Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Port Ligar
I've spent the past couple of weeks in an area of New Zealand called Marlborough Sounds. It is an area on the Northern tip of the South island of NZ where fingers of land haphazardly reach out for the open ocean beyond. At the far end of one of these fingers, sheltered by a curl at the tip from the windy ocean beyond, is a farm called Port Ligar. Roughly 1200 sheep, 200 cattle, and thousands of green lipped muscles call this place home. It was settled by the Shand family about 100 years ago and is in their hands to this day.
I got a ride in a few weeks ago. It was a 3 hour drive from where I was picked up, and it grew darker and darker as we drove through the setting sun, and this combined with an the ever detiorating condition of the road made me wonder where we were heading. The lined asfault surface turned to a simple, narrow assfualt, then to smooth dirt, then to heavily rutted dirt. after we had been bouncing along for a while, we came upon a truck stalled on the road. in the pitch dark all i could see in our headlights were the road, a steep cliff on the right heading upwards, and a black abyss to the left heading down toward what I presumed was the ocean. We stopped and learn the truck had stalled. The driver had been out hunting wild hogs, something which is a popular passtime in the area. Between four of us, we were able to turn their truck around on the narrow road, so it was facing downhill, and from there a pushstart was no problem. With the road clear, we finally made it to Port Ligar.
It wasn't until the next morning that I was able to see clearly where I had arrived. Steep, grean hills covered with sheep jutted out of a turquoise ocean where hundereds of egg shapped bouyes held up heavy ropes filled with growing muscles. Everyday started with some good, old fashioned poridge prepared by the head farmer, Tim. After that it was either out to the hills or out to the waves. If we were going to the hills, we climbed into a farm truck with nearly 300 kilometers under its belt. The first time I saw it I thought it was simply a rusting pile of junk waiting in the shed to be hauled out and turned into scrap metal, but then tim started it up. It had one headlight, no door on the driver's side, no windshield (or any other windows to speak of), and the wooden planks the made up the back bead looked as though they had been replaced a few times and could use another makeover. It was like a lot of things on the property. It ran though, and that was all that mattered. On our way to the sheep on the top of the hill we would check possum traps as we passed by. Some days there would be as many as 20 possums trapped for there fur which is actually worth more than sheep's wool by weight. It was a bit difficult to get used to seeing these furry creaters put to death by a quick clubbing, but I suppose it was the most efficient way. When we got to the top of the hills the sun was usually shining brihgtly and sometimes the wiind was blowing heavily. We would chase sheep into greener pastures or build fences to keep them in the right ones. My fondest memory is climbing over a ridge on one of the more beauitiful days and being met by the eyes of 600 sheep stairing strait at me while the ocean and outlying islands glistened behind them. I think they could have trampled me easily given their shear numbers, but they are timid creatures, and it only takes one to control the lot. It helps to have a few dogs along though as well and it was fun to hear the shepherds calling out various whistles and commands to their dogs as they did more efficiently what a human being would otherwise do in herding the flock. Cattle were also a part of our herding routine. One memory from that was coralling a bull which had jumped a fence on one cold, windy, and rainy day on top of the hill. It was a highland bull with massive horns and long, shaggy hair. It had gone to some effort jumping the fence and avoiding the dogs just before we finally drove it into the appropriate pasture it paused for a moment, standing in the pooring rain, steam shooting out of its nostrels into the cold, damp air while water dripped from its fur and globs of drool fells from its mouth. "Old Wooly" they called him.
The muscel farms were interesting as well. They are basically long, fibrous ropes dangling into the ocean from large boueys set in roles. It reminded me of growing plants in a field in many ways. The lines are seeded with young muscles which may take a few years to mature. Unfortunately, unwanted specieis of muscles alos make the ropes their home and these need to be cleaned off before they take up too much of the valuable food from the ocean. Also, it is difficult to predict the weight of the lines, so additional floats need to be attached as the growing progresses. These were mainly our jobs out in the muscle boat, but there was some fun to be had as well. We went out fishing a few times. The waters there are rich in blue cod, snapper, and many other fish that make for good eating. One day heading out in the late morning for some fishing. We had caught enough before mid-day for "a feed" as they say here, so we fired up the onboard stove and fried up some of the freshest fish I have ever eaten. After lunch we continued on with our fishing and cuaght heaps more for our dinner that night. Fishing was alos possible from the shore and there were a few nights when we decided it woudl be easiest to cast out for our dinner. I had no problem eating the fresh cod as much as possible and there was plenty of wildlife to see in the ocean besides that. Many birds make there homes on the rocky cliffs, including some penguins. There are also a few seals around and of course the life under the water. One day I was out fishing with a fellow from the farm. He saw pointed out an octopus in the water beside us. I was amazed simply by that proximity when he reached in and grabbed the octopus by its head and lifted it out of the water as it's legs waved around in the air. It was probably about 3 feet across. "We'll use one of the legs for bait," he said, "it will grow back in time." After this proclaimation he proceded to unsheath his knife and cut off on of the octopuses legs before heaving it back into the sea. The legs continued to move and suck for some time after being removed from the body. It turned out to be very effective bait.
So thsoe are the highlights of Port Ligar. I could tell much more I am sure, but it is late and I am ready for some rest. Port Ligar was a memorable time, but life on the farm is hard work, and I am ready to go back to "fluffing around" as Tim would say. It was hard work that was well worth it, that is for sure. A genuine New Zealand farming experience, which is exactly what I was hoping to get out here eventually. Pictures to follow....
I got a ride in a few weeks ago. It was a 3 hour drive from where I was picked up, and it grew darker and darker as we drove through the setting sun, and this combined with an the ever detiorating condition of the road made me wonder where we were heading. The lined asfault surface turned to a simple, narrow assfualt, then to smooth dirt, then to heavily rutted dirt. after we had been bouncing along for a while, we came upon a truck stalled on the road. in the pitch dark all i could see in our headlights were the road, a steep cliff on the right heading upwards, and a black abyss to the left heading down toward what I presumed was the ocean. We stopped and learn the truck had stalled. The driver had been out hunting wild hogs, something which is a popular passtime in the area. Between four of us, we were able to turn their truck around on the narrow road, so it was facing downhill, and from there a pushstart was no problem. With the road clear, we finally made it to Port Ligar.
It wasn't until the next morning that I was able to see clearly where I had arrived. Steep, grean hills covered with sheep jutted out of a turquoise ocean where hundereds of egg shapped bouyes held up heavy ropes filled with growing muscles. Everyday started with some good, old fashioned poridge prepared by the head farmer, Tim. After that it was either out to the hills or out to the waves. If we were going to the hills, we climbed into a farm truck with nearly 300 kilometers under its belt. The first time I saw it I thought it was simply a rusting pile of junk waiting in the shed to be hauled out and turned into scrap metal, but then tim started it up. It had one headlight, no door on the driver's side, no windshield (or any other windows to speak of), and the wooden planks the made up the back bead looked as though they had been replaced a few times and could use another makeover. It was like a lot of things on the property. It ran though, and that was all that mattered. On our way to the sheep on the top of the hill we would check possum traps as we passed by. Some days there would be as many as 20 possums trapped for there fur which is actually worth more than sheep's wool by weight. It was a bit difficult to get used to seeing these furry creaters put to death by a quick clubbing, but I suppose it was the most efficient way. When we got to the top of the hills the sun was usually shining brihgtly and sometimes the wiind was blowing heavily. We would chase sheep into greener pastures or build fences to keep them in the right ones. My fondest memory is climbing over a ridge on one of the more beauitiful days and being met by the eyes of 600 sheep stairing strait at me while the ocean and outlying islands glistened behind them. I think they could have trampled me easily given their shear numbers, but they are timid creatures, and it only takes one to control the lot. It helps to have a few dogs along though as well and it was fun to hear the shepherds calling out various whistles and commands to their dogs as they did more efficiently what a human being would otherwise do in herding the flock. Cattle were also a part of our herding routine. One memory from that was coralling a bull which had jumped a fence on one cold, windy, and rainy day on top of the hill. It was a highland bull with massive horns and long, shaggy hair. It had gone to some effort jumping the fence and avoiding the dogs just before we finally drove it into the appropriate pasture it paused for a moment, standing in the pooring rain, steam shooting out of its nostrels into the cold, damp air while water dripped from its fur and globs of drool fells from its mouth. "Old Wooly" they called him.
