Last Day in NZ, April 6th

The “Walk About” chronology has been turned up-side down. My last blog was Feb 7^th. Since then, every day, in the last two months, has been full; 9 am to 10:30 PM (or later), when I’ve fallen into bed, pleased and exhausted. On my off days, I caught up on chores; washed clothes, wrote PC’s, and usually felt that writing any more would be a chore. (As you know, my bursts of enthusiasm are rarely short).

I’ll start this one with my last day in NZ, (April 6^th), when Neil and I drove to Piha (pronounced Pee Ha), on the Pacific Coast 40 km from downtown Auckland. He picked me up at 7:30 am and we sliced west across suburban Auckland. He drives like an eel, slipping quickly, easily into tiny spaces, rarely using the brakes. In ¾ of an hour we had reached a twisty, dirt road at the edge of the jungle and drove upwards to the spine of the Waitakere mountain range. Neil’s car is a 2000 Mazda with both automatic and manual gear shift which actually is pretty cool as with a flick of the gear shift you move from one to the other; once in manual, to change gears, a tap backwards lowers, forward, raises the gear. This is incredibly helpful on tight, steep curves, where a lower gear keeps the car at a safe speed. Arriving faster than expected we “s” turned down the other side of the mountain heading for a place called Whatipu which 80 years ago was the terminal pier of an amazing mountain tramway responsible for moving millions of board feet of Kauri timber from the Piha forests , ( 30 miles north, along, up and over a spectacular cliff/shore coast.)

The track has been gone for 50 years but the overhanging rocks at the beach still show where the rails ran; some rail connected to a few broken timbers under the incoming tide. It was cold, blowing hard and threatened rain as we walked over the black dunes approaching a blustery surf. The sea grass tendrils snaked over the path like cords. Had to watch my step or get flipped. Neil thoughtfully lent me a pair of open toed “swamp” shoes so I wouldn’t soak my only pair of shoes, my desert boots, a day before leaving NZ. I wore my jazzy, pin stripe, synthetic, long pants (which seem out of place in these conditions but they’re comfortable, don’t show the dirt and dry quickly.) We both soon slipped into our wind breakers. The shoreline was deserted, a raw wind blowing the foam backwards off the waves and surf crashing onto black volcanic sand; a wild place with whispers of days past. Imagine logs 15 to 20 feet in DIAMETER, each lashed, overhanging it's own 39' flat car, trundled into the sea, floated off, and then tied to an expanding boom to be transported by steam ship 50 miles to the Auckland docks. Wish I’d seen it.

After-wards, we breakfasted in the sunshine at a tiny general store on the shore of Huia with tables fronting a stunning bay surrounded by towering cliffs. From there we went to the DOC center, (Dept of Conservation), built on the edge of a cliff and surrounded by a wooden deck jutting out into open space, 1500 feet higher than our breakfast place.

We were in awe, an incredible view looking down on silver fern, the mouth of the bay, and in the distance Whatipu. Forty feet below the deck, on the sloping forest floor, a 30 year old Kauri had grown; the top crown now breasted the decking we stood on. The trunk was clean, silver grey for the first 25 feet and then there were nubs of vanishing branches below the crown of leaves. This tree cleans itself as it grows, the ultimate carpenter’s dream, no knots in pure lumber. To the early New Zealanders, 1880-1910, this tree was as good as gold, the backbone of a thriving timber industry, Kauri was exported all over the world.

The DOC center was immaculate, well laid out and the information provided about the Kauri Tramway, most helpful. An illustration clarified how these giant logs were moved from Piha over an 1800 foot mountain and down the other side to Karekare where a horizontal track along the shoreline and through tunnels delivered them to Whatipu. (Supposedly the name was given to the place by a Maori chief. It doesn’t mean he relieved himself; something to do with dramatic crashing surf ??)

Karekare is in a valley with a small river cutting through 75’ high sand dunes guarding the beach and is about ½ way between Piha and Whatipu. We crossed the stream and passed beneath a forest of Pohutukawa trees with their giant twisted branches before coming onto the beach where Neil had planned to walk south towards Whatipu. As the tides were ebbing, a fairly wide stretch of black beach was available. We passed a place where he remembered, not 10 years ago, a cable attached to the cliff to allow folks to pass safely at high tide. Most of that path had eroded, the cable limply hanging; it would have been a hairy crossing as the trail was, perhaps, a foot wide and a slip would cause a 30 foot, backbreaking drop to the stones below. It was still windy but the sun warmed the black sand and us and our jackets came off. A three foot high cairn on the beach was a reminder of quick fogs and sudden rough weather; we continued on, hugging the coast.

The vertical cliffs clearly illustrating the incredible volcanic forces of the past; “S” shaped rock seams melding with giant inverted “U”s, all above midnight black, igneous sand. We searched for a train tunnel somewhere in the cliff face without success. (Later we saw a map showing we had not gone close enough to the cliff to find it.) The sand dunes turned into shoulder high reeds, cut grass and bog. Sometimes we had to backtrack as a path dead-ended or brought us to a sheer drop into the sea. After about an hour moving south we turned back because our path was blocked by a wide river and our time was short. We heard the sound of the surf and “bog whacked” towards it. Pairs of Paradise ducks, the female with a white, the male a black head greeted us with a whistling yodel. They supposedly pair for life and if one dies, the other partner pines away. A frightened pair flew over a 200 yard open stretch of water. It appeared shallow so Neil waded in, to check out the depth. When I saw it was only mid thigh, I rolled up my pants and followed. Once across, we squished onto the beach and started back to Karekare and our parked car. Great rollers were smashing onto the beach leaving mounds of 10 inch high, frothy white foam.

