April Budget Report

Hello all, Deena here with my last monthly report for our trip, but I plan to do a wrap up at the end of May.  Our daily spend for the month of April was $124.00 a day for all four of us.  Australia and New Zealand are definitely more expensive than the countries of southeast Asia, and it has been a little difficult getting used to that; however, it should help us as we return to the states and acclimate to the prices we are used to.

I used many tricks in my bag to keep the accommodation prices of Australia and New Zealand low.  Many months ago, Airbnb had gift cards available from the American Express site.  I had a wealth of AmEx points, so I intended to use those cards to lower the prices of our stays.  Unfortunately, AmEx changed from the lucrative gift cards to a plan that devalued the points considerably, and I was too late to get the cards.  Oh well, sometimes you just have to take what you get.  I was still able to reduce our AirBnB stays to a manageable number around $60 per night from prices of $80 - $100 normally.

Our method of transport in New Zealand is by rental car which I was able to get for free by using my Chase Ultimate rewards miles.  Not a great use of those miles, but it worked for our family so we jumped on it and saved $1,700.00 and got a nice Toyota Corolla free for a month.

We flew from southeast Asia to Australia free using United miles but flew between Brisbane and Cairns and back to Brisbane free using British Airway miles.  We also flew from Australia to Auckland, New Zealand, free on British Airway miles.  On May 22, we will fly from Auckland to Hawaii free on American Airline miles.  After nine days in Hawaii, we fly home to Charlotte, NC, free with Singapore Airline miles.  All these flights would have cost us thousands of dollars and would have made this trip impossible in our price range, but thanks to the miles, it became a reality. Neither Michael nor I travel for work, so we had very few miles accumulated from actual flying; most miles came from credit card signup bonuses.

Our accommodations in Hawaii  are free on SPG points.  The SPG cards are Amex cards, and both Michael and I applied for their personal cards; Michael also has a business card.  This setup allowed us five days in Oahu, two days in Maui, and two days on the big island for free.  We are flying between islands  free on points from United.  This is a good situation since milk costs $7.00 a gallon in Hawaii.

After I booked the last flight for our trip, all of my previous doubts went away as I realized that we were going to fly around the world for free.  For two years, I read countless books, articles, and forum posts written by people that had done it, and now I was one of them.

New Zealand - Denniston to Makarora

The south island of New Zealand is 840 kilometers long with no physical point being more than 130 kilometers away from the sea.  The landscape is filled with mountains, lakes, rivers, glaciers, and anything else possessing natural beauty.  For all that landmass, there are only a little over a million people living on the south island, but they’re a hardy breed making lives for themselves in grassy plains as big as the sky in front of mountains carved by slow-moving rivers of ice.  

Our host in the coal mining town of Denniston was Pauline who owns four acres of land just outside the city of Westport on the west coast of the island.  She lives in a small house in the middle of the property at the fork of a gravel road about a kilometer off the main highway.  The gravel road forms a loop at the back of the parcel with two squat little houses at the curve in each end of the loop with a sheer mountainside at the rear border.  There are two grassy fence-lined paddocks along both sides of the gravel driveway where two black year-old steers, a sheep named Tina, and a goat named Alex (who thinks he’s a human) spend their days munching hay.  Pauline rents the two houses to travelers and spends her time taking care of the animals and maintaining the property systems that provide electricity and water off the grid.

We had a four-hour drive from Picton to reach the west coast made longer by a stop for a picnic lunch and a few breaks to stretch our legs.  The majority of the trip was along one two-lane highway that extended for long distances through huge valleys full of livestock and vineyards.  Low hills splotched with gorse and scrub gave way to towering mountains covered in a tight tree canopy along rounded contours and ridges that looked like a giant fleece blanket left piled up on the floor.  As we moved farther southwest down the island, we had to carefully plan grocery store and gas stops since most towns are far apart with sparse commerce in between, and it wasn’t uncommon to drive for two hours and see only one or two cars in passing.  Thankfully, there was a New World grocery store in Westport, and we stopped and stocked up before making our way to Pauline’s house in Denniston out in the countryside.  

