CONTINENTAL WE LOVE YOU……
…..FLYING TO THE LAND OF THE LONG WHITE CLOUD (NZ)
All told, we were plenty early for our flight. The Hilo airport has one big waiting room with large couches and armchairs that made things reasonably comfortable. A band of geriatric Hawaiian musicians serenaded the airport from the bar area and some particularly dull museum exhibits were on display. The flight from Hilo to Honolulu was on a small, beat up plane. At Honolulu people were lined up outside of the Auckland gate at they could only get in just before the flight. We didn’t understand why there where so many Australians and New Zealanders in Hawaii when their beaches are probably better- we later realized that Hawaii is their equivalent of Florida for Canadians- a winter holiday destination. This probably explains the great deal we got on the flight. We had to check in to the gate early as we didn’t have our boarding passes. Since New Zealand has a law stating that you can’t get in to the country without proof of an exit flight and a visa for your next destination, they had to check our papers before allowing us to board the flight. Apparently they have a problem with “overstayers”- people who come in on a short visa and then don’t leave. A little extra bureaucracy, but we made it. After using cheap North American airlines, Air New Zealand rocked. Complimentary wine, food and movies improved our morale as we tried to get some shut eye on this overnight flight.
Saturday – did not exist as we crossed the International Date Line.
Sunday - Canadian Criminals Caught at Customs, Beagle Barks at Broccoli! Salad Seizure!
We landed smoothly and were delighted and somewhat surprised that our bags were actually there. The door alarm in my back pack had been triggered, but it sounded like a cellphone so I didn’t notice it at first and didn’t realize it was coming from MY pack. While retrieving our bags from the carousel I spotted a guard with an adorable beagle that suddenly darted over to us and started barking loudly and indignantly at our food bag. Now we knew we would probably have to toss our food, as they have bio-inspection stations and need to be vigilant about foreign bacteria, etc. and we had declared all food items on the customs form, but we didn’t know what to make of all this fuss! The guard stood by us and rapidly spoke into her radio about a seizure - I instinctively thought she was referring to someone with epilepsy and was about to offer assistance, when I realized with horror she was referring to us- we were being apprehended! The customs agent was actually referring to our container of snacking broccoli as the illegal seizure! Chaos ensued with beagle excitedly barking, a second guard running toward us, radio squawking, all underscored by my luggage alarm bleeping! Luckily we weren’t technically in trouble as we weren’t hiding anything. A handful of raw vegetables isn’t quite as exciting as some other contraband. They quickly confiscated and destroyed (don’t ask me how) the offending vegetables, interrogated us, and let us proceed to the bio-inspection station. There, we were asked to present our hiking boots for inspection (no seizure there) before being released. NZ has a very special environment and we shouldn’t make light of it, one can’t be too blasé about broccoli…. And later we saw the impact in the forests due to invasive species and things. Being exhausted (due to another time change), we didn’t take the time to learn the city’s bus system but grabbed a taxi to our backpackers hostel.
Welcome to Winter in New Zealand – Cold? A hot water bottle and a (second mortgage to pay for the overpriced boutique) coffee will fix things…
We got there around 8am, as the steam was rising and the night chill was evaporating. The backpackers hostel Verandahs (so named because of its wrap-around verandahs) just as they were opening up. They gave us a tour of the facilities and told us our room would be ready around 10. I typed and Meg napped until about 10:45, when the room was ready. We needed to get our woolies out as it was winter in NZ and they were recovering from a record cold snap the week before. Apparently it was the first snow in Auckland in 81 years. We didn’t see snow, but in contrast to Hawaii it felt chilly cold and we got to use the warmer part of our wardrobes (which had been needlessly weighing us down up to this point). After settling in we went for a stroll along the local street called Ponsonby. It was lined with cafes and boutique type shops for several blocks. Crossing the street became quite a challenge, as traffic whizzed along and we instinctively checked the wrong way, only to get almost hit several times. We went to an international food hall for lunch and split an excellent cashew curry with fresh juice (by this time we had gained many pounds on restaurant food and lack of regular exercise so splitting a meal helped).The food stalls were from all over the world with a general drink vendor in the middle who served all the stalls – service was very quick. They gave you a little pager to let you know when to come back to the stall and pick up your grub. We then hit a very cool secondhand book store, which took over a whole house, but alas they didn’t have the guide books we needed or the Bunty Brown books from Meg’s childhood. We grabbed a coffee on the way, but you can’t just get a normal drip coffee here. Everything is from an espresso machine and the closest equivalent to a Timmy’s is a flat white is an espresso with steamed milk. Even McDonald’s didn’t have a coffee for less than 3 bucks (we checked out of curiosity) – we have entered the land of boutique coffee..
Happy Reunion with Heather, her husband and two Burmese hounds
Back at the hostel we reorganized some of our stuff and then went out front where we were picked up by Richard and Heather (comically at the hostel we initially missed each other, walking right by him and saying good morning, assuming he was another hosteller). Heather is the sister of Owen’s buddy Darrin from Saint John, and, like him, has Huntington’s, but sure as heck, does not let that stop her! We had about a 30 minute drive back to their place getting a briefing on their travels around the country as well as getting caught up. Their house was surrounded by trees and was only a short walk to a lovely stretch of beach . From their living room and porch you can see a whole valley- quite the view! We met their dogs, (The Vicar of) Dibbly, who was big, friendly and slobbery and Peggy?, who was quite afraid of new people. We learned from Heather that some people even have Facebook pages for their dogs and there is quite the online doggy community. We also learned that the health care system in NZ has more support for people with Huntington’s than in Canada. We also learned that Richard used his legal expertise for many years to help advocate for more resources for Research and stuff. The dogs had a walk, we saw the beach, Richard lent us an excellent book on NZ drives and then we got a lift back. Great visit with good people. After seeing New Zealand for ourselves we totally understand why Heather would have wanted to move out here with Richard! We also think that Darrin and Heather are in really great relationships with bright, sensitive people like Madoka and Richard, and we are inspired by their loving relationships which are very two-way (I wrote this obviously too mushy for Owen to have written).
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| Richard, Heather, Meg et. al. |
Auckland waterfront, searching for the elusive bus stop and yummy food court food (we aren’t kidding!)