The muscel farms were interesting as well. They are basically long, fibrous ropes dangling into the ocean from large boueys set in roles. It reminded me of growing plants in a field in many ways. The lines are seeded with young muscles which may take a few years to mature. Unfortunately, unwanted specieis of muscles alos make the ropes their home and these need to be cleaned off before they take up too much of the valuable food from the ocean. Also, it is difficult to predict the weight of the lines, so additional floats need to be attached as the growing progresses. These were mainly our jobs out in the muscle boat, but there was some fun to be had as well. We went out fishing a few times. The waters there are rich in blue cod, snapper, and many other fish that make for good eating. One day heading out in the late morning for some fishing. We had caught enough before mid-day for "a feed" as they say here, so we fired up the onboard stove and fried up some of the freshest fish I have ever eaten. After lunch we continued on with our fishing and cuaght heaps more for our dinner that night. Fishing was alos possible from the shore and there were a few nights when we decided it woudl be easiest to cast out for our dinner. I had no problem eating the fresh cod as much as possible and there was plenty of wildlife to see in the ocean besides that. Many birds make there homes on the rocky cliffs, including some penguins. There are also a few seals around and of course the life under the water. One day I was out fishing with a fellow from the farm. He saw pointed out an octopus in the water beside us. I was amazed simply by that proximity when he reached in and grabbed the octopus by its head and lifted it out of the water as it's legs waved around in the air. It was probably about 3 feet across. "We'll use one of the legs for bait," he said, "it will grow back in time." After this proclaimation he proceded to unsheath his knife and cut off on of the octopuses legs before heaving it back into the sea. The legs continued to move and suck for some time after being removed from the body. It turned out to be very effective bait.
So thsoe are the highlights of Port Ligar. I could tell much more I am sure, but it is late and I am ready for some rest. Port Ligar was a memorable time, but life on the farm is hard work, and I am ready to go back to "fluffing around" as Tim would say. It was hard work that was well worth it, that is for sure. A genuine New Zealand farming experience, which is exactly what I was hoping to get out here eventually. Pictures to follow....
Sunday, March 27, 2011
A little about Nelson
I've been in Nelson almost a week now, and it mostly has been a pretty uneventful yet very relaxing time. It could only be the weather that's been happening this week, but I've felt an obvious increase in warmth compared to the Southern reaches of the island (Nelson is on the Northern coast). Everyday except today has been sunny and warm, and now even though the clouds have opened up, there is no trace of chill in the air.
I spent the first couple of days here relaxing in the hostel and doing a bit of busking. The hostel I have stayed in is really nice compared to other ones I've visited. It feels like a small home. There is free internet, fresh baked bread, fruit, and hot drinks, and the staff keeps things super clean and friendly. My USA birth date was on Thursday here (march 24), but after thinking about it, I realized my New Zealand date of birth was actually the 25th, so I decided to do a little celebrating both nights. On Thursday I bought a large bottle of Australian beer and some icecream treats to share around the hostel. It was good to do a little something special. Friday is BBQ night here, so I figure I would get a nice steak, and celebrate again with a tasty, protein-packed meal. I did that, but after it was over a couple of the girls staying here also surprised me with a chocolate cake! It was the closest I have come to a surprise party, and it was good to do the customary wishing and blowing out of the candles. Otherwise, I may not have truly felt a year older.
After my days a relaxing, I decided to do a hike around Nelson. It is a very sprawling city as the real estate along the coast is in high demand. I walked one day along the shoreline to the beach and watched the ocean freighters coming and going out in the bay. After the beach I walked through the surrounding neighborhoods up to the highest point in the city which made for a gorgeous view of the bay on one side and the city with its surrounding hills on the other. From there I made my way down to the city center feeling like I had made a pretty good tour. Yesterday, I went to the market with some folks from the hostel. I bought some socks and an excellent spicy German sausage complete with saurkraut and mustard. I also bought some sweet corn that was top notch and dirt cheap (tis the season), and some multicolored bell peppers that made for a good snack.
Afterward the market, I was doing a bit of busking without much luck, when a group of kids from Australia walked over. One of them said he played a bit of violin as he dropped a five into the case. He asked if he could play a few jams, so I tuned it to standard and handed it over. I think he played 5 or 6 tunes, a mixture of Irish and classical stuff. I had no idea my cheap violin could sound like that. I've met other people who say they play, so I oblige, and they play a few notes without any rhythm, hand the fiddle back, and say they can't remember anything without their music. It was good to meet someone who can play some beautiful stuff from memory. My favorite tune he played was the song from the movie Titanic that the band plays as the ship is sinking. It was great. Plus, he made a bit of money and refused to take it with him when he left. A class act indeed.
I was hoping it would be good weather today because technically I should leave the hostel before the afternoon, but it continues to rain. Hopefully I do not overstay my welcome. I was a good guest for five nights, I suppose I deserve a little added hospitality. Sometime after 4pm I am to be picked up by my WWOOF hosts on their way to Marlborough Sounds. They are on their return trip from Christchurch. It has been good to not have any commitments for a while, but I am ready to get back into the working world, the WWOOF working world at least.
I spent the first couple of days here relaxing in the hostel and doing a bit of busking. The hostel I have stayed in is really nice compared to other ones I've visited. It feels like a small home. There is free internet, fresh baked bread, fruit, and hot drinks, and the staff keeps things super clean and friendly. My USA birth date was on Thursday here (march 24), but after thinking about it, I realized my New Zealand date of birth was actually the 25th, so I decided to do a little celebrating both nights. On Thursday I bought a large bottle of Australian beer and some icecream treats to share around the hostel. It was good to do a little something special. Friday is BBQ night here, so I figure I would get a nice steak, and celebrate again with a tasty, protein-packed meal. I did that, but after it was over a couple of the girls staying here also surprised me with a chocolate cake! It was the closest I have come to a surprise party, and it was good to do the customary wishing and blowing out of the candles. Otherwise, I may not have truly felt a year older.
After my days a relaxing, I decided to do a hike around Nelson. It is a very sprawling city as the real estate along the coast is in high demand. I walked one day along the shoreline to the beach and watched the ocean freighters coming and going out in the bay. After the beach I walked through the surrounding neighborhoods up to the highest point in the city which made for a gorgeous view of the bay on one side and the city with its surrounding hills on the other. From there I made my way down to the city center feeling like I had made a pretty good tour. Yesterday, I went to the market with some folks from the hostel. I bought some socks and an excellent spicy German sausage complete with saurkraut and mustard. I also bought some sweet corn that was top notch and dirt cheap (tis the season), and some multicolored bell peppers that made for a good snack.
Afterward the market, I was doing a bit of busking without much luck, when a group of kids from Australia walked over. One of them said he played a bit of violin as he dropped a five into the case. He asked if he could play a few jams, so I tuned it to standard and handed it over. I think he played 5 or 6 tunes, a mixture of Irish and classical stuff. I had no idea my cheap violin could sound like that. I've met other people who say they play, so I oblige, and they play a few notes without any rhythm, hand the fiddle back, and say they can't remember anything without their music. It was good to meet someone who can play some beautiful stuff from memory. My favorite tune he played was the song from the movie Titanic that the band plays as the ship is sinking. It was great. Plus, he made a bit of money and refused to take it with him when he left. A class act indeed.
I was hoping it would be good weather today because technically I should leave the hostel before the afternoon, but it continues to rain. Hopefully I do not overstay my welcome. I was a good guest for five nights, I suppose I deserve a little added hospitality. Sometime after 4pm I am to be picked up by my WWOOF hosts on their way to Marlborough Sounds. They are on their return trip from Christchurch. It has been good to not have any commitments for a while, but I am ready to get back into the working world, the WWOOF working world at least.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Gray Day in Greymouth
I rode the bus for 8 hours today from Wanaka. Greymouth is as I expected, grey and raining, but the hostel is dry and warm. I spent the past week camping and tramping with a friend of mine, Vinny from the UK. We drove from Dunedin to Wanaka, which is in the center of New Zealand up in the mountains. We camped beside a lake with great views and an awesome swimming beach. We also spent three nights doing some tramping on what is called the Matukituki Valley Track. The first day of the tramp we followed a steel-blue river up into a gorge where it is fed by a gigantic glacier. Unfortunately, it was a cloudy day, so we were in essence hiking right into the middle of a cloud. It was quite wet up there. When we made it back to the bottom of the valley, the wind was so intense that the falling rain fell sideways and felt like tiny bullets hitting our faces. The brim of my cowboy hat was completely folded over my head as we trudged down the path and decided the hike wasn't worth our while on that day. We headed back to the car with the wind at our backs and camped for the night. The next day was a completely new world, the sun shining and the wind nonexistent. We made our way up into a valley surrounded by snow-capped peaks and filled with cows and set up camp. On the way back from the tramp we had a bit of car trouble, but a disaster was avoided, and we made our way back to Wanaka. The next day was today, and I left for Greymouth where I am now. Tomorrow I will catch a train into the mountains again to a national park called Arthur's Pass. There is a hostel up there where I will spend a few nights while doing some day hikes in the park. After that I am heading to the Northern coast to a city called Nelson which I hear is the sunniest in New Zealand. Should be nice after this place. From there I am going to WWOOF at a place called Port Ligar (http://www.waterfallbay.co.nz/location.html). It is a family farm as well as a place for vacation accomadation (hence the website). Cheers for now.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Again at the Arden House
I finished my time in the Catlins with some fine times in Papatowai. Vinny and I put on a second coat of paint to the house addition and organized some scrap wood which was in quite a state of disarray. We drove out to Curio bay one day hoping for some sunshine for some surfing, but all we found was a lot of wind and rain, but beautiful nonetheless. When it is cloudy in the Catlins the sea is a dull grey, but when the sun comes out everything lights up, obviously, but the hills turn a brighter green, the ocean transforms into a bright blue, etc. Even though the weather was dismal at Curio bay there were some brave souls out on the water trying to catch some waves. They must have had some top notch wetsuits as I was freezing under my layers on dry land. I thank it was that day that it cleared up around dinner time. We were sitting around eating when the sun came out a bit and there was an absolutely perfect rainbow over Papatowai. Half rainbows are pretty common I think, but a full rainbow is hard to come by, so I thought it was pretty amazing. Vinny took a photo I am planning to post later today.