The sound of the tires popping on the gravel road alerted Alex the goat to our arrival. With a well-practiced maneuver, he extricated himself from the paddock by slipping through the strands of wire and ran alongside the car until we reached the front porch of our home for the night.  We got out and took turns scratching Alex’s head before unloading the car and settling in for the evening.  We had just enough time left in the afternoon for a nap to recover from the road followed by a cup of coffee fresh from the hot pot powered by six solar panels mounted on the flat roof of the house.  Deena and I took our steaming cups and walked down the driveway to meet Pauline and ask a few questions about the house, and we ended up talking for almost an hour at the paddock while the sheep and cows grazed and Alex looked on.  

Pauline told us about living off the grid for sixteen years and making her houses completely self-sufficient while still paying the province a thousand dollars a year for the privilege of walking her trash down to the highway for pickup instead of being allowed to burn it.  She also told us about her neighbor that bought ten acres of land beside her property, built his house right on the edge beside the animal paddock, then complained about the noise Alex and his buddies made while they grazed.  Pauline said that she kept buying animals over the years for the purpose of raising them for meat, but she kept naming them and didn’t have the heart to send them to the slaughterhouse.  “Besides," she said while casting a sideways glance at the two steers, “the grocer alway has a fair price on a porterhouse I reckon.”

We left Pauline to finish feeding the animals and walked back to the house where we discovered the kids in the middle of a DVD episode of Monk which eventually turned into a family binge-watching session for almost all of season two.  Turns out that life off the grid wasn’t too much different from being on it. Deena and I cooked up a pot of chili on the propane stove, cleaned up with water pumped in by solar power, and heated the house with a fire in the wood stove that burned most of the night while we slept under heavy blankets.  The clever Monk episodes kept us entertained to the point where we almost forgot there was no wifi, and even though they didn’t admit it, I think the kids forgave us for booking a night back in the stone age.

The next morning, we pulled back the curtain from the sliding glass doors in the living room, where Alex the goat fogged the glass as he snorted and stared at us in anticipation of a tasty handout while breakfast was prepared.  We gave in and took turns feeding our bearded friend before setting our minds to packing and cleaning. By 10:00, we were loaded up and waving goodbye to Pauline and her four-footed friends, which now included a frantically barking shih-tzu.  We had another four hour drive ahead that took us farther south along the winding coastal road deemed one of the top ten coastal roads in the world by the coastal-road-ranking people.  

Anyone home?

On the front end, the drive looked like passage through a great green tunnel as the road wound through thick forests with the leaves of the silver ferns reaching out from steep banks covered with short trees.  Eventually the right side of the woods gave way to wide views of a rocky coastline as the road hugged tight turns along the mountainside.  As huge waves came crashing into the shore in an explosion of foam, we motored along with our mouths open in astonishment, and we silently agreed with the coastal-road-ranking people about the beauty of this particular drive.  

At the two-hour mark, we reached the Punakaiki community, which is a small coastal village located near the famous pancake rocks and blowholes down by the shore.  We parked in a lot full of campervans and larger RVs and made our way down a path to the cliffsides where interpretative signs explained how the huge rocks rising from the ocean came to look like stacked pancakes through a process called “stylobedding,” which I don’t think is a real word, kind of like “orienteering.”  Over the centuries, the ocean has carved a labyrinth of tunnels under the pancake rocks which fill up during high tide and force torrents of blue green water several meters high through blowholes with a loud rumble from the depths.  It’s an unforgettable sight, and after a while, the prospect of another two hours on the road forced us to turn away and walk back to the road.  Of course, we had to stop long enough at the nearby cafe which cooked berry-compote-drizzled pancakes to commemorate the nearby geological pancakes—they were spectacular as well.