The 30 mph onshore wind blew the foam across the black sand, which appeared like white crabs, twisting and turning, intact until, in 100 feet or so they hit dry sand and vanished, sanded to death. Never saw such a thing before so I took a video.

Driving out of Karekare valley required 15 minutes of 1^st gear ; the road going up a grade that was a steady 30 degrees. We reached the spine of the mountain range turned north and headed to Piha, one of the best surfing beaches on the west coast.

An overlook high on the road gave a panoramic view of a mile long curved beach with Lion rock, centered and looking out to sea. Our road down to Piha was as twisty and steep as the previous two. Neil had hoped to show me a “blow hole” where ocean waves are forced under overhanging rock and gushers of water explode into the air.

We scrambled under over hanging cliffs to reach an impassable point where the returning tide blocked our way. The curious thing about this place; every rock or stone or pebble was glued to the cliff, even though they were 30” in diameter or hundreds of pounds and 90 percent of the bolder/rock/pebble were exposed. The smaller ones on the cliff face seemed like hand holds in a climbing gym, screwed and crazy glued to the wall. Even those directly under the cliff on the shore ,(which one would think would be loose because they had eroded off), were tight as a tick, couldn’t find even ONE to scavenge as a souvenir.

This place is obviously a surfer’s hideaway with every kind of lodging from sumptuous to lean-to and lots of tattooed dudes with boards. Today, in 6 hours we beach hopped to 3 beaches. Each was completely different from the other and as usual we got a lot of “trekking” under varying climatic conditions. New Zealand regularly offers 4 seasons a day. We drove back to Pakarunga in less time than it took as we returned after rush hour, stopped at the RSA, (Retired Serviceman’s Assoc), to debrief over a few jugs of Tui beer.

Lesson learned, over and over, don’t let what appears to be lousy weather in the morning intimidate you to change your plans, persevere, do what you planned, as in New Zealand it will most likely turn out fine. Neil and I had an emotional farewell, we’d happily traveled together, on and off for 7 weeks, consequently, distracted I left my fleece jacket on the back sea of his car, (which he happily delivered next day just before I left for the airport). Rose and Gordon had created a delicious curry for my last supper. I spent some time checking the couch surfing blog to see whether a host in Honolulu had responded to my request for a bed. No luck... but another super day. I fell into a pleased, exhausted sleep.

Tsunami fishing weekend - March 12-13 2011

Phenomenal.. we happened to be at the one spot in NZ where the Tsunami came ashore. Port Charles on the Coramandel. Friday we had heard about the tragedy in Japan. Awoke early Saturday, 6am to see what that meant for us, lodged in a "Batch",( summer home), on the shoreline of a funnel bay. As we ate our breakfast some of us wandered out under massive Norfolk Pines to see what appeared to be a one meter bore coming towards us. ( Like the one in Turn Around Bay in Alaska ). It struck the shore to the left of the bay and bounced into the right hand corner, swept past where we were standing, filling the bay way above the high tide line of previous days, a roaring river of brown water traversing and parallel to the shore line. Bloody Hell ! Huge logs went past at about 10 mph ; then , it slowed down , went slack and all went back, perhaps a 1/2 mile, leaving fish flapping in small pools. The Mauri family staying with us immediately jumped into the bay and started catching fish, picking up cockles and oysters but there was a lot of concern as it was obvious that another surge was building. " Get outa" thir, it's chenging, it's dengerous!" Every 9 minutes for the next 3 hours the tide changed from full to absolute slack. Our first wave came at dead low tide. Probably saved us from what happened later at full high tide.

After watching 10 tide comings and goings we felt reasonably unconcerned that the tsunami was going to have any negative effect as, so far, nothing serious had happened. We, Neil, Graham, Graeme and I, went surf fishing in Sandy bay, a half hour drive over a mountain where really funny things happened. Graham cast a normal 30 yards and Neil, quickly walked out as the tide receded, to tell him that there were no fish on his hook. He stood in 8" of water. Graham ran towards Neil, cast again and then again before he started to back pedal to keep out of the water of the incoming tide. When he reached the beach, his line was 200 yards out in deep water! Then the tide went out and his hook was lying 200 yards out on wet ground. Completely nuts. Shore casting didn't work so we decided to drop a long line , hooks on meter centers. Graham prepared to take a kayak out trolling as he drew the line off the beach . He placed the boat in the water, arraigned the fishing rods in the holders, began to sit down; but by this time the water was 10 meters into the bay. He was sitting in a boat on a sandy beach watching the water disappear. We roared with laughter! " How you going to paddle that boat?" He eventually got it in the water about 50 meters from the shore. The rest of us tied bait and slowly released the line as Graham paddled out. He succeeded but when we pulled in the line a half hour later, every hook was shiny clean. We surmised, tiny fish stripped the bait; the bigger ones had left for the ocean.

Screw it, we decided to go back to our beach. Neil parked in the shade under the pines, ( 3-4 feet above the road surface parallel to the beach and 6 - 8 feet above the normal high tide mark). I was in swim trucks, barefoot , and started picking up new bits of drift wood delivered to the beach by the last wave. Other people watching the bay started making warning sounds. " It's bigger and really moving. Holy shit, look what's happening in the bay, the water's boiling". I had left a towel hanging on a stump just off the grassy bank which moments before had been 2 meters above the surging water. By the time I had taken 3 steps and grabbed the towel, the water was mid calf and debris was pushing against my legs. Someone shouted " Git the cahs outta thir", meaning the depression in front of the Batch. I sloshed/ran through the house into the back yard towards the tent to strip and save the bedding and place it on a woodpile ( which fortunately didn't float off ) and stuffed " chilly bins" , portable ice boxes under the tent floor so it wouldn't be flooded. As I got the last mattress out, a 2 foot high surge of water rounded the corner of the house and instantly filled the backyard. Most of the cars made it up the road to high land. One, to which no keys were available, flooded to the seats. A farmer offered us his pasture for the night and, lock, stock and barrel, 18 people moved to a site, 400 feet above the bay; Tsunami survivors in a meadow filled with cow flaps, no worse for the experience besides lots of wet gear, ( which dried out under a moonless night in the starlight of the milky way.)

