Day 4
It might just be our luck that we get rained on very night. We have a tent, actually two for us three, and we're very thankful for shelter, though a wet tent leads to the daily frustration of a musty car once packed. Upon completeion of a warm-up hike or discovery of coffee somewhere, we then have motivation to repack our gear which is an often required task in our little car. Included is the stowage of, today, a mostly dry sleeping bag.
The rain was prohibitive today. I had a great hike planned for the morning; starting early, thereby forcing a quicker pace in which to adventure along the beautiful and uneven beach. A no go. We dilly dallied, hopped online for an hour and hit the road by lunch.
A quick jaunt along a snaky road and in no time we arrived in Blenheim. I found a Simms fishing and Hunting & Fishing store catalogs to be roadworthy "reading" material and just as importantly we got directions to the secluded White's Bay.
White's Bay is likely my favorite stop as of yet on this adventure. Nestled between high palm and pine wooded walls is a petite grey-sand crescent beach. The campground was simplest in amenities and price and we felt at home right away.
A beach with breathtakingly cold water runs out of fun quickly. Our first real, solid beach since leaving the ice world, it's charm will likely last longer than out presence here. The abrupt change in coastline to jagged boulders, arches, tunnels and caves supplemented the time we didn't spend on the beach.
There was so much climbing to be done. I made my way alone over beach, streams and bouders to get to, and successfully summited a spined archipelago that held in our perfect rescent hideaway.
For dinner we made easy pasta and pulled three beers from a crisp stream. The rest of the evening was merry with hot chocolate and guitar melodies. Tonight: when in darkness, asleep.
March 10, 2011
March 8, 2011
Free, Huh? :|
There is no such thing as free. The price of the DoC campground was zero, but we slept between a highway and railroad tracks. Nothing is free. But we're alive and well regardless.
We began activities with a hike, well, really just a walk, up a nearby hillside trail system to be back in time for Sarah's haircut around noon. We putzed around like we were getting paid to do so, the enbarked on the peninsula hike about 2pm.
The 4.5 hour circuit led us past the beautiful beach, atop coastal bluffs and through highland cattle pastures and back into town.
Koura is the Maori term for Crayfish, hence he name of the coastal town, Kaikoura. In my quest to enjoy crayfish freshly caught and cooked at a roadside caravan, Sarah was horrified at a single crayfish costing $60. I was aware that a crayfish is a lobster minus pinchers, whereas Sarah thought I was seeking expensive crawdads. An affordably price crayfish fritter, cooked and served off the oceanside road, subdued the hankering.
But it wasn't enough. David and Sarah went grocery shopping while I went to a greasy fried fish shop. The price was high, but I had fresh mussels, clam strips, cod, scallops, fries and a salad out of a container the size of a shoebox.
I ate alone before joining a pretty American girl who shared good advice for camping destinations as well as activities along our current NZ path and out future Hawaiin destination.
Us ice people had an itinerary pow wow, adjusted thanks to my new friend from Maine, and we headed back to the DoC for some well deserved sleep... intermittent sleep between passing trains.
We began activities with a hike, well, really just a walk, up a nearby hillside trail system to be back in time for Sarah's haircut around noon. We putzed around like we were getting paid to do so, the enbarked on the peninsula hike about 2pm.
The 4.5 hour circuit led us past the beautiful beach, atop coastal bluffs and through highland cattle pastures and back into town.
Koura is the Maori term for Crayfish, hence he name of the coastal town, Kaikoura. In my quest to enjoy crayfish freshly caught and cooked at a roadside caravan, Sarah was horrified at a single crayfish costing $60. I was aware that a crayfish is a lobster minus pinchers, whereas Sarah thought I was seeking expensive crawdads. An affordably price crayfish fritter, cooked and served off the oceanside road, subdued the hankering.
But it wasn't enough. David and Sarah went grocery shopping while I went to a greasy fried fish shop. The price was high, but I had fresh mussels, clam strips, cod, scallops, fries and a salad out of a container the size of a shoebox.
I ate alone before joining a pretty American girl who shared good advice for camping destinations as well as activities along our current NZ path and out future Hawaiin destination.
Us ice people had an itinerary pow wow, adjusted thanks to my new friend from Maine, and we headed back to the DoC for some well deserved sleep... intermittent sleep between passing trains.
