Sweet as, Dude

5/2/2007 - 18/2/2007

cigarettes smoked: 6 (but not for 7 days, I just had a few more weak moments when I hung around with smokers in Raglan - I must stop making friends with people who smoke)

At the end of my last blog posting I was in Whangerei intending to scuba dive the Poor Knights islands the following day. I watched the weather forecast for the following day, which came with a severe weather warning predicting storms. I had a horrible feeling that my dive wasn't going to be happening, so I consoled myself with a bath (a bath! In a hostel! Bliss, bliss, blissssssssss), then I suggested to the other hostel residents that we watch twister in honour of the coming storm front. The film's still as rubbish as it ever was, but it seemed appropriate. I stayed up chatting with a group of guys until the late hours, then had to get up the following morning at 5:30am, get rdressed and breakfasted only to be told that yes, my dive had been cancelled. Decided to make the best of a bad situation by going back to bed. I decided against sticking around indefinitely until the weather cleared as this could have taken days, and my time in New Zealand is running out. It's a shame, as diving the Poor Knights islands was the first thing on my must do list when I planned this trip - I will just have to resolve (as I always do) to come back here one day.

I left Whangerei later that morning forAuckland. I arrived mid afternoon, dumped my stuff at my usual hostel and located the bus to Kelly Tarlton's Antarctic world and aquarium. I loved the seahorses, sharks, stingrays and corals in the aquarium, but the highlight was the trip around the penguin colony in a snowcat! The replica of Scott's hut, the film footage and the information on Scott and Shackleton's Antarctic expeditions were amazing - especially the story of Shackleton's expedition (they were stranded in the Antarctic for about half a year before they managed to rescue everyone, and they didn't lose a single person, if only Scott's team had been so lucky). When they closed the aquarium and had to drag me away from the seahorse tank (I had my nose glued to the glass), I got the bus back to Queen street, had some wonderful cheap Thai food, then went back to my hostel to the spa and the sauna (both of which I had to myself), with my customary glass of free champagne. It's the only way of dealing with being in a big city when necessity dictates that you must pass through. Later on I met a massage therapist doing massages for 1 dollar per minute. I, of course, indulged and had a wonderful back massage, then showed her a few of the things I learned on my Thai massage course (she did Swedish massages).

After a wonderful night's sleep, the next morning I cheated and took a taxi to the bus station as I couldn't face carrying my bags after my evening of relaxation. I made my way back to Raglan, ostensibly to collect my clothes, but really to surf some more. I went into the visitor's centre to organise a lift out to Solscape (the surfer dude filled accomodation in railway cabooses outside of town), to find Rany (the woman who works there) weaving flax into a basket. After watching her in fascination and asking lots of questions, she offered to teach me to weave the next day. Marvellous. I made my way to Solscape, dumped my bags and spent the evening chatting to people, star gazing, starting a macrame bracelet for Rany, catching up with the long term residents and making new friends. Apparently Kyle went off to Taranaki a week beforehand, and nobody knew what he had done with my clothes. Arse.

The next day found me in the visitor's centre weaving flax. First you have to tear the flax into strips o0f equal width, then score it to weaken it, then shred the ends. Next you plait the ends together, then weave the basket. It's easier than it sounds, just quite fiddly at times. I chatted to Rany - she apparently lost her sister last year, so between tourists we had a long chat about our siblings, and I showed her my pictures of Steve. On the rare occasion that I've told another backpacker about Steve, usually out of necessity, they've not known what to say, or tried to cheer me up, it was nice to just talk about him and tell some of my favourite stories, and just be listened to.

I went back to Solscape and finished my bracelet for Rany to say thanks for a wonderful day, then drank and chatted as usual.

The following day I decided it was about time that I went surfing again, so I got a lift to the beach with Stacey (an English woman in her 30s), she went to surf school and I hired a board while she went out for her first lesson. I had a couple of nice waves that I managed to ride reasonably well, but I just enjoyed being out on the sea again. I dropped by town again on my way back and took the bracelet to Rany - she looked like she was going to cry when I gave it to her, bless her.