As the weekend came to a close, I thanked my hosts for putting on one of the best weekends ever; "you really didn't need to go to so much trouble. The food, drink and company were fine; The Tsunami was " over the top" .

We found out later that almost no other place on the North Island was affected. Love and All best wishes, Nick, Dad, dadadski

New Zealand Feb 7 – 8

Returned to Pakuranga where Allan had made a delicious curry dinner. Met Neil at the RSA and agreed to leave for Piahia (“ pie here” but the r is silent) 350 km north, next morning at 10.

At Waipu a tiny town of 200 was a museum describing the longest migration to NZ of Scots through Nova Scotia 1832 to Australia 1834, and finally to Waipu 1836 where they settled and flourished. They brought tools and skills learned in the NS boat building and lumber industries and applied them to the incredible timber available in NZ.

We spent the next 2 nights in the “ Pickled Parrot” Backpackers lodge; bunk beds, noisy, hot, mosquitoes and snoring. Didn’t bother me at all but, Neil found a motel owner willing to rent at ½ price ( the season had been very slow and ½ was better than 0 ), so we moved into a kitchenette with separate beds and a swimming pool for $25 more a night than the Backpackers!

I wandered about this highly touristic town. High speed boats, sailing cruises with dolphins thrown in, a trip to the 90 mile beach, jumping out of airplanes, the highest paraglide behind a boat and so on. I beach combed and then saw a fair on the meadow designed to sell stuff to cruise ship passengers. First guy I talked to was a bowl turner and my virgin intro to Ancient KAURI a most extraordinary wood. It is usually mined ! 40-50,000 years ago by carbon dating an immense Tsunami felled standing Kauri , many 3 – 4000 years old at the time, all in one direction and silt deposit buried these immense trees. The pitch or GUM these trees produce will preserve them almost indefinitely so the wood is workable in anyway lumber can be used. These trees grow to be 40 feet in diameter and 90 feet to their crown. They shed their limbs leaving no knots; the ultimate carpenter’s dream. When the British came here they had just lost America and their source for the timber need to build masts for their navy. Kauri represented an incredible resource and may have been one of the deciding factors to colonize New Zealand and a treaty with the Maori in 1840. Anyway, ancient kauri, specially the roots which have so much fire and chatoyancie ( the way the grain reflects light, like tiger eye), from deep brown of red and orange, naturally excites any wood worker like me.

Back to the fair: the bowls turned in NZ are much heavier than those of Hawaii, more substantial, with a robust heft that makes one feel it will last forever. Of course, the turner looks for Chatoyancie and like a water color painter, stops at the right moment which is so crucial to the beauty of the piece. He also sand blasted designs onto flat sections of highly polished wood. Very effective. This wood is orgasmic! The highlight of my NZ trip has been meeting carvers and woodworkers. More later...

In the same art fair, I noticed hedgehogs made with folded paper and a lady who was creating paintings using white glue to hold sand or broken shells in bold, Maori patterns. Probably uses a profile cut out, of which she has 100’s. She also centered a Paua shell into 2” deep frame and I saw where another inspiration for Maori tattoos.

Neil suggested that I walk from Hururua falls to the Treaty meeting ground. My first walk in a NZ jungle! I was struck by the beauty of the ferns both in their live and dead forms and especially the Koru, the one with a giant fiddlehead surrounding tiny heads within; “a wheel within a wheel a turning”. Although the symbol of this fern is everywhere in Maori carving and culture, I still haven’t found one carved to exactly represent it. I guess I’ll have a go. The walk took me alone , along the river’s edge. Some cliff overlooks dropped, completely unprotected, to the water, 50-70 feet below. I walked on through forests of fern and giant Pahootakawa trees (another favorite tree found at the steep sea shore edge; it has amazing thick branches, twists and turns and the old boat builders found them to be ideal for crooks, bows or any place great strength at funny angles was required). The trail came down to a mangrove forest, quite different from Florida’s. Separate trees growing 10 to 15 feet apart, in standing water with hundreds of coral-like, 6 to 8 inch long nubs of new growth, sticking up from the swamp floor. I stood for a while on a bridge and noticed a swirl. I focused and saw what had earlier been described as a “Tiger” trout, a fish the shape and size of trout, but with slashed yellow claw marks top to bottom on a transparent, nearly watercolored fish. Hard to see them. Wish I had my fly rod with me.

The trail was only 6km long but it took me nearly 3 hours for all my stopping and playing. I whittled, photographed, had a quick skinny dip, and finally made it to the Waitangi Treaty grounds. Great views of the Bay of Islands, a stupendous Maori war canoe, made of three hollowed out pieces of Totara, stitched together with vine and glued with Kaori gum. Bow and stern carved in traditional geometric style. The place where the 1840 treaty was signed was pre-fabricated in Australia, a fairly normal English house with lovely flower gardens and a well laid out vegetable garden (10 acres or so). The Maori Lodges (a marae), is more recent and the interior has specific carvings panels, 12 feet high, 2 wide representing 16 of the separate tribes (the Maori were very well represented by the treaty which gave them rights to their traditions and traditional lands. From what I gather, they feel that the Europeans took their land from them, the Europeans contend that, had colonization not happened, the Maori were doomed to the fate of the Christmas Islanders. They had used up all the countries resources and had resorted to cannibalism, eating each other for food). I have been tangentially immersed in Maori culture since I arrived as there is a Maori TV station, they are everywhere in modern society and most museums seem to concentrate on educating the traveler with Maori legends and history.

