The sample hiking boot smiled at me from the shelf. Its toe-box was ... different... from the others. I knew it was an automatic friendship.

Later that night the newly purchased hiking boots spoke frankly with my sister Shannon. It explained its ambitions for the future - mountains, islands, continents, deserts... "Well, we can go to Point Reyes tomorrow," she offered.

So it was, Shan and I found ourselves at the Great Tamale peninsula of Point Reyes. The long tamale-shaped finger extends into the Pacific ocean for 4.5 miles, over well-manicured hills of yellow lupine bushes and coastal grasses. The boots took off walking, and I was forced to comply, while my mind wondered aimlessly through completely different universes.

We saw the droppings of the great animals first, and then spotted them. From a distance they looked like great bales of hay, their tawny colored hides barely visible in the distance. We got closer to them - a magnificent herd of ilk! Yes, the ilk of the world roam in herds of 100+, piddling all over these coastal hills! We walked carefully, and in awe, of the ilk as to not disturb them.

As the walking boots and Shan finished the tamale walk, the sky suddenly turned a piercing orange. The three of us basked in the orange light, and finished our walk, well-satisfied.

Labels: family, hiking, wildlife

TSA is preaching at me and the security-less sheep in line behind me. If only we'd search our hearts and our bags for liquids, aerosols, and gels, before crossing to the other side! If only! WE determine the pace of the lines, WE can walk the straight and narrow, the right way, the first way!

The old tin man in the wheelchair in front of me has a knee bomb hidden in his knee replacement. His joints crank, click, creak as wavering, he slowly pulls himself out of the wheelchair, til he's tentatively towering over his chair. Don't touch the sides of the security gate! the tsa man screams, as he mercilessly watches the old man shuffle carefully and humbly forward. The old man almost touches both sides of the gate - flailing hands looking for invisible handholds. And then - the knowing eye of the security gate spots the knee bomb and incriminates the old man to a destiny of "Male Assist" in the pits of tsa confusion!

The geek teenager in front of me doesn't know the dance and drill - he is going to Minneapolis. Your jacket, your shoes, your belt and your computer, I tell him. My game console too? he asks. He mutters at disassembling his precisely packed entertainment bag - out come his Transmogrifier 720, his double-ray plasma-ion blaster, a slew of bomb-making manuals, and his game console.

Next, I grab three bins. One for the computer; one for the jacket, belt, shoes, pocket fuzz and money belt; one for my left arm, right arm, left foot, and right foot, and head. My bags come next, and I push everything through the X-ray scanner. I feel clean, knowing that all my thoughts and senses have been thoroughly scanned, checked and approved by tsa. No thoughts or bombs on me!

The geek kid wishes me a merry christmas as I collect my head on the other side. Do you go to school here?, he asks as an afterthought. Have a good one, kid, I say.

Labels: flight, usa

I'm back in Phoenix.

I was surprised that it is winter here, and gets dark around 5:30pm. I forgot how scrubby the desert is around here, and how funny saguaros are. I nearly got in the driver side of Bryan's car, and I have short panic attacks when he turns into the "right" lane of traffic. The lanes are tremendously wide, and the streets are huge.

The waiter at the TexMex restaurant was exceptionally friendly. He checked on us too many times. Waitstaff in Australia/NZ is never tipped so well!

There is too much water that gets flushed down the toilet.

It is quiet here - quiet in the "everything is so far apart" sense. Also, in - where are the 10 other people sleeping in this room? sense. Dormitory living changes the rules of sleeping and waking, and when you can turn the lights off and on. It's strange to be so easily welcomed back into the typical luxury lifestyle of soft carpets, free wireless, no shower time limits, and power over the light switch.

Labels: usa

After a weekend of beautiful weather, the last few days have brought mist, gloom, and downpour on Stewart Island. A few other incidents have made me decide to quit Stewart Island a few days early as well.

The woman at the wireless internet cafe doubled the prices on me when she saw me coming in the 3rd day in a row. ($20/day internet!? No way!) I vowed never to return to her shop.