Back at the hostel, I was feeling sleepy, so Meg suggested that we walk downtown as it was only 15 minutes away and we needed to adjust to the time change. First, we checked with the admin to see if we could stay another day, as we hadn’t really seen much of the city. They had one room left, and it was the one we were currently staying in, so all was well. Auckland’s downtown felt about as big as Halifax, although 1 ½ million(of NZ’s 4 million) lived there. The information centre had closed for the day but a few other places were open. I bought a hat, as neither of us had packed gloves or hats (trying to keep the packs light) and things were chilly here. We saw the picturesque waterfront and some of the historic buildings and then tried to find a bus to take us home.. In the course of this it got dark and at we one we lost each other. Owen crossed the road, I waited for the next light and he had vanished! It was too dark to see anybody so I waited on the main street under the brightest light could find, and he found me- it was scary because I don’t think I could have found my way back to the hostel myself and I could have spent an hour trying to find him. A happy reunion ensued and all was well!
We spent a fair bit of time figuring out how to take the bus back but ended up finding our way back, so we were almost like locals. We then decided to go to the same food hall for dinner. It was now packed with people of all ages. I had a sizzling noodles with lamb, Meg had a lentil curry but took forever to get to our table as her debit didn’t work. We’ve found that they only work at ATMs down here. We happily ate and then went back to the room to read and prepare for the next day. We were able to stay up until about 10, allowing us to adapt quickly to the new time zone.
Monday, Aug. 22 Sorry Owen, this is BORING STUFF- YOU MAY WANT TO SKIP- but good photos (Ed.)
We slept soundly and late and headed downtown to grab breakfast and get errands done. Meg got some insurance stuff faxed off (related to the car accident) and talked to the woman running the shop about how she liked New Zealand as she was a newcomer from China (she diplomatically gave us the impression she didn’t like it here, but then she let street pigeons wander in the store and root about the machines so she was a little eccentric. ALL coffee was expensive (by our Tm Horton standards) but we were hungry and lead into temptation with more “flat-whites” (pseudo cappuccinos) and eggs Benedict with Canadian Bacon at “Knockout Sandwiches” for knock out prices. We priced movies for later that evening but they were all $16- so no movies for us. NZ ain’t a place for cheap tourists.
We headed to the information centre (called I-Sites in NZ) and got some maps and things but the Department of Conservation guy was on a 90 minute lunch break (right on how civilized is that?), so we got a handy campsite booklet but no info on what the campsites and conditions were actually like. Next we went to The Warehouse (a bargain shopping place like Giant Tiger in the Maritimes) but they had sold out of gloves due to the cold snap the previous week. We got some Tupperware and other doodads though.
Next it was back to the bus stand to take the loop bus the other way to get to the museum. It’s a war memorial museum, so just takes donations (good for frugal tourists like us!). But on the other hand, we gladly paid for the Maori cultural show and tour and then waited for the performance. Some underdressed folk came in and escorted us to the theatre, there were only about a dozen of us in a theatre that could have easily held 100. The group was led by an older woman (who we found out later was actually Hawaiian) who explained the significance of the dances and props used in the dance. The group was small and very young and felt a bit amateurish after what we saw in Hawaii. The explanation was good though (we learned not just about the dances but the significance behind the various items used such as the throwing/swinging sticks and poi used to build dexterity and agility among the youth) and the show never got boring (unlike this section, sigh, Ed.).
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| Tough guys. |
Afterwards we got our Maori tour, where one of the performing women talked a bit about the history in NZ, which was quite good. We wore robes as the honoured guests and were the only ones on the tour (tip off right there, nobody else bought the extra tickets, Ed.). Our guide handed us off to one of the male performers to talk about weaponry. He littered his spiel with “like's" and “you know's” and wasn’t able to answer any questions that weren’t part of his talk. Considering that the performers all hung out after the show answering questions anyway, we didn’t really need the tour.
VOLCANIC ERUPTIONS IN THE COMFORT OF YOUR LIVING ROOM !
We then went off to explore the rest of the museum on our own. They had a good display on NZ war involvement with full sized airplanes and reconstructed trenches. We enjoyed the Gallipoli exhibit, having seen the site of the fighting ourselves in Turkey. And they had first-hand accounts you could listen to on the imitation WWI telephones. The Kiwis were as gracious about the Turks as the Turks were about the Kiwis so it was probably one of the last “gentlemanly” battles in the world.
They also had a cool room where you could witness and feel what it would be like to be in Auckland when it’s local volcano (White’s Island) erupted. You sat on a couch in a living room and watched a pretend TV broadcast about the pending eruption, with “live” coverage of the evacuation. Then the lights go out, the sofa shudders and moves a foot sideways, a lamp falls over, and a painting lurches. You are able to look out the “balcony window” which is a giant screen of the volcano in the background. At first you see gentle wisps of white cloud and then it builds into a massive ominous black cloud of volcanic ash coming towards you. Then the TV goes static and you are theoretically smothered in volcanic ash. It was an excellent simulation and we jumped at least once- but it could be very traumatic for Christchurch earthquake survivors so they had big warning signs about going in if you had experienced an earthquake. As a social worker I can imagine the impact on people with PTSD; but it was great hands-on learning experience for those of us who would never experience this otherwise (well if you did experience a volcanic eruption close-up you would be dead, I suppose)..
You could easily spend a whole day in the Auckland Museum; they had other good exhibits about prehistoric animals (the giant Moa bird, bigger than an ostrich) and unusual musical instruments and we closed the place out.
Walking home, we were looking for groceries so that we could start to self-cater. First we found Meg a pair of gloves and then a fruit and vegetable store, then nothing. We were walking up and down steep hills for half an hour carrying heavy produce and cursing our bad luck at not coming across any taxis or buses. One thing we did find was the local Unitarian Church, right around the corner from our inn, and we could have conveniently attended the service the day before as Meg is trying to attend as many Unitarian Services as she can. Too bad!
Back at the backpackers, we were told where the local grocery store was. Two long walks later, we had self-catered and cooked up some excellent “Pasta Puttanesca” in the large kitchen. The kitchen was buzzing and we were the oldest ones staying there by quite a margin. Meg made friends with a Japanese woman looking for work in the Auckland area. ( I gave her one of my shell leis and she then gave me a grapefruit). By the time we finished our tea it was time for bed.
Tuesday – CANADIAN CAMPERVANNERS IN MOTORWAY MADNESS -- DRIVING THROUGH THAT DREADED ROUNDABOUT – DRAT!