The next 2 days were spent doing touristy things. First day was “Swim with the Dolphins” , 2^nd day “ The 90 mile beach, sand surfing, Cape Reinga, The Gum Museum and a store called “Ancient Kaori”. The first was on a wet day and visibility was limited. We found a pod of 50 or 60 dolphins frolicking about and were told we could not swim with them as there were babies present. ( This is most of the time so the claim to swim is mostly bs and promotional). The second day started at 7am and returned to Piahia about 13 hours later. We drove about 500 km in a fairly comfortable bus; normal routine, on the bus for an hour, 20 minutes off.

The 90 mile beach was actually 64 as it had been estimated by someone in the 1800’s and the name has stuck. Tide tables must be considered as the beach vanishes in high tides and many vehicles have been drowned if the driver miscalculates. Interesting for the first few minutes. Reminded me of flying the trike 5’ off the sand in Portugal but, of course, we were inside a modern bus, no wind and lots of people. As we left the beach we stopped at an immense 1000 foot high sand dune where the riders were offered the chance to body board. Single file they ( not me) followed the bus driver, a young guy full of beans, to the top and chucked themselves down a 45 degree slope. Some came off and had to chase their lightweight boards across the slope. I believe that a few managed to make 3 runs before re-boarding. Sweaty work.

Cape Reinga , the most northern point of NZ has an ancient lighthouse. It is also the place the Maori believe their souls leave to return to their legendary Hawakii, from whence they originated. Very dramatic coastline plunging 1000’s of feet to a snarling ocean. Great ocean wind on a sunny clear day. One has to be careful as NZ’s ozone offers much thinner protection than say, Hawaii. I thought I had a good tan, but in 1 hour of NZ sun, I felt as though I’d been too close to a furnace.

Our return took us to the Gumdigger’s Museum, a place where Slovenians mined the Kauri gum to be used for turpentine and various other shellacs. Extremely hard work as the trees had to be “discovered or felt” with long iron rods poking into the ground. Then they would dig down and along the trunk in hopes of finding the gum , ( like sap from pine trees, except, if they were lucky, in very large quantities.) The last generation of gum diggers realized the dynamite was quicker and the fastest of their family, a young girl, set the fuse and ran. Gum is no longer in demand as synthetic finishes have replaced it.

