Barefooted Readers

It's a rainy day in our new found home of Takaka, NZ, and our entire camp commune has migrated to the public library for the day. 40 new friends can be seen snoring on the window seat, reading the books we've been suggesting to eachother over the last few sunny days, writing in our journals, and talking with our far away loved ones in roughly eight respective languages...

But best of all is the pile of shoes outside the library door. Shoes of all sizes and colors, from my green Keens, Danielle's Uggs, Megan's hemp Simple Boots, and Christy's beloved Chacos, to the rain boots of the various kiddos running around the Children's Section that I write you from. These librarians run a tight ship, and so we're all gladly following the rules, leaving our muddy shoes at the door and flaunting our bare feet and socks.

Awe, New Zealand.

This post is a special one for us. I’m nervous to write it because I’m afraid I can’t begin to catch even a little bit of the magic we experienced in Taranaki, New Zealand. I’m going to try, though.. So here goes.. (sorry, it's a bit long)

The Wanganui River is one of the hundreds of waterways that roll off Mount Tarankai’s 9000 feet. Like them all, the Wanganui winds through fifteen miles of cow paddocks, eventually finding its way to the ocean and feeds the endless supply of Taranaki’s world class waves. The Wanganui is also the river marking the last right-hand turn you make before finding your way to the Brough’s dairy farm… After the river, there’s six sheep on the left, and then their driveway… You pull your Holden Commodore, packed to the roof, slightly mildewy from the earlier monsoon, onto the grass in front… Because you drive on grass here, there’s just that much of it.
Within ten minutes the jokes are on and an invitation to milk the cows is extended. An hour later, the table is set with beef they raised, salad from the garden, parsnips from the neighbor farmer and glasses of milk from the vat out back… Fresh, real, wonderful: An omnivores dilemma hardly exists here.

At the head of the table is Graham, a big bellied, big witted, big hearted farmer, dirty denim jeans and a flannel shirt at all times.

(Graham with the girls)

Opposite him is Linda, this soft spoken, smiley, smart woman who cares about her family and lone travelers like ourselves.Delwyn, their eldest daughter and our ticket to Taranaki, is a feisty and funny legal secretary, a total lover with twinkling eyes, she’s perfectly happy… all the time. Next is Nathan, so cute in his 6’4’’ know-how-to-do-everything-19-year-old-builder sort of way. And then Heidi, who’s just cool and mature for only being 13.

My girls, my Christy, Megan and Lauren make me so proud as (like she has known him for years) Christy asks, “Hey… is it cool if we bake you a cake while you’re at meeting?” And just like that we’ve won them over… huge smiles, a wonderful bible study and one oatmeal apple cake later, you can call yourself family.

Delwyn said she had invited a couple kids over for “tea” on Thursday night, so we decided to at least stay until then, planning on leaving Friday morning (never want to commit to anything, you know..). It’s funny, though, because a “couple” means 25 and “tea” means a mean barbeque, an outright two hour volleyball challenge, and a hard out ping pong tournament. You see, we’ve been practicing-- ping pong, that is-- and in New Zealand, Megan, Christy, Lauren and Danielle ROCK at ping pong. So, of course, when I hit the volleyball out of the court, I justifiy my lack of skill with the claim that if only it was ping pong, “I’d be kicking butt!” and from across the court, Lauren’s got my back: “yeah! Her serve is killer!” Little did we know… There’s a ping pong table in the garage. Perfect. And we’re met with more than a couple, “PROVE IT!”s. So, not only did you adopt a new family, but you also found 25 new best friends, and you feel like you could maybe call the dairy farm home. During dessert, Hilton (the coolest 13 year old EVER) asks, “So, what are you girls up to tomorrow evening?”… “ummm, well… we don’t know…” (Standard, noncommittal answer. For all we know, we could decide to fly back to San Luis). 25 smiles light up across the room, “Perfect! You can come possum bashing with us!”

Clearly. Possum Bashing. Of course.

