Every Day is Sunday

There are no roads to the end of the earth.  We were more than an hour away from the very tip of New Zealand’s north island when the highway abruptly ended and we saw a sign for the famous 90-Mile Beach.  It turns out that the only way to reach Cape Reinga is to find an opening between the dunes, gun the engine over the break, and begin the long drive up an obscenely long stretch of coastline. 

Driving on the beach is trickier than you might think.  You have to be careful to get back to the road before high tide — or risk losing your car to Tangaroa, the Maori god of the sea.

Since the insurance on our RV didn’t cover drives on the beach, we jumped on a bus.  The first stop on our bus tour was Te Paki, where we hiked up the enormous sand dunes for a little fun in the sun.

Our next stop was Cape Reinga itself – the northernmost tip of New Zealand and the place where the waters of the Tasman Sea and Pacific Ocean meet.  Maori consider Cape Reinga the jumping-off point for souls as they depart on the journey to their spiritual homeland.  As we approached the famous Cape Reinga lighthouse, we saw that it was covered in clouds.  Erin interpreted this omen as a clear sign that we weren’t ready to return to our homeland, and we should travel around the world for (at least) another year.

Our surly bus driver (“I’m not even supposed to be here today”) hurried us back onto the bus so we could beat the rushing waters of high tide.  We didn’t mind too much – there wasn’t much to see and we were anxious to begin our trip down to the ancient and wondrous Waipoua Kauri Forest. 

The highlight of the Northland’s west coast, the Kauri forest sanctuary in Waipoua is the largest remnant of the once-extensive Kauri forests of Northern New Zealand.  Our first stop was the mighty Tane Mahuta, named for the Maori forest god.  At 161 feet tall, with a circumference of 45 feet, he’s the largest Kauri tree alive.  You don’t so much as look at Tane Mahuta – it’s more like you stand in hushed awe of this king of the forest.

Erin:Kauri trees are mind-blowingly enormous.  Although not as tall as Sequoias in Northern California, they are almost twice as wide.  They make the pine trees of Wisconsin look like matchsticks.

Jeff: Even my favorite tree-hugger had a difficult time wrapping her arms around Te Matua Ngahere – the widest living Kauri. 

New Zealand is a land of extremes: endless mountain ranges, 9 hour hikes, delicious wine, tiny glow worms, 20,000 foot drops out of airplanes, 90-mile beach highways, and giant trees that would make the Lorax blush.  We loved every minute of our second trip to this amazing wonderland, and we are very, very sad to leave.  But one thing that makes departure a little easier to bear is that we know we’ll be back someday.  Oh, and we’re heading to Hawaii.

The best way to explore New Zealand is at your own pace and on your own schedule. We embraced our inner-redneck, picked out a tricked-out RV, and set out to explore this magical wonderland with our house on our back. Freedom!

Before leaving the RV lot in Auckland, our RV guy told us about “freedom camping.”  Unique to New Zealand, freedom camping is a fancy way of saying you can camp anywhere you want as long as there isn’t a “no camping” sign.  Our primary goal each day was to find the most beautiful spot — on a beach, near a waterfall, at a scenic lookout – to stop for the night.

We spent our first night on the shores of the South Pacific.  In the morning we stumbled out of our mobile home and went for a pre-breakfast walk on the beach. 

We had a little scare when we forgot where we put our only pair of shoes.  For a minute we forgot where we were and actually thought they may have been ripped off. 

Our destination was the northern tip of the Northland Region, but the journey was its own reward.  With the radio blasting Men at Work and Maori versions of Bob Marley we passed strutting peacocks and sheep badly in need of a trim. 

We kept our eyes out for anything that looked interesting.  Some of our stops – like the not-so-scary “haunted maze” – weren’t worth the u-turn.

But other stops went better than expected – like our hike to the rock forest which turned into a full-on spelunking excursion.

And we absolutely couldn’t resist the opportunity to pull our RV into the golf course, make lunch in the parking lot, and then play a round.