New Zealand Feb 2 to Feb 6th, 2011

My flight to Auckland was uneventful; 9 hours starting at 9:45 pm Jan 31 and arriving in NZ at 5:30am Feb 2nd. Can’t figure what happened to Feb 1; something about International Dateline.
My ears were completely plugged, no pain , just like being in the bottom of a well so I spoke softly to people who universally said, “ Scuse mi”, and I had a hard time understanding the Kiwi vowel shift where an a becomes an e, an e becomes I ,and so on. Caught an express bus/taxi which combines folks going into Auckland. I reserved a hotel room but, as I arrived at 9:30am ( felt much later to me, I‘d been awake for 22 hrs), my room would not be available until 2 pm. I left my gear in an unlocked room with LARGE signs indicating one did so AT YOUR OWN RISK and went out to explore the city. My hotel was more or less at the top of a mountain and thus walking downtown was literally down Queen Street at about a 30 degree slope. Easy going. First place I visited was the Theatre complex, a bit like Lincoln Centre, with a large open square and benches ideal for people watching ; an Opera House, a Theatre and cinemas. I met a Maori guy with dreads and a face of geometric tattoos who asked what I was doing there. When I told him I was interested in volunteering to work in any theatre he shook my hand and said, “ Good on ya” and than strode away.
Fast food restaurants of every Nationality are cheek by jowl all the way down Queen Street. Indian, Vietnamese, Chinese, Polynesian, MacDonald’s, Wendy’s etc.. I was woozy and trying to stay awake, time seemed to have stopped. I struggled up Queen, my heart drumming in my ears until I got to the top, a cross street which everybody call “K” street it’s name is 15 letter long and unpronounceable. Thankfully it was fairly flat. I found a restaurant overlooking a canyon, Muir Park, which at the turn of the last century had been a slum and shanty town. The city purchased the land and made a grass and tree covered space; if it had been covered with snow, would have been a black diamond run. City is nearly vertical. I had a “belly buster” breakfast which tasted of nothing. Don’t mean to knock the Kiwi’s but their food has no imagination. The coffee was excellent.
I got back to the hotel early, hoping I could get into my room. No luck. Sat drowsily in the sun in an open courtyard until I was collected by a lovely Indian girl who showed me my room. I was unexpectedly surprised as it was lovely, a spacious kitchenette with adjoining living room and bedroom on the 11th floor, a spectacular view, uphill, to University buildings. The hotel was filled with many nationalities; seems typical of the city as I heard varieties of language that were new to me. Took a shower and fell into a deep sleep until about 6pm.
Walked DOWN town again but this time to the gorgeous harbour. Sail, power and fishing boats everywhere confirming the claim “ City of Sails”. The architecture is fascinating, a jumble of different styles which, for me, harmonize to produce one of the most lovely cities I’ve visited. The use of colour in the glass office buildings is dramatic; vertical shapes that curve with roofs that hang over like sweeping Victorian ladies hats. All sorts of levels and heights, the history of building from Edwardian sandstone structures to modern and in between, huge billboards of surfers advertising Coca Cola. Sprinkled around are sculptures. Other than the breath stopping hills, ( steeper than San Francisco’s ), it’s a most appealing place.
The hotel was booked solid the next night so I cast around to find a Youth Hostel, just up a 60 degree street. Whew! I dragged my suitcase up the hill stopping to rest it at each parked car by leaning it against the back bumper and waiting until my pulse dropped below 90. YHA is a backpacker hotel offering inexpensive lodging all over NZ. I checked in and then went looking for a Network Café to check e-mail and see if I had any positive response to my couch surfing requests.
Yeah! Rose Wang and Gordon Hill said, “ The house is full, but please come if you enjoy a crowd” I caught the number 50 bus to Pakarunga and was dropped just outside “Cascades Motel”. 11 Hamsey street was nowhere about until the Motel owner got out his A to Z(ed) and found it on the other side of small park. I was warmly welcomed and introduced to 3 Check Slovakians ,( Zed, Anna, Peter), 1 German ( Alec), 2 Slovenians( Anna, Mejec), Allan Martin a NZer working for DHL and a resident tenant and of course my hosts, Rose and Gordon who is soon to be 65. He was a Peace Corps volunteer in Columbia in the late 60ies, is widely educated in entomology, biology ,botany and specialized in everything TURF for golf course, parks and residential landscaping. Rose is from Taiwan, a Buddhist with a core belief that she was put on earth to help and enjoy other people. Both seem to welcome any chance to make travellers lives’ easier, sharing meals, driving to buses or harbours , showing them the sights in the neighbourhood. Peter, one Check guy was ripped off by a garage who said they would fix his vehicle, took payment and then refused to do so and further , knowing he was under a time constraint, would not return his money or the vehicle. Gordon immediately contacted the Consumer Agency responsible for business practices on Peter’s behalf.
I was supposed to bunk in with Alec, but as he had just arrived from Kuala Lumpur and was sick, it was decided I should sleep in a tent on the back lawn. Everyone pitched in and I got a lovely big space ; when the rain started, a soothing drumming sent me to sleep. About 5 am Kui Kui birds woke me with their melodious song, curiously interspersed with frog croaks. Gorgeous flowing tones and then “greeckk”; emanating from a bluish black bird the size of an American Robin.
Unlike Robert in Hilo, HI who had a “Groceries” donation glass jar, Rose & Gordon ,( R&G), expected each guest to bring their own food. No matter, Anna & Mejec made a huge breakfast and everyone was invited. Gordon & I went to pick Tatiana up from a bus stop; from Grenoble, she had brought her kite surfing rig which fitted between us in the middle of the car. As Anna & Mejec were leaving that day to look for work, Tatiana got the couch. The Checks were sleeping in a mini-van in the driveway.
Friday evening, Alan invited us all to the RSA ( Returning Servicemen Association) for an evening of drink, dancing and dinner. The hall was filled with ex-military guys, some watching rugby on a large flat screen, others chatting and, once the 3 piece band started, dancing to mostly golden oldies, American 50ies music. Sorry to say, dinner was tasteless. A carver-y of roast beef, pork, Yorkshire pud, carrots, spuds, cauliflower all without any spices; however, the desserts were excellent. Seems the chef is a pastry man.
I was introduces to Neil Armstrong, not the first man on the moon but rather a guy soliciting funds for a colon cancer charity. During our chat he mentioned that he was driving to Piahia ( pronounce Piehere, the r being silent), the Northland on Monday and if I’d like to join him I could see a lot of this country while he called on prospects.
I offered to pay for lodging during the trip, he agreed he’d pay for gas. We both agreed that we’d look for backpacker type accommodation; as he said, “ I can’t afford jazzy places collecting money for a charity”.
A full blown Sculpture Tour along a portion of Waiheke island was on offer Sunday and everyone at R&G’s place decided to follow me there. 7 of us caught the 45 minute ferry ride from Half Moon Bay to Kennedy Point, the a 20 minute bus ride to the starting point of the Sculpture trek around the coast. About 40 sculptures were placed in, on, down and around the steeply banked coastline.( Not dissimilar to Scotland’s craggy shores). I laughed at one entry ; profile, full-sized, photographic cut-outs of naked human figures scattered in the meadows, picking berries behind bushes and down to the beach; a virtual nudist colony. Another reminded me of Galsworthy’s work, his “s” shaped brick wall through oak woods; this one was a double “W” of split firewood logs, horizontally cabled together 8 to 10 feet high; leaning left and right to make an unsteady, drunken wall. It was probably 90 feet long and , naturally had people photographing each other doing the “leaning tower of Pizza” routine, holding up the tumbling pile.
A very beautiful “O” sculpture of polished granite stone , 7 feet in diameter, 2 feet thick, had two holes cut into it. The holes were knapped to create a contrasting texture. It was called “Anchor stone” and sold for $22,000NZ. Gordon & I lost the rest of the gang somewhere on the tour. No matter, we walked back to Oneroa (ohney rowa) and I checked out galleries. Two wood carvers lived in the neighbourhood. I took their names and planned to get in touch. John Freeman had lots of Kauri and some of his excellent work was on display. He had carved a frontal nude in elm; the grain followed the curves beautifully. The weather was crystal clear , blue skies contrasting azure water and sailboats filled the harbours. Super day!
That night I met Neil again at the RSA club He had written out an itinerary of the next 5 days with suggestions of places I might like to visit on the trip. Whoee! North to Cape Reinge the most northerly point of NZ.
Still to come: 5 days in the Northland with Neil
Carving with www.kerrystrongman.com at the Arts Factory
Fly fishing in the Tongariro River with
The Tongariro Alpine crossing. 19.4 km trek over 3 volcanoes.
Love and All best wishes, Dad, Nick Dadadski

Another week on the Big Island, Jan 24- Jan 29

I've made a few things from Hawaiian wood and have been meeting carvers and turners on the Big Island. Two guys have been generous with their time, both excellent artists. Dan DeLuz, who doesn't seem to have a web site but is a very well known artist, a 76 year old turner who has turned about 60 different types of wood. He let me into his inner sanctum, a barn removed from his gallery to drool over bowls from 30" to 4" wide , up to 24 " high, each engraved with the type of wood from which it was made. Incredibly knowledgeable about the qualities and idiosyncrasies of each. Blow your mind how many fantastic colors and grains exist, but my favorite comes to KOA which shimmers as you rotate it in light ( like diffraction on vinyl records), with colors from light tan to deep orange and dark brown . Martin Hopman, another older fellow, mph13@hawaii.rr.com, gave me samples of 10 or so different woods describing each as I tested them with a blade. ( what's Happened to the font?) . I' will ship most of this home as folks in NZ don't allow anything into the country that doesn't already exist there. I was told it's likely they'll take my Uke . Oh well !!!

