Hurunui Campsite

There isn’t much between Kaikoura and Christchurch except for a few stretches of seal covered beach. It’s nice, but we had a tough time finding a campsite. Luckily, our handy dandy atlas had a tent icon at Hurunui River Mouth, just south of Cheviot, so we headed to where the river meets the sea. The lovely bomb shelter-esque bathrooms and deserted camp sites were intimidating at first, but the sign that said “This camp is run on the honesty of campers” and the sunny weather decided it for us. We stayed and it was the best idea ever. Turns out the camping fee was only $4 per site – not per person, like most campsites in NZ – and the creepy bathroom had a mirror, two nice sinks, and full-on flush toilets…simple pleasures these days. There were even a few apple trees with apples still on em, not that we ever want to eat apples again. After night two, we went on a sweet barefoot hike along the river. The mud squishing through our toes was disgusting at first, but then we noticed thousands of bubbles coming from under the water and curiosity had us excitedly digging in the mud to find the source. We never could figure out what was creating the bubbles - maybe oysters or geothermal activity - but in hindsight we’re glad our digging didn’t lead to a geyser exploding in our face. Even though a few other campers came the second night and the mud ended up smelling pretty bad, we’ll remember Hurunui River as our own private getaway. We enjoyed a full moon, cooked some good dinner, and got some much needed quiet time on New Zealand’s beautiful East Coast. Two thumbs up.

Kaikoura

Kaikoura means "eat crayfish" in Maori, and while we hear the local giant crayfish are a must-have delicacy, we spent all of our time in Kaikoura looking at seals. THERE ARE SO MANY SEALS IN KAIKOURA! Today's post is dedicated to my 2 year-old nephew Colt. He's one of our most faithful readers, and he likes seals. Enjoy buddy.
Peek-a-boo Mr. Seal!	Seals love to swim, just like you.
Can you count how many seals there are?	Seals love naptime, and so should you!
Baby seals are called pups.	This is an adorable little seal pup that made Shawn scream like a girl and run away because he swears it was a big, angry mommy seal.
This seal is on a rock.	This seal is on the grass, and Shawn has a new mullet haircut. Silly seal! Silly Shawn!
This is my new friend.
We shared a moment.
Then I had to go!
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Blasting Blenheim

Care and I were so excited to see some new scenery after what felt like an eternity in the Nelson/Marlborough Region, so we just drove as far as we could before sunset. That got us to Blenheim, a small town in the heart of New Zealand wine country. We freedom camped just south of town, near a mountain bike track. The parking lot was fine, but it didn’t have any facilities, meaning every morning we had to wake up and speed to town so we didn’t pee our pants. We make every effort to be responsible freedom campers because we want to diffuse the negative stereotypes that locals have about budget travelers. A lot of Kiwis hate freedom campers because there’s always one disrespectful vagabond that litters and poops in the bushes, ruining things for everyone else. There was one small surprise about sleeping among the Blenheim vineyards…hearing constant gunshots. That’s right – constant gunshots. At one point, we thought we were being attacked by canons. It put living in Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn to shame. Apparently there’s a large NZ Air Force base just west of town, and they like to practice…you know in case freaking New Zealand gets invaded. After listening to how much the Royal NZ Air Force practices, I pity any country dumb enough to attack the Kiwis. A highlight of Blenheim was the Sunday morning farmers’ market. A charming old man from a local olive orchard, Tussock, took the time to explain several types of olives they grow, and let us taste the difference in the oils. We were impressed, so we bought a really tasty bottle of garlic-infused olive oil. People keep asking if we think New Zealand is “backwards” or “twenty years behind”, and we’ve always been confused by the question. I mean, things are slower here, but that’s mostly due to the smaller population (4 million), not the lack of any technology or convenience. Sure, free internet is a little tougher to find, central heating doesn’t exist, and don’t even get Carolyn started on how crappy the laundry dryers are here. But other than that, it’s sweet as. Anyhoo… The farmers’ market was one of the only times where saw what people mean about going back in time. The farmers’ markets here are held by…real farmers. It’s not like the pockets of “rural consciousness” that pop up in Union Square or abandoned K-Mart parking lots on a Saturday morning in the States. These people head to the horse grounds in town and sell their produce. Little kids run around getting their faces painted and listening to the “Story Time Lady”. It’s not a pretense at capturing the lost agrarian utopia. It’s just farmers. At a market. Same thing goes for the endless number of fruit stands and “fresh eggs” signs you see on every road and motorway in New Zealand. The simplicity and functionality made me feel transported in time. The only question is, with the frenzied rate that people in the States seem to be going “back” to organic produce and grass-fed animals, is New Zealand a land frozen in the distant past, or a country light years ahead in the future? I know, mind blower, right? You’re welcome.