A few days ago I got lift to Dunedin, telling myself I needed to go there to catch a bus, which was half the truth. The other half was that I wanted to see the gang at the Arden house and the Albar. Last time I was in Dunedin I spent some time WWOOFing at the Arden house and most of the people that were around then are still here. It has been another good visit. Yesterday we went to a beach north of the city for some body boarding. It was a nice day, but I was still skeptical of the power of the wetsuits to keep us warm. Fears were unfounded though. It was a great time. Much easier than surfing. It is fun simply to hang out in the water for a while and get pushed around by the waves. Once in a while we would catch one just right and it would carry us all the way back to the shore. I think swimming in the ocean is always a bit relaxing, and the cold water made it, in a shocking way, refreshing also.
Later we came back to the house for a traditional Spanish dinner of Pallella (sp?). It is a rice and vegetable dish usually wish fish, but we had it with chicken. Afterward we played a couple of games and talked for a while. Joyce has a great thing is this Arden house. People from all over the world spending some quality time together. We had Japan, Spain, USA, Germany, France, India, and Chili all represented. At times the English was a bit rudimentary, but at one point during the night the thought also crossed my mind that it was a rare occasion for such a group to be gathered, and I felt privileged to be part of a positive international dialogue.
Today I go to Wanaka for the A&P show. There was a story about in the paper today highlighting a big event on Saturday morning, The Jack Russel Terrier Race. It is a popular breed here, and I am thinking it will draw quite a crowd.
A few days ago I got lift to Dunedin, telling myself I needed to go there to catch a bus, which was half the truth. The other half was that I wanted to see the gang at the Arden house and the Albar. Last time I was in Dunedin I spent some time WWOOFing at the Arden house and most of the people that were around then are still here. It has been another good visit. Yesterday we went to a beach north of the city for some body boarding. It was a nice day, but I was still skeptical of the power of the wetsuits to keep us warm. Fears were unfounded though. It was a great time. Much easier than surfing. It is fun simply to hang out in the water for a while and get pushed around by the waves. Once in a while we would catch one just right and it would carry us all the way back to the shore. I think swimming in the ocean is always a bit relaxing, and the cold water made it, in a shocking way, refreshing also.
Later we came back to the house for a traditional Spanish dinner of Pallella (sp?). It is a rice and vegetable dish usually wish fish, but we had it with chicken. Afterward we played a couple of games and talked for a while. Joyce has a great thing is this Arden house. People from all over the world spending some quality time together. We had Japan, Spain, USA, Germany, France, India, and Chili all represented. At times the English was a bit rudimentary, but at one point during the night the thought also crossed my mind that it was a rare occasion for such a group to be gathered, and I felt privileged to be part of a positive international dialogue.
Today I go to Wanaka for the A&P show. There was a story about in the paper today highlighting a big event on Saturday morning, The Jack Russel Terrier Race. It is a popular breed here, and I am thinking it will draw quite a crowd.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Fiordland Tramps and Papatowai Waves
The last week has been action packed. I took a bus from Invercargill to Te Anau to meet a friend for some tramping in the mountains. We did a 3 night hike on a trail called the Greenstone. It is just South of the famous Milford Sound. The road to get there was beautiful. The mountains are very steep and many streams fall down them into the lakes at the bottom of the valleys. The hike was also through similar valleys. We stayed in huts provided by the national parks service. The last night we bunked with a French guy and a German girl who also met on the trail. We were running low on food, and they were generous to give us some of theirs. The next day we hiked together through some difficult terrain. The trail was rarely free from rocks and roots. After the hike we went out for some amazing pizza, which was especially satisfying after three days of backpacking food.
I arrived at Papatowai Beach yesterday. The wind was blowing something fierce, but not in the direction one would expect. It went out to the sea rather than in from it, which made for quite a site. The swells from the ocean continued to crash and fall back against the beach while the wind created its own waves heading the opposite direction. Millions of little white caps stretched out into the distance across the deep blue water. I'll have to post a picture once the internet rationing has stopped.
I got a ride to the Catlins coast on the Southern tip of New Zealand from a freight truck driver. The Catlins is a remote area without any large settlements, but it is rich with natural beauty. The truck driver who gave me a ride has the fortunate task of driving back and forth through it everyday from his home in Waikawa. He gave me a ride that far in exchange for some assistance with his deliveries. I watched the brightly lit hills pass by as he gave a stiff-handed wave and a nod to every passing vehicle.
In Waikawa I met a man named Peter who told me about the band he and his son founded called "The Possum Pickers." "Stephen wanted to play the old music," he said of his son. Peter drove me up to the hillside where the he and his son's families still reside. Stephen came down to Peter's place with his grandfather's fiddle in tow, an old, battered thing, and a homemade bow patched up with some utility tape. With the rest of the family gathered around, we talked and played for a couple of hours. Stephen's fiddling had quite an old-timey sound. It sounded unique, but also authentic, with a good rhythm and an edgy sort of intonation. His grandad (Peter's father) had played at dances at the town hall down the road. Fiddling was the music of choice then, before the piano accordians came over after the war, later came the saxophones, and then the electric guitars. Fiddles weren't heard much after that. "I'm driving down the road," says Peter, "and here I see a guy carrying a fiddle! And I think, 'Now you don't see that everyday!'"
I spent the night at a hostel in Waikawa. It was nice to sit by the fire drinking tea and talking to a French girl named Adeline (sweet name!) about surfing. She told me how she was paddling out to catch a wave and a school of dolphins were swimming around her. Later she said she saw seals and penguins from the same vantage point. I was tempted to try it for myself, but I was already late for my stay at Papatowai Beach.
I got a ride to Papatowai beach from a Austrian guy who was looking for a good spot to do some fly fishing. Papatowai is a small cluster of homes and businesses along the ocean. An estuary runs inland near the town. The home I am staying at overlooks the spot where the estuary meets the sea, making it convenient to take seaside walks and quick swims (the water is freezing). Diana and Keith manage an impressive garden, 3 chickens, 2 donkeys, and a very efficient home. I met their son in Dunedin, and he recommended I come and stay for a while. It is really a great place. Diana writes childrens' books and Keith is a school teacher. Vinny, from England, is also WWOOFing here. We have been helping with a home addition and some firewood in preparation for winter.
So that is the update. I will post some photos as soon as a get to a place where the internet isn't so expensive. Diana has been regulating us since we are on pace to exceed the monthly usage limit, so I'll wait on the photos. I'll be here until the 8th when I'll go up to Dunedin for a few days and from there I'm thinking right now I'd like to get to Wanaka where there is a A&P Show happening (NZ for county fair). There will be many agriculture sorts of things there including sheep dog contests, livestock, arts and crafts, etc. After that on to Nelson and Marborough Sounds for more WWOOFing.
Oh, and my flight back to the USA is now for June 2nd, so if anyone would like to rendezvous on the West coast of the USA after that, let me know.
I arrived at Papatowai Beach yesterday. The wind was blowing something fierce, but not in the direction one would expect. It went out to the sea rather than in from it, which made for quite a site. The swells from the ocean continued to crash and fall back against the beach while the wind created its own waves heading the opposite direction. Millions of little white caps stretched out into the distance across the deep blue water. I'll have to post a picture once the internet rationing has stopped.
I got a ride to the Catlins coast on the Southern tip of New Zealand from a freight truck driver. The Catlins is a remote area without any large settlements, but it is rich with natural beauty. The truck driver who gave me a ride has the fortunate task of driving back and forth through it everyday from his home in Waikawa. He gave me a ride that far in exchange for some assistance with his deliveries. I watched the brightly lit hills pass by as he gave a stiff-handed wave and a nod to every passing vehicle.