With all of our stops along the way to our next destination, the four-hour drive turned into a six-hour drive which I endured only through the aid of several longs blacks, New Zealand’s version of the double espresso.  The folks in this country take their coffee seriously; so they use quality beans to make strong brew with consistent quality whether it’s purchased from a fancy restaurant or a seasoned fueling station in the middle of nowhere.  Late afternoon we finally pulled into glacier country and entered the township of Franz Josef nestled in the valley below the glacier of the same name.  We continued through town and crossed a single-lane bridge spanning the bright blue Waiho River coursing through a wide bed of rounded stones in a deluge of icy cold glacier melt.  We continued to Fox Glacier road and found the farm where we had reserved a one-night stay in a cottage surrounded by green meadows in the shadow of the towering mountains.

Our host, Graham, met us in the driveway and welcomed us to his farm with a big smile and sweeping gestures as he told us all about the nearby glaciers.  He said we were welcome to get up early the following morning to witness the cow-milking process, and I politely declined knowing that my professional sleepers would scoff at the mention of mucking around in a barn pre-sunrise.  Graham also informed us that rain was on the way that night and we needed to get out while there was still daylight if we wanted to get good views of the mountain ranges.  He gave us a tip that he shares with his guests and told us to go down the highway and make a right near the airfield and drive a little way up a gravel road.  We asked him where to go after that, and he grinned and waved and started walking back to the house and said, “Just go about six kilometres and turn around.”

We made quick work of settling into the cottage which was spacious with a master bedroom, large hall bath, and a living room with two sleeper sofas on each side and a woodstove in the corner next to a stack of firewood.  We loaded up the fridge and pantry with our groceries, grabbed the raincoats, and sped down the highway wondering what would happen when we traveled six kilometers and turned around.  Our jaws hit the gravel road, and our heads almost exploded as we gasped collectively and took in a huge panoramic view of Mt. Tasman and Mt. Cook flanking Franz Josef glacier and Fox Glacier in a long range of mountains that dominated the darkening sky.  With twilight approaching, we sped back down the road in a spray of gravel and made it to the Franz Josef car park where we had just enough time for a brisk hike to Sentinel Rock and a perfect view of the glacier and the path it carved through the valley as it retreated over the decades.

It was dark by the time we made it back to Graham’s cottage, and I lit a fire in the woodstove, and we spent the evening relaxing over a shepherd's pie supper and talked about the natural wonders we saw that day.  We could hear the soft bleating of sheep and cattle lowing in the pasture behind the cottage and the wheezy muted screech of a hawk as it sat in a tree near the chicken coop hoping for a straggler late for roosting.  The fire died down in the night, and under toasty thick down comforters, we enjoyed the deep sleep of the traveler flush with discovery and wonder.  Morning came too quickly; we had a simple breakfast of cornflakes and bananas along with fresh eggs and milk from Graham’s farm before hurriedly packing and setting out by 10:00.  There were some leftover clouds and rain from the night before as we drove again down narrow roads lined with thick bush and crossed numerous single-lane bridges over streams rushing with the swell of rainwater running off the steep mountainsides.

We had a three-hour drive south to reach an area about an hour north of the town of Wanaka in a remote area full of livestock farms and rugged mountains.  The description of our lodging for the night advised bringing enough food for the duration of the stay since there were no stores anywhere near the property; so we had a car full of groceries purchased in Franz Josef and packed in amongst our luggage.  For the last hour of the journey, we were mesmerized by one incredible view after another and had trouble resisting the temptation to pull over every five minutes and snap photos of the landscapes.  As we got closer to our destination, we traveled through a wide valley with broad pastures on each side of the road full of sheep and cattle in the shadow of bulky mountains.  We crossed bridges over a graphite-colored river flowing through the center of a bed made of smooth stones with tall grass blowing along the banks.  

With that sight in our field of vision, we pulled into the Wild Earth Farm and drove around the back of the property to a small barn that had been converted to a guest cabin, our home for two nights.  The view from our front porch stretches across extensive pastures to the base of two mountainsides that touch in the valley floor and frame a snowcapped peak in the center which commands long stares into the distance.  We had read reviews of this place, many of which stated that the guests had plans for hiking and other forms of outdoor activity but ended up sitting by the fire and gazing out the glass door all day—now we understood why.