New Zealand has no shortage of beautiful vistas – the hardest part was figuring out whether our spot was picturesque enough to stop for the night.  We knew we were doing something right when our most stressful decision was whether a certain view was pretty enough to wake up to.

Although some days it took longer than others, we’d inevitably find the perfect spot to settle in for the night.  We’d set up the BBQ, make dinner, and watch the sun go down.

Once the sun set, we’d climb into our home.  Some nights we were so tired that we’d go right to bed and wake up at first light.  Other times we’d light some candles, play Gin, and try to make each other laugh until our ribs ached.  Ah, freedom. 

Just when we thought it couldn’t get any better, we made our way down to Kaikoura.  According to Maori legend, the god Maui sat on the Kaikoura Peninsula and fished New Zealand’s North Island up from the depths of the sea. As we drove down the winding highway toward Kaikoura, it looked like the crystal-blue water was reaching out and touching the snow-capped peaks of the Seaward Kaikoura Mountain Range. The scenery was mesmerizing.

Well, at least Jeff was mesmerized.  Erin was focused on another big draw from the Kaikoura: sheep-shearing.

Erin: I really wanted to shear a sheep.  Is that such a weird thing to have on your bucket list?

Jeff: The first time I heard Erin talk about sheep shearing was in South America. We spent a few days roaming around Uruguay looking for a sheep to shear, but no dice. Six continents later I’m still hearing about shearing sheep.

Erin:  New Zealand has about 50 million sheep – that’s about 15 sheep for every person. Surely one of them needed a trim. 

We heard there was a sheep farmer just outside of town who puts on a sheep-shearing show, so we went out to The Point to investigate. We were greeted by “Ram-man,” a Drysdale Ram who was quickly eating out of Erin’s hands.

The Ram wasn’t ready for a haircut, so our host brought out a shaggy sheep ready for a buzz.

Erin:  Finally, the moment had arrived! I grabbed the electric shearer and set to work. At first, the sheep squirmed like a four-year-old on the barber’s chair for the first time. After a bit he settled down while I did my best Andre Chreky impersonation.

After a successful sheep-shearing outing, we went looking for Kaikoura’s other famous attraction: Crayfish. Unlike the Crayfish in America, which are usually the size of large shrimps, the Crayfish in Kaikoura are the size of a Maine lobsters and can get as large as 3 pounds. It was Crayfish season, and so we followed the Guidebook’s advice and went looking for Crays at Nin’s Bin’s.

Nin’s was a huge disappointment. The first problem was extreme sticker-shock. How could the smallest Crayfish cost $45? How could we justify spending $90 for a snack at a roadside shack with paper napkins and plastic utensils? If that wasn’t bad enough, all of the Crays were pre-cooked. The lady behind the counter couldn’t tell us when exactly they had been cooked.

We weren’t comfortable blowing that much money, and so we set out looking for a better deal.  After talking to a few locals, we discovered that Kaikoura’s Crays are the subject of a pernicious price-fixing scheme.  Apparently, all of the restaurants and shacks have an informal agreement that they all charge “export prices” for their Crays.  Tourists pay the inflated prices, while the locals get their Crays by setting their own traps or bartering with friends who set Cray traps.  Jeff pointed out that this type of collusion would violate at least three different antitrust laws back in the U.S. 

We went back to the hostel with a conundrum: we wanted to try the local cuisine but didn’t want to pay an inflated price.  As it turned out, the answer was – quite literally – staring us in the face.  Just above the couch in the common room of the hostel was an advertisement for a fishing trip.  For $80 (less than two Crays at Nin’s Bin’s) you get a four hour fishing trip and get to keep all of the fish you catch for the day.   

We met our fishing guide at his house near the wharf and followed him to his boat. It was an absolutely gorgeous day and we quickly got our poles in the water. The Orange Roughy jumped onto Erin’s hooks before she could let the line all the way out. Jeff’s snapper was the biggest catch of the day.    

After our initial success, we pulled our lines and headed out to check the Crayfish traps.  We slowly pulled the trap out of the water expecting to find a dozen delicious Crays, but all we found was a giant octopus and a bunch of empty shells.  The octopus had wormed its way into the trap and feasted on all of the confined Crayfish.  We dumped the octopus on the boat’s floor and gave it a stern talking to.