In Waikawa I met a man named Peter who told me about the band he and his son founded called "The Possum Pickers." "Stephen wanted to play the old music," he said of his son. Peter drove me up to the hillside where the he and his son's families still reside. Stephen came down to Peter's place with his grandfather's fiddle in tow, an old, battered thing, and a homemade bow patched up with some utility tape. With the rest of the family gathered around, we talked and played for a couple of hours. Stephen's fiddling had quite an old-timey sound. It sounded unique, but also authentic, with a good rhythm and an edgy sort of intonation. His grandad (Peter's father) had played at dances at the town hall down the road. Fiddling was the music of choice then, before the piano accordians came over after the war, later came the saxophones, and then the electric guitars. Fiddles weren't heard much after that. "I'm driving down the road," says Peter, "and here I see a guy carrying a fiddle! And I think, 'Now you don't see that everyday!'"
I spent the night at a hostel in Waikawa. It was nice to sit by the fire drinking tea and talking to a French girl named Adeline (sweet name!) about surfing. She told me how she was paddling out to catch a wave and a school of dolphins were swimming around her. Later she said she saw seals and penguins from the same vantage point. I was tempted to try it for myself, but I was already late for my stay at Papatowai Beach.
I got a ride to Papatowai beach from a Austrian guy who was looking for a good spot to do some fly fishing. Papatowai is a small cluster of homes and businesses along the ocean. An estuary runs inland near the town. The home I am staying at overlooks the spot where the estuary meets the sea, making it convenient to take seaside walks and quick swims (the water is freezing). Diana and Keith manage an impressive garden, 3 chickens, 2 donkeys, and a very efficient home. I met their son in Dunedin, and he recommended I come and stay for a while. It is really a great place. Diana writes childrens' books and Keith is a school teacher. Vinny, from England, is also WWOOFing here. We have been helping with a home addition and some firewood in preparation for winter.
So that is the update. I will post some photos as soon as a get to a place where the internet isn't so expensive. Diana has been regulating us since we are on pace to exceed the monthly usage limit, so I'll wait on the photos. I'll be here until the 8th when I'll go up to Dunedin for a few days and from there I'm thinking right now I'd like to get to Wanaka where there is a A&P Show happening (NZ for county fair). There will be many agriculture sorts of things there including sheep dog contests, livestock, arts and crafts, etc. After that on to Nelson and Marborough Sounds for more WWOOFing.
Oh, and my flight back to the USA is now for June 2nd, so if anyone would like to rendezvous on the West coast of the USA after that, let me know.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
The Quake, Etc.
Many people have been asking about the quake, so I figured I would do a quick post. When I was in the Christchurch arrea in January there was a general sense of paranoia that another earthquake could strike at any second. One morning at about 6AM I woke up to see my camper bus rocking back and forth underneath me. I was to groggy to realize it at the time, but what I experienced was actually one of the thousands of after shocks that have occured since the first earthquake in September. In January there were those in the area that had already decided that they needed an extended absence from Christchurch in order to calm their nerves and assure themselves that the ground beneath their feet was stable.
Yesterday at 1PM prooved that the fears were not unfounded. The quake that hit was closer, quicker, and more intense than even the original. Hundreds of people are feared dead and many of the iconic buildings of the city are ruined. Luckily, I am far from the area, but the newspaper this morning was filled with photos and stories of yesterdays events. On the radio, residents were calling in to relate their situations. Many were without power and running water. All those systems that took so much effort to construct were completely destroyed a few seconds. Despite these conditions people there have been told not to leave their homes for three days, something which would be quite difficult when separated from a loved one.
Once and a while I am amazed by the advancements humanity has made to tame the chaos around us, but at times like this I am also amazed by how fragile our security can be. Thousands of hours of labor, years and years of work, hundreds of lives, destroyed in a few small seconds. And after all of this damage, the broadcasters still are careful to remind that such an "aftershock" will lead to more aftershocks.
So anyway, I am sure the international news is covering it, but that is my take. I am grateful to be safe and sound, even if Invercargill is boring, cloudy town.
Yesterday at 1PM prooved that the fears were not unfounded. The quake that hit was closer, quicker, and more intense than even the original. Hundreds of people are feared dead and many of the iconic buildings of the city are ruined. Luckily, I am far from the area, but the newspaper this morning was filled with photos and stories of yesterdays events. On the radio, residents were calling in to relate their situations. Many were without power and running water. All those systems that took so much effort to construct were completely destroyed a few seconds. Despite these conditions people there have been told not to leave their homes for three days, something which would be quite difficult when separated from a loved one.
Once and a while I am amazed by the advancements humanity has made to tame the chaos around us, but at times like this I am also amazed by how fragile our security can be. Thousands of hours of labor, years and years of work, hundreds of lives, destroyed in a few small seconds. And after all of this damage, the broadcasters still are careful to remind that such an "aftershock" will lead to more aftershocks.
So anyway, I am sure the international news is covering it, but that is my take. I am grateful to be safe and sound, even if Invercargill is boring, cloudy town.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Doon Eden
I have been have a good time in Dunedin, but I have been having a hell of a time pronouncing the name of this city. It is very frustrating. People have attempted to teach me the prounounciation, and I still cannot do it. It is sort of phonetically like Doon Eden, but it is said very quickly and if I pause before it in the sentence to think about it, I am doomed to get it wrong. I will stay as long as it takes to get it right.
I started in Dunedin at Kaitrin and Steve's place. They gave me a ride from the Waihi Bush Festival. I stay there a night then went to a bed and breakfast run by Joyce then to the house of Marvin and Terisha and now I am back at Kaitrin and Steves. All of this has been WWOOFing more or less, but as this is a smallish town (100K) it seems many people on the north side know or know of each other, hence the ease of which I have found places to stay. In fact, it has been so easy that I have had to turn down offers for shelter due to the fact that I must get out and be a tourist.
Joyce's place was high up on the hill overlooking the north valley of Dunedin. Usually there was a great view of rain clouds pissing (NZ word for raining) on the valley below. Dunedin is a college town and Joyce's place is near the college, so there were a few associated with the university staying there. I think we had all continent represented at the dinner table one night, except for Africa. Guests are welcomed to dinner with Joyce and the WWOOFERs, so one night we squeezed 16 around her table, shoulder to shoulder.
Terisha and Marvin live on the edge of the north valley. The only thing above their place on the hillside is a farm and bush. It made for great walking. Terisha and I went up there to collect wood to construct a trellis for her garden, she is very passionate about gardening. Marvin and I also went up there for a longer walk filled with beautiful views of the city below and deep conversation about politics and spirituality, Marvin is very passionate about these topics. Terisha volunteers at an eco-sactuary which works to recreate the natural habitat of NZ before settlement. She took me along one day to volunteer which was a ton of fun. Marvin hosts a political radio show on the community radio station here. He has a booth at a festival in the city. I tagged along and found it easy and fun to make $30 in two hours of busking.
Kaitrin and Steve live down in the northeast valley. They have a colorful house full of props and other items associated with Kaitrins story-telling business. They also working with the Red Cross and Kaitrin is in a band called The Kat and the Fiddle. Here I am putting my accounting skills to use, brushing up on skills I haven't used for while, getting into to Excel formulas and what not, thinking logical, right brain thoughts. It is actually quite enjoyable to sit down at the computer for a while to put things in order, feels good to set things right once in a while. So here I am, in NZ, doing accounting for a small business, listening to Sugar in the Gourd, writing a blog post...
I started in Dunedin at Kaitrin and Steve's place. They gave me a ride from the Waihi Bush Festival. I stay there a night then went to a bed and breakfast run by Joyce then to the house of Marvin and Terisha and now I am back at Kaitrin and Steves. All of this has been WWOOFing more or less, but as this is a smallish town (100K) it seems many people on the north side know or know of each other, hence the ease of which I have found places to stay. In fact, it has been so easy that I have had to turn down offers for shelter due to the fact that I must get out and be a tourist.
Joyce's place was high up on the hill overlooking the north valley of Dunedin. Usually there was a great view of rain clouds pissing (NZ word for raining) on the valley below. Dunedin is a college town and Joyce's place is near the college, so there were a few associated with the university staying there. I think we had all continent represented at the dinner table one night, except for Africa. Guests are welcomed to dinner with Joyce and the WWOOFERs, so one night we squeezed 16 around her table, shoulder to shoulder.
Terisha and Marvin live on the edge of the north valley. The only thing above their place on the hillside is a farm and bush. It made for great walking. Terisha and I went up there to collect wood to construct a trellis for her garden, she is very passionate about gardening. Marvin and I also went up there for a longer walk filled with beautiful views of the city below and deep conversation about politics and spirituality, Marvin is very passionate about these topics. Terisha volunteers at an eco-sactuary which works to recreate the natural habitat of NZ before settlement. She took me along one day to volunteer which was a ton of fun. Marvin hosts a political radio show on the community radio station here. He has a booth at a festival in the city. I tagged along and found it easy and fun to make $30 in two hours of busking.