On the morning of the 10th I woke up surprised to find myself feeling emotionally stable (it was the four month anniversary of Steve's death), so I joined various friends in a mass exodus to the beach. There was Justin - the extremely entertaining Canadian who dislikes other Canadians, Luke - the ex-marine teenager who likes older women as he keeps telling Stacey and myself rather optimistically, Phil - a real sweetheart from Bristol and Ilaria -a vivacious, excitable Italian girl. I helped carry other people's boards (I'd decided to hire mine from the beach as it's worth the higher cost to not have to carry it for half an hour). I hired out an 8 foot fibre-glass board and charged out into the breakers. This time, finally it clicked - I'd try to stand up, and most of the time I'd succeed, and stay up. Ride after ride I'd make it into the shallows whooping and shrieking "Yeah baby" (there weren't that many people around, and I'm sure I'll never see them again). I've spent the last couple of weeks enjoying surfing, while being equally frustrated, but more than anything else, baffled as to why people get up every day, religiously, at the crack of dawn to carry their boards for half an hour down to the beach, battle with waves that break over them and bruise them, to swim out into the substance that covers 70% of our planet, containing an estimated 3 billion sharks, then paddle like a bastard in order to catch the most fleeting, ephemeral of ocean-dwelling creatures - the wave. Suddenly, this time I understood - the moment when the wave is just behind you and it sweeps you up in it's path as you push yourself upright, the feeling of acceleration, balance and harmony with the ocean is exhilarating. Plus there's the surfer dudes with their toned, taut, tanned torsos. I went back and celebrated my breakthrough with a nice bottle of Pinot Noir, and finally managed to locate my missing laundry in the lost property cupboard, except for my pj bottoms (someone else seems to have run off with them - it's a shame, as they were the things I wanted back most, for decency's sake, and as they're really good for things like yoga).

The following morning I had intended to leave, but I woke up feeling awful - there really is no telling when grief is going to hit you (and you don't want to be on a bus on your own when it does). Often when you steel yourself for an occasion that is likely to make you feel shit, you get through the day itself ok, then the grief hits a day or two later, when you're not prepared for it. I sat down and carried on working on a picture of Steve that I started a week or so ago, then flooded with tears when Phil asked what had prompted me to draw a picture of my brother. Bless him, he was so apologetic when I went to mop up the snot and someone explained the situation.

The guys took me surfing to cheer me up. Action being the enemy of thought, I agreed. I was determined to try surfing out behind the breakers today, for a new challenge. It's much harder work getting out - you have to paddle much more as you go out of your depth, and you have to battle with the waves that have just broken, or worse, break over you. Or break on your face (I thought I'd broken my nose one time when a wave slapped me in the face with such force I somersaulted). For the first few times I couldn't even paddle fast enough to catch the wave ( you have to catch it sideways on, so you have to paddle faster for the component of your velocity that's perpendicular to the beach to be the same). When I did manage to paddle fast enough, I ended up surfing above the wave, on the white foam when it broke, rather than in front of it - it was wierd and bumpy. Phil told me to keep paddling next time after I'd caught the wave, so that I push myself in front of the wave. I sat on my board, laughing at Pete and Luke beatboxing and MCing behind the breakers until the next wave came along and I paddled like there was no tomorrow. When I caught the wave, I kept paddling until I felt the nose of the board tipping over the front of the wave. For a moment I left my stomach behind as the board dropped in front of the wave, then suddenly the nose went underwater, flipping the board and causing me to wipe out spectacularly, in a manner that would have made professional gymnasts weep - there was an aerial cartwheel and several underwater somersaults. I tried again several times, but I just couldn't get in front of the wave properly without wiping out. I also discovered in the process of wiping out several of the reasons why it's wise to wear a wetsuit on top of your bikini, even if the water's warm enough. Suffice to say the bruises are healing, the cuts have become scars, and I did manage to find my bikini top again.

We left the beach and went into town in order to treat ourselves in a lovely little cafe. After a panini, a huge slab of carrot cake that was large enough to feed half of the people on the beach that day, and a wonderful hot chocolate (complete with marshmallows, of course), we went back out for a sunset surf. I borrowed a friend's wetsuit and spare board as the hire shop had shut (I managed to squeeze into a size 8 without using a shoehorn or lying down with a coat hanger!!! It was snug to the point of almost cutting off my circulation though). The waves were higher, it was harder to see and the board was much smaller, lighter and harder to balance on. I battled my way out to the back eventually, and tried again to get in front of the wave before it broke. I managed a couple of times, but just couldn't stand up on the smaller board (I got as far as rising to a crouch and falling off). Sitting behind the breakers waiting for a wave, watching the sun set was glorious though. When it got dark enough that seeing became difficult I body-boarded back in, then decided to do the only thing you really can do when presented with the ocean at night - skinny dip.

When we arrived back at Solscape, Kyle had come back from Taranaki with his friend Noah (who incidentally had the most fantastic washboard stomach I have ever seen in my life, and wasn't remotely shy about wandering around bare chested, to the jaw-dropping delight of the women of Solscape - is surfing making me more shallow?).