The matronly woman at the Visitors Center took a peek at my trail running shoes and broke my will telling me that I was under-prepared to go sludging around in the mud. The goal: Mason's bay on the other side of the island, where the kiwis are. The only other way to get out there required at least $100. I am convinced the townspeople of Oban are in on a conspiracy to control the kiwi population. They shoot the ones around town, and keep them in a holding pen on the far side of the island, so that all the adventure / excursion operators can make bank.

I read through all the trash (ie, pop) magazines and romance novels in my host's small collection. I saw her ugly side, as well, when some backpackers were off-loaded at her establishment. They were with a group that had run out of room at some other lodge. They were disappointed that her hostel cost more, but paid anyway. When they found out they could get in at the original lodge, they asked Joye for their money back. She blew up. "And how much did you expect a dorm bed to cost on Stewart Island, EH? Did you think $30 was too much, EH? I'll tell you taffy-nosed brats what you can do with this money, you can go back to where you came from. Or better yet, go down to the South Sea Hotel Bar, the locals will get attached to you there!" I think in her thinking, South Sea Hotel Bar was as good as condemning someone to eternal misery. I should have left with the 2 backpackers when they left, just to show her that I did not condone that kind of treatment of people... But I ended up sleeping in the next day (ie, was a tad lazy), and DID enjoy being her only customer. I had exclusive use of the 3rd floor, that has a great view over Half Moon Bay. (But such a climb to get to her house!)

The forecast reads for solid rain through the rest of the week. I am heading back to Auckland area sooner, where the weather is nicer. The yachtee I met in Fiji is in port, and I'm hoping he has a slew of good stories to tell.

I also need to begin job hunting. !!!

Labels: birds, hostels, newzealand, rain, stewartisland

Stewart Island is called Rakiura, or "Land of the Glowing Skies." No doubt, with a lingering sunset allowing for daylight til after 10pm, daylight allows for long days to relax here. My idea of relaxing is going on a 3 day hike with a 20 lbs. backpack. NZ has a list of Great Hikes, all on well-maintained, fairly easy tracks, most with huts along the route in which you can spend the night. The Raikura Trek was the most recently added Great Hike (2002), and it still has not become very frequented.

The first day led along the coast - the route often followed a beach (beware high tide!). Sea gulls, suns, oyster catchers screeching! Sand flies! Sand flies are like a slower, stupider version of the mosquito. They are easy to avoid, but their bite is still itchy and annoying, and causes one to stay well covered. The mostly graveled track led into the woods, full of ferns, rimus (red pines), and tui birds. Tuis are prolific all throughout NZ and sound like a R2-D2 machine. They, along with the solemn bellbirds and the pessimistic warblers give you a lot to listen to in the woods.

The 2nd and 3rd days featured some of the muddy pathways that Raikura hikes are famous for. A history of trampers' boots imprinted in a wide spread of mud, followed by a nicely constructed boardwalk. A lot of befuddlement on why the Dept. of Conversation, who maintains the track, did not boardwalk the entire track, but instead would leave maybe 10 or 20 feeet between sections of boardwalk that were left to destruction and stomplement.

Yesterday I explored the area around the town of Oban, strolling out to the lighthouse, down to various sections of beach. Then, I joined a birdwatching expedition of Ulva Island, the nearby bird sanctuary. We were able to spot the incredibly rare brown saddleback bird. Woo. As well as wekas, kakas (parrots), kakarikis (parakeets), brown ___birds, warblers, tuis, bellbirds, and the smallest bird in NZ the green ___bird. In the evening I watched the sunset over Golden Bay from Observation Rock, and then watched a couple of Little Penguins climb ashore right before dark.

Still no sighting of a kiwi.

Labels: birds, hiking, mud, newzealand, raikiura, wildlife

http://www.flickr.com/photos/betbo/

Labels: mom, newzealand

The town of Oban, pop 350, seems almost like a frontier town in the bush here on Stewart Island. The birds cackle, sing, sqwak from the dense foliage - I feel like I'm at the edge of a mysterious jungle. This is supposed to be the best place to spot a kiwi in the wild in NZ. (Most New Zealanders have never seen a kiwi.) Also, a few different penguin species hang out here... So here goes the robin bird-brain action.