Kaitrin and Steve live down in the northeast valley. They have a colorful house full of props and other items associated with Kaitrins story-telling business. They also working with the Red Cross and Kaitrin is in a band called The Kat and the Fiddle. Here I am putting my accounting skills to use, brushing up on skills I haven't used for while, getting into to Excel formulas and what not, thinking logical, right brain thoughts. It is actually quite enjoyable to sit down at the computer for a while to put things in order, feels good to set things right once in a while. So here I am, in NZ, doing accounting for a small business, listening to Sugar in the Gourd, writing a blog post...
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
The Lost Post of Dunedin
another post that I wrote without internet access, so here it is now...
It’s a late night here in Dunedin. I’m high up on a hillside over looking the city, a nice spot. This bed and breakfast is near the university, so there a lot of students and professors around. There is one professor from Georgia who I have been talking music with, he and his daughter are working on some ukelelee tunes in their room, and from the sound of things, its going pretty well. I took my fiddle to the botanical gardens today for some playing and people were very appreciative of the music, something that is really great. Its been okay when I’ve been playing here and people say nothing, but I wonder sometimes if I am just an annoyance in which case I would stop and go somewhere else.
After the gardens I had a long lunch and then it was time to work. I did some gardening, laundry, and cooking. Although its simple work, I enjoy the hands on nature of it. There is no separation between my hands and the action. The fruits of my labor can be seen in a neatly hoed plot of earth or a delicious meal. The proprietor here, Joyce, is in constant, hurried motion, a contrast to my previous host. She may be more stressed than usual because her 17 year-old son is traveling in the USA on his own, but I think she is one of those people that enjoy the excitement of being stressed. I rarely share this passion, so it has been a bit of a challenge to work with her. Last night she drove us down to the city center to a bar where there was the best Irish music jam session in town. It reminded me of the old-time music jam in St. Paul, except without the banjos. Instead of those, there were a couple sets of Irish bagpipes, which were very cool. They reminded me of simplified Scottish bagpipes. They really picked up the energy of the jam when they arrived.
Tomorrow I am going to a new WWOOF host down the road from here. An older couple who attend the Quaker meeting in town, so I am excited to learn a little about that. Marvin also has a weekly talk radio show, so that will be fun to know more about as well. Oh, and they also are a part of the folk music club, so I’ll be able to attend that again this week! Should be exciting times. After their place I am having a tough time deciding what I would like to do. It may be possible for me to return to Joyce’s bed and breakfast for as long as I prefer, but I’m wondering if I should grab a hostel instead and do my sightseeing before moving on to other places. I have been really liking WWOOFing lately, it gives me something to do with myself, and it saves me from spending any money whatsoever. Plus, I get to meet people from all over the world. There just isn’t the time for sightseeing, but I have been thinking lately that the people and the work are probably more important than the sightseeing. I have trouble moving without purpose, and sightseeing is alright for a day or two, but after that I feel the need to get back with a team or have a task that I feel is worthwhile for more than the purpose of putting some pretty scenery in front of my eyes. Also, I have been finding that the cultural side of my experiences is more important than the geological, if that makes any sense. It has been the people I’ve met that have given rise to the best experiences thus far. The cool sightseeing has followed in their footsteps. So right now I am leaning more toward additional WWOOFing followed by a few days in a hostel at the tail end when I will do whatever sightseeing I am motivated to do before moving on. I would also like to get a few more tramps in between now and midMarch, but tramping is tough without a car and a place to store my extra gear, so I fear I may do less of that than originally planned. No regrets though if not, I am sure the things that replace it will be just as enjoyable.
It’s a late night here in Dunedin. I’m high up on a hillside over looking the city, a nice spot. This bed and breakfast is near the university, so there a lot of students and professors around. There is one professor from Georgia who I have been talking music with, he and his daughter are working on some ukelelee tunes in their room, and from the sound of things, its going pretty well. I took my fiddle to the botanical gardens today for some playing and people were very appreciative of the music, something that is really great. Its been okay when I’ve been playing here and people say nothing, but I wonder sometimes if I am just an annoyance in which case I would stop and go somewhere else.
After the gardens I had a long lunch and then it was time to work. I did some gardening, laundry, and cooking. Although its simple work, I enjoy the hands on nature of it. There is no separation between my hands and the action. The fruits of my labor can be seen in a neatly hoed plot of earth or a delicious meal. The proprietor here, Joyce, is in constant, hurried motion, a contrast to my previous host. She may be more stressed than usual because her 17 year-old son is traveling in the USA on his own, but I think she is one of those people that enjoy the excitement of being stressed. I rarely share this passion, so it has been a bit of a challenge to work with her. Last night she drove us down to the city center to a bar where there was the best Irish music jam session in town. It reminded me of the old-time music jam in St. Paul, except without the banjos. Instead of those, there were a couple sets of Irish bagpipes, which were very cool. They reminded me of simplified Scottish bagpipes. They really picked up the energy of the jam when they arrived.
Tomorrow I am going to a new WWOOF host down the road from here. An older couple who attend the Quaker meeting in town, so I am excited to learn a little about that. Marvin also has a weekly talk radio show, so that will be fun to know more about as well. Oh, and they also are a part of the folk music club, so I’ll be able to attend that again this week! Should be exciting times. After their place I am having a tough time deciding what I would like to do. It may be possible for me to return to Joyce’s bed and breakfast for as long as I prefer, but I’m wondering if I should grab a hostel instead and do my sightseeing before moving on to other places. I have been really liking WWOOFing lately, it gives me something to do with myself, and it saves me from spending any money whatsoever. Plus, I get to meet people from all over the world. There just isn’t the time for sightseeing, but I have been thinking lately that the people and the work are probably more important than the sightseeing. I have trouble moving without purpose, and sightseeing is alright for a day or two, but after that I feel the need to get back with a team or have a task that I feel is worthwhile for more than the purpose of putting some pretty scenery in front of my eyes. Also, I have been finding that the cultural side of my experiences is more important than the geological, if that makes any sense. It has been the people I’ve met that have given rise to the best experiences thus far. The cool sightseeing has followed in their footsteps. So right now I am leaning more toward additional WWOOFing followed by a few days in a hostel at the tail end when I will do whatever sightseeing I am motivated to do before moving on. I would also like to get a few more tramps in between now and midMarch, but tramping is tough without a car and a place to store my extra gear, so I fear I may do less of that than originally planned. No regrets though if not, I am sure the things that replace it will be just as enjoyable.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
The Lost Post of Waihi Bush Farm
I wrote the below without internet, so it never was posted, but here it is anyway...
So I left the Palmers’ behind. I was glad and sad to go at the same time. On one hand their place had begun to be the most comfortable place I have been to outside of Minnesota. On the other hand I am not in New Zealand to get comfortable. Adventure is what I came for, and a new place was the ticket. So here I am at the Waihi Bush Farm in Geraldine listening to a recording of the Toe Jam from St. Paul. A little slice of home to accompany a great big foreign blog post.
I had a conversation today about how the greatest challenge to continuous WWOOFing is acclamation. When I arrived at the Palmers’, I arrived into a way of life, something which is alike in every household to some extent, but also guaranteed to be unique. Its been quite fun to observe at the Waihi Bush Farm a drastically different lifestyle, but the rudimentary practices are constant. The family of the owner, David, has lived on this land for almost 150 years. That is quite a large chunk of New Zealand’s history, and luckily the family chose to maintain a large swath of native forest, the only such swath in the area. David and his four sons built the current homestead relatively recently. The walls of the house give the impression of medium sized rocks stacked up with concrete in between. On top of those sits an abundance of skylights and a large slanting green roof. The back veranda opens up into a large field with a path leading to the river that flows through the bush. Follow the river a little way and it pores into a large pool that is perfect for swimming. Ice cold crystal clear water. Walk out the house in the other direction and you have the option of heading down a dirt road lined with gigantic redwood-type trees or to the goat pasture.
They love their goats around here. Every morning starts with a milking. Some milk goes on cereal, some in the fridge, and the remainder begins the cheese making process. I have tried my hand at milking the past couple of mornings. It obviously takes practice. I can’t milk half the speed of the experienced milkers, but I’m not worried about it. Enough mornings here and I would be a championship milker. They also eat their goats apparently. One of the first things I saw when I arrived was a goat carcus hanging in the garage and later the lower halves of two legs lying in the lawn, left for the dog. They have a pet sort of relationship with them as well. They all have names and personalities all their own. The thing I like about them is that they always look as though they are smiling.