Hiking the Abel Tasman National Park

Carolyn and I loved the kayaking portion of the Abel Tasman, and while we would have been happy to just hop on a water taxi back to town, we decided to explore the trail back on foot. We started Day 3 at Onetahuti where we dropped off our kayaks the night before. The hiking trail actually goes further north past Onetahuti (the entire thing is 52 km), but spending six or seven days in the wilderness seemed a little out of our league. We’re a bit lazy if you hadn’t noticed, and generally unprepared, so we skipped the most northern portion of the park and headed south. The trail hugs the same golden sand beaches and granite rock formations we had seen from the kayak, but it was fun to see it all from a different perspective. Right off the bat we plunged into rich forest environs filled with birdsong (thanks again to the Birdsong Trust). I whistled my face off to the fantails that filled the tree branches, and within a few minutes we had a pretty good crowd of birds hopping from tree to tree along with us. They are incredibly social birds, and will dance for anyone that seems interested. They also like to swoop right in front of your face. It's a jolting experience. A lot of the trail is nestled in the trees with frequent scenic lookouts, keeping you fairly cool as you wind your way up and down gradual (and some not so gradual) ascents of the granite cliffs. We took the occasional break for photo-ops and snacks, but for the most part the hike is extremely do-able. I wore hiking boots, but Care did the whole thing in Chacos. A unique feature of this particular Great Walk is the existence of four tidal crossings at Bark Bay, Torrent Bay, Onetahuti Bay, and Awaroa. The tide depth in the park can fluctuate by as much as 5.2 meters, meaning that at high tide, some of the trails are submerged. Low tide and high tide are generally 6 hours apart, so most of the crossings are only passable during a 4-hour window, 2 hours before and after low tide. Get a tidal chart from the Nelson or Motueka i-site and do some planning ahead of time, or else you’ll have to: Take the high tide trail (which can add several kms/hours to your trek) Swim. Not recommended. Wake up at 5 am because you have 6 hours of hiking ahead of you and the next low tide isn’t until 5 pm. Of course Care and I didn’t time our tidal crossings well, forcing us to take Option A at Bark Bay, and Option C at Torrent Bay. Don’t stress about the Onetahuti crossing – there’s just slightly less beach to walk on at high tide. In contrast, the Awaroa crossing further north is long. Don’t muck around with it. Time it right, or you’re going for Option B. As disgruntled as we were about our early start at Torrent Bay on Day 4, the stillness of the morning was pristine. The best part is when the track emerges from the tree line to expose amazing views of the park’s bays and islands. One of the most stunning views is from the peak atop Anchorage Bay, looking north at dawn. New Zealand is called “Aotearoa” in Maori which literally means “land of the long white cloud”, and Care and I have been lucky to see an almost non-stop parade of epic cloudy sunsets. The sun lights row upon row of clouds on fire each evening…probably every morning too but we catch wayyyy fewer of those. It’s always amazing, but the Abel Tasman was exceptional. We bought a tent just for this trip, and in retrospect, I wish we had bought a small cooker (cookers are not provided in the Abel Tasman DOC huts or campsites). Cereal, PB&J sandwiches, and cold pasta held us over for four days, but the first thing we did after the hike was inhale five pizzas at 623 Bar’s all-you-can-eat pizza night. Ignoring a few sandfly issues (don’t forget your DEET!), it’s easy to see why the Abel Tasman National Park is the most visited park in New Zealand. Whether it’s by land or sea, everyone can easily and affordably enjoy the pristine beauty of the natural surroundings. We definitely recommend the kayak/hike combo. It’s a sweet taste of both worlds.
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Possums vs. Birds