Although it looks like an alien creature, an octopus doesn’t pose any danger to humans.  We let the octopus climb over our arms – the little suction cups on its tentacles felt strange as they attached and detached across our skin. Finally, we bade the octopus goodbye and threw him overboard. He released a large cloud of black ink as soon as he hit the water.

We spotted another buoy and went to try our luck with another trap.  We crossed our fingers as the trap slowly made its way onto the boat. 

Jackpot!  We’re going to eat well tonight!!!

After a few hours out on the water Jeff started to get a little sea-sick (Erin: He was three shades of green).  We had caught more fish than we could possibly eat, so we decided to call it a day and headed back to shore with our bounty.

We spent the rest of the morning cooking up a storm at the hostel, and invited our fellow travelers to join us for a delicious feast. 

We spent a few more days enjoying the beautiful scenery of Kaikoura before saying our goodbyes to the South Island and heading north.

About an hour outside of Blenheim we saw a sign for Havelock. 

Here’s a good rule for any road trip: when you see giant signs advertising weird local food you absolutely have to stop.  We had our choice of mussel restaurants in town, but it was an easy choice.  We picked the one with the giant pot of mussels on the roof and sculptures of giant mussels in the garden.

After our impromptu lunch stop we continued along the highway toward Abel Tasman National Park, famous for its beautiful vistas and winding trails.  To pay it forward we decided to stop and pick up a hitchhiker along the way.  Picking up a hitchhiker is almost as exciting as hitchhiking! 

Perhaps we set our expectations too high, but Steve was a disappointment.  A lone traveler from Canada with minimal baggage, he seemed like a good pick-up.  He was nice enough, but instead of sharing cool traveling stories, we heard about his missionary work and about the benefits of welcoming god into your heart.  Really, Steve?  Hey, I love this song, I’m going to turn the music up a little if you don’t mind…

We dropped off Steve and made our way to the entrance to Abel Tasman National Park.  Abel Tasman is famous for being one of the most perfect spots on the South Island for hiking and kayaking.  We decided to do both.

On our first morning we took a two-hour speed boat ride all the way up the coast.  We spent the next two days making our way back.  Day 1 was a 7 hour hike along one of the most beautiful coastlines in the world.

We met Gabriela from Brazil early in the hike and spent a lovely day sharing stories and talking about how much we loved Carnival in Rio. 

Except for the indigenous Maori and old-time Kiwis who owned land in Abel Tasman before it was designated a national park in 1942, nobody is allowed to build any permanent structure anywhere in the park.  There are many campsites but no hotels.  Since we weren’t carrying camping gear, we were in a bind for a place to stay.  Luckily, we found a loophole: a houseboat.  We followed our map to the designated beach, and literally hailed down our hotel for the night.

The crew cooked up a delicious BBQ and they even had beers on board.  It was a calm evening and we slept like babies.

The next morning we arranged for a one-way kayak rental – a company dropped off kayaks for us at the houseboat, and we could return them at the beach closest to town.  We set out early in the morning to kayak. We paddled around into coves and around an island but the highlight were definitely the seals – which loved to swim under boat, splash and play. You didn’t have to paddle to them – they came to you.

Kayaking is a lot more exhausting than it looks.  About half way through we found an empty beach and took a nice, long rest under the warm Kiwi sun.

After an amazing two days in Abel Tasman, we dropped off the kayaks and got back on the road.  We spent a night in Nelson – taking in the views and admiring the impressive port – before heading southeast to Kaikora.

Jeff:  I figured that the next gas station was just around the corner, so I didn’t say anything when the gas gauge hit empty.  We were still 40 miles away from Blenheim, so I kept the car in neutral as much as possible and didn’t put my foot anywhere near the brake.

Erin: I looked over and saw that the line was well below empty.  The sun was going down and we hadn’t seen another car for almost an hour.  I started taking inventory of our food supply.