We got packed up in the morning, had breakfast and waited for our lift to the Spaceships office. Here’s their website http://www.spaceshipsrentals.co.nz/new-zealand-campervan and there’s a short movie about how they work, except the one we got was their cheapest model so it doesn’t have the second battery which means no mini-fridge or DVD player. When no lift came we called them and they sent another taxi. Once we got there it was unclear who paid the cab so Meg held out against an annoyed counterperson and ended up winning – they paid for the cab. (Well she shrilly asked me rhetorically “Did I say it was a “free” pickup?” And I stoically replied, “In Canada it’s understood ALL pickups are free- if all you do is phone a cab to pick us up we could have easily done that, and furthermore we’d have taken a bus if we’d known it cost $30” -sheesh). We got set up with our paperwork and disclaimers and decided to get their winter package so we’d have a heater and a GPS for directional assistance (best last minute decision we EVER made this trip). They brought “Leo” (a 1995 Toyota family van) around, made note of dents and scuffs and gave us the 10 minute tour of how to use everything and left us on our own with vague directions as to how to get onto the highway. We started out looking for the left turns to get us on the road. I’m used to driving a compact car on the right and this was a van on the left, so the learning curve was pretty steep. Overcoming a lifetime of driving instincts isn’t easy, and driving clueless in a large city didn’t help.
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| Leo, our home for three weeks. |
We tried following Lidia’s (not shrill lady) instructions but got going the wrong way with a roundabout coming up (the dreaded roundabout- was our bête noir 1st few days). I said that there was no way I was ready for a wrong-sided roundabout so we pulled over. Meg went asking someone for instructions and I waited for the GPS to kick in. We finally got going, slowly and cautiously with much stress and looking over our shoulders all of the time. We got onto the highway, thank goodness it wasn’t rush hour. I was zooming along at about 70 km/h, remembering to keep left with the slow traffic and treating every merge or exit as a mini-crisis. (Every time Owen turned on the indicator lights the windshield wiper would mysteriously activate). Getting out of Auckland was a huge nail biter and our blood pressure went through the roof as we tried to find the blinking highway (or motorway as they say here).
We were making it until we hit the toll road with a series of about 10 signs to explain that there were no toll booths and you were supposed to scribble down a website as you drove by to help you pay on line. We pulled over at a service stop and they had a machine that would accept toll payment. They also had hot sausage rolls. We soon learned the artery clogging NZ food formula
hot + roll/ pie = really yummy!!
Back on the road, the motorway kept narrowing until it was one lane each way and passed through the centre of every little town enroute. I had no worries about the people behind me, they knew the road so they could pass when they wanted to. There are no right turns on red lights in NZ and if 2 cars are turning, the one on the right has right of way. This last rule was confusing, as when we tried to follow it and give way to other drivers, they waved US on, so we did the best we could. NZ drivers tended to be fairly aggressive, we found. They didn’t tailgate much (unlike their Ontario counterparts), but they tended to make daredevil passes and would race up to stop lines, trying to intimidate any pedestrians or cars with right of way. The roads, once you get off the few main motorways, have no shoulders and very narrow lanes. (That’s right, one false move and you go into rock face!-I was so grateful Owen did all the driving, ed.). Winding roads through mountains and hills requires all of your concentration to navigate and foreigners often build up long lines of local cars behind them on these roads. The locals tend to sway from lane to lane as they quickly drive these, hoping that they can correct their trajectories if they happen to meet oncoming traffic. We were upset with these oncoming drivers as it forced us to be more diligent going around bends as they would unapologetically and sloppily take half our lane in making their turns. Of course the truck (lorry) drivers were excellent and kept well over on their side – it was a marvel to watch those drivers gracefully negotiate bends in mountain passes that our little campervan had difficulty with.
TREMENDOUS TREES TWO-THOUSAND YEARS OLD- LORD OF THE RINGS (LOTR) PART 1
After a few hours of white-knuckle driving, we made it to our remote little campsite. There were only 4 powered sites but only one other vehicle there. The site had a kitchen cabin with hotplates, a kettle, a toaster and a fridge. You were to fill out your site slip and put your payment in a bag that went into a metal lockbox. We transferred out stuff to the fridge and Meg took a nap (normally I’d nap in the van but we needed 4 eyes for the first few days of driving) while I strolled around the loop path adjoining the campsite. We were at Trounson Kauri Park with is part of the magnificent Kauri Forest Reserve. Kauri trees are huge beasties that can be up to 2000 years old. A forest sign requests all visitors to brush and spray the soles of shoes to prevent the transfer of invasive fungi (didyma is really bad). There was posted information about the plants and animals written as freeform poetry, which made for unusual reading.
The trail was wide and easy to walk on and went by many kauri trees. There was a big information tent in a field and lots of unusual bird sounds and tropical vegetation.
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| Big, bad Meg and bigger Kauri. |
Upon returning we got dinner together (reheats!) and chatted with a nice Dutch couple (Mark and Danica) who were just finishing their trip, covering similar ground to us but in the other direction. There was also a third vehicle by this point, with two German women who were picking up work while they travelled but they weren’t chatty at all (at first). We compared notes and got advice (the south island was beautiful but involved a lot of driving) and had a fine meal. The Dutch couple told us about having the clutch give out on their rental in the middle of the Australian desert. They had no cellphone reception and were pushing their van when another car came along to help them. They were within range of their assist program to get to the next town and ended up getting a tow. They had been pushing their van in the wrong direction and would have had to pay for it if they had gone any further. They then had to hunker down in a nowhere town while they waited several days for a part to arrive. (Sounds like a Priscilla, Queen of the desert Sequel). Desert fun….
After dinner, as is usual on campsites, it was an early bedtime due to the lack of things to do once the sun went down. We got our heater unit plugged in, changed the van around so that the back became a full bed and settled in for a good night’s snooze.
Wednesday – Gum (from Kauri trees), Gasoline, and Groceries, if you please
We got up after a surprisingly good first night’s sleep in our low tech “spaceship” and headed to the cabin for our breakfast. Everyone was up and joined us for one of the few sociable breakfasts we’ve had (we mostly eat by ourselves) and we learned that the Dutch couple went on a night quest to see kiwi but were unsuccessful (they only saw eels and fish). We had a fine chat and then we all wondered if the showers in this cold place truly contained hot water. Meg and I pioneered the facilities and found them to be just fine (if a bit primitive- this is where you learn to roll your pants up as you put them on so you don’t drag them through the wet floor as there are no shower curtains or proper drainage, just a shower head sticking out of the wall and a sink covered in plant life). We felt more human, said goodbye to everyone and headed up the road.