In the Swing of Things
Condensation, not rain. David and I arose after a restless nights' sleep to discover wet sleeping bags inside and out.
Picked up sarah about 8:30, at bakery by 9, hot springs by 10.
Clouds broke and minimally ozone defracted sun was hot and burned skin literally in minutes of continuous exposure. The air remained cool for the duration of the day, keeping the 36C degree mineral enriched hot springs worth their while... and money. Soaking wet, top to bottom, we then reminded Sarah to avoid dunking her head again. She panicked at the prospect of meningicocal viruses. A serious threat, but still a good chance to get Sarah all spun up.
By late afternoon we arrived in Kaikoura, had pizza, walked the beach awhile and found a free Dept. of Conservation campground. Nothing is free in New Zealand. We got lucky.
Picked up sarah about 8:30, at bakery by 9, hot springs by 10.
Clouds broke and minimally ozone defracted sun was hot and burned skin literally in minutes of continuous exposure. The air remained cool for the duration of the day, keeping the 36C degree mineral enriched hot springs worth their while... and money. Soaking wet, top to bottom, we then reminded Sarah to avoid dunking her head again. She panicked at the prospect of meningicocal viruses. A serious threat, but still a good chance to get Sarah all spun up.
By late afternoon we arrived in Kaikoura, had pizza, walked the beach awhile and found a free Dept. of Conservation campground. Nothing is free in New Zealand. We got lucky.
Cranberries on Pizza?
Day One - Tuesday 1 Mar.
Excitement for sleeping in cars has gone adrift. A Toyota Corolla hatch is not a camper by any means. Night one passed by with little incident and we planned to head north away from our free internet, bathrooms and free sack lunch headquarters.
HANMER SPRINGS! With pine and palm trees along a narrow and winding landscape, we received a perfect welcome while en route to the little alpine vilage. It is far more of a tourist trap than I lead on, though it is small and maintains a sense of localism. But I spoke with friendly, and pretty, Danish, French, Norwegian, Austrain and even Minnesotan girls along the main drag.
A waterfall beckoned and we subdued. The trail marker indicated a 2.5 hour trek so we aven;t a clue as to distance. Sarah, mildly athsmatic and without inhaler, kept our pace to that of a good sight see-er. But her sunglasses left at the base of the waterfall gave David and I the perfect opportunity to make a shirts-off, man-journey-sprint, repeating the hike. We successfully retrieved the expensive specs which earned us dinner. Pizza!
Meatlovers with BBQ sauce and chicken and cranberry with brie were the final selections. It was a fine restaurant at a Spanish style, 1800's hotel. Beautiful. It has a dungeon. I'm a sucker for romanticism. We earned our sleep tonight. Upgrade to a tent.
Excitement for sleeping in cars has gone adrift. A Toyota Corolla hatch is not a camper by any means. Night one passed by with little incident and we planned to head north away from our free internet, bathrooms and free sack lunch headquarters.
HANMER SPRINGS! With pine and palm trees along a narrow and winding landscape, we received a perfect welcome while en route to the little alpine vilage. It is far more of a tourist trap than I lead on, though it is small and maintains a sense of localism. But I spoke with friendly, and pretty, Danish, French, Norwegian, Austrain and even Minnesotan girls along the main drag.
A waterfall beckoned and we subdued. The trail marker indicated a 2.5 hour trek so we aven;t a clue as to distance. Sarah, mildly athsmatic and without inhaler, kept our pace to that of a good sight see-er. But her sunglasses left at the base of the waterfall gave David and I the perfect opportunity to make a shirts-off, man-journey-sprint, repeating the hike. We successfully retrieved the expensive specs which earned us dinner. Pizza!
Meatlovers with BBQ sauce and chicken and cranberry with brie were the final selections. It was a fine restaurant at a Spanish style, 1800's hotel. Beautiful. It has a dungeon. I'm a sucker for romanticism. We earned our sleep tonight. Upgrade to a tent.
A Voayge Home Begins
Day Zero - Monday 28 Feb.
What is a day? 24 hours, usually. But working nights made me question that. Well, today I've yet to sleep and though having laid in bed awhile, 2:30 am is the magical time to quickly clean up, pack my final affects and say goodbye to Antarctica as home.
The sky is the darkest I've seen yet... and the air cold; no better day to leave.
