One Last NZ Adventure for the Yellow Shorts

Fourteen months later, it was finally time for the yellow shorts to move to new territory. One week ago I boarded a plane in Auckland, waved goodbye to my Kiwi home, and flew west to Melbourne, Australia. But not before going on one more adventure. 

With my trusty sidekick Karen, who opened many doors of opportunity for me throughout my NZ trip, I started a venture north of Auckland to discover the Far North and make it to the northernmost tip of the North Island in New Zealand. Yes, I just used the word 'north' four times in one sentence. 

I flew into Palmerston North (there's another north!) and from there we started driving...north...to look at a large calving operation. We sprinkled in a bit of work to validate our whole trip, but it was largely to find sunshine and coastline. We took a detour to the ski hills of Ruapehu where the temperature dropped from 20 to 9, but the views were spectacular. We stayed the night in Raglan, and I got one more chance to enjoy the best fish and chips in the country (at least that I've tried). 

Our next stop was Gulf Harbor just outside of Auckland. Karen's dad has a yacht he sails throughout the summer, but our high hopes of sailing were quashed when there was confusion about the dates and Karen's father was no where to be seen. But no matter! Even in a harbor a yacht is a luxury, so we set up shop and slept at the marina. 

Then on up we continued! On a random pamphlet that Karen picked up, a place called Abbey Caves was described as a 'photographer's paradise' and thus we had to explore. As it turns out, it is a true, unguided, caving experience. The man at the top recommended we have proper walking shoes, a headlamp, and clothes we didn't mind getting waist deep in water. So we went with our sandals, an iPhone, and our normal (white) clothes. 

At the mouth of the first of three caves, it started a bit like this:

Karen: Go!

Me: No!

Karen: Go on! Do it!

Me: No way!

Karen: You'll be fine! Go on!

Me: I know I can go down, but I'm concerned about getting back up! And I have no faith that you can lift me!

Moments later we shifted positions and Karen went down first, so of course I followed. The caves were beautiful, and it's remarkable that they're unguided and not a tourist attraction. We saw glowworms directly overhead, and I'm pretty sure they were in my hair as my head scraped the narrow passages. We ventured into all three caves until the water got too deep since neither of us was willing to sit wet in a car for hours. I would like to point out that when we returned to the mouth of the first cave, Karen stopped and said:

"...I'm not really sure how to get out."

Obviously we got out, and we journeyed past Whangarei to Whananaki South to stay with Karen's friends. It was a beautiful place with good people and a large supply of white wine. Also, the longest footbridge in New Zealand. 

Our next stop was Paihia and the Bay of Islands, a gorgeous bay that any individual would want to retire in. There was nowhere to look where it wasn't pristine blue water and golden sand. While the weather didn’t lend itself to swimming, it did to walking. We did a lot of walking. Along the sand, over the rocks, on foothills, and even up a steep cliff on an unmarked path that I was determined was correct. As it turns out, I was wrong and in the completely wrong and likely unsafe place. For some reason, when I suggested bush walking along the cliff’s edge, Karen refused, and we turned around to find another, perhaps safer, path.

Now I’m going to hurry us along to the highlight of the trip: the Far North, including the 90 Mile Beach and Cape Reinga. We decided to take a bus tour that would take us to the top, because if you want to drive on the beach, you’re better off not sacrificing the underside of your car in the salt water. The 90 Mile Beach itself is in fact 50 miles long, and we drove three quarters of it to make our way to the sand dunes. The surf is terrifying, and the beach is largely used for fishing and occasional surfing, but not swimming.

Our next stop was sand tobogganing on the sand dunes. If that doesn’t sound awesome to you, we’re never traveling together. It was so much fun. You had the option of three sleds: two that you sat in, and one that you laid your stomach on. They were each varying speeds. I took the middle sled down twice (and in case you didn’t realize, that means hiking UP the sand dune first). We came to the end of our time, when no one had yet done the fast board. Then, from the top of the hill:

Karen: Do the fast one!

Me: No!

Karen: C’mon! Do the fast one! Don’t be silly!

Me: No! We’re leaving, everyone’s done!

Karen: DO THE FAST ONE

Me: FINE

I proceeded to hike up the sand dune again, passing the guide on my way, who taught me how to lay on the board and wished me luck.

So with two busloads of people watching, I laid down on the boogie board while Karen sat next to me on her ‘slow’ sled. I took off. Screaming. It was terrifyingly fun, right up until I hit the bottom of the dune, where there was a shallow stream that ran several bus lengths. I flew across it, putting a foot out and causing myself to swerve and spin, covering myself in water and sand while simultaneously skinning my arm. It was awesome. I got a lot of high fives and smiles from my co-passengers, and the bus driver offered me a towel. 

But we haven’t even gotten to the coolest part yet! We kept driving north, believe it or not. Up to Cape Reinga, the definition of Far North, where the Tasman Sea and the Pacific Ocean meet. Supposedly it’s the only land where you can stand and see two oceans meeting, and it’s incredible. Where the two currents come together is a whirlpool of waves and rips, something you would want to steer clear on a boat. I could have watched it for ages (pictures don't do it justice), but we were limited to an hour. Karen and I were last on the bus, and we then started our return journey south.

Then we drove. And we drove some more. To make our travel more interesting, we drove up on the east coast and down on the west. We almost managed our entire trip with free accommodation, but gave in after our long bus trip and paid $109 for a hotel room. Then we went south to Auckland with a brief pit stop at Tane Mahuta, the oldest and largest Kauri tree in New Zealand.

Because we couldn’t admit that our adventure was over, we caught the last ferry to Rangitoto, a volcano/island off the coast of Auckland. There we caught up with Caro, one of the girls we calf reared with on the South Island. We hiked to the top and sweat our butts off, then ran down to make sure we caught the last ferry home. After dinner and a coffee, we split ways and Karen and I headed to her Aunt’s for our last night of free accommodation until I flew out to Melbourne the next day.

I’d be lying if a said I flew out of New Zealand happily.  I tried to hold it together as we became airborne, but I think my neighboring passengers saw through me. It amazes me how fast a year goes by; it still feels like it’s only been a few months since I flew across the Pacific the first time.

I’ve been in Melbourne a week, and it’s been great. But I’m going to save the Australia blog post for now! All I’ll say is that I’ve only got a few more hours in the city until we take off for a four day camping trip on the Great Ocean Road. Can’t wait to share about it!