I'm couchsurfing. Fascinating concept. Check it out (Couchsurfing.org). Sort of what you do with friends in Belmar at your place. People all over the world host travelers , sometime on a couch, but more likely on a bed, after checking out the profile of the surfer requesting a couch and determining whether they want to invite them to stay. At the moment, I'm with a guy named Robert Lee, a retired 66 year old machinist/jeweler. He epitomizes the character of CS host, welcoming, non-judgmental, who has thought out of the needs of his potential guests.( towels. sheets, pillows, ) and besides a queen size bed in a separate room, he has a flip-down futon, a blow up mattress and sleeping bags. My first night I was invited to a delicious supper. One of his guest left a not saying that he was" the GOD" of couchsurfing. His response, " Claims of deity can often be misleading". Since then , I've made breakfasts. A couple of Vancouver " Woofers " have been sharing his place during the past few days that I've been in Hilo. I've enjoyed meeting them as their attitude is so fresh, open-minded and more mature than one generally finds in mid 20 year old folk. Both are beautifully tattooed, all over, and he sports 1" diameter ear holes rimmed in silver. She is a song-writer, poet who works along side her partner, a guy learning about farming by working on different types of farms, wherever they go. Curiously, he's the splitting image of one of my UW teaching assistants of 40 years ago! He says he figures it's a better way of learning than the book learning offered in Universities.

Yesterday, we hiked across Kilauea IKI, ( means small, Kilauea itself is much bigger and full of orange, bubbling stuff ), a volcano that exploded some 30 years ago. I expected conditions in this 1/2 mile wide bowl to be hot. It was overcast and misting so almost no other tourists on the 5 mile loop. Easy ,gentle, switchbacks from the crater edge down to the floor and temperatures seemed to be dropping! Once out of the jungle, a moon scape of huge cow flaps of lava mixed in with sharp , frothy "AA" which will cut you, quick, if a leg inadvertently touches it. The sun came out for most of our 45 minute transit across the floor but winds of 30-40 mph tore at what little clothing we were wearing. Then it started to mist and temperature dropped to about 50 degrees causing shivers and thoughts of warmer dress. ( It was probably 70 on the rim. ) We began the gradual climb back up the other end of the loop and , once out of the wind and walking in the tropical jungle, temps returned to normal. I had imagined the complete reverse. While crossing, my feet were warm and if you put your hand on the hardened lava, it was probably 110 F. All across the bowl, vents of steam hissed steamy hot air. Rangers had warned us that if you smell rubber, someone's shoes are melting. 30 minutes prior to this hike we had scramble through a lave tube created by molten lava evacuating a hardening tunnel. This one was about 10 feet high and maybe 15 feet wide, 1/2 mile deep. The first 1/4 mile was poorly illuminated, whereby one stepped in puddles of condensate because you couldn't see them. The second was pitch dark, only illuminated by head lamps worn by my Canadian friends throwing light as though following a train into infinity. Really cool. No one else in this tube and the floor was practically as good as floated concrete. Here and there the tube dropped a few feet and finally petered out into a solid wall. Returning to Hilo, we stopped for a coffee at Dan's and I introduced them to him and his work. ( Only way I'm going to be able to sculpt Hawaiian wood is to come here and stay for a few months. Amazing. There are trees here that grow to 80' high , 8' diameters, in 45 years because of the sun and steady rainfall.)

I spent a day knocking about Hilo, a town of about 45,000 people spread on the windward side of Kilauea. Buildings are in the older, 20-30ies style which I find appropriate for a tropical island. I visited the Capital Theater, 1925, which is in remarkably good condition having been spared the tsunami that devastated the same half of the city in the 40ies and the 60ies. On Sunday "The Tempest" will be shown, filmed on the Big Island , starring Helen Mirren as Prospera, directed by Julie Taymor, (who I've met occasionally over the years, Heather & Marla will remember the "Transposed Heads " on Off-Off B'way) . She also directed "Lion King" and is now trying to unravel the 65 million dollar musical, "Spiderman". Went to a number of galleries and , of course stopped into most of the second hand and thrift stores. I found two superb carvings, one of lion, the other a Scandinavian King which will be mailed home before I leave for Honolulu on Monday ( to make my connection to Auckland.) I'm stoked. Will concentrate on being prompt and not missing my flight. All best wishes, Dad, Nick, Dadadski.

