Learn Something New Everyday

Okay, let's get you up to speed. Bellingen was too beautiful to resist an extended stay. But after three nights, I was cold through to my BONES. Even still I enjoyed myself. Michael Hubbard, the young-slide-guitar-playing-genius, who performed at the Cool Creek Cafe, was gorgeously talented. After the show I walked down to the river where I attempted to cross over to Bat Island. It was pitch black, however, and impossible but the starlit walk was still invigorating. That night I went to stay in a community in the Thora valley. I slept in a caravan on the river's edge. Talk about getting back to nature. These people live in such peace. One woman lived in a house made out of the bamboo she collected from the forest topped off with a VINE ROOF. Amazing. I rode back into town with them for the markets. It was just such a great experience.

From Bellingen I travelled south to Seal Rocks. This is a transparent township on the coast, blink and you'll miss it. But it was the most stunning, pristine ocean scene I have ever witnessed. I stood on a snowy white sand dune above the bluest ocean, surrounded by red cliffs topped with velvety green vegetation, for at least two hours. People were milling about far below me, but I was alone. I sat as the sun drifted down my back, casting haunting shadows towards America. That night we built a fire between dunes and the group from the bus just talked, roasted bananas and marshmallows and looked at the green, orange and pink stars that shot across the sky.

After a night in Sydney I jumped on a bus for the Blue Mountains. The oil from the gum trees lifts into the air and creates a hazy, blue hue from a distance. Just outside of the city limits the mountains rise like indignant shoulders. This nature isn't going without a fight. It's been here, battling for millions of years. I read about a type of pine tree that's just been discovered in a Blue Mountain canyon. It was thought to have become extinct 65 MILLION years ago. It has needles, but they hang on fronds, like a palm tree. It's trunk is alive and textured, like a tall, lanky pine cone. It exists nowhere else in the world and has been hidden in this miraculous maze of mountains for all of man's time on earth.

I am staying in Katoomba, a very New England style town. They are having "Yulefest" right now. Feasts and Christmas-type celebrations. It's a fun time to have stumbled upon. Tomorrow I'm opening another musical door when I see Jodi Martin perform at the Clarendon Hotel. She's meant to be a rising star and her face has been plastered on posters all down the east coast. I will let you know how it goes. Aside from that I am doing countless bush walks which all lead to awesome views of the canyons, cliffs and mountains. The colours change with every minute, as the sun moves and clouds gather or dissipate. I know how lucky I am to be witnessing all this beauty.

"On a night like this I can actually hear the happiness inside me" -Rowan, my little sage

Quickly

In Sydney, finally. Tomorrow I head off for the Blue Mountains. There is a lot to catch up on, even though it's only been two days! It will all come soon. Right now I'm off for an early night in King's Cross.

Lost the Plot?

"When you travel, you experience, in a very practical way, the act of rebirth. You confront completely new situations, the day passes more slowly, and on most journeys you don't even understand the language the people speak. So you are like a child just out of the womb. You begin to attach much more importance to the things around you because your survival depends upon them. You begin to be more accessible to others because they may be able to help you in difficult situations. And you accept any small favor from the gods with great delight, as if it were an episode you would remember for the rest of you life.

At the same time, since all things are new, you see only the beauty in them, and you feel happy to be alive."

from "The Pilgrimage" by Paulo Coelho

Currently I'm in Bellingen, home of David Helfgott. (For those of you uncertain who that brilliant mind is please rent "Shine".) It's laundry time and I'm enjoying the bliss of being a sloth with a book and some leaf-filtered sunshine.

Tonight I'm out to discover some local acoustic talent at the Cool Creek Cafe. This place is relaxed and alternative. The people walk slowly, even if they have a place to go. The shops are enveloped in the felt creatures and garments of crafty Steiner mothers. The windows all offer yoga, meditation and tribal drum experiences. Bright, rainbow birds sing determinedly. I miss home.

Into the woods
To get the thing
That makes it worth
The journeying.

Not quite out of the woods with this sickness yet, but I'm getting there. From Bargara I travelled south to Mooloolaba. I stayed the for three nights as it was another good place to rest and they gave me my own room (it's good to be a travel agent). I took a day trip to Noosa, which is lovely. It reminds me of Winter Park (where I used to live in Florida). Unfortunately if you don't have a gold card there isn't a ton to do. Couple this day with my rereading of The Orchid Thief and you've got me feeling a bit homesick for Florida, something I never thought I'd be.

On the way out of Mooloolaba we stopped at an animal sanctuary. There were sweet, sleepy little koalas, some with babies in their pouches, wombats pacing in their enclosure and red kangas, some also with joeys in pouches. We got to hand feed them, which was really special. They look so reminiscent of my little kitty! I guess that's why I named him "Kangaroo Paw".

