New Zealand North to South
Auckland Part 3 – CouchSurfing

“It’s time… to get…. grimyyyy!!!!!” The ripping bass-line rose one last time before dropping into a frantic beat. I smiled as my arms and legs began pumping the dance floor. A wave of nostalgia swept over me as memories of my teenage years came flooding back. I turned round to spot Hamish, probably the oldest person in the club, dancing with a manic vigour. Josef, a 19 year old spectacled German with a keen interest in meteorology, thumped out his own space further back. Mario and Laura, a German couple, danced a little less animated next to them. There’s nothing like a good bit of drum & bass to release some pent up energy.

CouchSurfing had brought the five of together. After leaving Geoff and Miriam’s, I headed to the southern suburb of Hillsborough to stay with Hamish. A generation above me, with his greying hair, dark eyebrows and lively eyes, he was kind enough to put me up for my latest chapter in Auckland. Now living alone he enjoys the company of us younger travellers and frequently opens his lovely home to CouchSurfers. By trade he’s an engineer who specialises in designing machines that create the tiny crystals that power GPS devices.  I was initially attracted to his profile by his interests: electronic music, science, fire-breathing and people.

For the first few days it was only the two of us. Hamish mostly worked while I carried on with my preparations. I enjoyed the space he provided me, but also the conversations about world issues and his two ex-feral cats – Butters and Benjy. Towards the end of the week he came home with the news of “Hey, so the house is about to fill up. I’ve three more CouchSurfers on the way!”

Mario and Laura turned up first. Having quit their jobs and home in Germany, they first travelled to Asia before camper-vanning Australia and making their here. Josef is growing up fast. At 16 he embarked on a wilderness project to the Yukon, Canada, spending time with the native First People and participating in a conservation project. Here in New Zealand he wants to further his work with wilderness project that’ll educate youth back in Germany.

After spending our first evening together at home, gelling over beers, Hamish took us out the following afternoon for a trip to One-Tree-Hill. We piled into his car just as the raindrops started pattering the windscreen. Luckily it held off, and after parking the car, we stepped out into an oasis of green. Families barbecued nearby as we jumped a ditch to say hello to the grazing cows. Hamish approached a large mother a little too suddenly, upsetting the huge chunk of meat. She snorted and aggressively moved towards the barefooted native, tossing her head from side to side. For a second I feared Hamish would be on the receiving end of a savage head-butt, but he dropped to his knees, never taking his eyes off his challenger. She saw that he wasn’t a threat, turned, and went back to concentrating on the grass.

It was actually I who got hurt shortly after. My attention had wandered from the cattle to the trees. A thick, tall pine grew nearby, with large branches fanning off its trunk.  Aha, time to climb! I circled the base and fixed my eyes on the lowest of the branches. Using a root as a spring board, I leapt up, stretched my arms and spread my fingertips to the hold. They briefly closed onto the bark, yet just not enough. My legs swung forward with the momentum as my body came crashing back down again. Thump!  My lower back and head impacted with the roots below, and for a split-second the world went black. Opening my eyes again I hoped no one had seen, but was met with four concerned faces looking my direction. “I’m ok, I’m ok, only a bump” I reassured them as stars danced in my vision. “So you think you’ll be safe walking New Zealand alone?” asked Mario with a grin.

*

Like the two hills I visited in Devonport, One-Tree is an ex-volcano and ex-Maori pa. We climbed its stepped slopes, stopping to join the sheep in admiring the views. Auckland suburbs stretched out below, spilling out the water’s edge.

“Do you think sheep appreciate a good view?” asked Hamish. Baa-a-a-a answered one of our fluffy companions.

The one tree, a totara, that the hill was named after is long gone. So too its replacement, a foreign pine planted by the British, which was frequently attacked by Maori protestors. One of the chainsaws used in an attack ended up listed on eBay. Now the only landmark to rise from the summit is a large, stone obelisk.

