I'm back in Auckland after making my final decent on the city for my flight to Sydney tomorrow to begin the Australian version of Brad's Big Book of Travel Stories. I had a great grand finally this past week to wrap up my time in New Zealand...

I jumped across the Cook Strait (not really) to get back to the North Island and after spending a rainy night in Wellington decided it was time to head North via the motorway. I stuck out my thumb at about 11 AM and soon got picked-up by a guy heading just 30 minutes up the road. He was a clean-cut, non-intimidating guy, but talked about rifle and pistol shooting the entire time we were in the car. I was trying to keep the conversation going all the while holding back my desire to scream like a girl and yell "don't shoot!"

After about an hour of standing in the hot sun of a small orchard town about 4 hours South of my destination, Senor Ian Robertson, my Lake Taupo chaeffer pulled his jallopy to the side of the road to my rescue. I would later learn he was moving to Auckland which explained the incredible amount of shit hanging out of every orafice of his car.

Ian explained to me that he was an artist, which forced me to reach back into my FSU Fine Art days to keep any sort of conversation going to avoid the smoke filled akward silence that would ensue sans speech. Ian rolled a new cigarette about 45 seconds after he finished his previous one. This guy was in his mid to late 40's with a gray go-tee and a black beenie on his head. We talked about art... or rather Ian talked about art. Everytime I would inject something "artistic" into the conversation... Ian would promptly correct me by starting out with.. "not really Brad." (Here's Ian's website complete with his picture- www.waikahagallery.net - look under IKS Robertson)

The art conversation wore thin as we passed a prison on a road called Desert Rd. (as it is in, yes as the name hints at, the middle of no where) and Ian turned the tides with his profound statement that he has escaped from 4 prisons, including, "that one over there in the valley." I've always been intrigued by Alcatraz-esque jail break stories so I pursued the subject and asked Ian how he did it.

Nonchalantly he says he slowly cut through the steel bars of the cell with a razor blade, each day packing the scrap metal shavings back into the gap in the bar with chewing gum so the bar, when tapped with a dragging night stick, would sound the same as the others so not to alarm the guards. He tied a bunch of sheets together from different cells to make it over the barbed-wire fencing surrounding the compound.

We then passed a bridge a few miles North of the prison and he said he had hidden under that bridge for 24 hours as he heard the search dogs sniffing around looking for him. Then he rolled another cigarette and smogged the car up again like a dance club on a hot friday night. Ian dropped me off in Lake Taupo by the Super Loo pay toilets, both of us enriched by the 4 hours of conversation we part took in.

I had heard Ironman New Zealand was taking place the weekend of March 5th in Lake Taupo. I ended up staying for a week in Taupo to be able to volunteer during the most amazing contest I have ever seen. During the week I met a guy from the Netherlands, a medical student from Memphis, TN, and a Norwiegen guy travelling with 2 Norwiegen super babes. We hung out the whole week and did some tramping around the local trails and waterfalls. Yes, the Norwiegen super babes did go swimming under the waterfalls and hold their hair back as the water pounded down on them... but wanted nothing to do with Team America. Bummer.

Ironman New Zealand was the coolest thing I've ever seen. My first job as volunteer was to direct traffic so the cyclists could pass through a certain street. I was outfitted with an orange vest and a whistle and given breif instructions. I quickly became the local traffic celebrety as I would let the pedestrians waiting to cross amass on the corner and then when the coast was clear give a great loud whistle, a few skips of the feet and a lungs forward with fingers pointing toward their desired location of the next curb.

As the day progressed I turned from traffic cop to cheerleader. All the competitors have their names on their race numbers so as they would run by I would give them a few words of encouragement, although after swimming 2.4 miles, biking 112 miles and being half way through your marathon.... my words of encouragement for most probably sounded like I was speaking some ancient swahili dialect. They would look up at me, drop an eyebrow and try to muster up a "Thank You."

Cameron Brown won the Ironman for the guys in a time of 8:20, but the most amazing competitors were the ones that came in just under the 17 hour cut-off time at 12 midnight. A police officer from Auckland was the last official finisher coming in with 30 seconds to spare under the cut-off. After starting 17 hours earlier by jumping into Lake Taupo for a 2.4 mile swim... he was now speed-walking/hobbling/dragging himself down the halogen lit finish line with no smile or wave, just a dead man's stare on the finish line before him. These fighters were the most amazing to watch and as they would cross the finish your whole body feels like its going to explode with excitement.

And I won a drawing contest making a support sign for an American guy who had, just 1 year earlier, undergone a double lung transplant after cystic fibrosis slowly killed his own lungs. His brother asked me to make a sign for him so I drew a big bad mean ram sheep with smoke coming out of his nostrils with a headline that had the guys name, race number, and a caption that read "Now You've Angered the Sheep." As the 4 million New Zealanders are VERY proud of their 40 million sheep. It swept the contest winning me a towel, bag, water bottle, etc. Which was good as I had lost my towel the week before.

I hitched back to Auckland and called up the guy who had originally afforded me the opportunity to sail in the yachting regatta and live in the lap of luxury upon my entrance to NZ. He was heading back up to the Bay of Islands for 2 days and offered to take me up there. We went up there and hung out with his whole crew, played tennis, swam in the ocean, ate like champs, etc. He dropped me off in Downtown Auckland this evening as tomorrow afternoon I fly to Sydney, Australia to begin the next leg....

I promise you all some good stories from this one....

Tally-Hooooo