town. Fox and Franz Joseph glaciers are two of only a small group of glaciers that flow right up to a rainforest. They used to reach the sea, but have been rapidly receeding for hundreds of years. I'm quite amazed with the diversity and contrasts in the NZ landscape. Walking through the rainforest I was entranced by the way ferns hung from rock walls like a tapestry or how prehistoric looking bromeliads dripped from the branches.

The next morning it was off to Wanaka. We left the west coast and headed inland, through Haast Pass. The mountains became more violent and pointed and the lush forests became golden hills. I stayed at the Wanaka Hotel, right on Lake Wanaka. It's a peaceful little town (well, really there are few "big" towns in NZ) with a wonderful cinema. Being a rainy day I went with another American from my bus, Kevin, to see The Quiet American (haha). It's an alternative kind of environment. The seats are all random couches, old airline seats, recliners and even a VW bug! They had an intermission with the opportunity to eat dinner or have a lovely coffee or tea. Very nice way to spend a cloudy afternoon.

Even though the weather had been less than desirable for a couple days I am still weakened by the beauty that surrounds me. Every day is like a new door into paradise.

I'm in Queenstown only for a night, then I head on to Dunedin and the CADBURY FACTORY, which will be one of the highlights of my life I'm sure.