I was determined that this was to be my last night in Raglan, so I stayed up late chatting and drinking once again, I was just louder and more drunk than usual. Stacey spent the evening flirting with the teenage boys again (she had been doing this a worrying amount for the last few days. I realise that my profession makes me slightly more prudish about age gaps, but it did seem pretty twisted, objectively. Maybe she just needs the affirmation that she's 'still got it' for some reason).

The next morning I said my goodbyes and left (this time I only left half of my food in the fridge and ran off with my room key by mistake) for Taupo. I was sad to be leaving - I have grown quite attached to Raglan, to surfing, and to eye candy surfers wandering around scantily clad in boardies.

I found my hostel in Taupo quickly, decided since the weather forecast looked pretty good that I was going to walk the Tongariro crossing the following day and booked track transport for 5:40 the following morning. That done, I went to lie in the spa pool, then went to the pub with some people at my hostel.

I got up bright and early the following morning, trying (and failing) to not wake up my dorm-mates. The bus to the start of the track was trying, as I just wanted to sleep, but so it seems did the driver, so he put on loud rock music to keep himself awake. Not what I needed at 6am. But I suppose I needed a bus crash less, so I didn't complain. The first couple of kms of the walk were an easy stroll as the sun rose in the sky, until I came to the ominously named "Devil's staircase". It wasn't as bad as it sounds, just 40 minutes of steep uphill climbing. When I reached the top I sat down to catch my breath, drink water, apply suncream and gaze at Mount Ngauruhoe (aka Mount Doom in the Lord of the Rings). Our bus driver had warned us not to attempt the summit of this mountain unless the top was visible, the wind was low, we were ahead of schedule and we'd found the Devil's staircase easy. I couldn't say in all honesty that the last condition was true, but everything else was right, and I got chatting to some Welsh guys (Wendy, Gareth and Ross) who lived in and around Snowdonia, and who were going to attempt the summit, so I decided "Bollocks to it" and joined them. They turned out to be wonderful company and a real laugh, thank christ - I needed people to keep my spirits up while I tackled Mt Doom - it really was bloody hard work as not only are there no switchbacks on this 2287m high mountain, there's also no path and the entire mountain is pretty much one steep scree slope. At one point I said that if anyone wanted to act out scenes from the film, they were welcome to carry me up Mt Doom the rest of the way - sadly there were no takers, so I just had to haul myself up the entire way. When I got to the top, I was gasping for breath, saying "I..........fucking.........hate..........scree". It took two and a half hours to get to the top, but it only took half an hour to get back to the bottom (and I was one of the slowest). Most people took big sinking strides straight down the scree, but that looked just a tad precarious for my liking, so I slid down almost the entire mountain on my arse, squealing "weeeeeeeeeeeee" and giggling all the way down. I decided I quite liked scree after all. Sadly I ruined my walking trousers though - the scree ripped the seat of them to shreds (it was totally worth it). When we got to the bottom, we realised just how behind schedule we were, so we didn't stop for lunch as planned, just missioned on ahead, stopping for the odd photograph (believe me, if you had seen the stunning volcanic scenery, you'd understand why we prioritised this above food - there were mountains, craters the colour of blood, lakes of the most vibrant hues of blue and green imaginable, views over lake Taupo, far below and in the distance and steam bursting forth from fumaroles everywhere). Eventually we stopped for lunch next to a particularly picturesque and smelly lake, troughed down dried fruit and crisps as fast as we could, then soldiered on. I must say, we did damn well - we managed the last 4 hours worth of the walk in less than 2 and a half. I still missed my bus though, and had to pay for the journey home again with another company. It was worth missing the bus to climb Mount Doom though - everyone who made the summit agreed that it was the toughest climb they'd ever done. 18km walked and over 1500m climbed in one day - I was bloody knackered. I thought about the spa pool for the entire bus journey back to Taupo, only to discover that it was closed for the day as it was being cleaned. I almost cried, but instead settled for a long shower, some food and a night in front of the TV watching Lost, discovering I was, trying to fill in the huge gap that was series 2 (of which I've seen one episode), and trying to grasp series 2 of Prison Break, having never seen it before.