Our view from the cabin

Our host, Pete, met us at the door of the cabin looking like a friendly pirate with long grey shoulder-length hair, scruffy beard, and a sly smile that showed his pleasure at our discovery of the best view in the land that he just happens to own.  He gave us a quick tour of the cabin, which had panelled walls and a gray tiled floor throughout the main room, kitchen, bathroom, and bunkroom.  The walls, wood trim, and doors were left unfinished which gave the cabin a rustic, cozy feel, and we couldn’t wait to unload the car and enjoy the view.  As we prepared supper, I lit a fire to knock off the late afternoon chill and watched as ranch hands drove huge herds of cattle and sheep across the pastures with slinky sheepdogs running alongside keeping the strays in check.  We were booked for two nights at the cabin, and I already knew that our time would fly by much too quickly.

It was dark when I got up the next morning and showered, and I got into full Pioneer Man mode as I used my now unmatched, Jedi-level woodstove firemaking skills to start a roaring blaze as my bride emerged from the bedroom and wrapped up in a thick wool blanket on the sofa.  I put the kettle on to boil and served her a cup of tea and then joined her with my coffee as we sat and watched the sun rise over the mountains while the children still slept.  I looked over at her and could tell that my woman was most pleased. Pioneer Man strikes again.

After a quiet morning around the cabin staring out at the mountains, we had a late breakfast of scrambled eggs with melted cheddar cheese and toast with blackberry jam.  Our host provided a big jar of ground organic coffee, which I used to make a weapons-grade brew in the French press.  By 1:00, we were ready to explore; so we drove back into the Makarora National Park just fifteen kilometers down the road and hiked to the Blue Pools for a view of nature at its best.  These wonders are large deep basins of glacier melt in the Young River which sunlight refracts into azure pools so clear that rainbow trout appear to be suspended in midair as they swim through.  

The hike took us through a deep, damp forest in which tree trunks and stones were covered with heavy moss, and the silver ferns were so thick it was difficult to see the forest floor.  From the two swinging bridges built over the Blue Pools, we had great views of the water, which I think we photographed a thousand times.  We walked a bit farther down the trail and spent some time at the river’s edge before making our way back to the trailhead and driving to the welcome center where the small cafe there served up a moist piece of carrot cake to reward hungry hikers.

We weren’t finished with the outdoors yet as Pete offered to take us tramping through the meadows around his property upon our return; so off we went toward the mountains with his energetic farm dog, Cash.  We spent a long time walking with Pete and got to know him much better as he shared details about his grown children and life in the “big country” as he called it.  We walked all the way to the river near the base of the mountains at the back of the property through a maze of gates and fences, and it was almost dark when we returned to the cottage with muddy shoes and big appetites.  After Pete set us up with another big box of firewood and bid us good evening, we settled in for supper at the end of a relaxing day that gave us a much needed break from the road.  I lit one more fire in the stove after supper and thought about how we’re close to the end of our trip, but the good things keep coming—we head farther south tomorrow.

Pete and Cash

Maybe you should put the sheep over here

The river boundary

New Zealand - Napier to Picton

The east coast seaport of Napier sits in the lower curve of Hawke’s Bay and is the center of export for wool, fruit, timber, and other resources brimming from the bounty of New Zealand’s countryside.  In 1931, a 7.9 magnitude earthquake shook Hawke’s Bay for close to three minutes leaving 256 people dead and complete devastation in the township of Napier and all nearby settlements.  The sturdy New Zealanders rebounded well from the quake and built Napier back using art deco architecture that has become famous worldwide and draws thousands of tourists every year for a major art deco festival.  The Napier area is also a world-renowned wine region. The lower hillsides and valleys are full of vineyards with the leaves of the vines turning burnished gold in the onset of autumn and thick rose bushes covered with bright red blooms planted at the end of each row.