Jeff:  I was taking a downhill curve at 85 mph when Erin yelled “GAS!”  I slammed on the brakes and cut hard right to exit the one-lane highway.  It wasn’t a real gas station, it was a huge above-ground tank of gas with an automated spigot attached.

Erin:  I’m smiling because we don’t have to sleep in the car, but then I hear Jeff outside cursing up a storm.  Apparently we needed a New Zealand issued credit card to get the gas flowing. We heard some voices and saw a grandmother walking with her grandchildren. We waited patiently as they strolled toward us, I thought surely this nice granny would help.  But she didn’t have the blasted card either!

Jeff:  I told Erin to stay in the car and I walked down the street.  About a half mile down the road I stopped into a bar to look for help.  The bar was empty except for two grumpy looking older Kiwis hunched over their beers.  I explained that I had money, but didn’t have the right credit card to get gas.  Nobody moved.  Then I offered to buy a round of beers. 

Erin:  I look up and I see an old beat-up red pick-up truck bounding down the road toward the gas station.  Jeff was in the front seat next to a grizzly looking Kiwi.  Like most Kiwis we’ve met on this trip, he was really nice and even refused to take the extra beer money.  I ended up slipping it on the driver’s seat while he wasn’t looking.

Erin:  By the time we arrived in Bleheim it was already dark, so we immediately checked ourselves into a small Bed & Breakfast on the grounds of a vineyard outside of town. We were tired but not so tired that we couldn’t take advantage of their beautiful outdoor kitchen.  Jeff whipped up a feast while I poured wine made from grapes grown on the property.  We awoke the next morning to find ourselves surrounded by the beautiful hills of the Marlborough wine region.

It was a beautiful morning and our host suggested that we go for a walk.  She offered up Texas – their chocolate lab as our guide.  “Just follow him,” she assured us, “he knows the way.”  So we grabbed a bottle of water and set out with our guide dog for the day.

We followed Texas as he moved purposefully through the vineyard.  We followed Texas as he took us through the woods.  But when Texas reached a fence, turned around with a confused look, and then jumped into the creek to chase some ducklings, we started to wonder whether Texas had gone rogue. 

We coaxed our “faithful’ companion out of the water, and then trespassed through several private lots trying get back on track.  After apologizing to a number of neighbors, we decided to follow the sound to distant cars and headed straight for the highway. As we took our host’s unleashed dog on the highway, we prayed everybody would make it back in one piece.  After our little stroll-turned-stressful-adventure we decided it was time to hit the vineyards.

The Marlborough region is an ideal spot for wine lovers.  It was spring and the grapes had just started to appear on the vine. 

We spent the next hours and then days enjoying the delicious wines of the famous Marlborough region.  We stuck to the smaller, family-owned vineyards and found that the employees were knowledgeable and friendly.  The Pinot Noirs were good, but the Sauvignon Blancs were out of this world.  Our absolute favorite wine was the Churton, grown from the grapes that surrounded the B&B.

We boarded the Tranz Alpine train and slowly made our way across the Southern Alps.  One of the world’s great train journeys, the Tranz Alpine links the Pacific Ocean to the Tasman Sea.

It was early afternoon when the train pulled out of Greymouth station and started chugging through the Grey River Valley.  We made a brief stop at Arthur’s Pass before entering the Otira Tunnel and burrowing under the mountains for almost five miles.

We emerged from the tunnel into a broad valley with views of unbelievable landscapes and stupendous views.

Although New Zealand is about the size of California, it is made up of hundreds of micro-climates and the weather changes drastically from coast to coast.  We had traveled only 139 miles due east from Greymouth, but it felt like we got off the train in a different hemisphere.  It was colder in Christchurch than it was on the glacier!  We dug out our hats and gloves and walked into town for a delicious Japanese dinner served by a Chinese waitress.

After just one night in Christchurch we picked up a rental car and hit the long and winding road to Akaroa.  Most people travel to Akaroa via State Highway 75, but we opted for the scenic route which took us around the Lyttleton Harbor and through the rugged countryside. 