The story of our third day in the Abel Tasman actually begins in the middle of the night. Scrounging and snuffling sounds outside the tent woke us up (and by “us” I mean Carolyn). “What’s that noise?” she whispers. “New Zealand doesn’t have any bears, right? RIGHT?” she pleads. “I don’t think so…” I mumble (in my sleep). Then we remembered what it does have...possums.
Not to be confused with the North American opossum (on the left), the New Zealand brushtail possum is less rat-like and more creepy, furry, lemur-like. Here’s some back-story to help explain the possums’ impact on New Zealand: When New Zealand split from Australia and other parts of ancient Gondwanaland, the small size of the North and South Islands couldn’t support large predators, leading to unique bird evolution. Without the fear of predation, many birds shed their ability to fly and developed thicker, solid bones and sturdy legs to carry them around the ground in search of food. The most extreme example is the moa, which stood at over two meters tall and was similar to large land birds in other parts of the world like ostriches and the “terror birds” of South America. Sadly, early Maori tribes hunted the moa to extinction around 1500 AD.
Another iconic New Zealand bird is the flightless kiwi. These birds have thick leg bones with marrow in them (in contrast to light hollow bones of other birds), and the tiny vestigial wings hidden at their sides are essentially useless. The pukeko is a good example of an in-between bird. While still technically capable of flight, its primary response to danger is to run on its speedy, sturdy legs. These bright blue birds are everywhere on the North Island, and when they get startled crossing the road, it’s hilarious to watch them try to run/fly away with their small wings and big, awkward, dangling feet. They can barely clear paddock fences. These bird populations lived in relative safety for millions of years, but the introduction of new predators like possums, stoats (weasels), and rats to the ancient New Zealand ecosystem has led to a rapid decline in native bird populations. The possum was first introduced to New Zealand by Europeans in the 1800’s to create a fur trading industry, and it bums me out that their greed and thoughtlessness is destroying the present diversity. Possums target the eggs and young of endangered birds like the kiwi and some penguin species, as well as eggs of the now endangered reptile, the tuatara. The response by the government has taken years, but now the verdict is clear - birds get to stay and possums must go.
At first it struck me as odd that possum-hunting is a patriotic duty for New Zealanders. It’s actually disturbing how many possum carcasses I see on the road. However, after our trek through the Abel Tasman National Park, I’m beginning to understand. The native animals are so disadvantaged by these new predators that they depend on a certain amount of human protection, enter the Abel Tasman Birdsong Trust. I looked into it, and there are approximately 30 million possums in New Zealand. That’s how many kiwis used to roam the forests, but now the kiwi population hovers in the low thousands. The fact that kiwis even still exist is only due to extensive efforts by the New Zealand government to establish island sanctuaries and breeding programs. Bottom line, possums are killing the rare and wonderful wildlife that can only be found in New Zealand. Ok, now back to our second night in the Abel Tasman Park. When we woke up the next morning, we found that the three tents next to us at the Onetahuti Bay campsite had holes chewed through the sides and any food hidden inside had been snacked on by a sneaky possum. The only reason Care and I escaped unscathed was because we didn’t want trash in our tent so we tied it up and left it outside. The possum tore a hole in that and dined on a banana peel, ignoring our tent and the precious food supply inside. We’re smart as. Later that morning we discovered that justice had been served – the body of a possum hung limp from a trap only a few feet from our tent. The Birdsong Trust sets hundreds of traps along the trail to protect birds that nest near the coast. It was sad to see an animal get killed for doing what nature dictates it to do – eat – but it’s also nice to see that the native bird populations stand a chance.
I hate that it’s necessary to hunt down and kill the possums because I think they are actually really awesome animals. It’s a sad state of affairs here; the only way to preserve the shrinking diversity is to slaughter innocent animals just trying to survive themselves. Anyone looking to support the preservation effort and be stylish too can buy “merinomink” or “ecopossum” garments, which are made from a super soft blend of sheep wool and possum fur. Proceeds often go toward groups like the Birdsong Trust, and these groups are making progress - there were 70 million possums during the 1980’s (more than twice the number that exist today). Some shops even sell novelty items like possum fur nipple warmers. Seriously guys, New Zealand is a weird place. So…sorry about the possum rant, but it’s an important topic to all Kiwis (both the birds and the humans). The next post will be about our 2-day hike back to Marahau. Promise.