We pulled into Napier mid-afternoon after a four-hour drive from Tauranga on two-lane highways that undulated across green hills and cut through mountain ranges that grew in height as we traveled south.  We passed several volcanic peaks in the distance, their steep cones covered with snow and cut off cleanly by powerful, centuries old eruptions.  New Zealand leads the world in wool production, and huge flocks of sheep became more prominent as we drove farther away from civilization.  I never get tired of saying, “Look kids, sheep!” as we’re driving, especially when they’re trying to sleep. I may have to scale back my teasing in order to avoid a mutiny this late in the game.  The drive was so remote that there was only one gas station between Tauranga and Napier, which fortunately we found at the midpoint of the journey. Thankfully they had an attached Subway which served an excellent meatball sub and warm chocolate chip cookies right out of the oven.

We found our house located in a quiet subdivision just north of the downtown area and right across the street from the ocean.  The house is owned by Andy, a sixty-something widower and retired officer from the New Zealand Army.  He’s a big friendly guy with a toothy grin and a crushing handshake that I was just barely able to match and save face. He tromped ahead of us up the stairs to show us our quarters for the next few days.  We have the second floor of the house to ourselves, which is one large room with windows on every wall and a big bathroom boasting a strong shower.  We have complete access to the kitchen and anything else we want downstairs including a big flat screen TV in the living room which is lined with leather recliners and walls full of military memorabilia from three generations of service.  Andy’s grandfather fled Ireland with his young wife after the Easter Rising of 1916 and relocated to the New Zealand countryside where he became a successful farmer and father to eight children, Andy’s father being the youngest. Andy himself was the second youngest in his family of eight.  His father was a distinguished soldier who took part in the Guadalcanal Campaign during World War II, and his many colorful medals are now proudly displayed in Andy’s dining room on the wall behind a thick oak refectory table.

Andy has been an AirBnB host for a little over a year, and his extra room stays booked due to the reasonable rate he charges for a place on the seashore close to town.  He told us that he doesn’t do it for the money since he doesn’t need it, but for the company of travelers coming from all parts of the globe.  He provides plenty of privacy in his home for guests, but he’s an excellent conversationalist with loads of great stories, and he’s always ready for a good talk about news of the world.  Andy gave us the lowdown about fun things to see around the town of Napier including architecture, aquariums, seawall strolls, and scenic peaks—plenty to keep us busy for the two days we have to spend in Hawke’s Bay.

Andy and the gang

The sun came up bright and intense on our first morning and quickly warmed the room from the slight chill leftover from the cool nighttime temperatures.  We took turns getting up and showering and enjoyed a breakfast of cornflakes and bananas downstairs with Andy who placed a pot full of freshly ground coffee beans on the stove to percolate—I may start referring to him as “Saint Andy.”  Sufficiently fueled, we boarded the Corolla and set out for the peak of Te Mata, a popular scenic vista about thirty minutes south of Napier on the outskirts of the town of Hastings.  

The ride took us on winding roads through the countryside and small neighborhoods along the way shielded from the highway by thick juniper hedges with variegated vines of ivy pushing through the lower branches.  The autumn sun sat lower in the deep blue sky and created longer shadows at the foot of the trees tipped with red and yellow and faded green.  A narrow road off the main highway provided access to the Te Mata peak, and a few minutes later we were standing at the summit with a view over Hawke’s bay on one side and a sighting of snow-covered Mount Ngauruhoe, the stand-in for Mount Doom in the Lord of the Rings movies, in the far distance.  The Te Mata peak juts out at the end of a hog’s back ridge covered in green grass and spreads out to rolling hills beyond, and the long white clouds of New Zealand settle around the surrounding mountain ranges.  It was almost too much to take in at once, but we all agreed that this view was one of the most impressive we’ve seen.

We drove out of the clouds and headed back to the art deco buildings of Napier and spent the afternoon shopping and walking the palm-tree-lined streets stopping for a late lunch at an excellent little bakery we discovered.  Since we don’t have to worry about baggage restrictions anymore, we bought a few souvenir t-shirts, but ended up feeling guilty because it had been so long since we purchased anything for ourselves. I hope we can shake that feeling in a few weeks when we get home and have to buy all new wardrobes.  I must confess that it’s been nice not to worry about up-to-date clothing for the past ten months, and I’m not quite ready to start looking “presentable” again.  