Take a truck with a trailer, loaded with hay bails and 25 kids bundled up, wearing cleats, carrying baseball bats… throw in a couple spotlights, and you’ve got a possum bashing super TEAM. You see, New Zealand has a problem with possums. A big problem. They aren’t native and they kill native bush. The Department of Conservation pays you to hunt them, encouraging humane disposal of the pests. Apparently, possum bashing is considered humane? Somehow, to our dismay, the energy of the night is contagious and as you’re flying through Lord of the Rings Never Never Land on top of a hay bail and you see a possum’s glowing eyes light up under the spotlight, you YELL and even admire the speeds met by 15 boys flying off the truck… jumping rivers and climbing trees to trap the poor, unwanted creature… as soon as it drops from the tree, bats start swingin’ all around and dead and bloody, the possum is thrown under Megan’s legs in the trailer and we look for more.

What else do you do in Taranaki on a Friday night?

Little did we know, our Friday night would hold much, much more. Delwyn had called that afternoon, “Have you ever ridden motorcross before?” Haha. Danielle? Megan? Lauren? Christy? Motorcross? Actually… it’s against our moral code… it’s a waste of gas, which is not a renewable recourse… but since we are in New Zealand, and we are already about to go possum bashing my answer is: “Nope, never been, but would LOVE to!!"

And that’s how we ended up quading and motor biking through paradise… Paradise being Delwyn’s boyfriend, Justin’s backyard. 1600 acres of native bush stretch out behind their epic house that is perched on top of a hill, looking out to the ocean… Spend a half an hour on the quad winding through gully after gully, soaring green hills, crystal clear streams, roaming cattle, and you don’t even touch a quarter of their land. Acting mostly as spectators, tt was crazy to watch these adrenaline junkies for boys literally fly up the steepest hills and off jumps. It’s crazy just how comfortable and confident they were going so incredibly fast. It felt like we were in (or watching) the X-Games in Never Never Land.

The four of us were giddy. That’s the only word. Giddy. Lauren put it perfectly: “it’s like being that girl in the movies, being swept away by some bad boy on a motorcycle-- never in our life did we think we would find that attractive… but it is, it’s this crazy damsel in distress feeling that comes out. And it feels like you’re flying, like you’re on a rollercoaster… but you’re not strapped in.” Because there’s something just so good about jumping on the front of a Kiwi boys bike, him asking if you want to drive, and then it’s just a green blur as you top off at 150k. And then he does a wheely down the pasture with your feet almost flying over the handle bars, and it’s over. Done. Going to have to buy a bike. And maybe live on a farm. And eat beef more. And… and… Life Is Just Beautiful.

Our smiles were so huge, it was ridiculous.

Adrenaline pumping, we and our new huge friend group chowed some hamburgers, fueling up for those poor lil possums. The boys, our possum-huntin’ hosts, are quintessential Kiwis. At any point, they give any American boy a run for his money. All of em builders, welders, you name it, by the age of 20 they work for themselves and they love it. Tough and incredibly capable, their farm-boy stereotype is carefully balanced by the ever intelligent Kiwi sense of humor-- dry sarcasm veiled behind little smiles and wit you wouldn’t believe. These kiwis can handle anything…

Including cows. We are bumping along, searching for possums, and come across another paddock of dairy cows. The temptation is too high, so when Bayden looks at Justin and asks, “See that brown one?” Justin replies, “Lets go…” and they jump off the truck, sprinting straight towards the herd… Justin grabs the tail of the bull and while being drug, bouncing along, Bayden tackles the cows head, and down it goes. They yell, “Want to ride it?!” And yep, four tackles later, all four American girls had successfully rode a bull. Danielle might have ridden hers into thistles, but it’s cool.

As you can imagine, it as crazy. Maybe insane. And completely magical. Another world. One that we fell in love with, much to our surprise. Riding back to the house, Lauren and I start discussing the logistics of moving here… maybe… we’ll see. Offer upon offer is made to make the move easy and Hilton is probably counting down the days until he can beat me at ping pong again. (Hilton)

The next morning, it’s a laugh as the same crew shows up late to a church function. I mean, we had to milk the cows, I had to go on a surf mission… but maybe it was that we had hunted possums all night. All I know, is that while I sat there eating tea, and tried to ignore Graham’s teasing about the single boys in Taranaki, I felt like I had just gotten barreled or something… It felt good. I felt at home.