Kayaking the Abel Tasman National Park

After three brutal days picking apples, Care and I decided it was time for a well earned vacation, so we headed north to Marahau, the gateway to New Zealand’s most popular national park – Abel Tasman. Trips in the Tasman usually vary between one and seven days, though most people spend just one or two days hiking, kayaking, or just cruising on a water taxi. We opted for a four-day combo adventure – kayaking north and then hiking back south. FYI, campsites have to be booked ahead of time, and reservations for heaps of different kayak companies can be made for free at the Nelson or Motueka i-sites. We chose Kahu Kayaks because they were the cheapest, and they turned out to be a really awesome, friendly company too. A bunch of factors such as wind direction, weather, water taxi schedules, and most importantly the high tide charts should play a part when planning your itinerary. We had to decide which was the better option – kayaking north against the wind and then hiking back south, or taking a water taxi up and kayaking south. So after thinking about it for like five minutes, we chose to kayak first…cuz we felt like it. We ran into a few bits of chop and wind, but all in all the two days kayaking were amazing. We explored Fisherman’s and Adele Islands – homes to seals and penguins – and had lunch on a secluded golden sand beach that can only be reached from the water. We shot some “rapids” (which just means we got a little too close to the rocks) and splashed around for a while. Our first night’s stay in Anchorage Bay was a bit sandfly-infested, but the great facilities made it a worthy stop. Our second day in the kayak was a lot more steady (Carolyn steered). I heard a rumor that she’s used to spending time in a boat, but I can’t remember where… We lucked out with a little blue penguin sighting early in the morning – apparently they’re really shy and spend most of their time way out in the ocean fishing, so we were really excited to see one float past us in the bay. In the afternoon after a solid paddle north, we passed “Foul Point” where we tried not to capsize so we could investigate a lesser known seal colony at the northern edge of the Park. Our efforts were rewarded when a few of the males danced in the water for us and played hide and seek under our kayak. We also spotted some 4-month old baby seals on the rocks, but Care was disappointed that she couldn't convince them to jump into the kayak and ride home with us. Day two ended with another secluded beach picnic and a mellow paddle into Onetahuti Bay Camp. There Kahu Kayaks picked up our kayaks and garbage and dropped off our backpacks, all at no extra charge, letting us prepare for our two day hike back to the start of the trail. But more on that adventure next time…

"Seal Sighting" - a comic by Shawn Forno

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Destination Guide: Anchorage Bay, Abel Tasman Park, NZ by Shawn Forno The Abel Tasman National Park – New Zealand’s smallest national park – is by far the busiest, with a wide array of one to five day hiking, camping, and even kayaking options available for the casual to committed tramper. The largest and most popular campsite...read more

Apple Picking

We already know that NYC is the greatest city on earth, so we came to New Zealand to experience a slower way of life and to get our hands dirty doing some good old fashioned manual labor. Our first (and subsequently last) stop on the NZ Harvest Trail was Motueka during apple season. We were stoked to get a job, so our first day began with us waking before sunrise and blasting pump-up jams (*cough* Ke$ha) all the way to the orchard. We met our boss “Gonzo” (one cool Kiwi) and Bob the tractor driver (also awesome), and we began schlepping our ladders down the row of trees we had been assigned to. We were lucky to be working together because, other than the unpleasant visits from the owner, and the “You make my grandpa look like a speed demon” comments from Bob, there was little human interaction. We looked forward to Bob's friendly insults because it was our only source of entertainment - one time he asked Shawn if his last name was “Banana”, then just drove off laughing. I still don’t get the joke. You’re probably thinking “So why was this job so bad? You guys just sound lazy.” Well, my friends, here are a few apple picking fun facts that we’ve compiled to help explain just how bad this job really was: Each person’s bag can hold up to 130 apples. It takes approx. 21 bags to fill 1 bin. Therefore, approx. 2,730 apples fill 1 bin. We were paid NZ$26 per bin, but we worked together so we each made NZ$13 per bin. Therefore, we earned almost 1 penny for each apple picked. Almost 1 NZ penny. Right now that’s 7/10 of an American penny, or $0.007. It took us about 2 hours to fill a bin – that's approx. 12 apples each per minute. A skilled picker should fill a bin in 1 hour working alone - that's 45 apples per minute. Our pathetic pace had us earning NZ$6.50/hour each (US$4.73). The current NZ minimum wage is NZ$12.50/hour. Fail. On Day 1 we worked for 7 hours and filled 3 bins. On Day 2 we worked for 9 hours and filled 3.75 bins. On Day 3 we worked for 9 hours and filled 4.25 bins. In total we filled 11 bins, for a grand total of…drumroll please…30,000 APPLES!!! Here’s the sad part – despite picking 30,000 APPLES!!! in just three days, we were also 30,000 apples off-pace. To pick enough apples to earn minimum wage, we were supposed to have picked 60,000 apples in three days. Now, add to that awesome paycheck the fact that you spend the whole day with 130 apples strapped to your chest, lugging around a 10 ft metal ladder (or almost falling off the top of it), while the summer sun beats down on your face and sandflies bite your neck. It’s the worst combination of back-breaking physical labor and mind-numbing monotomy. The cherry on top is that the orchard owners have a very specific way that the apples must be picked and would storm down the rows yelling if they saw otherwise. You’re supposed to delicately use two hands to cup the apple, then tilt it up and twist. This technique prevents bruising, keeps the stem on, and ensures the trees stay in tact for next year. Quick tip for orchard owners – you want us to actually do that? It’s gonna cost you a lot more than $0.007. There’s also a cryptic scale to determine whether an apple is ripe: If it’s 60% “block red” and 40% green, pick it. If it’s 100% red, but it’s “stripy red”, don’t pick it. If it’s “stripy red” with a yellow tint (which, by the way, looks exactly like green), pick it. I spent most of my time rotating apples going, “Hmm…is this 60% red…or just 55% red?…it seems to have a slight golden undertone that would indicate ripeness…or is that a hint of lime green that indicates non-ripeness…” Then I would remember how little they were paying us and just chuck it into my bag. Or eat it. The one good thing about apple picking is that you never go hungry. Following the owner’s meticulous methods made it impossible to work quickly. If we treated the apples like precious flowers, we would get in trouble for working too slowly. If we sped up, we got yelled at for our bins being too green and for leaving too many branches on the ground. It’s a lose-lose situation with fear being the only motivation. The most valuable lesson that Bob the tractor driver taught us was to spend five minutes rotating the apples on the top row of our bin so the red side was up and the green side was hidden. Genius. The 30,000 apples we picked were shipped to the US, so if you’re ever at the grocery store and come across Royal Gala apples from New Zealand that are bruised and half green, you’re welcome. We decided after three days that we had learned more than we ever wanted to know about apples, and had gained a lasting appreciation for field workers and the power of human labor. So we quit. We haven’t eaten a Royal Gala apple since.