The Kauri forest proper was a 30 minute drive from our place. Along the way, we saw a shop with a Coke sign that said it was a gum store, so we thought we could get some simple groceries (makes sense to me). It turned out to be an art store with kauri gum in amber form and bowls and carving made from fallen kauri trees (as the trees are protected and you can’t cut them-unless you are a hobbit or an elf). The bowls in particular were amazing, particularly giant ones made from one piece of wood by slowly gouging or coring the middle part. Alas, much as we loved the wood and admired the craftsmanship, fitting them into backpacks and transporting them would be impossible, but Meg picked up a gum pendant that improves with age (or an elf spell). It was cloudy with moisture, which would slowly evaporate and clear the gum, changing its colour, we were told. The road past the shop became increasingly narrow and windy, so we took a break at the first marked turnoff for a scenic lookout. This put us onto a one lane gravel road even twistier than the main road until we got to a clearing. Here there was a tower that was locked to the public and a lookout surrounded by so many tall plants that you couldn’t see anything. An older Australian couple was there and just as confused as us as to what we should be seeing. We tried a short path through the woods before giving up on the whole affair.
Our fuel gauge was looking lower than we were comfortable (to put it mildly! We were in the middle of nowhere New Zealand in a gas guzzling camper van with no cellphone-yikes). So we decided to power through the park to get to the next gas station. This turned out to be my next test in NZ driving, as the road through the park was nothing but switchbacks up and down hillsides with no shoulders and fast-moving traffic coming the other way. The forest was beautiful but we were glad to see the trees turn to farms which eventually led to a valley and (hurrah!) a gas station.
After filling our tank and grabbing some groceries at a nearby store we headed back up into the park. The winding approach to the park was still tiring, but not unexpected. We drove up to the Tane Mahuta (named after the forest god), the biggest kauri tree and had lunch at the top of a steep little parkette across the road from the attraction. Everything around us was wet and green and lush. After eating, we headed across the street and were requested once again to rinse our shoes off before proceeding. The path was short and completely covered with a boardwalk to make the journey easy. This was one big tree. The kauri are very wide around the bottom but up top they almost look more like the root system of a tree, with lots of plants and vines living off of the upper part of the tree. The upper branches also have the appearance of being whole trees themselves rather than just being branches. The thing really had presence, and, strangely, it was more impressive from a secondary lookout a little further away. As we stopped we also noticed the eerie bird noises that were filling the forest around us. It was definitely a fine moment.
Back in the car, we took another 5 minutes of switchbacks until we reached the forest walks turnoff. The parking lot apparently has had trouble with thieves so we paid a ranger $2 to solve crossword puzzles in his car while he kept an eye on ours (what a boring job that must be!). We passed on the long path to the 7th largest kauri and headed on the 20 minute path to the second largest. This took us through many grove of kauris of all ages, many of impressive size. We stopped several times to listen to the birds and found that the local pigeon (a little more colourful than ours) was making the most interesting noises (almost like a car being locked with an automatic beeper). The tree at the end of the trail, the Te Matua Ngahere (father of the forest) was immense and described in the Lonely Planet Guide as “a noble presence”. Photos can’t begin to do it justice (just leave the camera at home and enjoy the scenery). On the hike out, a short side trail led to the “Four sisters”, 4 kauris sharing the same root system. They too were impressive trees.
Another half hour along the road and we got to the Maori-run welcome centre, which was at the end of a harrowingly narrow unpaved sideroad. The information was minimal, but the photos of loggers taking out kauri trunks, with a small bit of tree being more than enough for a truck, was impressive. Meg bought some postcards and we raided their free info rack before heading off again.
Back at the campground, two other vehicles had pulled up. These campers kept to themselves but two Americans (John and Hanna) travelling in a converted station wagon were friendly. They were looking for people to go on a night hike at a site down the road with them but we had had enough driving for the day. We took our own night hike along the loop attached to the park. They recommended covering your flashlight with red cellophane, but surprisingly we hadn’t brought any. We covered our flashlights with two of meg’s scarves and headed out into the woods. This goes completely against my instincts, as I’m used to woods at night as being potentially dangerous places. In NZ, the only dangerous animals are the sandflies, so night hikes are fine. We first noticed some glow worms in some deep bushes and were surprised by how bright they were. A few more patches of them turned up along the way. We had no idea where to look for kiwis (the birds NOT the fruit), so we would shine the light from side to side, then stop and wait with our lights out and speculate whether the noises we were hearing were kiwis or not.
After almost completing the loop we came to a small stream and spotted a two-foot long eel who swan away from our light. At the next stream we found a four-foot eel! That about did it for our nature hike. We returned to the campground and got some sleep after our adventures.
Thursday – DRIVING, DETOURS and DULL DESCRIPTIONS (i.e. you can skip this section, ed.)
Not much to describe, pretty much a driving day. We stopped off in Dargaville to pick up a light to read by at night and some groceries but had no luck finding canisters for our cooker. At another stop some truckers laughed at us trying to ask for an alternative route back to the highway to avoid a roundabout. We had to take it and survived to tell the tale. Our GPS had a habit of avoiding large highways and taking us for detours down long curvy country roads that did nothing to speed up our trip. In spite of this, we made it to the tiny town of Waitomo and booked a glowworm cave tour for the next day. The six hours of driving we did was exhausting, in hindsight the toughest day of driving. Our Spaceship had Space ports all over the country, so we tried one out. It offered a DVD exchange and some discounts we couldn’t use and no other information. The pub was more useful as it doubled as a liquor store, so we got some beer and chips (call them potato chips or crisps in NZ or you’ll get French fries) to occupy us in our room. We did some cooking and watched some TV (a history program on how dirty cities were, a strange choice for a room of backpacking 20-somethings). Also on that theme, we were the oldest ones there by about 20 years. This pattern would continue as in most hostels and in campervan parks we were usually the youngest ones there by about 20 years. If 40 year olds travel, we weren’t running in their circles. After food, bed, in a bunk bed where the bottom bunk was a double (we’d see these in other hostels too.)
Friday – Gazing at Glowworms in Gigantic Grottoes, Gratifyingly Glorious!
We quickly grabbed breakfast, packed up and headed to the visitors’ centre to experience the 3-screen movie presentation. The movie gave us lots of background on glow worms (too much, as they got into the specific biochemistry of bioflorescence, a bit much for most people) that helped us to understand what we would see. Basically, they fool flying insects into thinking that the roof of a cave is the night sky with their glow. They then have fibres hanging down from the tube they live in, coated with mucous that will stick to winged insects, trapping them until the worm reels them in and devours them.