Hawaii Jan 19 - Jan 26, 2011‏

Had a great time with Jenny & Greg in Hawi (friends of Hank and Marla's). First day I spent fixing stuff around their house, broken kitchen cabinet, sharpen a machete, add new handles, sharpen kitchen knives, and then then the rain stopped and I decided to clear out an over-grown section by the drive with the machete. Soon, I realized I could pull plants out by the roots. Worked for a few hours and got bushed; but then... I found a wooden carving, probably Central American of a God with a Quetzal headdress and made of what looked like Koa, 9 " high, rotting in the undergrowth. Got out the carving knives and in a couple of hours had re-carved it. One arm was in need of repair and the bird's body need attention. I didn't take a picture but it sits on the counter at their house. Since Jenny made a lovely supper Wednesday night, I took them to the Bamboo restaurant in Hawi, and we all had Local Pork and cabbage. As usual, enough for the next day, too. Delicious.
Friday, I had a massage with Michelle, who we met at Anna's Ranch. She told us she used to work with large cats...up to twenty lions and tigers. Massage was super, very strong, not surprising as she had to physically move the adult tigers, and thorough. I felt like jelly and she suggested I stop eating all wheat because she says type O neg should eat meat and nuts, etc; hunter gatherers. "Eat right 4 your blood type", a book outlining her thoughts. I explored around and when I got back to Greg and Jenny's, perhaps 3:30 found a note inviting me to a party with their friends in Waikoloa !
Super party of about 20 people hosted by a Realtor lady, Jan, who Jenny says is her adopted mother. Charming, nice lady. First thing I saw was a large, 4 foot high, carving of a headless mermaid; sister to Winged Victory. I showed her my carving and we had an instant connection. Excellent pupus and great conversation, especially with Rob, an older guy who was just off to Christmas Island for bone fishing. He'd been 3-4 time to New Zealand, (told me me felt boots would never pass NZ customs so I gave them to Greg) but made all the right noises about trout. He guides in South Alaska.
Sat: Jenny, Greg & I went down to a surfing beach south of Hapuna Beach. Incredible waves and hairy entrance to the water. Greg slipped out of his flip flops and carrying his board, crept over a'a lava to meet the rising water. With perfect timing, he glided onto the top of the surging waves and was immediately paddling out to 12 - 14 foot waves. J & I watched from a shaded spot. Jacob joined us a bit later and gave us a blow by blow on Greg's style. (Whole 'nother language!) About noon we started for Hilo to pick up Jenny's new Toyota 4 wheel. Stopped in Waimea for lunch and got to the dealer maybe 2:30. Neat drive, good clear weather and certainly tropical. I said "thanks and goodbye" after a fun check-out drive with the sales agent. Went looking for a used book store to buy the above book. Closed, but next door to a cool gallery run on a Co-op basis. Good Koa Carvings

I've joined a group called couchsurfers.com and my first stay was interesting. I drove up to Samantha Jone's Jungle Rabbit Farm in the rain. Hard to find down a road spaced with lava tubes and so a super uppy-downy roller coaster drive. About dusk I found her and heard dogs barking. She opened her gate and with a big smile welcomed me to what I can describe as a soggy Scout camp, corrugated and tarp on the roof, open on the sides, shed. She has two Chicago wwoof-ers (willing workers on organic farms) staying with her who had tightened up the tarps, but water was still pouring into the kitchen area. I found a ladder and approached the problem differently, from the inside of the building instead of outside and in a while the water was flowing (mostly) where it should. She actually had a couch, nice long thing with good support. However, the back cushions were being used by the boys as extra padding for a bed. I brought an old sheet with me which Jenny said I could have and after a glass of wine and some conversation, (she was a fire dancer in vaudeville type shows across US in the 60 and 70ies), settled down for the night. Incredible noises from the jungle, peeper frogs forever, night birds, and groans from Samantha's dog, Twinkle toes, who had been hit by a car a few days ago and was convalescing. Rain pouring on the roof like Monte Verde, night as black as Ink and amazingly cold. My sheet certainly wasn't warm enough and I didn't get up to do anything about it. Silly bugger! Samantha came to wake me in the morning, noticed I was shivering and threw an Afgan over me. Felt real good.

A neighbor, Alaska Bob, came over complaining about a hitch hiker he had picked up. Seems they had been drinking together. This guy got really drunk and Bob decided to ask him to leave. He was pretty drunk, too. The conversation heated up and Bob decided to show how pissed off he was by slamming his fist into the wall, which broke his little finger. He was in a sling and so he could not physically throw the guy out. Did I mention they both had gotten their plumbers journeyman license in jail and likely had outstanding issues. Anyway, Bob wanted the two wwoof-ers, Mitch and Len and me to threaten this guy who was wrecking his shack and wanted to kill him. Bob was extremely stressed, so I tried to cool him down. I suggested we call the police which he wasn't so keen to do. Finally, Samantha joined in and he finally agreed we should call them.

The wwoofers and I took off for Kilauea and went up to the crater. Fascinating stuff. A ranger gave us the poop on what we were seeing and I won't repeat it, but it was "awesome". We walked around the edge of the crater and experience the steaming air coming out of vents. Sizzlingly hot, instantly. Hotter than steam. We hiked down into the lava tube caves, lighted, 15' in diameter and about 1/4 mile long. Mitch and Ken had flashlights and so continued another 1000 feet. The ranger had told us that dramatic views of live lava could be seen if we drove down to the coast some 50 miles away. We arrived as the sun set and with about 200 others we walked 1/2 mile to be met by a closed road where last week a house had been munched and he was pouring water into cracks to show how hot the lava still was; it came out as steam, instantly. As dark fell, we could see what appeared to be tail-lights on the hill sides, some 1/2 mile away. Not overly dramatic but it's supposed to be a crap-shoot. Some days you see the real stuff, We didn't that night.
We returned to hear that both characters had been arrested; that the problem was more or less the same as both had come up with bail. Glad we didn't get involved with violent drunks. I awoke next morning and made breakfast and then gave Samantha the walking stick I carved. She was ecstatic. I enjoyed my time with her and the wwoofers. Really primitive but simple life style. Before I left I had a shower, water heated by a propane demand heater. Her water comes off the roof and is kept in 55 gal barrels, which is filtered for drinking. All other washing needs are rain water. Hot dish water comes from the shower. The toilet is a 5 gal bucket. Newspaper and moss is spread over each dump. Then, when the bucket is nearly full, it is composted. I slept 15 feet away and there was no odor.