I've stayed the past two nights in Nimbin, which is a really relaxed and beautiful place to chill out. It's called the drug capital of Australia (humourous with their population of about 200). Last night when I went out, after being offered dime bags from four people from the age of 60 down to 10, I saw why. Regardless, it is a great community with a candle factory, interesting book store, wonderful organic cafes and a spectacular sunrise view from my bedroom window. Tomorrow I head south again...

now i know how a roasted chicken feels

I've been incredibly sick the past few days. I think it's the flu, which seems to be going around here. I am in Bargara, just south of Airlie Beach trying to recuperate. I was supposed to leave for Hervey Bay today to head out to Fraser Island, but now I think I will skip that all together. My whole body is just aching and I slept for maybe two hours last night. It was horrible. My head was dizzy with one of those fevers that you think "My head is just going to explode. My brain is surely frying." Nightmare.

Other than that... this resort is a beautiful place to rest. I'm staying in my own apartment, which is marvelous. There's even a sauna here. Movie channels and miso soup. A certain cure.

I miss my own pillow and the opportunity of a bath.

Back from Paradise

I'm astounded by how quickly the salt and sand have washed from my hair and skin. How quickly this experience has been washed from my body (never from my mind). From crystalized and sun-stained to smooth and bronze.

I have just spent three luscious days aboard the Matador yacht off the coast of Queensland. We spent the bright, spotless, azure days touring the WhitSundays. We hopped off to lounge on Whitehaven beach, blanketed in silica sand as light and fine as powdery snow. I was part of a small group, sleeping below deck or above as the night skies allowed, eating fresh and tasty food, snorkelling in the depths of the mysterious great barrier reef (amazed by the colour and enchanting creatures mere feet from the surface), counting the familiar constellations (everyone with their own knowledge and contribution) until we lost ourselves in the vastness of the universe and the conversation turned to something deeper. It is a trip I want to take again and again until the ocean sends me away, tosses me back onto the land. I have always been intoxicated with the expanse and haunting uncertainity in the seas. But I realize now that I have never known the water truly before now.

I am trying to keep my mind grounded now that I am back on dry earth. My legs sometimes sway and my dreams are liquid, languid and flowing. Amazing.

Boys in the Trees

The air in Northern Queensland is warm and gummy. It hangs on your skin like honey. Drapes you in toxic sweetness and heat.

I'm on Magnetic Island right now. Off the coast of Townsville. Just like New Hut on Koh Samui I'm sleeping in an A-frame hut. Tropical and lush. This morning I saw a Kookabura outside my door. He bobbed his head around like he owned the place. I guess he used to. His head looked too big for his beautifully sculpted body and neatly layered feathers. An incredibly hip bird. His fuzzy flatop slicked back like a six year old boy just out of the pool and away from mum's comb. Elvis in infancy.

Jotting down notes for my post I am sitting on an elevated level above the shore. With a perfect view of the coral reef. (That famous one) The sand is bright and light, like frosted glass, shattered. The water is a tempting ultramarine along the beach and then about 50 meters out drops off into death and darkness. Well, death for those who dare to walk too far, or life for those who make the ocean floor their home. The ocean would like you to know; it can reclaim you at any moment.

Went for a short bush walk today. Koalas dangled their arms from the trees lazily. Languid and charming little fellows. Maybe I can sneak one home...

winter?

I've spent the past week in Kuranda, which is a tropical village just west of Cairns. Steve and his daughter, Kirsty, have welcomed me into their home to help care for their animals and do a bit of yard work. They have five horses, two goats, half a dozen sheep, dozens of ducks and chooks and two dogs. It's quite a handful!

This is my first real wwoof experience (calling up a stranger to ask if I can live/work with them as part of the family) but it has been wonderful. I wandered down to Kuranda village to their bustling craft markets, walked through the rainforest, saw the world's largest butterfly and went for a lovely horseback ride.

The climate here is tropical, which I love. The trees grow and bend like canopies over the roads and all through the yard. The sky, when it's not raining, is the most brilliant unspoilt blue. I have spotted a few fat spiders, but I'm learning not to scream and cry and can actually respond with a hand swat and a "shoo". Though my heart still races and it takes me a bit longer to fall asleep than it should. Still I'm making progress.