Educationally enriched, we headed off across the street to join our tour. Our guide, Lauren, was very friendly and made jokes on our way to the worm cave. The 30 minute drive there felt like a trip to Scotland, as it involved whipping around rural dirt road with steep drops over the side and sheep crawling up and down the hills. She pointed out several sinkholes where the land met underground river and trees sprung up from this water source. Our entry point was in the middle of a sheep field at the bottom of one of these sinkholes. We put on miners’ caps with little headlights and proceeded to the cave, staying in a large area holding onto the handrail until our eyes adjusted and we didn’t trip or snap an ankle. Then we moved forward into another “room” where we could see the worms simulating the night sky and closer up see their nests and beaded strands trying to catch insects. We boarded a boat and slowly headed towards an underground waterfall while picking up more and more worm light from our dark-adapted eyes. We went back and forth twice, and the effect was amazing. Being in a boat in the dark on an underground river and seeing a seemingly bright night sky above you is completely unique. When we returned to our starting cave we realized we hadn’t even seen 1/3 of the actual glow worms that our darkness habituated eyes now saw. Amazing! I thought it was like being in a fairy world with the ceiling all aglow with tiny fairy lights- I wish we could have stayed there forever, it was very sad to have to be told to get out of the boat and wrenched away from that world- similar phenomenon to those people who watched “Avatar”, ed.).
We had a short break for hot chocolate and cookies and Meg asked if some nearby greyish critters were lost lambs. The whole group looked over to the indicated spot and informed her that what she perceived as being sheep were actually rocks. So much for her career as a sheep spotter (It’s just time for me to get bi-focals, anyone could have made that mistake, the rocks were very sweet! ed.)
We walked to our next cave, and Meg took the opportunity to identify an animal which was undeniably a sheep, somewhat restoring her credibility.
The next cave was more of the stalactite/stalagmite variety, which allowed us to go along about 250 metres into an underground cavern full of pools, formations, holes to the surface and some skeletons of animals that have died there. The first skeleton was of a goat (named Bernard), but later we saw one of a giant ostrich-like birdy called a Moa- which was much more interesting. Lauren also told us that the one in Auckland was put together wrong- its head actually hangs forward, not straight up like an ostrich. There were great calcium formations and when the light came down from an opening above it was spectacular. A few glow worms were hanging in there (but not many as they didn’t have enough food to eat). All the lights were on timers, fading behind us as we went further into the caves, which was smart thinking by the tour operators. We saw some creepy wetas, sort of like spidery crickets, who hide in dark cave areas during the day and eat insects at night.
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| Meg finally identifies a sheep. |
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| Inside Waitomo caves. |
Back out again, we drove back to the town, thanked our guide and went to see the info centre again. They had lots of displays, the most interesting showing that 100 years ago people were unable to dress themselves properly (these were mannequins that didn’t have their clothing on correctly). There was a tiny simulated cave we both were able to squeeze ourselves through (under duress with much crawling along the floor one one’s stomach using one’s toes to inch forward) and then had to prepare for the long drive to Rotorua. We programmed the direct route into the GPS, which gave us a long collection of country road and a long
period of time where our ETA mysteriously didn’t change. Luckily we were able to cross-reference the GPS (or “Sat-Nav” as they say here) with some proper paper maps and got to our hostel before nightfall. Our hostel, “the Funky Green Voyageur” had a great modern kitchen, a no shoes in the house rules and discount coupons for the movies that night. We also wanted to prepare for less luxurious campgrounds, so we went searching for propane canisters for our cooker. The first place didn’t have that type of canister and suggested a second place, which suggested a third place, which suggested a fourth place, which was closed by the time we reached it! We had no idea our cooker was so exotic. While waiting for our movie to start
we got some shopping and repacking done as we planned to be at an un-electrified campground the next night. We ended up seeing Cowboys and Aliens with only two other people in the huge theatre. A fine, mindless popcorn movie. Then it was back to the hostel and a good sleep.
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| Olden days wardrobe problems. |
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| Meg crawls through cave simulator. |
Sat. Aug 27 Enroute to Roto Rooter, er Rotorua
We got up and got packed and checked the formerly closed 4th shop about cooking canisters. They didn’t have any but they called a place outside of the city centre which confirmed that they had some (BTW these were the green Coleman type one can buy at any Canadian Tire store in Canada). Why did every shop recommend a different alternative each time? We had a short stop at a used book store and then drove out to get our precious canister, as well as gloves for managing the cold weather. We then drove out to the campground, which was an outhouse and a cooking shelter next to a lake (Lake Okareka). At least we knew where it was.
Back in Rotorua we headed to the museum. The gardens outside were huge and included at least four ongoing games of croquet being played with large, square-ended mallets. This town was the heart of the Maori and volcanic areas of NZ and the whiff of sulfur was forever in the air. It allowed one to pas gas in public with a sure alibi. The museum was the best place to learn about all of this, except that it was under renovation and the entire Maori wing was closed! We checked out the well-curated talking screen in the basement about the ambitions of the original owner to set up a therapeutic spring and then went upstairs for a guided tour.
We were the entire tour group and our guide (Winnie, a volunteer and a senior)gave us a good overview of the history of the building, which was built in 1908 as a spa retreat, morphed into an 80s nightclub, and is in its last incarnation, a stately museum. The place was built in a European Mock-Tudor style which made it a Swiss Palace in a volcanic land (blech). We then got a tour of the old spa area with about three times as many facts as we needed. Some areas were interesting, but there was too little museum left open to warrant a full hour tour. We ended it by climbing up to the roof where we had a lovely view of the Lake and the Island on it. Winnie spoke about a Maori tribe routing another in an ancient battle on Lake Rotorua. She dropped us off at the movie theatre where we saw a 20 minute film on the history of the area, complete with shaking seats as we watched the damage caused in the area by an the Mount Tarawera Eruption of 1886.
We checked out the modern art wing, which included a room devoted to a history of rugby and then headed out for a walk. We went by the lake and read about the black swans that lived there. Eventually we got to a Maori village by the water (Ohinemutu)
which had little hot water geysers and sulfur spots running all through it. The meeting house was there, as well as a small church- (St. Faith’s Anglican Church), and small houses in what could have been a normal fishing village if it weren’t for all of the thermal activity that was obviously eroding everything around it. Meg took a break there while I checked out the local thermal park and then we headed out to our campsite.