As we approached this structure the mellow sound of singing voices floated down to us. A group of 30 or so Fijians had congregated with a ghetto blaster that provided the beat to the gospel. From this vantage point it was plain to see how this site was once home to the largest and most powerful pa in pre-European times. 5000 people once lived on these slopes. Food was either grown locally or sourced from the two nearby harbours – the Tasman Sea and Pacific Ocean both in sight. On the Pacific side Hamish pointed out a large scale canvas. Messages using volcanic rock had been written on the green grass.

*

After dinner at home this new group of friends headed into the city. I’d heard about CouchSurfing for a couple of years now and regret not signing up sooner. People find the concept of hosting and staying with strangers weird, as if every unknown person out there is a potential threat. But with its vouching and referral system it’s a brilliant way to travel. A few days previously I’d attended a CS “meeting” in downtown Auckland – basically an excuse to drink beer and meet people. I went alone but passed the evening in the company of a sheep-heart dissecting German, an uber-polite Japanese student, an ethnic Chinese from Sawarak, Borneo, a bike peddling Mexico traveller, and finished with a group of young Spaniards who almost dragged me out to a nightclub. Over 50 CouchSurfers passed through the bar that night. And I don’t think it was just the discounted beer that drew them out.

Unfortunately the beer was back at full price when I brought our merry group to the Bungalow 8 bar. Though the fish in their tanks swam the same, the vibe wasn’t as open as it had been on the CS night. After talking about Pacific flags, boxing and bloodlust, and the state of the cheesy electro being pumped out, we headed onto the Fu bar and a night of drum & bass….

Written on October 24th, 2011 , Auckland, Journey So Far Tags: , , , , ,
Auckland Part 2 – Hills & Tunnels

(Am having some problems uploading photos, but will have them up as soon as possible.)

Frieda and Shona awoke me from outside, demanding food. They clucked impatiently until Miriam threw out a scattering of bread. Mynah birds swooped down to steal what the hens had missed. I shivered my way to the shower then trembled violently as I dried off and re-dressed. I really need some warmer clothes.

Before leaving Geoff & Miriam’s I went out for a walk to explore Devonport. Miriam provided me with a local map and recommended Mt. Victoria and North point. Jacket zipped-up, karma (traditional Cambodian scarf) tightly wrapped, I felt a little over-dressed as I passed the locals in their summer wear. By the end of the street I’d shed both garments. The path up to Mt. Victoria was easy to find and I crossed groups of Asian tourists on their way down back down. I paused for a breather at The Michael King Writers’ Centre. Formally a signal station, it informed a young Auckland of incoming ships during the early 1900’s.Behind the Michael King Writer's Centre

I cut onto a path behind the house and advanced up to the summit, where a new observation station commands perfect views of surrounding coastline. Apart from taking photographs of the stunning vista, tourists come to see the remains of an old fort built in the late 19th century, amidst concerns of the then growing Russian empire. Huge gun emplacements were constructed, but never used and later abandoned.

A kilometre away, on the eastern tip of the peninsular, I gazed upon the hill of North Point. Like Mt. Victoria, it is the remains of an ancient volcano.  The entire Auckland area sits on a bed of extinct volcanoes, but most are unrecognisable due to human construction. Like many others, these two summits in Devonport were once pa – fortified Maori settlements. Beyond North point, in the Hauraki Gulf, a selection of islands dotted the background.

Too impatient too stay on the path, I cut straight down the slope and nearly ended up in someone’s back garden. Leaving Mt. Victoria, via Devonport Museum and a local cricket match in full swing, I reached North point and read yet another sign explaining the history of the location. Having had enough of gun emplacements and sensational views, I plunged into the tunnel network that worms its way into the hill. Dank and barren, they’d make an excellent set for a horror movie. By the empty beer bottles and tags on the walls, it wasn’t hard to realise that local teenagers use the tunnels as a late night hang-out. Water dripped from the ceilings and dark corridors led off from the main passages.

