Kiwi Roadtrip: Week Two
Nights slept in tent: 0
Nights slept in mountaintop huts without heat: 3
Status of ‘93 Nissan: trunk no longer closes, therefor is strapped down with bungee cord (WT)
Number of Canadians spotted wearing Canadian flags: 0 (slow week)
Skip-Bo Score: Brooke 7, JR 3 (we’re losing interest)
The last post was written right before our Kepler Track adventure began. Four days, sixty kilometers. This really doesn’t sound so bad, 15k a day is roughly 10 miles…easy. But, with mountainous terrain and a 30lb backpack factored in, it became a serious feat. There was whining, complaining, swearing, aching, itching (from the goddamn sandflies) and promising that I’d never do another trek again. Imagine filling a backpack with 3 gallons of milk and a 5lb bag of flour, strapping it on your back and walking up a steep hill for 6 hours. My favorite part of the day was when we got to stop for lunch, and when we reached the next hut.
But…it was absolutely beautiful. And like the 60-year old German trekker that I met in Nepal said, you forget the pain and only remember the spectacular views. So we’re planning another trek next week, where I’ll probably do some more whining and swearing…but will look back with fond feelings.
(And we must not fail to mention that trekking is perhaps the best way to whip yourself into shape. You have to keep going, no other options exist. You can’t pay anyone to carry your pack or pick you up…you’re stuck. It’s forced weight loss. A new reality show? 400-pounders dropped off on the Kepler Track with meager rations? I could find that guy from the Hong Kong-Tokyo flight…)
Since the trek we made our way through the southern tip of the South Island, a desolate area known as the Catlins, home to millions of sheep and a few people. We stayed in a farmhouse overlooking grazing sheep and the sea. Again, gorgeous and too good to be true. The first night we shared the house with an ex-Secret Service agent turned IRS director (riiiight) and his wife. We tried to get him drunk and spill the beans, but no luck.
Two nights of life on the farm was about enough, hours later we were enjoying seafood salads and a bottle of New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc at a sunny outdoor cafe in Dunedin, a college town on the East coast. This was exactly what I was dreaming about during that freezing cold bastard trek. We stayed at a gorgeous rehabbed Victorian house, aptly dubbed boutique accomodation by the hosts Rodney & Craig. Luckily we didn’t have any encounters with the resident ghosts, allegedly a dancing little girl and an angry old woman. Creepy.
We’re making our way north- to the Marlborough wine region and trekking in Marlborough Sound, then back to the North Island for a few days. It’s hard to imagine that this trip is coming to a close. In just nine days we’ll be visiting friends in San Francisco and eating Taco Bell (please God, let the Crunch Wrap Supreme still be available).
Going home brings about mixed feelings. Living out of a backpack and choosing between two pair of pants and two shirts everyday is getting annoying. But frankly, a life absent of obligation–the freedom to wake up in the morning and go anywhere or nowhere–is awesome. And inspiring.
Unless we find a friendly philanthropist willing to fund our flash vagabond lifestyle, we’re coming home and returning to the American workforce. We’ll pay taxes and get 10 days vacation time a year, which we can divide up between holidays and a trip to Florida.
Tags: going home, Kepler Track, New Zealand, Road trip, Travel
brooke.pearson8
It IS hard to believe you have been GONE since January 20th! Sip some Sauvignon for your marm and get your buns home! I should have known this would happen when you were 7 and your little “bikeride” around the neighborhood took you half way across town…but you always come home to mama! The tree is up and the presents are getting wrapped and I can’t wait to wrap you in my arms and give you a great big mom hug! xoxo