The adventure was in the journey, and we stopped a few times just to hang out with the sheep.

Akaroa means “Long Harbor” in Maori and is the site of the country’s first French settlement.  It’s a charming town that strives to re-create the feel of a French colonial village, down to the names of its streets and houses.  We stopped for lunch in some of the choice eateries for some salmon (fished out of the waters around Akaroa) and enjoyed the beautiful sunny day on the banks of the Akaroa harbor.  

After lunch we doubled back toward Christchurch and plotted a course to the heart of New Zealand wine country.

There is nothing like road-tripping in New Zealand.  The highways are surrounded by stunning landscape, and every few miles you come across something that makes you want to pull over and take a picture.

We had planned to take the bus from Queenstown up to the Franz Josef Glacier, but we got distracted by our mission to jump out of a plane.  Missing the bus was the second best thing that happened to us that day (the parachute opening took first prize).  We traded our bus ticket for a rental car and set out on another ROAD TRIP! 

Our first stop on Highway 6 was the volcanic black rock beach.  We walked along the water’s edge and admired the impressive rock piles that were balanced enough to withstand the substantial wind coming off the water.

Our next stop was a picturesque waterfall – one of about 3 million photo-worthy waterfalls in this part of the world.

After about 6 hours we finally made it to glacier country.  We pulled off to catch a glimpse of the Fox Glacier.  Sir William Fox was New Zealand’s prime minister when he named the river of ice after himself in 1872.

We arrived at the Franz Josef Village just before nightfall.  Located in the middle of nowhere, the sole purpose of the village is to be a jumping-off point for seeing one of the most spectacular and accessible glaciers in the world: the Franz Josef.

We awoke at dawn, grabbed boots, snow pants, and crampons, and made our way out to the foot of the glacier.  We met up with our guide for the day – Bob Frost – a Kiwi from Wellington who prefers the road less traveled. 

Frosty led us on a seven-hour odyssey over the rough edges of the glacier.  We descended into valleys, climbed the peaks, and spent a lot of time looking for the spectacular ice caves created every day by this moving river of ice.

The Maori knew the Franz Josef glacier as Ka Roimata o Hine Hukatere – Tears of the Avalanche Girl.  According to legend, a Maori girl was walking the cliffs with her lover when he lost his balance and fell off one of the peaks to his death.  Her flood of tears froze into the glacier we see today. 

After an amazing day on the ice, we hit the thermal pools to thaw out a bit before venturing out for our final dinner with Sam.  Sam’s adventurous spirit and boundless energy made these last few weeks in Australia and New Zealand very special for us. 

Three years ago we traveled to Fiji, New Zealand and Australia on our honeymoon.  At the time, we thought that the main attractions in that region were Fiji and Australia, and so we spent just five days in Queenstown, New Zealand.  We seriously underestimated New Zealand.  Five days was not nearly enough time to experience the magic of one of the most beautiful places in the world.

When we were choosing the route for this trip, we avoided any city we had already traveled to as a couple.  The picturesque lakeside city of Queenstown, New Zealand, was the sole exception to this rule.

We arrived in Queenstown just in time to celebrate Erin’s birthday. 

Jeff:  I had been wracking my brain trying to think of a good gift for Erin’s birthday.  She had set the bar pretty high when she bought me a sheep for my birthday in Ethiopia, so I had to come up with something good.  Surrounded by the Remarkable Mountain Range, Queenstown is one of the most spectacular jump sites in the world. What better way to celebrate her birthday than to jump out of an airplane at 12,000 feet?

Erin:  Some ladies might question whether it’s a good thing when your husband says he wants to push you out of an airplane on your birthday.  But after eating 1,000 consecutive meals with this man, I was quite sure that his heart was in the right place.

After several delays because of wind, we finally boarded the van and made our way out to the airstrip.  We should have been nervous about the jump, but we hardly had any time to worry about it.  Jeff was distracted because he had left his wallet in the van and was worried about the safe return of his cash and cards (he got everything back).  Erin was distracted because she was turning 32.  Sam was distracted by how good he looked in his flight suit.