As I re-emerged into daylight I was greeted by a grey mass of cloud approaching with speed. I just managed to zip up my jacket as the rain began to fall. While attempting to descend to the shore I nearly fell down a set of steps that led straight underground. Water cascaded into the darkness and I hopped down after it, keen to get out of the down-pour. No power had been linked into this section so I resorted to my video camera’s torch to see the way. A stream of water underfoot led me to an opening right in the cliff. Plants clung to the rock as waves battered the shore twenty metres below. I mounted an invisible machine gun and took aim at the imaginary Russian fleet in the harbour.

 

An hour later it was me in the harbour, crossing by ferry. Tankers,  cruise ships, fishing boats, speed boats, yachts, jetskis and tinnies competed for space as I moved onto my next host…

Written on October 24th, 2011 , Auckland, Journey So Far Tags: , , , , ,
Arriving in Auckland: Part 1

It’d been a while in the waiting, but at last I was in Sydney airport about to board the plane. Here’s a diary extract from my time in the terminal:

Ready to go! Finally I feel that bubbling sense of excitement that’s been strangely absent up until now.  In half an hour I board my final flight of the year.  My boots will be making contact with New Zealand terra firma in just a few hours.

But before that I have a beer to finish and a blueberry muffin to eat. My legs are jittering under the table; a smirk creeps into my smile. I spread my gaze across the other passengers, trying to find another as excited as myself. Most seem too engrossed with their touch-screens, some read from paper pages, a few talk to each other.

I’ve never chatted as long to an immigration officer as I did this morning. Most don’t even look you in the eye. Once this guy found out what I was doing in NZ, he forgot about his job and keenly recounted his exploits in the South Island.  I chuckled as he remembered hidden gems on the west coast, aware of the impatient queue behind me. We would have gone on for hours if I didn’t to rush through to claim a tax refund. 

*

My first stop was the little suburb of Devonport on the north shore.  My host for those first two nights was Geoff Chapple, the creator of the country-long Te Araroa trail. I’d been meaning to contact him for some weeks, but I was actually put in touch by a chance encounter with his son Amos. I’d recently signed up to CouchSurfing.org in the hope of finding accommodation for my two week stay in Auckland, and sent out requests to several potential hosts in the area.  After being declined by the first few, you can imagine my surprise when Amos came back to me with the news that he’d contacted his parents – and that they were willing to have me for the first two nights. Some things are just meant to be.

After cruising through customs at the airport and buying a NZ sim-card, I hopped on the bus to downtown Auckland. It was windy and cold as I waited for Amos, and even my new Macpac jacket struggled to keep me warm. The locals didn’t seem to care though, many casually strolled around in shorts and t-shirts, and some even went barefoot. These Kiwis seem a hardy bunch!

Amos tapped me on the shoulder as I was fiddling with my pack. A smiling face framed with short curly hair and dark-rimmed glasses greeted me – “Hey buddy, how’s it going? Here, let me take your bag.” I took an instant liking to my new friend as we boarded the ferry to Devonport. He was keen to learn about myself and the trip I had planned, and I barely had time to ask about his life. Anyway, now that I know more, he’s 29 and works as a photo-journalist, a job that’s taken him around the world and to some amazing places. He recently had a story about these tree-root bridges in India published in many of the major UK newspapers.

His parents, Geoff and Miriam, are also a lovely couple, and not just for the fact that they let a total stranger stay in their house.  Even though they were currently busy with work they made the time to help settle me in. In a seemingly constant state of good humour they’d often be joking with each other. I’ll bring you more on Geoff, Miriam and the Te Araroa trail when I next meet them.

After a good night’s sleep I headed back to Auckland the following morning. I wandered around the CBD before heading east, via the pretty Albert park, to the Auckland Museum. It sits upon the summit of an extinct volcano in a park with rolling fields and picturesque trails. The museum is divided into three sections: Maori and Pacific culture, natural history and war. When in museums I tend to want to read every display, and about halfway through the second floor my tired brain couldn’t take any more. I decided to leave the comprehensive collection for another visit.