The Thanksgiving Post

This post is especially for Grandma Martin, possibly our most loyal reader. Thanks Grams.

Happy Thanksgiving to all. I guarantee you, we miss everyone.

I know I've said it before, but we're having a great time here. With the time difference, Thanksgiving was yesterday for us. We're currently camped out at Hang Dog, a climbers haven in NZ. The camping is cheap, the people are friendly, and the rocks (for all the die-hards) are close. I'm proud to say that the four of us are well on our way to becoming die hard climbers, although we're certainly not there yet. Hang Dog was a place we were really excited to get to. In the month that I've been here we've had a rough schedule of the places we want to go to, but the only solid date we had nailed down was that we WERE going to be in Takaka for Thanksgiving so we could celebrate it amongst the famously friendly residents of Hang Dog. Turns out that was a pretty good plan. We arrived at camp a couple of days ago and were a little intimidated by the large amount of people here who all seemed to know each other. We made a few friends at the BEAUTIFUL swimming hole and talked around at camp and realized that 1. There were quite a few other Americans here (including two girls from Santa Barbara!) and 2. the non Americans were all pretty interested in giving Thanksgiving a try.

We decided we couldn't expect a full traditional Thanksgiving spread given our limitations (a lack of money and the restrictions of camping stoves instead of ovens) so told everyone to bring whatever they felt like to our little shindig. The girls and I prepared mashed potatoes and a glorious camp-stove baked apple crisp. I hand-whipped cream for the top of the crisp. I'm tell you, this was gourmet.
Our table was buzzing with a gazzilion different accents and campstoves. Before we ate everything from curry to kumara soup to stuffing, we gathered round and everybody shared something they were thankful for (real cute). Responses included my beautiful traveling companions, sweet rocks, airplanes to fly here, Hang Dog, and Connie the Commodore. So, we spent the night with 20+ other campers all gathered around eating wonderful food and enjoying each others company. The feasting ended with campers doing Tim Tam slams- bite the ends off of a Tim Tam, a chocolate covered cookie, and using it like a straw suck up hot milk then throw the whole thing in your mouth... mmm... It's even better than it sounds, too. Megan, Danielle, and I stayed up until 2 in the morning laughing and getting to know the neighbors, which is a little later than our usual 9 or 10 o'clock bedtime.

I'm not sure if I can explain how incredible our makeshift Thanksgiving was. There was a definite sense of community around the little table (standing room only) and our little picnic blanket. I had countless conversations over the night with people talking about how great it felt. It was a good feeling to get to share a holiday that we love so much with people who had never celebrated it before. Definitely a cool experience.

Kiwi Conspiracies

I guess you know it's REALLY raining when the Seattle-ites say so. After visiting beautiful Raglan (known for something something... really famous surf spot... long wave, something something... I'm not sure, ask Danielle) and staying in Solscape, a hostel that allows WWOOFers (a program called Willing Workers On Organic Farms- free stay and food in exchange for four hours of unpaid work a day) and backpackers alike to stay in camping spots or converted cabooses (cabeese?) we really got poured on. We were all happy to have sprung the extra 8 bucks each for the caboose instead of camping. I think my little trusty tent- you know, the one I mentioned earlier that 8 years ago cost us around $50, has one almost broken tent pole and no stakes- probably wouldn't have survived. For those of our friends and family who know the story of the Jalama camping trip, there was talk of this being a worse storm.

Unfortunately, even though we had a dry place to sleep, we still had to deal with getting from our dry caboose to the car which was a far enough distance to completely soak all of us. After much squealing, and Megan stepping in a puddle (again. I think this is the fourth time of the trip) we had successfully brought in enough water to keep the car fogged up and real swampy for the 3 hour drive we had in front of us. Awesome.