Tomorrow it's off to Mission Beach, which I hear is sleepy and serene. Nice break. Tully is my next wwoofing stay so there will be more to report in the next week.

my life the past few days

Mud.

simple happiness

Well, even as I threatened with departure, New Zealand was good to me until the end. I spent my last night in Wellington, catching a cast discussion of the movie "Whale Rider" at Te Papa, then enjoying the unseasonably mild winter's night walking around the harbor and city streets. Instead of paying for a hostel the night before I left (since I needed to be at the airport around 3 am anyway) I went right to the airport to wait 10 hours for my flight. I like a bit of self-torturing adventure.

After 36 draining hours in the same clothing (and shoes!), I am safely and contentedly in Cairns. The weather is brilliant. Sunsets knock me off my feet. I'm staying in a little oasis right in the city center. Tuesday I'll head off in a southerly direction, hopefully stopping off to do some wwoofing before relaxing again at Mission beach.

No spider sightings yet. Everyone keep up the happy thoughts.

there is a castle on a cloud. i like to go there in my sleep.

Tomorrow I am leaving Napier, and this house on a hill that seems to rest on clouds all day. I will truly miss this place, these people, this life. It was a nice place to try on a new idea of life, toy with possibilities and potential. I have a feeling I will be back.

When you hear from me again, I will be in Queensland. Think positive thoughts about my cunning avoidance of the deadly spiders. Together we can keep me safe.

I'm away from home and it's a way of life

For the past couple of weeks I have been merely absorbing. Because of this not much writing has been seeping out. The focus is all on the intake now. Feeding myself. So while I wish I had at least been recording basic daily activities I can't apologise for lack of update here. So, now that you all know how not sorry I am, let's continue:

After journeying up to the sacred Cape Reinga I was heading east towards the Coromandel peninsula. A peaceful collection of communities and communes, isolated shores, bush walks to storybook coves, Maori legends. During the drive we stopped to bush walk to Cathedral Cove. It was a gruelling walk because it was a series of steep stairs. When the track finally curved down to the sand there were massive caves, arches and ridges still being formed by the persistent waves. As with everything in New Zealand, the outcome was well worth the effort. We stayed a night in Whitianga (fiti-anga). We arrived as the sun was setting so my time in the area was brief. I don't think I experienced enough of what I hear to be a place with amazing vibes, culture, lifestyle and activity. It will just be another area on my list of further explorations when I move you all down here and we travel the country together. (Start saving.)

The next day brought us south, first to Matamata, famous or infamous for being the Hobbiton location for Lord of the Rings. A local farmer owns the land on which the village scenes were filmed and now charges people $60NZD to see the hills and fields where Elijah Wood may have stood. All the set pieces have been removed so you pay $60 to see grass. He’s made about half a million dollars from this enterprise. From here it was on to Rotorua. I hear there's a lot of culture in Rotorua, but to me it was just a city that smelled like rotten eggs. The city is built on and around sulphuric thermal springs and pools. So this is "the place" for seeing bubbling mud pools and soaking yourself in a standard hot tub filled with naturally hot water as opposed to heated water. I just don't see the big deal. I had a much more enjoyable hot pool experience near Napier that I will go into later. I just took it easy in the hostel wondering "when exactly do you get used to this smell?"

I had been looking forward to my East Cape adventure since I arrived back on the North Island. I joined up with an intimate part of the tour called East Cape Escape. It's a ten seater van and a local Maori driver who knows the land, the history, the people. I stopped in Whakatane (faka-ta-nay) for two nights. This is the jump off point for boat tours to White Island, the only active volcano in New Zealand. It's about 50km from shore so you go out on a boat and they lead you on a trek up to the edge of the crater. Unfortunately, though the weather was gorgeous and clear on the mainland the conditions on the island were not suitable for landing. They cancelled all the boat tours out there. Again, something for my to-do list on the next visit.

After two nights here I joined up with the group again and headed further into the East Cape, stopping in Whanarua Bay. Robyn (Gwill's mum) had recommended a hostel called Maraehako Bay Retreat. So good was her description and encouragement that I planned to stay for three days. I wish I had had a month to spend in this haven. It was set down a treacherously steep road that curved and narrowed. But then, suddenly, you had arrived. This mecca was right on the Pacific, set on its own small bay. It was a playground for the exotic adventure seeker. Hammocks hung from the arms of huge, lazy trees over a stream fed by the property's own waterfall. The house itself was built on levels, like a treehouse. There was a good deal of shoreline to explore and out front you could climb along honeycombed volcanic rock to a cove littered with Paua shells, shining purple, green and silver on the beach. At night there was a big fire in the courtyard, where you could watch as the day dipped easily into a blazing finale. I was hesitant to leave, but Napier was calling.