As soon as we arrived at the hangar our instructors were helping us into our flight suits, checking our gear, and pushing us toward the plane.

The three of us boarded the tiny propeller plane and climbed quickly to 12,000 feet.  With a professional skydiver strapped to our backs, we crawled our way to the open door of the airplane.  We each dangled our legs over the side, rocked slightly, and then tumbled into thin air. 

The first thing we did was let out a big scream.  For the next 45 seconds we took in the awesome scenery while falling at a rate of 140 mph.  The laws of physics seemed inverted as we watched Lake Wakatipu and the Remarkable Mountain Range rush up toward us.  Then the parachute opened and we spent about 7 minutes slowly flying down to earth. 

It was awesome!

Ever since A.J. Hackett opened the world’s first commercial bungee jump in Queenstown, the town has been known as the adrenaline capital of the world.  We took a cable car 1200 feet up the mountain to jump off “The Ledge,” a 150 foot free-fall bungee jump with spectacular views of Queenstown.

Sam made friends with the girls running the skydive and bungee, and he was able to negotiate the “local deal” on bungee jumping: unlimited jumps for the price of one.

Erin:  For those of you who don’t know Sam, he is one big bundle of energy.  He’s the kind of guy who can run/bike/swim a triathlon during the day and then go out for a night on the town.  When he found out about the unlimited bungee, his eyes got very wide.  I knew he was going to get his money’s worth.

Jeff:  Sam was the first one to go off the bungee.  I’ve never seen him more scared in his life.  He was wringing his hands, his face lost all of its color, and his mouth was dry.  But he overcame his fear, let out a conquering scream, and threw himself off the ledge.

Erin:  Sam fell hard for the bungee.  I watched as he did front flips, back flips, and then the ultimate “Matrixjump” with guns blazing.  Eventually I lost track.  Sam jumped off the ledge EIGHT times before he was done.  The man literally bungeed to exhaustion.

Jeff:  Bungee jumping is actually more scary than skydiving.  For our skydive we had a professional skydiver strapped to our backs  so we didn’t have to throw ourselves out of the plane — we paid someone to do it for us.  On the bungee ledge you stand alone paralyzed by fear.  You look down and your brain screams: “Are you insane?!?!  DON’T DO IT!”  You have to overcome that intense fear and throw yourself off the ledge.  After four jumps my body didn’t have any adrenaline left.  I was exhausted just watching Sam jump four more times.

When Jeff told his college buddy Blake Nixon that we were in New Zealand, Blake put us in touch with his father who has an apartment in Queenstown.  The smartest thing we did when we arrived in Queenstown was to meet up with David and Dada Nixon.

Less than 24 hours after we contacted them, we were climbing into the back of their car and heading out to the Central Otogo Valley for a day of wine tasting.  Although they had never met Sam or Erin (and met Jeff only once eight years earlier), they welcomed us as friends immediately.  We got into the car and Dada turned around to look at us from the passenger seat.  “Jeff, Erin, and Sam,” she said to confirm our names, “Okay, let’s party.”

And we partied.  We hit several wineries that day and tasted some of the best Pinot Noirs in the world. 

After a full day of wine tasting, the Nixons invited us back to their house for more drinks and some food.  It is not an exaggeration to say that the Nixons have the nicest view in all of Queenstown. 

We drank wine, watched the sun go down, and had our own dance party on the balcony.

The Nixons were incredible hosts.  We took a tour of David’s private wine cellar and then spent the evening sampling bottle after bottle from the best wineries in New Zealand.  The sun finally set on this wonderful day, and we decided to take our leave before Jeff did any real damage to the apartment.

On our last night in Queenstown we went out to experience the local nightlife.  It was Saturday night and Winnie’s was throwing their annual Pimps and Pornstars Party.  We picked up costumes at the dollar store and went out to paint the town bright pink.

The DJ was spinning some killer tunes, Sam was dancing up a storm, and the beer was flowing like water. It was a great night, and of course the Wertkinborns won a bar competition and we went home $50 richer than when we arrived!