We arrived at our destination, Taranaki (The 'naki) with the sun shining, which allowed us to see the beautiful view of Mount Taranaki which goes from about sea level to 8200 feet. As a reference point, Shasta is 10,000 feet above its surrounding terrain. Thank you Wikipedia. We all agree that if this town were on the South Island there would be a good chance that we would strongly consider living here. It's next to great surf, tons of climbing and hiking, the town is pretty cool and bike-able (key because we're only going to have one car between the five of us). We all like the downtown area a lot and it's nice that there aren't many tourists that come into these parts.

It's interesting to me to see the difference between the timeline we were originally planning and how things have panned out here. I'm fairly certain that in my mind we were going to travel around for a week and a half or so after I got here then move on to WWOOFing and then settle in a town on the South Island before our parents/families came to visit. I've been here 3 weeks and we're still on the North Island with a plan of 2 more months on the road. I think the only thing we can count on is that our plans WILL change.

People would laugh if they saw how crammed into our little Commodore we are. We can pack everything tightly enough to be able to see out of the back of the car, but to do that we need to take up 2/3 of the backseat. This leaves one lonely person crammed in the back and three people sitting in the bench seat up front. We travel around with a bag of provisions, mostly fruits, veggies, oatmeal, cheese, eggs, peanut butter, bread, honey, and supplies for baking cookies and cake. It's a good thing that all of us are pretty good about eating the SAME foods over and over again. My standards for refridgerating food have dissappeared completely along with the presence of frozen food items.

Our bird watching is still in full swing, with us shouting out bird names as we drive by them in the country. Megan and I thought we saw a kiwi bird in the middle of the road one night. Danielle and Lauren swore they saw four legs, Megs and I were convinced the front legs were actually a beak. After Megan got out of the car to investigate she came back saying that the mystery creature behaved and looked like a hedgehog, but still could have been a kiwi. We probably would have dropped the subject had not our bird book later told us that kiwis "snuffle along at night like a hedgehog." That little bit of information (or glimmmer of hope, as we saw it) was enough to send Megan and I back down the road with the intentions of finding that bird. I suppose we eventually had to admit that it probably wasn't a kiwi, especially after another guy staying at our hostel said he had a hedgehog come into his room that same night. But secretly we both think that it just might have been a kiwi after all. Maybe.

So from here on out, our rough schedule is: more time in Taranaki, then off to Wellington, the capital, then cross down to the South Island to spend time in Nelson (a potential future home) and Hang Dog camp (a climbing spot). After that we're off to Christchurch for a guest appearance by our dear friend from SLO, Julian Zielonka, who has been working a dream job Bali, and then on December 3rd we're joined by our fifth girl, the lovely Melanie. Y'all can look forward to her future posts.

Lucky Girls

This past weekend, while Danielle went on a lovely little camping trip up to Waipu, Megan, Christy and I hiked to The Pinnacles in the Kauaeranga Valley on the beloved Coromandel Peninsula . We camped on the bottom the night before in our little Connie, woke up to mosquitoes in our ears, and got out of there before we had to pay for our campsite.
Waiting outside the visitors center to pay for our little hut and start our trek, we were quite the sight...making breakfast out of our little stove with all our stuff strewn around the car, eating oatmeal in the parking lot...

When we went to go pay for the hut, the ranger almost laughed at us, as the hut with 80 beds was totally booked--TILL JANUARY--but to our relief, only a few minutes earlier a group of three had canceled their reservation...(This, I feel like, is the story of our lives over here. Having no plans, but everything always working out for us. It could be that because we don't have any plans, ever, anything that happens is great and so it seems that everything just works out, or maybe we're just lucky...it's probably a little bit of both).

The hike was great, lots and lots of stairs and entirely uphill. We were so impressed by the kiwis of ALL ages cruisin up the mount. After three hours of INCLINE Meg, Christy and I arrived at our first kiwi hut. The Pinnacles Hut, come to find out, is the flashest hut in the whole country, consisting of 80 beds, running water, gas stoves, and a shower. It felt like a hostel on the top of a mountain (a little trippy actually and not exactly an intense nature experience). The night before all three of us squeezed into our car and slept on therm-a-rests, but on our backpacking trip we slept on a mattress...what? I know, it's confusing. But we had a good time up there with the other 77 people.