We had the most fun in the Possum World shop that sold trendy sweaters made from a blend of merino wool and possum pelts.  The opossum is considered a major pest in New Zealand, which is overrun with a myriad of marsupials that look slightly different from the North American variety.  The store had a small room in the back dedicated to possum puns, my favorite being a chorus line of stuffed varmints singing “On the Road Again.”  

On the road again

Napier

We had a late Pizza Hut supper and watched a few videos before turning in that night and slept in a little later the next morning with the National Aquarium the only item on the agenda for the day.  I placed a moratorium on aquarium visits a few years ago after once again dropping major bucks on the one at Myrtle Beach in a desperate attempt to find things to do during a rainy vacation.  These places are all expensive and have the same shark tunnel, the same touch tank, the same fish on display, and I could walk through just about any one of them blindfolded and point to where the clown fish are circling the yellow coral.  There are a few exceptional fish bowls like the one at Fort Fisher in North Carolina, but even the kids roll their eyes at the mention of a possible aquarium visit.  So, why the mandatory visit to the aquarium in Napier?  Of all places, it’s one of the only locations in New Zealand where a tourist can view the iconic national symbol of the land, the kiwi.

The admission to the National Aquarium of New Zealand was not quite as high as its American counterparts, so we had the place almost to ourselves midweek in the early afternoon. I was surprisingly impressed with the place.  Among the obligatory fish displays, they had a tankful of wicked-looking piranhas, a pickled giant squid, and a penguin pool full of cute little flightless birds.  There was an enormous loggerhead turtle sharing a tank with a moray eel that had pure malice emanating from its countenance, and the shark tunnel was was full of toothy predators and other fish that go practically unnoticed among their rock-star tank mates.  

At the back of the aquarium in a faux forest behind three large panels of plexiglass, the flightless kiwis lurked in limited light due to the aquarium staff faking nighttime so these nocturnal critters will come out to play for the visitors.  On our first pass, we couldn’t see the birds, and my disdain for all-things-zoo-related meter started rising, but we came back a half hour later and found these chicken-sized birds romping through the fake bush, playing and screeching through their long thin scimitar-shaped bills.  They put on a fantastic show, and we were genuinely enthralled by these birds which made the price of aquarium admission seem a mere pittance.  Flush with the sight of a national symbol at play, we stayed for the shark feeding at the hands of a chum-wielding scuba diver, strolled for a bit on the stone-covered beach behind the aquarium. Then we made our way back home for our last evening at Andy’s place where we prepared for a long drive the next day and ferry passage to the south island.

Piranha

I made them do this 

Next morning, we once again felt the sadness that comes with travel as we had to say goodbye to our host and friend, but Andy helped ease my pain by brewing one more pot of strong coffee for the road, bless him.  We shoved our bags into the Corolla and headed south as the sun quickly rose over the mountains and dried up the remnants of an overnight rain.  The Inter Islander ferry makes a three-hour journey between the north and south islands of New Zealand several times a day. We had reserved passage on the 2:45 crossing from Wellington to Picton.  The only things standing between us and the ferry was a four-hour drive from Napier and the return of the rental car since the car companies don’t allow cars in their fleets on the boat.  We started out with plenty of time to spare because a lot can happen during a four-hour drive, and it’s a good thing we did, because we encountered multiple areas of road construction and one closing of a major pass through a gorge which sent us on a thirty-minute detour over the mountains.  

Driving on the left side has been easier for me in New Zealand mostly due to roads in good condition, wide lanes, and clearly-stated signs that leave little ambiguity for the twitchy traveler.  Even though we’ve traveled through a few hairy mountain passes, I have yet to feel the horror and wracking tension I experienced driving through all of Ireland’s bucolic hills and dales which has taken me ten months to forget—almost.  Driving in New Zealand is easier because rounding every curve in the road is like turning the page of an exquisitely illustrated book about every pleasant aspect of life in the country.  