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| The thermal area of town. |
When we arrived back at Lake Okareka, there were 2 other vehicles there, two sisters from Australia and a couple from Seattle. We chatted in the dark (as the sun had set by 6:30) and ate a simple dinner – our propane canister worked! The lake was beautiful but also didn’t trap heat well so everyone went to bed early to try and keep warm throughout the cold night.
Sun – Meg Mumbles “Amazing Grace” in Maori…miraculous!
(Meg) I woke up at 7 and the lake was completely still- mountains on the other side- swans and ducks floating serenely by. It was like a moving postcard of New Zealand- I then went into the bush and listened to the glug glug birds- filmed them – nobody around other than the other campers who slept until 8am- lazy bastards…
(Owen) I awoke with a very sore neck, Meg speculated that it was the cold (and it was cold when we got up) but I figured I was paying the price for my bodysurfing in Hawaii. We had cold cereal with hot coffee and quickly got packed up. We said goodbye to our neighbours and raced into town so Meg could get to her 9 am church service. We showed up a little late but she was fine with that. While she was investigating the spiritual side of Rotorua, I went to investigate the thermal. Meg- It was actually a terrific service. The church itself was small so it looked packed with the 40 or so parishioners. While much of the service was in English all the singing was in Maori, I was able to sing Amazing Grace phonetically as I recognized the tune, the other hymns were a bit harder to follow. I loved the sermon, the minister was very charming and clearly progressive. He asked us what the hardest job was- the answer was being unemployed, because the bills still pile up, groceries have to be bought and the money has to be found somehow. This resonated with both me and the audience, which was about 60% Pakeha (European descent) and 40% Maori. The back window is clear with a frosted picture of Jesus walking on Lake Rotorua (optical illusion as the lake is seen through the window) in a Maori cape. The only distraction was the older Pakeha gentleman two pews in front of me with a tattoo of a man pushing a lawnmower on the back of his head!
(Owen) The nearby town park has steaming, bubbling lakes with paths going through vapour clouds. You walk by pits with burbling mud and mini-geysers. The smell of sulfur is everywhere and you look for steam to find the most active parts. Everything dangerous is fenced off and it’s fun to wander around and see what is in the next pit. At the bottom of the park there were normal sports fields and a community centre, no fun at all. I headed back to pick up Meg by going up the other side of the park, which had more thermal pits and lakes.
Back at the van we drove downtown trying to get some errands done. We walked into the I-site with our dirty laundry because the laundromat down the street that was supposed to be open wasn’t. We got tickets for visiting the thermal village and instructions to the nearest laundromat and internet café. While we laundered had a flat white (NZ code for milky coffee) and a passionfruit cake at a Wi-Fi café- yum- $14 later…).
Visitors at Whakarewarewa Volcano Village Vexed by Valkyrie!
Our next stop was Whakarewarewa (pronounced Fa-ka-re-wa-re-wa) Thermal Village. The area’s full name Te Whakarewarewatanga o te Ope Taua a Wahiao means the “Gathering Together of the War party of Wahiao” but most people just say “Whaka” (Except for our guide, of course). We got our bracelets and had 20 minutes to kill until the next tour, so we went to their café to sample some hangi. Hangi is food cooked thermally, usually chicken and root vegetables. The hangi sampler wouldn’t be ready on time, so we had a hangi pie and a glass of milk, the pie was delicious. (They didn’t know what to charge for the milk so she just gave me a glass (Kia Ora!) We then waited outside the village for our guide, with striking short cropped white hair (henceforth called Valkyrie or Val). Val said that there would be no need to ask questions as she would be
comprehensive in her coverage but if we had questions, please ask. After every info stop she said “Any Questions?” but quickly moved us on before we could get a peep out. She seemed to be in a bad mood that day (let’s hope she wasn’t like that all the time) and arrogant in her manner. I was quite intimidated by her and stopped asking questions because she went on the attack. And after she was through with me, nobody else dared to after that. However, despite the valkyrie, we found the village to be interesting. It was known for its thermal baths for the whole village to share and Val scorned anyone who didn’t have two baths a day (especially the tourist foolish enough to ask why). Val was adamant that the heat from a bath stays in your body for two hours that one could bathe in the middle of winter there, no problem. It was an actual functioning village with only 23 families living there and a waiting list to get in. Every house is owned, meaning no mortgages, but newcomers have to wait until someone dies and then the family has a meeting to decide who most needs the house. There were a lot more families before but the village can’t grow any bigger due to the dangerous surrounding terrain. The valkyrie showed us one house in which a huge thermal pit suddenly burst through the kitchen making the house unusable. I bet she would have loved to have thrown us into that pit… We saw the cooking pits for food and a cooking pool for things to be boiled. Nearby geysers spew forth hot water and the valkyrie advised us that this village and the government centre next to it (Te Puia) used to be one park but split because of political differences. She also implied that this was the “real” village and only naïve tourists would bother with the other one. We heard music in the distance and rushed to see another the Whakarewarewa Village Maori cultural show. We now realize the one in Auckland wasn’t so bad as at least they had explained what the sticks and pom-poms (poi- balls of woven flax)were for. This show had the same format: they sing a welcoming song, they throw sticks and they swing pom-poms and finish with a commercialized type of Haka with lots of tongue waggling for the tourists.
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| Arrogant guide shows off thermal oven. |
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| Spot the Maori! |
After the show we went for a walk behind the site for a better view of the village and surrounding thermal lakes. The largest lake had placards showing people from countries all over the world planting tea trees at the site from some celebration they had a few years ago. For some reason, Canada was #1 on the list, with some guy in a Molson’s “I am Canadian” shirt planting a tree. After that Meg did some serious doodad shopping while I rested my still sore neck back in the van.
Steeping Sore Necks in Steaming Hot Springs….
The day all came together perfectly at the Waikite Valley Thermal Pools Camping Ground. It was 30 minutes out of town, but in the direction we wanted to go in. It was a natural hot springs bathing site that allowed you plug-in camping. The facilities were great, including a thermally heated drying room for your wet clothes. We first took a walk along the stream that fed the site, with lush vegetation, lots of calcium crystals and tons of steam. We then changed and hit the pools, which were all different temperatures. Two looked like swimming pools and two were more
landscaped and looked out over the above-named valley. We preferred the latter, except I spent a long time in the hottest pool to treat my neck. We talked to some of our fellow bathers, many of whom had been coming here for years.
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| Thermal baths rock! |
After we dried off we had dinner in the modern kitchen. We talked to a French/Greek couple who had just come from the South island and we compared notes and got the South Island government campsite booklet, which had been out of stock at all of the offices we had gone to. After that we got into our campervan, feeling nice and toasty and started snoozing and snoring...