We’ve been working really hard the past couple of days to prepare for the Waihi Bush Music Festival. David has been hosting the festival for years. It usually attracts about 300 people who love to hear and play folk music. It seems as though the feel for folk music here is more contemporary than I am accustomed to. The folk music I play in Minnesota is played with a more traditional approach. Songs are played with an eye to the past. At this festival I am anticipating a lot of music focused more on the present and future, new and original music in other words, but that remains to be seen. As for the work to prepare for the festival, we have had long and tough days, but there is always plenty of good food to go around, and there is a feeling that once the festival begins we will be able to take it easy a little more. Though the work may be hard, it is fun and rewarding. Today I loaded a silo with linseed, dug a water trench, trimmed trees along the road, and put together the stage for the festival. Tomorrow we will raise the tent that will keep the festival audience dry and comfortable. I am excited for that. I am sure everyone will be involved, a very social task. I best be getting some sleep.
So I left the Palmers’ behind. I was glad and sad to go at the same time. On one hand their place had begun to be the most comfortable place I have been to outside of Minnesota. On the other hand I am not in New Zealand to get comfortable. Adventure is what I came for, and a new place was the ticket. So here I am at the Waihi Bush Farm in Geraldine listening to a recording of the Toe Jam from St. Paul. A little slice of home to accompany a great big foreign blog post.
I had a conversation today about how the greatest challenge to continuous WWOOFing is acclamation. When I arrived at the Palmers’, I arrived into a way of life, something which is alike in every household to some extent, but also guaranteed to be unique. Its been quite fun to observe at the Waihi Bush Farm a drastically different lifestyle, but the rudimentary practices are constant. The family of the owner, David, has lived on this land for almost 150 years. That is quite a large chunk of New Zealand’s history, and luckily the family chose to maintain a large swath of native forest, the only such swath in the area. David and his four sons built the current homestead relatively recently. The walls of the house give the impression of medium sized rocks stacked up with concrete in between. On top of those sits an abundance of skylights and a large slanting green roof. The back veranda opens up into a large field with a path leading to the river that flows through the bush. Follow the river a little way and it pores into a large pool that is perfect for swimming. Ice cold crystal clear water. Walk out the house in the other direction and you have the option of heading down a dirt road lined with gigantic redwood-type trees or to the goat pasture.
They love their goats around here. Every morning starts with a milking. Some milk goes on cereal, some in the fridge, and the remainder begins the cheese making process. I have tried my hand at milking the past couple of mornings. It obviously takes practice. I can’t milk half the speed of the experienced milkers, but I’m not worried about it. Enough mornings here and I would be a championship milker. They also eat their goats apparently. One of the first things I saw when I arrived was a goat carcus hanging in the garage and later the lower halves of two legs lying in the lawn, left for the dog. They have a pet sort of relationship with them as well. They all have names and personalities all their own. The thing I like about them is that they always look as though they are smiling.
We’ve been working really hard the past couple of days to prepare for the Waihi Bush Music Festival. David has been hosting the festival for years. It usually attracts about 300 people who love to hear and play folk music. It seems as though the feel for folk music here is more contemporary than I am accustomed to. The folk music I play in Minnesota is played with a more traditional approach. Songs are played with an eye to the past. At this festival I am anticipating a lot of music focused more on the present and future, new and original music in other words, but that remains to be seen. As for the work to prepare for the festival, we have had long and tough days, but there is always plenty of good food to go around, and there is a feeling that once the festival begins we will be able to take it easy a little more. Though the work may be hard, it is fun and rewarding. Today I loaded a silo with linseed, dug a water trench, trimmed trees along the road, and put together the stage for the festival. Tomorrow we will raise the tent that will keep the festival audience dry and comfortable. I am excited for that. I am sure everyone will be involved, a very social task. I best be getting some sleep.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Geraldine Abridged and Some Dunedin
So I haven't posted for quite some time, so I though I would get one in quickly. I could write thousands of words about the past week, but the below will have to do for now. perhaps I will elaborate another time.
being on the internet is seeming to only remind me of the things i miss in MN, but that is okay because i've had a great week. i left that other farm and had a couple days in a christchurch hostel. i met a dutch girl and we hung out a bit. it was cool to have some company. hostels can be a bit isolating i think if you are traveling alone and the atmosphere isn't exactly friendly. this one was great though.
from there i took a bus to a town called Geraldine. it was a beauitful little place in the foothills. david, the owner of an organic flax oil farm picked me up and we headed to his place for wwoofing and a music festival. at the beginning, davids place was a bit of a mess. the floor was torn up and furniture was everywhere. the kitchen wasn't clean. the food available wasn't much. i was a bit uncomfortable i will admit.
but, as i stayed there longer i realized that things weren't actually as disordered as they appeared. david runs his house the organic way, so everything was produced from the garden or on the farm. we started each morning by milking the goats and feeding the chickens. goat milking was fun for me since i haven't milked anything before. then we took it in and made the cheese. david's daughter was an amazing musician, quite an interesting person, and a good host for the wwoofers. the farm was beauitiful. there were huge 1000 year old trees everywhere and a river ran through near the house with a fantastic swimming hole and crystal clear water. the work was tough for 4 days, but the food was stellar. i say the work was tough, but it was also motivating to know it was all for a festival that we coudl take part in and the team was great. we ran into trouble a few times and worked out of it and it made for a great bonding experience.
for the festival david brought in a chef and the food was even more amazing. i was surrounded by musicians, folkies, and great food. it was a full house and people were camping all around. some highlights of the festival: playing fiddle at the blackboard concert, rotating between sweet lodge, river, and fire, singalongs, driving to a 30 foot high waterfall and jumping off the top, etc. it was tough to go, but i had a free ride to dunedin.
i got to dunedin last night and the couple that gave me the ride did more than they were required to in order to set me up in town. they found a place for me to wwoof (a bed and breakfast where i am now) and they have sort of plugged me in to a variety of folks here. great story from last night. they told to go to the folk club, so i got a ride from some of their friends who dropped me at the door. it was an old church renivated into a convert hall and bar. the stage was set under a huge stainglass window in the front. i entered through the back, dropped a name, and said i would be interested in playing a bit of fiddle before the main act (common practice at the club apperently). they said alright and so i made my way in looking for a place to sit and tune my fiddle. then a voice said, "and now, having just walked in the door, a wwoofer from the USA woudl like to play some fiddle tunes for all of you!" surprised, i simply continued on up to the stage in front of probably 100 people and tuned my fiddle there. i think the tunes were well received, hopefully most were not familiar with how good the old time stuff can sound. the main concert was enjoyable as well.
so now i am at a bed and breakfast working for a few days. word is i might do some accounting, maybe some gardening, and of course the stuff that is inherent to running a hotel. then i'm staying with another couple down the road. i think dunedin is going to be a fun place. i'm excited for the irish music session on tuesday, a danish band at "chruch on saturday", and all in between.
being on the internet is seeming to only remind me of the things i miss in MN, but that is okay because i've had a great week. i left that other farm and had a couple days in a christchurch hostel. i met a dutch girl and we hung out a bit. it was cool to have some company. hostels can be a bit isolating i think if you are traveling alone and the atmosphere isn't exactly friendly. this one was great though.
from there i took a bus to a town called Geraldine. it was a beauitful little place in the foothills. david, the owner of an organic flax oil farm picked me up and we headed to his place for wwoofing and a music festival. at the beginning, davids place was a bit of a mess. the floor was torn up and furniture was everywhere. the kitchen wasn't clean. the food available wasn't much. i was a bit uncomfortable i will admit.
but, as i stayed there longer i realized that things weren't actually as disordered as they appeared. david runs his house the organic way, so everything was produced from the garden or on the farm. we started each morning by milking the goats and feeding the chickens. goat milking was fun for me since i haven't milked anything before. then we took it in and made the cheese. david's daughter was an amazing musician, quite an interesting person, and a good host for the wwoofers. the farm was beauitiful. there were huge 1000 year old trees everywhere and a river ran through near the house with a fantastic swimming hole and crystal clear water. the work was tough for 4 days, but the food was stellar. i say the work was tough, but it was also motivating to know it was all for a festival that we coudl take part in and the team was great. we ran into trouble a few times and worked out of it and it made for a great bonding experience.
for the festival david brought in a chef and the food was even more amazing. i was surrounded by musicians, folkies, and great food. it was a full house and people were camping all around. some highlights of the festival: playing fiddle at the blackboard concert, rotating between sweet lodge, river, and fire, singalongs, driving to a 30 foot high waterfall and jumping off the top, etc. it was tough to go, but i had a free ride to dunedin.