Leaving Whanarua Bay we continued to head east, until we could go no further. We stopped right at the eastern most tip of New Zealand, the lighthouse. The first place to see the new day's sun. It was over 1000 steps to the summit, but the views of the Pacific and the surrounding coastal islands were well worth the exhaustion. That night we stayed on a farm. It was in Rangitukia, completely isolated. Normally I would have enjoyed a farmstay, but this staff was odd and gave me a creepy feeling. A kind of now-we-have-you-all-alone-in-the-middle-of-nowhere-and-no-one-will-hear-your-screams type of feeling. Of course the morning came without incident and we quickly packed and left. That night's destination was Gisborne, where I met someone from Durham NH. He knew Abby Green, a girl I went to school with. He knew the roads I used to drive. He knew about the blossoming lilacs we had just missed. He had been to certain shows at the Field House at UNH that I had also attended. He knew my mountains and rivers and tiny coastlines. For the first time I got really homesick and close to tears.

Napier. I called Robyn, Fritha and Gwill's mum, as soon as I arrived and she sounded so pleased to hear from me. My homesickness was completely wiped away. (I think when your darling mum is not near the mum of your closest friends will do quite well.) She said she would be right down to pick me up and we "could go and play". I've been here about two weeks and we have definitely down our fair share of play. Robyn lives on a really special property called Hohepa. It's a group of homes for people of all ages with special needs. In her home there are five women, ranging in age from seventeen to forty. Stepping out onto the deck which overlooks the beginnings of a brilliant garden, there are rolling hills that even now in the middle of winter are healthy and green. They give way to a cloak of trees, still deep greens but also brushed with bronze and gold. Past the forest the hills are often darkened by the clouds which bruises them from charcoal blue to a deep lilac. The clouds themselves are always changing in shape and colour, adding another dimension to the scene. Robyn keeps calling the land “benevolent” and I think there is no better word. It is easy to see that this land will care for you if you can return the thought. The community has its own farm producing vegetables, dairy products, etc for each household. Robyn even collects honey from her own bees. (I have been eating like a gluttonous queen.)

We've had a lot of amazing day trips. With Alice and Leina we drove out to the Tarawera hot pools. These simple concrete pools were filled with the hot thermal spring water and overlooked a subtle lime, hunter and seafoam green valley. It was hidden and peaceful. We didn't see another soul. I was grateful to experience hot pools in this way rather than the commercialised versions in Rotorua.

I've been lucky enough to be here for two Wednesdays, which is the day The Cat and the Fiddle has its Irish music night. We've gone for dinner and to listen to the intimate, spontaneous and improvisational folk songs. It was interesting to watch as people who came to be spectators grabbed an instrument and joined in. The group is for all levels and there were times when we were all singing along.

Yesterday Robyn made an impromptu decision to drive out to Lake Waikaremoana for a glimpse at one of her favourite spots. She filled up a cooler with all sorts of treats and we set out on the long drive. The lake is set at a high altitude, formed when the Pacific plate pushed its way underneath the Australian plate and forced the area to rise. The clouds were thick, but the sun shone through when it could. As it peaked out the cliffs, hills and clouds danced between purple, blue, green and gold. We sat on the edge of the lake sipping wine, eating herb cheese and crackers and watching two black swans and their four grey signets dive for grass. The drizzle forced us into the car, but we stayed a long time watching the day fade, while Robyn made a hysterical dialogue between the family of swans. Our drive home was dark, but we filled the car with songs and canons. It was a magical day.

My time in New Zealand is counting down in days now. Soon I’ll be back in Australia. Amazing how much time has elapsed. I wonder if I’ve changed at all.

Be Patient towards all that is unsolved in your heart
And try to love the questions themselves.
Do not seek the answers that cannot be given you,
Because you would not be able to live them
And the point is to live everything.
Live the question now
Without noticing it
Live along some distant day
Into the answers.
-Rainer Maria Rilke

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.

stars in the trees guide my way

My last day in Greymouth was uneventful. Everything was closed except the market, which was good because I needed to load up on groceries. The next opportunity to truly shop will be in Queenstown, which was about five days away. My new driver was Gail, who is a newbie at the whole bus driver gig, but a lot of fun. She used to be a teacher, but needed a change of pace. Quite a change of pace. From running after a dozen elementary kids to driving a huge bus full of 50 of them!