Monday, August 29 Nifty Napier: It’s Art Deco, with a Gheko
The next morning was truly decadent as we were allowed to soak in the thermal baths before they were open to the public, which is a brilliant way to wake up (especially if you’d had to spend the night in a stinky old campervan, ed.). The area was misty, so we didn’t get the views of the previous night but the water felt great. We sadly abandoned paradise, left the pools, packed up, and headed south to Napier. Actually I went for a misty morning jog first, and saw …wait for it…lots and lots, and lots of sheep and lambs. It being lambing season they were only about 2, 3, 4 weeks old and really cuddly looking, it was hard to focus on running, ed.)Our GPS as usual kept recommending crazy side roads and when we ignored it, we found that it hadn’t been updated for years and the road that took us straight to our destination had us going across fields and rivers on our Tom Tom. We ignored it and used our maps (thanks Richard!) twisting our way through some high mountains before arriving at the art deco town of Napier. This town was destroyed in 1931 after an earthquake (7.9 on the Richter scale) leveled buildings and then set them on fire. The quake also raised up the ground so that the surrounding marshes drained, leaving a more desirable place for building. (There are before/after photos of boats on lakes, then on completely dry land with dead fish all around (poor fish)ed.) They received lots of federal funds and so built everything in the style of the day, art deco. In the 80s a few places were torn down but the locals banded together and stopped any more such destruction of heritage buildings. Now these buildings are the main reason to visit the town and they have a huge Art Deco Festival every year in February. People come from everywhere, dressed in 1930s outfits; we would love to come back here for it when Owen is retired! I wish my friend Ruth from the RVHS (historical society) could be here for that, as she is truly the costume queen! (Ed.)
We arrived and headed straight to the I-site. The young woman there helped us book our local tour, our ferry to Picton, and our camper site in Wellington, great stuff. We then had a tasty (but yet again overpriced) lunch at a local artsy café before heading over to the Art Deco Centre for our tour. Meg and I were the only guests on the tour and our host was a very enthusiastic Dutch woman (Anita?). We started by looking at a slideshow about the art movement and then headed out. The first big stop was the local theatre, with a colourful neon lamp in the foyer and a huge one in the hall which kept changing colour as you watched it. Everything was wonderfully preserved and the new wing they added to it was consistent with the original style.
As we continued downtown we poked into several local businesses and no one minded us looking around. The colours and maintenance on almost all buildings were pristine and we had a solid 2 ½ hours from our
enthusiastic guide. The locals had amused themselves through the winter by putting knitted cozies on the palm trees and the place had a really nice small-town feel to it. Back at the Deco Centre we said goodbye to Anita saw a short film on Napier and poked around the gift shop.
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| Cool colour-changing Napier light fixture. |
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| Art deco! |
It was getting on so we headed to our accommodations that night, at “Aqua Lodge” which was a hostel that allowed us to “camp” in their parking lot and use their kitchen, etc. We walked to the local supermarket and then came back to cook dinner. The Aqua Lodge was comprised of 3 houses, with about a dozen mainly Asian youth who were living there long term doing fruit picking. There was an older Maori couple there who were very friendly and energetic and we joined them in watching a hilarious “reality” TV shows about Australian customs officers nabbing smugglers. Sadly we had to leave the cozy, warm TV room and our new friends, banished to our cold and stinky old campervan in the back yard, sigh(ed.).
Tuesday – Cute but Quite Cowardly Kiwi, Coaxed out of Cave….
We had breakfast in the hostel and then headed down the coast to Wellington, a solid 5 hour drive. It seemed pretty straightforward, except for a detour that put us sharing narrow and shoulder- less country roads with 18 wheelers. We pulled over for lunch and ate in a small town’s little park across from a farm equipment store. We continued on, fairly uneventfully, until we hit our next break at an aviary/sanctuary (Pukaha Mount Bruce Reserve) that promised a view of the elusive (and almost extinct) flightless kiwi bird.
After paying we moved right along through the sanctuary to catch the 1:30 eel feeding. In a wide stream we saw dozens of large eels (some possibly as old as 60) gathering waiting to be fed. These are normally nocturnal creatures (the same ones we saw on our night walk), but they have become used to daily feedings of leftover kiwi chow and show up in numbers. The eels moved slowly as the keeper scooped the chow out and some local trout (moving at ten times their pace) snapped up some of their food and then nervously retreated from the writhing mass of eels. Some mallards (an invasive species) also helped to eat the eels’ food. Poor old eels!
We walked along looking for these rare blue ducks in cages at the far end. They are apparently timid and hide well and they hid very well from us, might as well have been empty cages (I think they were, actually, ed.). We walked along the path and Meg took lots of pictures of a pigeon who was not part of the sanctuary show (It was a special KIA! ed.). We also saw a tall fence and a diagram of how high the local predators can jump, showing that the fence needed to be way taller than the lot of them. We walked by a few empty aviaries, one meant for kiwi reconditioning before they’re put back into the wild. In the next cage we found a brilliant blue bird that made such a fantastic wolf whistle we thought we must be at a construction site). Another cage had a parrot-like bird that was able to scramble along the fence using its beak as a third foot. Some other cages had birds we couldn’t find, but the Darwinian in me wondered whether all of this effort to protect animals that had evolved away all of their defenses was worth it in the end (sheesh, how can you say that! ed.)
Finally, we entered the kiwi room sanctuary/shed. The building is rigged up to convince the nocturnal (and really dimwitted, sigh) kiwis, that day is night (good is bad, freedom is slavery).So the shed is fixed with artificial sunshine from 6pm to 6am and even artificial wind and rain. Tourists look through red-tinted glass at birds which think they’re night foraging. The first pen held nothing, then we saw some protected lizards in small cages. At the next kiwi pen we actually saw one sticking its long beak into the ground and wiggling its stubby little nipple-like tail. The elusive symbol of New Zealand was finally on display for us. We stared at it for about ten minutes but it really didn’t do much. Wiggled a bit, grabbed at a worm, went back in its hole, came out, wiggled, and that was our whole kiwi encounter… on a scale of 1-10, it was a 2. But you have to understand that these things are flightless birds with absolutely no defenses, and pretty stupid to boot (unlike naughty Kais).The sad thing is a stoat got into the enclosure and killed 14 for fun before they caught him. It wasn’t even as if he needed them for food. And when these birds are almost as extinct as the Dodo, that’s a real tragedy, Mr. Darwin, humph! Kudos to the staff at this reserve for trying to keep the little things alive. (Ed.)