Around Taupo are some of New Zealand's best thermal areas, but for some reason very few people visit them, they all flock to Rotorua. I spent the following day wandering around geysers, caves, silica terraces and bubbling mud pools, taking hundreds of photos along the way. The only slightly annoying note came when I arrived in Aladdin's cave in Okakei Korako to find people talking loudly and the noise echoing around and spoiling what was otherwise a beautiful, serene spot. Particularly annoying was one loud American package tourist. She kept pointing at a silver FERN and saying "Look at this palm tree" (it's a fern), "Palm trees don't get this tall" (actually, they frequently do, but that's a fern you're pointing at - they rarely get that tall, but sometimes they do. You should realise this, as you're pointing at the evidence) "Apparently that tree's been around forever" (ah, an amateur metaphysicist), "That means B.C." (oh jesus christ - no comma). What really grated is that she said all of this to three different people at different times, and at no point between her bouts of verbal diarrhea did she think to edit out the more meaningless or inaccurate comments. By the third repetition I had to leave before I started banging either my head or hers against the wall repeatedly. I'm not entirely sure why I'm so irritable today, but at least I'm recognising that I am and walking away from sources of irritation, rather than arguing.

When I had had my fill of other-worldly natural wonders I walked to a local meadery and had a try of honey liquor (apparently there are some things in this world that are too much, even for my sweet tooth). I then discovered a DOC track that went to the Huka Falls, then on to the thermal springs in the park in Taupo by the river. You sit in the cold river, with steaming water bubbling past you. This means that one side of you is boiling hot, and the other side is freezing cold. The best thing to do is just keep turning round. It was a wonderful little spot to unwind after really quite a lot of walking considering it was the day after I'd done the Tongariro crossing, and to let my irritable mood drift away. It's one of the few places in New Zealand where you can bathe in thermal springs for free. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.

The following day I had to change hostels due to a combination of getting up late, and disorganisation meaning that I didn't get round to booking my bed for an extra night, until the hostel was fully booked. Conveniently, the new hostel was much closer to a quieter part of lake Taupo where a large number of ducks and black swans reside, and also closer to the opposite end of the spa scale - a posh resort where I could indulge in a massage after lounging in smelly pools. It wasn't a complete indulgence, I did promise myself some pampering treatments if I successfully gave up smoking - I may have wobbled a few times, but I hadn't had a fag for a week, I'd hardly had any for a month, and I felt I needed a massage for motivational purposes.

After I had soaked in thermal spas for enough time that I felt I could cope with the journey south, I headed down to Wellington, then across to the South island again on the ferry, then down to Kaikoura again. The journey took 2 days and was largely uneventful, so I won't ramble on at length (for once).

I arrived in Kaikoura yesterday, checked in at the lovely Dusky Lodge and headed straight for the spa and sauna (only in NZ could there be a hostel with both, free to customers for 7 pounds a night). I decided I'd had enough of the different sauna etiquette you have to adopt for mixed saunas, and went in with tons of conditioner in my hair, and a face mask on (it's for deep cleansing boys, and it's worth looking like a complete twat for half an hour, just to feel fabulous for the rest of the day). One Aussie bloke screamed when I first came into the sauna. I'm now known around Dusky lodge as "the creature from the deep". I went out in the evening for food supplies and wine (another lovely pinot noir), then slobbed in front of the TV with the crowd.

This morning I got up at 4:30am (I wish I was kidding), in order to be at the dolphin encounter offices at 5:30am for my dawn dolphin swim (can you think of anything that is more obviously something I'd go for?). They gave us a talk on how "the dolphins aren't there to entertain you, you're there to entertain them" - basically dolphins (dusky dolphins especially) are very sociable, intelligent, curious creatures, but they seem to suffer from something similar to ADHD - you have to find a way to hold their attention if you want to interact with them rather than just have them swim past you. The best ways of doing this are making noises (since hearing is the prime sense that dolphins rely on), making eye contact, swimming in a tight circle staying level with the dolphin if it swims in wide circles around you and diving down, if you can with a snorkel on.

We went out to the boat and set off into the Pacific ocean in time to watch dawn setting the Seaward Kaikoura mountains ablaze with various shades of fiery red. We sped through the water watching the scenery unfold and seeing the occasional small pod of dolphins leaping through the air and splashing back down. I got a few strange looks for bouncing around in my seat and squealing in delight whenever they did this. After about half an hour, the boat slowed down, and suddenly we were surrounded by hundreds of dolphins arcing through the water in small groups that were in sync with each other, leaping out of the water, doing backflips and generally playing. These dolphins live in a coastal area that is incredibly nutrient rich, and there is abundant marine life to feed them, so much so that they only eat their favourite foods, not just whatever they can get their hands on like many wild animals. They don't have to spend most of their time hunting, they just feed oncce a day at prime feeding time, then spend the rest of their time socialising with each other, playing, showing off their acrobatic skills, investigating things that interest them and mating. In fact they're the only species of mammal other than humans that mate, not just for procreation, but for recreation. They're not monogamous, in fact they don't even have the slightest tendencies towards monogamy. One female was recently observed by a marine biologist mating five times with three different males, all inside of two and a half minutes (this sounded remarkably like the sort of stories I'd try NOT to hear my students telling each other about their weekends on a Monday morning up until recently). They (the dolphins that is) like it, they like it a lot, they like it often and they value quantity above quality it would seem. These are basically party dolphins.