The road from Napier to Wellington offered views of vineyard-filled valleys bordered by green hills with sheep and cattle grazing in the thick green grass.  Distant mountain ranges with snow-capped volcanic peaks made appearances through long low clouds, and wide plains with hawks circling the sky quickly narrowed to tight gorges full of silver ferns and ancient gnarled hardwoods.  The tight curves through the low hills bordered small farms marked by weathered split rail fences and apple orchards that surrounded old farmhouses with clapboard siding painted white and light yellow.  The drive seemed more like a lazy stroll down a country lane through wooded dells with crunchy leaves underfoot, ripe pumpkins in the gardens, and the tang of woodsmoke in the crisp air that ties every autumn reverie together.

Saw this on the road - brilliant

Even with several stops along the way, we made it to Wellington with plenty of time to return the car and check in at the ferry terminal.  We boarded the boat and claimed sofas in the middle of the ship on the cafeteria deck and stretched out for naps as the large ship made easy work of pushing through the swells in the Cook Strait.  The northern tip of the southern island is an explosion of smaller islands that looks similar to the southern section of the Grecian Peloponnese. Views of mountainsides sweeping up on both sides of the narrow passage filled the long windows along our deck.  

We enjoyed a light meal from the cafeteria just before the ferry docked in Picton where we quickly collected our luggage, picked up another rental car, and made it to our house on the outskirts of town.  Our host, Wayne greeted us at the curb and ushered us upstairs to the apartment over the garage in the rear of his house.  Wayne and his wife, Lynette, have been AirBnB hosts for a long time, and it showed by their attention to detail right down to the fudge-covered rice crispy treats waiting for us in the fridge.  We got settled quickly, and Deena and I ran back out for groceries. We noticed the faint outline of the moonlit mountain ridges surrounding our neighborhood and wondered about the views that would greet us with the sunrise.

Our view in the morning

Turns out those views were pretty spectacular, and we spent the majority of the morning out on the balcony drinking pressed coffee and speculating on how the local gentry makes a living in Picton to support a lifestyle that includes panoramic mountain vistas.  We finally made our way into the town center, picked up lunch, got Joseph’s hair cut, and drove twenty kilometres along an extremely winding road to a trailhead for the Queen Charlotte Track which follows the coastline along several bays of the Marlborough Sound for seventy-one kilometers—we hiked four.  

They were certainly pristine kilometers, though, and we got a good workout wending our way through the bush on a rocky trail lined with some of the most beautiful silver ferns we’ve seen to date.   Soon the woods opened up to a small cove filled with turquoise water right up to the edge of low mountains covered with a thick tree canopy—and there was the goal of our trek, the shores of Davis Bay. We stayed long enough to rest and watch several species of waterfowl flying over the bay, and a heron-looking bird took its time swimming past us and diving underwater looking for food.  The late afternoon sun was slowly dipping behind the mountain tops which sent long shadows across the trail; so we hiked back to the car park pleased with our excursion into the wilds of the northern end of southern New Zealand—or something like that.

View from the trail

Silver fern

More silver ferns

As I sat typing this last bit, a 4.8 magnitude earthquake ripped across the Waikawa Valley and gave our house a pretty good jolt.  It seems that New Zealand sits on the Ring of Fire in the Pacific, and earthquakes are almost everyday occurrences in some parts of the country.  That shake a few minutes ago makes earthquake number three that we’ve ridden out on this trip, and we’re not getting used to them by any means.  If the countryside hasn’t split in two by morning, we’re heading out for another-four hour drive that will place us on the west coast of the southern island in a house for one night that’s completely off the grid—no grocery stores for miles, solar-powered electricity, water from the creek and runoff, heat from a woodstove, and no wifi.  I never thought I would reach a point in my life where the thought of no wifi gives me more trepidation than the thought of no food.