Lake Manhinapua was the stop last night. In the middle of nowhere, this hotel is bordered with beauty. On one side is the pristine west coast beach, where I watched a cloudless sunset. Another side are the verdant pastures full of grazing sheep. To the south is a view of Mt Cook ("cloud piercer" to the Maoris) and the southern alps. On the east is a dense forest path leading to Lake Manhinapua. I walked down here with the last of the sun's rays. (Think Snow White lost in the woods and you're close to my experience) I sat at the quiet, quiet lake and breathed in the relief of solitude, mesmerized by the perfect reflection of the alps in the water. Walking back through the trees, at an excelerated speed, I noticed in the moss running along the bottom of the forest and in the trees themselves were countless gloworms. Suddenly my panic turned to wonderment and I slowed down. It was magical to be led on a path illuminated by tiny glowing creatures. As I near the exit of the shaded greenery the ocean roared through the leaves. Surreal and lovely.

After driving through the tiny mining town of Ross earlier, I've landed in Franz Joseph. I just caught a glimpse of the neve of the glacier here, but I'm catching a shuttle to the smaller township of Fox. They have a similar setup and an equally brilliant glacier, but the town has a quaint alpine feel. It's nice to be separating from the group once again.

There will be lots to say about the glacier I'm sure. I'll try to get up to see it twice for photos and inspiration.

I'll take you to the mountains, I will take you to the sea, I'll show you how this life became a miracle to me

Okay, long over due is a message about what I've been up to. There has been a good deal of travel, so here it goes:

After my harrowing ferry trip, I arrived in Nelson over the Easter weekend to a ghost town. Most everything was shut down, some shops for the week! I decided to make my way north, towards Golden Bay. I saw an advert on the hostel wall about free shuttle service to Takaka from Nelson. I pounced and it led to two glorious nights at the River Inn in Takaka. It was just out of town, in a quiet farming area. A 6 km walk to Waikoropupu springs, which are the clearest springs in the world. The only water that can rival the springs are under the Ross ice shelf in Antarctica.

The town itself is small and quaint, very granola. I ate a few times at the Wholemeal cafe, which offers fresh soups and homemade breads. On my last night Erin, the manager, let me drive a few folks from Britain and Holland to the Mussel Inn, a food oasis hidden under a canopy of dense trees, bordered with lights that twinkle like gloworms in the branches. The next afternoon it was a winding journey through the hills back to Nelson.

On the 23rd April I left Nelson and ventured north again to Kaiteriteri beach for some scenic beach walks and bush hikes. On to Westport for the night where there was little to do but relax by the fire in the quite homey hostel. The following morning I went horseback riding at dawn up Buller gorge. I haven't been on a horse in a long long time, but it came naturally and was a good deal of fun. Quite exhilerating when we broke into a trot or canter. After the riding we made our way along the coast to Punakaiki where we viewed the pancake rocks. They have been eroded over time to form disk upon disk of stone. One day, in the not-so-distant future, they will be consumed by the ocean. That night I stopped in Greymouth, so I could easily get to Arthur's Pass the next day. I stayed at a hostel called Noah's Ark, in which each room is decorated with an animal theme. Clever. I was in the penguin room, but managed to stay warm enough.

Yesterday I took a two hour shuttle ride through the Southern Alps to Arthur's Pass. I am so glad I made the extra effort to see this place. After arriving mid morning and settling in I walked up a trail to Bridal Veil Falls. Gorgeous. I was feeling pretty good after that little hike, so I thought I'd tackle Mt. Temple. Two hours later my legs were a bit upset with me, but I was so proud of myself, my endurance and strength. The views were unparralleled. The alps were all around me covered in snow and glacial ice. Some were covered in brilliant white, others were hunter green, some glistened an icy gold in the fading sunlight. I stayed up there a good long while, until the sun started to disappear and I raced it down the mountain.

My accomodation last night was a charming cabin in the hills behind the township. It was heated by a roaring fireplace and was so lovely and peaceful. In the sleepy silence of New England on snowy nights I sometimes hear a passing plow that comforts and lulls me, like a soft whisper. Under the quiet stars of Arthur's Pass last night it was instead a train that rumbled through, comfortably reenforcing the tranquility. There are many times that I've been reminded of my home. I suppose I will appreciate it all the more when I return.

I've just returned this morning from a hike up to Devil's Punchbowl Falls, another spectacular view and challenging walk. My shuttle takes me back to Greymouth this afternoon.

Warm Bed: Priceless

After 12 hours on a train, 4 fours in the pouring Wellington rain, 16 hours in the ferry terminal, 3 uncomfortable and freezing hours on a ferry, 5 more hours in the Picton ferry terminal and 3 hours on a bus I finally have a room for the night and can say I've been to Nelson, NZ.

I am overjoyed to be on the South Island and am trying to plan a side trip to Golden Bay, which is just north of Nelson. It's supposed to be sunny and gorgeous up there so I need to make it happen.

More when there are some actual developments, just wanted to say "I'm alive" cause after the nightmare of the past two days I can't believe it.