We were sore from our 9 hour hike through the Alpine Crossing but had no intention of slowing down.  There were more adventures to be had and we were eager to get on the road.  Unfortunately, the next bus to Lake Taupo wasn’t leaving until the afternoon, so we decided to try a mode of transportation common in New Zealand: hitch-hiking.

We had too much stuff to fit into one car, so Sam took the first ride and we took the second with a really nice couple and their two dogs. Sam’s ride tried to convince him to stay in his basement on a ratty futon, with a new puppy and his two kids for $50 bucks. Sam thanked him for the ride but passed on the accommodation.

It was a perfect day in Lake Taupo.  The sun was shining and the deep blue lake was perfectly calm.  We took a short hike and spent the afternoon lounging in the grass. 

It was such a beautiful day we made reservations to go kayaking the next morning.  We signed up for a “Kayak to the Carvings trip” to see the Maori rock carvings at Mine Bay.   

The Maori are the indigenous Polynesian people of New Zealand.  In the late 1970s master carver Matahi Whakataka-Brightwell took a boat trip around Lake Taupo and saw the cliffs at Mine Bay.  Where other people just saw rocks, Matahi saw a canvas.

He decided to carve a likeness of Ngatoroirangi, a visionary Maori navigator who guided the Tuwharetoa and Te Arawa tribes to the Taupo area over a thousand years ago. In recognition of the multi-cultural nature of New Zealand, Matahi also carved two smaller figures of Celtic design, which depict the south wind and a mermaid. The Ngatoroirangi carving took four summers to complete and the carvers took no payment other than donations to cover the cost of the scaffolding.

The brochure made the kayaking trip look amazing – smiling tourists basking in the New Zealand afternoon sun and admiring the beautiful carvings.  We were looking forward to a leisurely trip on the water to take in some local culture.  It was quite a shock when we got into the freezing cold water on an overcast morning and started paddling against 4-foot swells.

We made it to the carvings without capsizing . . . but just barely.  The lousy tour company (Kayaking Kiwi) didn’t give us protective rain gear, so we sat shivering in front of the carvings for about 30 seconds before turning around and paddling back as fast as humanly possible. 

A few hours later – when our body temperatures started approaching normal – we rented a car for the day and headed up to Rotorua. 

Rotorua is New Zealand’s most dynamic thermal area with spurting geysers, steaming hot springs and exploding mud pools.  We went to one of the most revered Maori sites: Wai-O-Tapu (Sacred Waters). 

Formed by thousands of years of volcanic activity, Wai-O-Tapu is considered to be New Zealand’s most colorful and diverse geothermal sightseeing attraction. 

We saw huge volcanic craters, brightly colored green and red pools, and New Zealand’s largest bubbling mud pool.  The crazy colors were naturally created from oxidized sulfur, magnesium and other elements we probably couldn’t find on the periodic table.  It was other-worldly.

There’s a significant Maori population that still lives in Rotorua, and although some might find it commercialized, there are many opportunities to learn about the indigenous culture.  We made our way to the Mitai Maori village for an evening of hangi, haka and poi.

The Mitai welcomed us (and about 100 other tourists) into their village and we sat down to an authentic hangi meal – lamb, chicken, potatoes, and stuffing – all cooked together in an earth oven known as a hangi pit.

Shortly after the meal our Maori host asked our large group to nominate a chief.  With just a little prodding, Sam stepped up and humbly accepted this most honorable role.

Sam spent most of the time onstage during the performance while the Maori explained their ancient culture through song, dance, and poi.  Sam even gave a speech thanking the chief for inviting us into his village and conveying how honored we were that they would share their culture with us.  In the parking lot after the performance, our host told Sam it was the best speech he’s heard in the seven years they’ve been doing the show.

Sam’s speech was good but the highlight of the evening was the Haka, the traditional dance form of the Maori.  Made famous by New Zealand’s world-renowned Rugby club the “All Blacks,” Haka is a posture danced performed by a group with vigorous movements, tongue-wagging, foot stomping, and rhythmically shouted accompaniment.