i got to dunedin last night and the couple that gave me the ride did more than they were required to in order to set me up in town. they found a place for me to wwoof (a bed and breakfast where i am now) and they have sort of plugged me in to a variety of folks here. great story from last night. they told to go to the folk club, so i got a ride from some of their friends who dropped me at the door. it was an old church renivated into a convert hall and bar. the stage was set under a huge stainglass window in the front. i entered through the back, dropped a name, and said i would be interested in playing a bit of fiddle before the main act (common practice at the club apperently). they said alright and so i made my way in looking for a place to sit and tune my fiddle. then a voice said, "and now, having just walked in the door, a wwoofer from the USA woudl like to play some fiddle tunes for all of you!" surprised, i simply continued on up to the stage in front of probably 100 people and tuned my fiddle there. i think the tunes were well received, hopefully most were not familiar with how good the old time stuff can sound. the main concert was enjoyable as well.
so now i am at a bed and breakfast working for a few days. word is i might do some accounting, maybe some gardening, and of course the stuff that is inherent to running a hotel. then i'm staying with another couple down the road. i think dunedin is going to be a fun place. i'm excited for the irish music session on tuesday, a danish band at "chruch on saturday", and all in between.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Afternoon in the Hollow
Having some time right now, so I figured I would blog a bit, not sure where this will go, I suspect all over the place. Petra, the host, is off to town to deliver salads. Some will go directly to businesses, others to couriers to be delivered to business far out of town. Even after only a few days, it has been fun to see how Petra's little business is run. She and her pal work daily in the mornings to grow and package. The WWOOFers help out where ever they are needed. Petra also acts as accountant which made for a enthralling conversation for some yesterday and an enthrallingly boring one for others. It seems some sales tax returns have been a bit of a nuisance lately. Her tax software has apparently not been performing up to expectations. She asked what I would do about it, I told her not to trust the software, she said she paid big money for it, I said have other people take a look at the returns, she said she is the only one around, I said, okay then, enough about that.
I have always wanted to live in a "holler." No, I do not mean that I would like to live inside a perpetual loud noise produced by human vocal chords. I mean that I would like to live in a small valley between two steep hills or mountains, which describes this place quite well. At its mouth near the main road, the valley is quite wide, but as one drives down the windy dirt road leading towards the action, things get hollerer and hollerer. First one hears sheep, then maybe some cows, then maybe a horse winnying, oh, and, of course, the birds are everywhere. The Doves tend to steal the show with their two calls of choice. One is what I associate with the quintessential noise that a dove makes, the other is what I associate with the laughter of a lunatic. There is one Dove in particular, known as "The Stalker" who has a hard time taking no for an answer. The only thing he seems to understand are physical barriers, and if they are not present, it should not be surprising to feel a sudden weight on your shoulder followed by the sound of laughter from someone with a very quirky sense of humor.
The Palmers' house is nestled near the center of the flat valley plain. It is surrounded by foliage that appears to be quite haphazard in many spots, but most of it actually seems to be deliberate. I say this because even the trees seem to all either be for fruit, nuts, or fire wood. Down a trail through the garden sit two camper buses where the WWOOFers reside. One is a 1952, the other probably early 1980s. The '52 no longer has the motivation to tour, the '80 is the supposed replacement. Heading the opposite direction from the house are the greenhouses. As I mentioned in an earlier post, the these were severely damaged by some high winds a few days ago. We did some work to patch them up, but it was not a permanent fix. The roofs will have many leaks until the insurance company issues a settlement and the final repairs can happen. Because of the recent earthquakes in the area (there was one early this morning that I did not even notice when I was sleeping) insurance companies have not had time to service all claims promptly, and so the claim for the green house will likely take longer than is desired. Unfortunately, also due to the high rate of claims insurance companies have tightened up their payouts, adding scrutiny to all claims and attempting to payout as little as possible. Hopefully things go well for the green house despite the challenges ahead.
The Dutch couple who were also WWOOFing here left this morning, bound for Nelson and then a hike through Milford Sound. Hopefully I will run into them another time. After a morning of work, I made some lunch and then started blogging. It was relaxing to sit on the couch with the dog and watch the horses stroll around in the garden outside. The days seem longer here, I think partly because they are, but also because the schedule isn't as tight. I'd probably get bored eventually, but for the present, it is top notch!
I have always wanted to live in a "holler." No, I do not mean that I would like to live inside a perpetual loud noise produced by human vocal chords. I mean that I would like to live in a small valley between two steep hills or mountains, which describes this place quite well. At its mouth near the main road, the valley is quite wide, but as one drives down the windy dirt road leading towards the action, things get hollerer and hollerer. First one hears sheep, then maybe some cows, then maybe a horse winnying, oh, and, of course, the birds are everywhere. The Doves tend to steal the show with their two calls of choice. One is what I associate with the quintessential noise that a dove makes, the other is what I associate with the laughter of a lunatic. There is one Dove in particular, known as "The Stalker" who has a hard time taking no for an answer. The only thing he seems to understand are physical barriers, and if they are not present, it should not be surprising to feel a sudden weight on your shoulder followed by the sound of laughter from someone with a very quirky sense of humor.
The Palmers' house is nestled near the center of the flat valley plain. It is surrounded by foliage that appears to be quite haphazard in many spots, but most of it actually seems to be deliberate. I say this because even the trees seem to all either be for fruit, nuts, or fire wood. Down a trail through the garden sit two camper buses where the WWOOFers reside. One is a 1952, the other probably early 1980s. The '52 no longer has the motivation to tour, the '80 is the supposed replacement. Heading the opposite direction from the house are the greenhouses. As I mentioned in an earlier post, the these were severely damaged by some high winds a few days ago. We did some work to patch them up, but it was not a permanent fix. The roofs will have many leaks until the insurance company issues a settlement and the final repairs can happen. Because of the recent earthquakes in the area (there was one early this morning that I did not even notice when I was sleeping) insurance companies have not had time to service all claims promptly, and so the claim for the green house will likely take longer than is desired. Unfortunately, also due to the high rate of claims insurance companies have tightened up their payouts, adding scrutiny to all claims and attempting to payout as little as possible. Hopefully things go well for the green house despite the challenges ahead.
The Dutch couple who were also WWOOFing here left this morning, bound for Nelson and then a hike through Milford Sound. Hopefully I will run into them another time. After a morning of work, I made some lunch and then started blogging. It was relaxing to sit on the couch with the dog and watch the horses stroll around in the garden outside. The days seem longer here, I think partly because they are, but also because the schedule isn't as tight. I'd probably get bored eventually, but for the present, it is top notch!
Monday, January 17, 2011
Arrival of the WWOOFER
So I arrived at the Palmers' the other day, the place of my first WWOOFing stay. For those that do not know, WWOOFing is agricultural volunteer program in which people provide help in an agricultural style in exchange for food and lodging. At the Palmers' the operation is hydroponic salad rearing. It is very interesting stuff. They have a greenhouse where greens are grown laid out in rows of plastic planks. Through the planks flows water which is infused with a fine tuned amount of the particular chemicals the plants need to grow. The seedlings are simply anchored in a small soil cube with their roots protruding in every direction. The treated water flows over these roots and gives the plants everything they need to grow. The whole system is managed by a computer which constantly checks the amount of chemicals present in the water. If anything is over or under dissolved, the adjustment is made automatically. Of course the computer needs constant supervision since malfunctions are not uncommon, and it cannot, of course, harvest the greens itself. This is where WWOOFers come in handy. Most of the 45 varieties of greens that go into the Palmers' delicious salads are cut three times before a new plant is needed. These cuttings are washed, mixed, and bagged before being delivered to markets and restaurants throughout the area. They are also a daily presence on the table of the Palmers, and I can say without a doubt it is the best salad I have ever tasted. So good is it, that myself and the Dutch couple also staying here have decided that we must expand the "Eat Ya Greens" business in Minnesota and also in the Netherlands.
After getting a tour of the homestead and learning about the salad operation, I was invited to join Ivo and Femke (the Dutch couple) for a weekend of backpacking in the mountains about 2 hours East. I was amazed at my good fortune. The hike was great. We climbed up through the forest along a river until we were above the tree line where is was quite windy, but we were able to keep our feet on the ground until we arrived at the hut operated by the NZ Department of Conservation. There we enjoyed some cards, food, and conversation before an early bedtime. Around 230AM most of the 20 or so people in the hut woke up to winds that seemed to be capable of picking our structure clear off the ground. Luckily they were not that strong, but they were strong enough to drive those camping outside to seek more permanent shelter and also to blow the shoes stored outside all over the nearby field. This called for an emergency shoe-collecting mission in which all but one shoe was recovered. We never found out what happened to that one with the missing shoe, hopefully they made it back alright. The hike back would not have been easy with one shoe, however. It kicked out in the still high wind with a hanging bridge crossing in which I literally feared for my life, although I do not think that danger was as extreme as it appeared. After that we were met with more wind and some spectacular views (think Lord of the Rings). We made it back to the Palmers' in time to take part in a dinner party which was great fun. Unfortunately, though, the high winds also hit their homestead, and the green house that protects the fragile greens was severely damaged.
