far north

New Zealand's North Island is easily the most underrated place I've ever been. Tour books, DOC advertisements, and locals all tell you that everything worth seeing is in the south. They say the North Island is full of sheep, farmers, and Auckland. Down south, the hills are bigger, the roads are emptier, and there are more people shouting at you to go Bungy jumping. Thanks to all the hype, lots of southern towns have a hyper-developed tourist infrastructure. Buildings and street signs are Aspen-style rustic-plastic. 

The towns up north (besides the cities) are tiny and dingy; the only people there during the off-season are locals and the occasional German traveler. But the scenery is on par with anything in the south. 

On my first day, I took a bus tour from Paihia up to Cape Reinga, NZ's northernmost point - where the Pacific Ocean and the Tasman Sea collide. It was cold and rainy, the drive took 11 hours, and I hate bus tours. Still, our driver tried his best to make it bearable, and I got some nice moody lighthouse photos.

Getting to Raglan the next day was a relief. 

I went surfing, drank some coffee, and hung out on the beach with a puppy. At night I slept at the Raglan Backpackers, one of the nicest hostels I've seen yet in NZ (free surf lessons, a hot tub, pizza night, and weekly massage classes? It doesn't get better than that). I could've easily stayed in Ragland for a week, but my bus ticket called me over to the Coromandel. 

In Coromandel Town, I met some Germans who'd used their working-holiday visas to pack Kiwi fruit in Tauranga. They were a little cracked from staring at fruit for two months, but they were great company. I invited myself to drive around the Coromandel Peninsula with them. The hairpin turns on the one-lane gravel roads were terrifying, but the scenery was breathtaking. 

I spent my last day on the bus back to Wellington, flipping through the hundreds of pictures I'd taken over the week and wondering why I didn't take this trip earlier. 

Now I've got just two and a half more weeks left in New Zealand... sigh.

feeling beachy

Even though people keep talking about how it's winter here, I don't believe them. Besides the chilly wind, I'm in full-on summer mode. Classes are over, the sun's out, and I've been hanging out at beaches. 

I spent the past couple weekends on the Wellington's rocky coast. It's not such a great spot for tea parties, because the wind blows the lettuce off your sandwiches and makes the tea go cold really quickly.

(Thank goodness chocolate's too heavy to blow away)

But it is a terrific spot for taking pictures...

and going on hikes to see the Red Rocks again...

saying hello to the South Island...

eating at nautical-themed cafés...

and climbing around on rocks.

If you take a short ferry trip across Wellington's harbor, you can even go hang out on a tiny island for the day.

 Provided you agree to some manual labor

and bring along a pair of fuzzy glittens.

But tomorrow I'm off to see some real beaches (by myself - eep! - because everybody else is busy taking finals or going to Australia with their parents).

I've booked a few bus tickets to go around the Northernmost tip of New Zealand - creatively dubbed Northland and supposedly the warmest, driest part of the country. I'm flying in to Auckland tomorrow and heading to Paihia, Raglan, and the Coromandel from there. My bag's all packed and ready to go - with a raincoat and a fuzzy hat shoved inside just in case.

Amazing Abel Tasman

Ok, I've given myself three solid days to recuperate and remember how to blog.

Like I mentioned in my previous post, last weekend our wonderful Arcadia guides took us on a trip to Abel Tasman National Park. Abel Tasman's an area on the tip of the South Island, near Nelson (a.k.a. NZ's sunshine capital). Maori used to live there, until some Dutch explorers came along and tried to conquer them so they could re-name the land after themselves. In the 1940's a progressive-minded lady campaigned for the area to be turned into a national park to preserve its natural beauty. She bullied the government into agreeing with her.

We'd catch a sea-shuttle out onto a point on the Abel Tasman Coast Track. Then we'd hike - ahem, tramp - a section on the first day. On Sunday, we'd do a guided kayak trip back to where we started. 

But before all that fun, we had to get an early start for our traveling day on Friday. We had to catch one of the the Interislander ferrys to get from Wellington to the South Island. 

The folks at Interislander seem to have a monopoly on the island to island transportation. But they do a darn good job. This was more like a cruise than a ferry ride. There was a full bar with fresh espresso (duh, because it's NZ), a food court, and a terrific motown band on deck 7. Check out their page. It's worth it.

Plus the scenery along the way was simply incredible.

The trip was pleasant enough. Something about being on a 3-hour ferry ride before 8:00 in the morning makes everything seem more mellow and slow. I chatted about tramping and rugby with a Kiwi guy sitting next to me. He was a scuba instructor with a passion for Arc'teryx jackets. He drank three beers before 10 and said "sweet as" at least twenty times. 

We landed (docked?) in Picton, a sunbathed little seaside town with a couple bakeries. We piled onto a tour bus and drove around the bay and through the hills to arrive in Marahau, a tiny beach town right next to the park. I'll spare you the pictures of roads and sheep.

Just kidding. I had to sneak one in. Sheep are too great.

We explored the area a bit. I went on an amazingly gorgeous run on the Abel Tasman track. Infinite jade water and white sand all around. I joined up with the rest of the group, and we hung out on a sandbar until it was time to consume massive quantities of carbs lovingly prepared by Mother Jane and Alex, our Arcadia support guy from Wellington.

We annihilated heaps and heaps of pasta and salad and dessert.This picture doesn't do it justice.

We spent a star-studded night in these adorable wooden huts and got up early the next morning to start the first leg of our hike. We caught another little boat that dropped us off further up the Coast Track.

I took at least fifteen pictures of the same water and trees. I had a hard time believing anything was real.

The ferry dumped us out on a beach and started pulling away before we could scoot off the gangplank.

The trail was easy - gently rolling, clean, and sandy. We had a leisurely hike, stopping for photos, lunch on a beach, and swingset breaks.

 

During this photo, the boys were busy looking at rocks. Typical.

Mother Jane at Cleopatra's Pool

Eventually we strolled to the sun-soaked bay where we'd spend the night in the hull of a boat.

It was cozy.

After we shoved all our stuff into our little beds, we found out that the roof of a katamaran is an excellent diving deck. 

Then the captain and crew grilled us a manly dinner. We went to bed sunburned, exhausted, and full of lamb. 

The next morning came around drizzly and gray. A great day to not get sun poisoning in a kayak. After we squished into the boats, we weren't dry for the next five hours. We paddled around the bay, stopping to look at fur seals hanging out with the seabirds.

Our guides acted like raft guides, telling lewd jokes and flexing their muscles under their lifejackets. Like all my friends at WV, they really got a kick out of telling me how small my arms are. I focused on looking bigger.

Success.

We paddled back to Marahau and realized that we had to go back to Wellington. There was another long ferry ride waiting for us.  We killed off most of the trip with card games and tried to pretend we weren't seasick. 

And now we're back in windy old Wellington, waiting out the rain until we can go on our next fantastic adventure. Unfortunately Arcadia won't be organizing anything else, so we'll have to pay for it all... and it probably won't be quite so seamless.