The final cargo 463L pallets were quickly thrown onto trucks for our last drive to Pegasus Airfield for the season. A beautiful pink, red and orange sunrise seemed to bid us safe travels. Now routine, in an anxious but nostalgic haste we serviced the last C-17 to land in Antarctica for the next half year.
I felt a little VIP walking last onto the 99 passenger + cargo plane to settle into a reserved seat. Starboard jumpseats - or what served as "bed" for the "night" - as it was just barely daylight.
How did everyone change into T-shirts so quickly without my noticing? Oh, the last four hours asleep might have given almost everyone else the time to get changed for a beautiful 75 degree Christchurch. The remaining half hour consisted of me stripping off all I had worn against a -35C windchill morning, then discriminately eating a sack lunch/breakfast and getting everything situated for our final approach. We melted. A few in shorts, most in Carhartt bibs, jeans and long johns, plus the despicable "bunny boots".
The warm sun nice; the warm breeze welcoming; the smell of trees, grass and flowers overstimulating.
At the deployment center near the airport, we mailed boxes home, rid our warddrobe of ECW gear and planned for fun. Most in our program headed north on a connecting flight to Auckland, as advised, due to the devastation of much of Christchurch. Nestled around the cul de sac is the CDC, travel center, APO and the Antarctica Experience Museum which we joked about attending. While I imagine it would hold my interest, the last intention of mine was an Antarctice experience of any kind.
Meeting in the grassy courtyard, I laid in the long, smooth bladed grass with other Antarctic survivors. Old wives tales tell of people taking off shoes immediately to feel grass once again. While I didn't do that or see that, once situated in a spot, I indulged and couldn't help but nuzzle my face into the heavenly green carpet.
Saying goodbye to buches at a time leaving to fly north, suddenly it was down to three.
David, Sarah and I were trapped. Talk of busing north was had, but research and reason led to a quick car rental. We now had an open road... and time to spend on it. But Christchurch will be home tonight. Fish 'n' chips in our bellies, 70F degrees, no work and only fun ahead, we'd never exhibited such excitment to sleep in a car!
What is a day? 24 hours, usually. But working nights made me question that. Well, today I've yet to sleep and though having laid in bed awhile, 2:30 am is the magical time to quickly clean up, pack my final affects and say goodbye to Antarctica as home.
The sky is the darkest I've seen yet... and the air cold; no better day to leave.
The final cargo 463L pallets were quickly thrown onto trucks for our last drive to Pegasus Airfield for the season. A beautiful pink, red and orange sunrise seemed to bid us safe travels. Now routine, in an anxious but nostalgic haste we serviced the last C-17 to land in Antarctica for the next half year.
I felt a little VIP walking last onto the 99 passenger + cargo plane to settle into a reserved seat. Starboard jumpseats - or what served as "bed" for the "night" - as it was just barely daylight.
How did everyone change into T-shirts so quickly without my noticing? Oh, the last four hours asleep might have given almost everyone else the time to get changed for a beautiful 75 degree Christchurch. The remaining half hour consisted of me stripping off all I had worn against a -35C windchill morning, then discriminately eating a sack lunch/breakfast and getting everything situated for our final approach. We melted. A few in shorts, most in Carhartt bibs, jeans and long johns, plus the despicable "bunny boots".
The warm sun nice; the warm breeze welcoming; the smell of trees, grass and flowers overstimulating.
At the deployment center near the airport, we mailed boxes home, rid our warddrobe of ECW gear and planned for fun. Most in our program headed north on a connecting flight to Auckland, as advised, due to the devastation of much of Christchurch. Nestled around the cul de sac is the CDC, travel center, APO and the Antarctica Experience Museum which we joked about attending. While I imagine it would hold my interest, the last intention of mine was an Antarctice experience of any kind.
Meeting in the grassy courtyard, I laid in the long, smooth bladed grass with other Antarctic survivors. Old wives tales tell of people taking off shoes immediately to feel grass once again. While I didn't do that or see that, once situated in a spot, I indulged and couldn't help but nuzzle my face into the heavenly green carpet.
Saying goodbye to buches at a time leaving to fly north, suddenly it was down to three.
David, Sarah and I were trapped. Talk of busing north was had, but research and reason led to a quick car rental. We now had an open road... and time to spend on it. But Christchurch will be home tonight. Fish 'n' chips in our bellies, 70F degrees, no work and only fun ahead, we'd never exhibited such excitment to sleep in a car!
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