The town sits on Half Moon Bay, where a number of boats are anchored. There are only 12 miles of paved road on the island, and 180 miles of hiking trail. The town of Oban has a grocery store, a few cafes, no bank, 3 places to check internet, and only 4 budget backpacker places to stay. That's including citizens who have turned their houses into backpackers (ie, rent out a room). I am staying in one of these places now, as the one official Backpackers establishment was full due to some kind of function going on there.

The weather is perfectly clear today. But word is that the weather is often fickle here. I hope it stays clear while I'm here, the next week and a half.

Labels: birds, hiking, newzealand, oban, stewartisland

We are in the small country town of Tuatapere, Southland. There is nothing here.... Well, the inventory is as follows: Cookhouse Cafe, special of the day: all-day breakfast $18! The cafe is where you register for the campervan holiday park or backpackers lodge adjacent. (I parked the van behind the one tree and bush in the green lot, to make it feel a bit more woodsy around here. I can see a tree limb and some grass from where I lie in my over-cab loft.) A little dog with a face like a Jack Russell and a stout corgi body trots happily down the road. The cross-road, this side of town offers ^ Bluecliffs Beach < Invercargill > Riverton. I want to see the beach, so I go that way. A smattering of dilapidated, modest houses, one with cyan colored paint. A sign in front of one house reads, "The boil up was great!" Three kids, one older, 2 smaller push a lawn mower down the sidewalk. Two lots with disinterested sheep, 1 lot with 2 horned cows who regard me briefly. A fat black and white cat relaxes on a front porch. I reach a brown sign that notes that the beach is another 15 km away, and 6 km away the road turns to gravel road. The Hump Track is 19 km, for which it becomes clear the backpackers is the hop-off. So this is the exciting place we are staying the night. In the meantime, Aunt Carol fixed some lovely pork chops, yams, sesame seed bread, and Mom fixed the asparagus. Apricots and biscuits for dessert.

The road to Milford Sound was some of the best scenery I have seen on this trip so far. We were entering the Fiord National Park (on the 45*S parallel!), so drastic, jutting mountains were the feature here. We were in a rush to get to a campsite at the end of the road, before it got too late, so we didn't stop to explore or take pictures. The next day brought all gloom and rain. The scheduled cruise of the sound revealed ghostly mountains enclosing the waterway. The only real advantage was a new slew of waterfalls that gushed down the cliffs everwhere you looked from the rainwater run-off. We passed some Fiord penguins, only existing around this region - Mom saw them, I didn't. Also saw a small pod of bottlenose dolphins.

3 full days with Mom and Aunt Carol left. A black cloud of reality is looming on my forthcoming horizon - the end of my vacation! The trip ends in a little over 2 weeks. :( I could travel indefinitely if money wasn't such a limiting factor.

***************

We visited a sheep farm to see how the ranchers wrangle and abuse the pitiless creatures. I read somewhere that Romney sheep are not as intelligent as Merino sheep, which fare a lot better in Australia and provide better quality wool. The Romney is a British brand of sheep, and does well in NZ - its wool is used for carpets and itchy jackets. From a distance, the millions of sheep had looked so cute and fluffy, grazing peacefully in the pastures. But now I rather despise them for their dirty bums that the ranchers must shave off before shearing, and for their mass stupidity. They are not endearing at all. Cows, in comparison, look so much more graceful, elegant and noble.

We headed south from Milford Sound, towards Invercargill and the Southern Scenic route. Many fur seals, penguin sighting attempts, and coastal views later, we are back in Christchurch, at the airport. I am headed back to Invercargill, where I will then catch a flight to Stewart Island - NZ's 3rd largest island - for the remainder of my trip.

Labels: auntcarol, campervan, mom, newzealand, sheep, travel, tuatapere