Now I'm living in Hilo with Robert Lee in a comfortable house and sleeping on a double futon with a couple of Canadians, Jan & Jay from Vancouver Island, who work farms around the island. Bob introduced me to Martin Hopman, a generous woodworker who gave me an hour learning about Hawaiian woods. He gave me samples which I'll send home. I also met Dan DeLuz and we chatted about his carvings and bowls. I'm going back tomorrow to watch him work. He has some very unusual tools and I'm sure I will enjoy it. Anyway, soup is ready. With luck , I'll try to put up some pictures. All best wishes, Nick aka Dadadski

Hawaii December 25, 2010 - January 13, 2011

Been here on the Big Island of Hawaii since Christmas Day when Heather & I flew from Philadelphia," got outta' town" only just missing the first Mondo Snow Storm of the season; 30" in a day, which promptly screwed all travel on the East Coast. We were so relieved, relaxed in Phoenix our transfer point to Kona, that our connecting plane took off without us! Bugger !, US Air saved our bacon by immediately putting us on a flight to Honolulu connecting to Kona, so we arrived only 3 hours later than scheduled. A half hour drive from the airport through a desert of lava fields stretching to the far distant volcano hills; signs indicating, "Feral Donkeys in the next 5 miles", and a twisty road rising 800 feet brought us to Wiakoloa Greens Village, an oasis of condo's surrounding a lush golf course and our headquarters until January 18th.
A week earlier, Marla, Hank, Niah had come from Fairbanks, AK. Trudy & Larry, from Phoenix, AZ. Our Christmas tree was a plastic repro of some tropical bush; however, covered with beads, ornaments and ribbon taken from opened presents, it looked perfect. Niah was the center of attention. She's bright-eyed and bushy tailed, curious about every little thing. At 10 months old she complains when her pants are full and her belly is empty. Otherwise, she's a joy. Like the knights who said " NeH", Niah says," Neh". Marla insists she is blowing kisses and saying "Meh" , but I know a Neh from a Meh. She also clucks her tongue and claps her hands and somehow seems much older.
Every day we have visited Kona beaches which are amazingly various and worth exploring; some sandy, most lava enclosed with coral under crystal water, no seaweed or lichen on the black rocks; occasionally, sweeping, mile-long curves, fringed with coconut palms. The more difficult the trail to the beach, the less crowded. We have purposely chosen less crowded and thus have usually hiked 1/2 hour or more across old, open lava fields. Some look like huge cow flops , undulating to the horizon; others are like sharp splintered glass where one touch will rip the skin and blood will flow. I find these to be exciting; the possibility of injury keeps the senses alert while the coarse, gravel-like pathway along the Kings trail, a 175 mile path connecting ancient villages, massages the feet.
A typical day starts about 8 am with a hearty breakfast when we decide what we're going to do that day. Tourist books and brochures are consulted while Heather & Marla begin a production line making sandwiches and snacks for lunch. Let's say " Ke-awa-iki" beach. To get there you have to park on the highway and walk on a 30" wide, crushed, lava trail for 1/2 hour before coming to the "smashing surprise" of ocean waves tumbling down a black sand and gravel beach. Then skirt a stretch of private land on mini pebbles, sloping 45 degrees to the water with irritating, bits catching under sandals every few steps. We watched a pod of whales surfacing and swimming in a large circle. Must have been 20 as spouts originated from different places simultaneously. Hank was carrying Niah in a backpack with a 'Howdah" like canopy and she was checking everything along the trail, occasionally vocalizing in pleasure at what she saw. Steve Sweet, one of Hank's good friends from Fairbanks had joined us. Beach mats and snorkel equipment, water , Niah's accouterments , spare nappies and so on are stuffed into knapsacks and unpacked under a shady tree only yards from a quiet tide pool. There's only one other couple on the beach who tell us the snorkeling is excellent just outside the breakwater, past the dark lava where turtles have pulled out to sunbathe.
I brought my carving knives and bought a pruning saw so, while others are reading/swimming/snoozing, I check out downed trees and driftwood for twisty burls or unusual grain of which the shoreline is amply provided. It's likely poor Heather will return to Philly with almost another suitcase of treasures as I'm going on to New Zealand for a couple of months with only a small suitcase. If I find any more wood we'll be at the Post Office shipping it home. Likely, as Hank gave Heather a goat, ram's skull that he found a few days before Christmas on a jogging trail near our Condominium and she definitely wants to send it home. Today she found another skull, looks like a sea gull, lovely curved beak.
During my exploration for wood at Ke-awa-iki beach, I found a four-wheel drive road across the undulating lava flops ,( there must be a scientific name?), and so the return to the car was not as difficult as going. We carry about 5 liters of water which is usually gone by the time we get back to the car. Temperatures on the ancient lava, especially when there is no breeze, makes one thirsty.
Home by 5:30 tanned, tired and hungry. After a shower, Big Island Micro-brewed beer all around and as we have a gas grill, supper is often steak or local fish combined with a large fresh salad. By 8:30 everyone is heading for bed, ostensibly to read but within a few minutes lights go out and we're asleep until next morning. ( Except Marla & Niah & Hank who wake every few hours to feed.) Hard work living in the Tropics. Love and all best wishes, Nick
P.S. Happy New Year ! If you know any friends or family in New Zealand and wish me to be your ambassador ? please forewarn them and copy me. .... 6 degrees of separation, or so they say.
Marla has set up a photo gallery which can be accessed by clicking on : http://picasaweb.google.com/hank.stats/Hawaii_2010