Next, we checked out some movies about how they trap and kill stoats and other predators and rescue kiwi eggs and incubate them in the centre. We walked by the incubation area and a larger lizard area and then hit the road again.
WINDY WELLINGTON’S WORLDLY WATERFRONT – SUREAL YET STUNNING…
The next section was fine but as we headed closer to Wellington the road became the worst one we had driven on so far. It wound up and down mountains with steeply graded slopes, lots of traffic lining up behind you, occasional construction and a bit of mist and rain for good measure. Once we got close to the city the roads became straight but the traffic grew denser. After a few harrowing wrong turns we found the Waterfront Motor Homes Camp Ground- a.k.a. a downtown parking lot. We prepared to spend two nights in one of the most surrealistic locations of our entire trip. The campground was smack dab in the middle of the harbour in downtown Wellington outfitted with plug-ins, washrooms and showers. We cooked our dinner right by a path frequented by (depending on the time of day) sightseers, men and women commuting to work in their business suits, joggers, mums with strollers, workmen and ferry staff. It was hilarious to sit quietly hidden away eating our meals in the front seat of our van as people did double-takes upon seeing a lonely gas cooker set up on a concrete slab
in the middle of nowhere, wondering what was going on! They probably thought it was a “Candid Camera” type of thing! BTW it was very good value for money in expensive Wellington, when you consider we had free parking, (LOL); Graham and John, were super friendly laid-back staff and the showers/toilets were very clean. Would have liked a kitchen of some sort, but it was for motor homes which have their own, we kind of snuck in with old stinky, sorry, “Leo the Spaceship”.(ed.)
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| Urban campground! |
After dinner we explored downtown, which was right by where we were parked. We saw stores that had been in a window dressing competition with plastic models covered in fruit, candy, credit card advertisements, fake hair and other things. We located a cool used book store and meg scored some Sword and Sorceress books, we found the cool
bar and restaurant strip with a weird fountain based upon filling basins until they tipped into each other. We located a few other things including free public washrooms, which NZ is really good about and then headed back to the van. Sleeping there was weird, as with the continual streetlight illumination it made it impossible to judge how late or early it was when you woke up in the middle of the night.
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| A nice citrus outfit. |
We woke up in the parking lot and were surprised that the showers there weren’t that bad. We ate breakfast in our front seat watching the joggers stare at our cooker boiling water for coffee. We stayed in our seats for a while, me typing and Meg filling out postcards (pretty much our separate jobs for this trip). After that we headed downtown and got pretty good trade value for our offloaded books and picked up The Rough Guide to Southeast Asia on a Budget, which looked pretty good. Meg flipped through the comic book version of Cowboys and Aliens and found it to be very different from the movie. We headed to the post office and then to an ethnic food hall for a nice lunch of curry.
MORE MUSEUMS, MAORI MEMORABILIA, AND MUNCHING (from cheap eats to fancy schmancy drinks)
After that we headed to Te Papa, the big anthropological museum in Wellington, considered the best museum in the country. A bonus was it was completely free, by donation. But this meant there were herds of school kids parked out front having their lunch, ready to savage the museum once they had eaten (because that is the way of children( huh? ed.). We hurried to the third floor and looked at Maori artifacts, not too different from what we had seen before. What was different was a theatre area which was a modern take on the traditional Maori meeting hall with brilliant coloured forms popping out of the structure. On the wall facing the stage was a huge and elaborate stained glass work lending the entire space real presence. At this point we could hear the howls and gnashings of the school kids invading our space, so we retreated to a more traditional non-interactive gallery of pictures, hoping the feral prepubescent types would find the section too boring for their needs(you are a tough critic! ed.). We were right, and we caught some landscapes, portraits of Europeans arriving in New Zealand and lots of modern stuff, including a hideous necklace (made of pearls and red paint that looked like blood) an artist presented to her friend to wear at her wedding (avoid having artist friends is the lesson there ).
Once the carnage subsided a bit on the other floors, we had a look at the natural living floor, which had an excellent sheep cam, and a room where you inspect simulated shipped good for potential invasive species (you could see the maggots in the fruit crate and moths in the suitcase of clothing!). There were games for the kids and some other interactive
features. On the next floor we got to see the largest giant squid on display in the world and see a video on its capture and preservation. They also had a 3D presentation on swimming in the squid’s world, right up to the point where it chomped a fish and wouldn’t let go, leading to its capture. They had a shaking earthquake house (not as good as the first one) and some other thermal displays too.
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| The Maori theatre at the museum. |
Feeling museumed out, we left the building and headed back to the van. Meg wasn’t up for walking, so we grabbed a cab. Our cabbie was chatty and surprisingly rational as he reminisced over his amazing fight in a small plane over Milford sound, making us seriously consider doing the same. He also ranted about the time Wellington had a lot of snow fall and the locals drove like idiots while the cabbies stayed home. He speculated that as Canadians we would at least know how to drive on snow. He got us back to our parking lot safely, with me typing and Meg napping. Refreshed, we walked into town and grabbed the cable car up to the top of the city.
The views were splendid and we had a good stroll through the extensive
botanical gardens. We were surprised to see the bright colours of so many trees and shrubs in bloom despite the fact it was winter. Back down from the cable car we walked up to grab some seafood. Meg shared a deep-fried mussel with me earlier (they’re LARGE in NZ!) and I craved more. The only recommended seafood place in our guidebook appeared to be a shop, but it had a take away counter and 4 tables. We ate our deep-fried goodies in the zero ambiance surroundings (coincidently our only dinner out in Wellington, the food-snob’s capital of NZ) and paid extra for dipping sauces and forks.
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| The Wellington cablecar. |
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| A view in Wellington Botanical Gardens. |
Filled with grease, we headed to an internet café to fax the last of the documents about our accident. After that it was too late to catch an early movie, and we had to get up early to catch the ferry the next morning, so we wound our way back to our parking lot along the harbor and stopped off at a fancy waterfront place, where two coffees (Meg’s spiked with Kahlua) and a brandy snap dessert cost more than our entire dinner. This place had ambiance though, with black booths inside, white booths outside and lots of people hanging out and looking much cooler than we did (which wasn’t too hard as we are wearing the same clothes for a year, ed.).
After our dessert we headed back to our zero ambience campervan and turned in early to be ready for our big exciting ferry day tomorrow.