The whole experience has got me thinking though...I mean, how wonderful is it that they make backpacking so accessible to everyone. You don't need a bunch of gear or patagucci to go on these long walks, and it gets people who normally wouldn't backpack outside moving their butts and engaging the landscape... something about that sounds right.

All to say, we had a wonderful time. We hiked back down this morning and arrived at Conn just as it started to rain. We drove to Sola Cafe in Thames, a nearby township; after enjoying a vege sandwich and a warm cup of coffee, we walked back out to find that Connie had a super duper FLAT tire. And, did you know that AAA works here? Well, it most definitely does, so after making a few phone calls, we played a few card games back in our little cafe, hung out with the nice road side service man and were back on the road to meet Danielle back in Auckland. So here we are, staying one last night at the house on Hamlin Rd with the lovely boys who have hosted us so many nights.

We are camping out on the living room floor. As I write, Danielle and our new lovely friend Kate Anstis are reading, all snuggled up on the couch. Christy is uploading photos on to her computer, and Megan is reading The Dharma Bums.

Tomorrow, we think should hold an adventure to a famous Auckland chocolate shop, some rock climbing, and perhaps some kite surfing...who knows...

We just spent six days in the Bay of Islands after planning on being there for two. Pretty typical. We stayed in a little cottage on the water that belonged to a Dutch couple, Yon and Berl. We guess that they're in their 80's, but they sure have heaps of spunk left in them. We loved hearing Berl's stories about rowing out to rescue entrapped dolphins and watching Yon ride up and down the hill on his motorbike. We made them lots of cookies in exchange for the free lodging, and I think everyone felt they got the better deal. At least we hope..

Day two we went swimming with dolphins for two hours at Elliot's Bay. The local surfers who were there said they had only seen dolphins a handfull of times at that spot, and they had never seen them stay and play for more than a couple minutes. The dolphins must have an affinity for nice American girls. They probably would have let us ride them if we weren't so scared.

Day three we went to opening night at our friends' swanky restaurant. We helped paste the menus together the night before and celebrated our first Guy Fawkes day with fireworks on the beach. The next day we discovered how much we enjoy row boats and ping pong, and I don't think we did much else. We made up for it yesterday, though, when we went fishing all day for snapper. We went out in the morning and caught our lunch, then went out in the afternoon and caught our dinner. Learned how to fillet (pronounced fill-it). Dad will be proud. We caught 10 keepers and countless undersized survivors and one 20 pound monster.

Now we're back in Whangarei (pronounced Fangarei) with the Olsen family, and it felt a little like coming home as we pulled up to the house. Eastern rosellas greeted us on the drive up the gravel road --

as well as Louis, who later in the night donned a bright green skirt and dress jacket for dinner. We proceeded to make a feast of enchiladas SLO style. We got to see our dear friend Yammy, the Olsen's (temporary) pet they have named after his two best qualities: being a lamb and being yummy. Their last two lambs were Yoda and Lambington, but as the kids confidently explained to us in the car one day, they have a good life on the farm now. Poor Yammy. One day he too will be on that farm.

The other morning a text woke me up with the message: "Good morning! Wondering if you would like to go fishing and diving around noon? We can take the sailboat out after lunch... let me know."

Um, yeah, sure, I guess that would be okay... I mean, I'm not too busy or anything. Actually, I have no plans at all for the day (or the week. or the year. or, wait, my whole life...). You should have seen my smile. I mean, what?!? It was like he was worried we wouldn't want to go... little did he know Megan is obsessed with fishing and I can't get enough of sailing.. but then he threw in the spear fishing element... and i just started laughing, kind of wondering if i was still dreaming.

thus embarked our sail/snorkel/spearfish adventure with our skipper, Rich, and our two new mates, Aimee and Josh. sunny skies and perfect wind set us racing out of the harbour resulting in one of the best sails i've had in a while. we anchored off of Leisure Island and josh gave us a 30 second spear fish lesson. literally. 'here's the safety, when you want to shoot a fish, take it off.' The end. And off we went! It was actually the first time Lauren, Meg, and I had ever free dove... so even the weight belts took an adjustment, let alone having a gun in hand... but we caught on and i ended up shooting at anything that resembled a fish. it was an unfruitful mission; however, i'm convinced we can do it. my goal is to catch a fish by the end of the nz adventure.