This morning we lounged about before the Palmers went to town to see about materials for repairs to the greenhouse. I suspect that will fill our afternoon. Before they left though, we got to watching Youtube videos and Petra showed us the below video. It makes fun of certain expressions here in NZ where people say something is ______ as! _____ as what you ask? No one knows. But that is what they say anyway. Its a fill in the blank. Or perhaps Kiwis lose their train of thought easily, I'm not sure. Anyway, give it a watch will ya?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=606eK4abteQ
After getting a tour of the homestead and learning about the salad operation, I was invited to join Ivo and Femke (the Dutch couple) for a weekend of backpacking in the mountains about 2 hours East. I was amazed at my good fortune. The hike was great. We climbed up through the forest along a river until we were above the tree line where is was quite windy, but we were able to keep our feet on the ground until we arrived at the hut operated by the NZ Department of Conservation. There we enjoyed some cards, food, and conversation before an early bedtime. Around 230AM most of the 20 or so people in the hut woke up to winds that seemed to be capable of picking our structure clear off the ground. Luckily they were not that strong, but they were strong enough to drive those camping outside to seek more permanent shelter and also to blow the shoes stored outside all over the nearby field. This called for an emergency shoe-collecting mission in which all but one shoe was recovered. We never found out what happened to that one with the missing shoe, hopefully they made it back alright. The hike back would not have been easy with one shoe, however. It kicked out in the still high wind with a hanging bridge crossing in which I literally feared for my life, although I do not think that danger was as extreme as it appeared. After that we were met with more wind and some spectacular views (think Lord of the Rings). We made it back to the Palmers' in time to take part in a dinner party which was great fun. Unfortunately, though, the high winds also hit their homestead, and the green house that protects the fragile greens was severely damaged.
This morning we lounged about before the Palmers went to town to see about materials for repairs to the greenhouse. I suspect that will fill our afternoon. Before they left though, we got to watching Youtube videos and Petra showed us the below video. It makes fun of certain expressions here in NZ where people say something is ______ as! _____ as what you ask? No one knows. But that is what they say anyway. Its a fill in the blank. Or perhaps Kiwis lose their train of thought easily, I'm not sure. Anyway, give it a watch will ya?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=606eK4abteQ
Hosteling in the city
Day two in New Zealand, and I am starting to suspect that I will like it here. When I was a kid, I saw pictures of hobos carrying sticks laden with supplies wrapped in clothe. The hobos are the most respectable of the vagabonds. They are always moving, and they are always looking for work. The tramps are the next best, working only when the need be. Then there are the bums, who would rather beg than work. So when I was a kid, and I saw those pictures, I thought, “Wow, a hobo is what I want to be.” And so if things weren’t going my way and I got mad I’d say, “I know how to fix this, I’ll start packing my sack.” But by the time the sack was packed, I was next to cooled off and walking out into the Minnesota winter with only my favorite toys in a plastic backpack didn’t seem like such a good idea anymore, but the idea never left me.
Fast forward almost 20 years, and here I am sitting in a room surrounded by backpacks belonging to people from all over the world. They are bigger, more elaborate backpacks filled with electronic doodads and chalk full of clothing. They are everything a person needs to live wrapped up in a neat little package and when hoisted up onto the back, the sensation of their weight is surprisingly light. It appears that the idea I had as a kid grew as I grew into a more complex and organized entity until it had to cease becoming simply an idea. By the looks of it, the idea was either a shared, independently arising phenomenon or it was extremely contagious. I suspect the former. The travel instinct is ubiquitous. Everyone feels it from time to time, some more than others.
Who feels it the most? The hostel crowd I suspect, a unique group. Everyone is from everywhere and won’t be here for long, so there is a general atmosphere of friendly, open community. The kitchen is a great place to see the action happen. Strangers sit around the table eating various meals, some of the them quite gourmet and others simply made with the goal of getting a job done. Across the table flies information concerning, length of stay, date of arrival, aspirations, favorite destinations, ways to stretch the bank account a little farther. There seems to be no lack of canned, easy flowing questions, and no one seems to get bored of being repetitious because every answer is unique.
Despite some obnoxious snoring last night, I got a some good rest. After tidying up a bit and getting some fuel in me, I decided to have a walk to town to see the goings ons. First place I stopped was the Christchurch cathedral. I’m sure many have heard of the large earth quake that hit the city in September. There are buildings everywhere surrounded by fencing with signs directing patrons to the new location of the formerly occupying businesses. However, from the outside the cathedral appears to have remained unscathed by the quake, something I found surprising considering its age and architecture. From there I decided a city bus could provide a cheap tour of the city and a way to get to the ocean, so I hopped on the number 3 to Sumner. Once out of the city it was obvious that I have not even come close to seeing the natural beauty that New Zealand has to offer. Sumner is a little seaside suburb made up of a central business district down by the waterside and an odd patchwork of houses balanced on the surrounding cliffs. On this particular day it reminded me of Duluth in a way. After grabbing an ever popular meat pie (Yum?) and exploring a seaside cave, I hopped back on the 3 and made my way back to town. On my walk back I heard the music of a busker in a doorway. It was one of those happy songs.
Fast forward almost 20 years, and here I am sitting in a room surrounded by backpacks belonging to people from all over the world. They are bigger, more elaborate backpacks filled with electronic doodads and chalk full of clothing. They are everything a person needs to live wrapped up in a neat little package and when hoisted up onto the back, the sensation of their weight is surprisingly light. It appears that the idea I had as a kid grew as I grew into a more complex and organized entity until it had to cease becoming simply an idea. By the looks of it, the idea was either a shared, independently arising phenomenon or it was extremely contagious. I suspect the former. The travel instinct is ubiquitous. Everyone feels it from time to time, some more than others.
Who feels it the most? The hostel crowd I suspect, a unique group. Everyone is from everywhere and won’t be here for long, so there is a general atmosphere of friendly, open community. The kitchen is a great place to see the action happen. Strangers sit around the table eating various meals, some of the them quite gourmet and others simply made with the goal of getting a job done. Across the table flies information concerning, length of stay, date of arrival, aspirations, favorite destinations, ways to stretch the bank account a little farther. There seems to be no lack of canned, easy flowing questions, and no one seems to get bored of being repetitious because every answer is unique.
Despite some obnoxious snoring last night, I got a some good rest. After tidying up a bit and getting some fuel in me, I decided to have a walk to town to see the goings ons. First place I stopped was the Christchurch cathedral. I’m sure many have heard of the large earth quake that hit the city in September. There are buildings everywhere surrounded by fencing with signs directing patrons to the new location of the formerly occupying businesses. However, from the outside the cathedral appears to have remained unscathed by the quake, something I found surprising considering its age and architecture. From there I decided a city bus could provide a cheap tour of the city and a way to get to the ocean, so I hopped on the number 3 to Sumner. Once out of the city it was obvious that I have not even come close to seeing the natural beauty that New Zealand has to offer. Sumner is a little seaside suburb made up of a central business district down by the waterside and an odd patchwork of houses balanced on the surrounding cliffs. On this particular day it reminded me of Duluth in a way. After grabbing an ever popular meat pie (Yum?) and exploring a seaside cave, I hopped back on the 3 and made my way back to town. On my walk back I heard the music of a busker in a doorway. It was one of those happy songs.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Phew!
I have a few minutes left on my internet usage, so I figured I'd post before the alarm goes off (this post could end quite abruptly). I made it to Christchurch! 24 hours of airports and airplanes sure is not a comfortable lifestyle, although the people watching is top notch. There was a great photo opp on the way in but i didn't have my camera handing, sorry. Its pooring rain here right now. Times up.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Count Down = 2
Time has flown and soon so will have I, to Phoenix then San Francisco then across the vast expanse that is the Pacific ocean. I'll land in Auckland, the largest city in New Zealand, where I will take a breath and dive into another plane headed for Christchurch, the largest city on New Zealand's South island.
From there I will be at a hostel for a couple nights where hopefully I will recuperate from my travels in time for my arrival at the Palmers', the location of my first stay as a willing worker on an organic farm (WWOOFer). The map below shows my expected route. I was thinking about walking the whole thing, but at a predicted walking time of about 22 days, I am having second thoughts.
View Larger Map
From there I will be at a hostel for a couple nights where hopefully I will recuperate from my travels in time for my arrival at the Palmers', the location of my first stay as a willing worker on an organic farm (WWOOFer). The map below shows my expected route. I was thinking about walking the whole thing, but at a predicted walking time of about 22 days, I am having second thoughts.
View Larger Map
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