After faffing around with wetsuits and snorkels for a while, the guides told us that we could go and swim. I didn't need telling twice - I slipped into the water (jumping in scares them off), stuck my face down, and suddenly I could see all these black and white dolphins (they look kind of like mini orcas) gliding past me on either side, and below me. They were bigger than I'd expected - apparently they grow up to 2m long and weigh up to 100kg. I spent most of the first swim humming different tunes and watching which ones had the best effect. Oddly enough, the humming from the start of the Fugees "Ready or Not" produced the best results (dozens of dolphins came over to me for a look or swam past). They also took to the tune that Gizmo hums in Gremlins and responded well to Karine Polwart. Mozart's "Eine kleine Nachtmusik" didn't go down too well - I only had one moderately interested (but clearly very cultured) dolphin when I hummed that. Someone else on my boat tried a spot of underwater beatboxing without too much luck. They seemed to go for melodic (well, as melodic as is possible through a snorkel, and usually a mouthful of saltwater), repetitive, simple tunes. Being party dolphins, I reckon they might go for happy house if anyone's likely to come here in the future. I bought an underwater camera for the second swim, and spent a bit of time attempting to work out how to take photos underwater (I haven't finished the film yet, so we'll have to wait until I go diving in the Great Barrier Reef to see if any of them turned out well). Most of the time on that swim was spent with my new friend, Finn. He/she (how do you tell???) came over to investigate the source of the Gizmo noises, we made eye contact, and (s)he did a circle round me, which I just about managed to keep pace with. (S)he then turned quickly and went the other way, so I reciprocated. She was making lots of exciting dolphin clicky echo-location type noises at me, so I attempted a series of clicks and whirrs myself. Amazingly this didn't cause her to leave, and she circled round me again. I took a deep breath and attempted to dive down, but then forgot to hold my breath, so when I came back to the surface I didn't have enough air in my lungs to clear the snorkel, so I had to put my head above water, coughing, spluttering and gasping for air. Finn surfaced with me, then dived back under with me. (S)he seemed more impressed with my attempts at diving and somersaulting underwater (much harder with a snorkel on) than the other dolphins had, and kept going away, doing a big loop, then coming back and clicking at me again. Perhaps (s)he liked the little squeaks and squeals of happiness that were coming from me involuntarily. (S)he was sooooooooooo beautiful. Then suddenly the dolphins (including Finn sadly) all rushed off at an astounding pace - maybe they were being called over, or maybe they were escaping something. I didn't like this last idea much, so I headed back to the boat. The third swim was a bit uneventful, but the fourth swim was just wonderful as we landed right in the middle of the pod, and the dolphins stuck around for ages. I had a wonderful time swimming round in circles with a pair of dolphins, I even managed to swim off after one for a few metres who was going REALLY slowly so that I could keep pace. My somersaults got better, my dives didn't and then all too soon it was over and we were called back to the boat for the last time. We had a while longer to get changed and to get photos. It was just incredible watching them - there were about 300-400 dolphins in the pod, and at any one time it was impossible to know where to look or point the camera. Eight dolphins doing syncronized arcs through the water, or one doing a back flip at the same time as another does a forward flip two metres away from each other? Either way it was spectacular. I'd have got much better photos if only I'd bloody cleaned my lens and deleted my old photos last night (why didn't I think of that - I spent half the time sorting out my camera, rather than watching and photographing).

Sadly they took us back to shore, we went back to the offices, then I came back to Dusky lodge and sat in the spa for a while. Honestly, if they'd have let me I'd have happily stayed out there all day swimming with the dolphins. If it wasn't for the fact that they're booked up for the next 2 weeks, I'd do it again tomorrow (even the getting up at 4:30am after 5 hours sleep part). I'm completely hooked. Dolphin swimming is by far the best thing I've done in New Zealand - I loved every second of it (even choking on seawater repeatedly).

Anyway, lots of love to everyone back home, and sympathy to those of you stuck in a grey London office on Monday morning. I'm about to put the photos up on the last 2 postings as well if you scroll down (including the comet photo hopefully). When you get to the picture of the big Kauri tree, look at the base - I'm there to put it in proportion.

Keep the e-mails coming.