Josh, our spear fishing coach and our cooking partner for two amazing dinners... taught him how to make spaghetti with meat AND vegetables, instead of just 2123 pounds of beef. He was pretty excited about it and we were secretly excited for the excuse to put 'mince' in our sauce.

We anchored the boat off of Leisure Island, started diving in the sunshine and got out of the water in pouring down rain and thunder... typical NZ weather.

This was definitely the winning picture of the day. :)

Christy's first post

I should probably point out that as I type this I am overlooking one of the most beautiful views I've ever seen. I think there will probably be descriptions of it coming. I can tell already that this trip is going to be a good one.

I arrived in Auckland at 5-something on Halloween morning, fumbled my way through customs... forgot to declare my tent, they saw it on the x-ray, pulled me aside and asked if I was aware that it was a 200 dollar fine to not declare something they so clearly (they did) spelled out as one of the must-declare items... I had to wait an hour past all the other passengers to get it figured out. All for a tent that my dad couldn't believe I was taking the effort to bring because it cost (10 years ago when we bought it) something near 50 bucks. We'll keep our loyal blog followers updated on whether or not our little tent proves itself as worthy in the coming months. In the end, I wasn't charged the lying fee and the girls were late to the airport anyway so everything worked out.

We left the airport with me very confused about which side of the road we were driving on. I understand the basic left side of the road while you're driving stuff, but where it get's tricky is intersections, roundabouts, or (the worst of them all) u-turns. Basically every reflex I've been programmed to drive with is backwards. I haven't driven yet. We'll also keep our followers updated on that topic.

We are currently staying in Whangarei with friends of Lauren's older brother. Their house is a marvel. Within minutes of getting here Danielle and I were walking our laptops around the house showing our mothers the view(s) via Skype video chatting. Danielle (timidly pronounced Dani-ell now that we're in a place that is nationally confused by the name) also gave her mom, an interior designer, a tour of the beautiful house. Surprisingly I skipped it for my real estate agent mother... sorry Mom, another time. For what it's worth, we could be staying in a dungeon and still be happy with this family, Suzanne, Paul, Emily (12) and Louis (9). They have been very welcoming and have handled the daunting task of playing host for four girls to an impressive degree. They have been very patient in letting us get our game fix by playing cards with us. I taught Emily the only card trick I know, which she in turn wonderfully showcased at our dinner last night. I'm really pulling for breaking the Bananagrams out today, Emily is fighting for Monopoly, but between our hiking, slacklining, and surf lession plans (Danielle teaching Louis) I'm not sure when we're going to have the time. Tough life.

We got to meet their American neighbors,Vic and Trisha, who sailed to New Zealand 20 years ago after previously living in Morro Bay (12 miles from San Luis Obispo) and Port Townsend (home base for my mom's side of the family), and somewhere close to where Danielle and Megan are from in Washington. We were pretty excited about those connections. Trisha and Suzanne showed us how to weave flax, maybe comprable to reeds used to weave baskets, and we've become so good that I'm sure everyone can expect flax laundry hampers from us as Christmas gifts. Vic and Trisha came to dinner last night with their sons, Simon and Justin. We had a FEAST of freshly caught something-or-other fish that I didn't quite catch the Maori name for but I think it loosely translates to deep sea bass. Paul made ceviche, a favorite of ours from past travel experiences in Latin America. We've been working out caving plans with the boys for tomorrow (I'm telling you, it's a tough life here) and made sure to get contact information for as many future connections as possible from Vic and Trisha. We also had some very inspiring converstaions with them about possible future plans (working on a boat, anyone?)