Motueka

Motueka…man this place haunts my dreams. Care and I came to this hamlet in apple picking country with high hopes of landing a job in the fields and getting our hands dirty with a real “Kiwi experience” underneath the summer sun. Little did we know that the worst thing that could happen to us was getting our wish. Our job search started with online applications and endless phone calls to uninterested orchards who were “full for the season” even though Motueka's harvest hadn't even started. We persevered and enlisted the help of the local picking job agency for over a week to no avail. Freedom camping near the ocean fed salt baths on the edge of town lost its appeal, and we wore out our welcome with the librarians/guardians of the only free WiFi in town. After some more time bashing our brians against message boards and job listings we pulled out our secret weapon – charm. Oh that’s right, we got mad charm. We’d visited the same lady - Anne - for over a week in the picking job placement office, and she'd come to recognize us amidst the sea of eager backpackers. We were bright eyed, polite, deferential, and now – desperate. We flattered her and thanked her and did everything to put this lovely middle-aged lady in our pocket. After a few eyelashes were batted and a sighing, “thank you so much for trying” was given, we left her office ready to give up and head south. No more than an hour later our phone rang. Who was it? Anne offering us work with Birdhurst Orchard the following morning. Shazaam - mad charm. Little did we know our Motueka fairytale was about to become a nightmare. But more on that next time…

Kaiteriteri Beach

Kaiteriteri Beach is a small golden sand beach just north of Motueka, and honestly is something that Care and I would have overlooked were it not for my Dad. For those of you who don’t know, my dad was born in Dunedin on the South Island of New Zealand. He was raised in Waimate (Otago) for most of his young life before moving to the States when he was 18. He’s told us kids a few stories about life on the farm in New Zealand and about some of the stuff he did as a kid, but New Zealand was always so far removed from my suburban Californian childhood that the memories he shared never really stuck - they just didn't have enough context. That’s a large part of the reason I'm in New Zealand for this year of tramping and exploring – to sharpen the hazy edges of my family history here and to give those stories context. This finally happened when my dad told me about a little beach he used to visit as a kid – Kaiteriteri Beach. Kaiteriteri is a popular holiday destination, especially with kayakers eager to explore the Nelson coastline near Split Apple Rock. The beach is great and sunny weather typical of the area (Nelson is considered one of the sunniest spots in New Zealand) greeted Care and I as we lazed around on the sand. But the best part was actually setting foot in a place where my dad played as a kid. I’m a big fan of physically experiencing the sites of historical events - like walking around Rome on the same paths that great Romans had tread millenia before. It fills me with an indescribable sense of connection to the things I've read or heard about. It’s magical. So even though I know the waves aren't the same ones my Dad swam in, the sand he played in washed out to sea long ago, and the sandflies that attacked me are only distant ancestors of the ones that bit my dad here 50 years ago, I felt kinship to a dormant side of my family tree. I found context amidst the sand and waves and bugs on this little bay in the South Island of New Zealand. And it feels really good.