Walking back into the city I sought out an establishment to quench my thirst and hunger. I found myself in Vulcan Street where four lively pubs sat side-by-side. I picked O’Carroll’s and ordered a Venison burger with a pint. Outside I plonked myself onto a table occupied by three Kiwi electricians and an Irish tourist. Pint followed pint as the Kiwis bombarded me with tips and locations for my trip. Nigel the Irishman disappeared to find a brothel. Glenn, Dave and Colin (I think that was his name anyway), were joined by Mahesh (a Leeds native often mistaken for a Maori), Gareth and Michelle, a barmy Aussie who happily threw around her wobbly cleavage at any excuse. Their company was a lot of fun and once again I was witnessing that famous Kiwi hospitality. Gareth offered to put me up at his if needed, which might well be towards the end of my stay here in Auckland. Further entertainment was provided free of charge by a band of Hare Krishna’s hopping and chanting up the street.

The sun had gone down by the time I pulled myself free and crossed the harbour back to Devonport. I sat next to hooded high-vis jacket that was growing a scraggly blond beard. Robert was on his way home after spending the day working in the harbour. Three massive cruise liners are currently docked on the shore front, but due to the Rugby World Cup being on, they’re not dumping their toilet waste straight into the harbour. Robert’s lovely job was being part of a small boat crew that piped the shit from the liners and took it out to sea, out of sight of the tourist hordes and prying TV cameras.

Arriving back at Geoff & Miriam’s I was ready to crash, but Amos greeted me and offered to have me come along and have drinks with some friends of his. I kept my jacket on and jumped in the car with him. 15 minutes later we were in the suburb of Mt. Eden and a trendy bar run by Mac’s Brewery. Luckily (for me) Amos received a text from his boss saying he had to work at 8.30 the next morning, meaning we only stayed for two drinks. Still in that short time I made more contacts and my notebook had extra locations jotted into it for me to visit. Knackered, I was relieved to finally hit the sack that evening.

So first impressions – I like the place! Auckland’s like a smaller, friendlier, less hectic version of Sydney (but still bloody expensive). I’ve been made to feel at home and even the sun occasionally shines enough to warm me up. This is just the beginning though – next comes tunnels, rugby, occupations and more characters… oh yeah… and pictures!

 

Written on October 16th, 2011 , Journey So Far Tags: , , , , ,
On the Move

These last few weeks have been hectic – hence the lack of activity on this site. I’ve been swept up in a whirlwind of events and motion since last blogging. My car first took me from London to Amsterdam, where I caught my first glimpse of its famous bicycles, trams, canals, coffee shops and scantily clad women tempting from behind glass windows. From The Dam I headed south and rocketed into the Swiss Alps, pausing for a few days to say hello and goodbye to what friends and family I managed to catch. Verbier happened to be hosting its first Bike Fest – a wild weekend where biker gangs briefly took over the luxury resort, clouding it with burnt tyre smoke and matching the locals drink for drink.

Basle came next, where, I popped in to see the BMF, before the crossing the border into Germany. I hired myself a small log cabin in the Black Forest for a couple of days, and actually got some writing done. I’m still trying to finish the Krakatoa story from my visit back in July, but planning for this trip has kept me too distracted. After a stroll in the woods I was driving south again to spend my last night of the mini-road-trip in Lorrach, with a Swiss doctor I’d met in Borneo while staying with the Penan.

Back in London I began to assemble gear for the trip, finally buying a backpack for it. For gear-heads out there it’s an Osprey Argon 85l that fits extremely well, easily enabling me to tramp about with 20kg on my back. Another item added to my kit is an Amazon Kindle. I’d been wary of these devices for a while, being a traditional book lover, but in the end I saw the sense in it. On previous trips I’d have up to 10 books with me, taking up a considerable amount of space and weight. This is not an option for walking the length of New Zealand. I’ll still have a couple of paperbacks for those moments with no power, but after being donated a PowerMonkey, that’ll hopefully not be too much of an issue.

The main downside of having this Kindle is that I foolishly downloaded the A Song of Ice and Fire series by George R. R. Martin on to it. I’ve been sucked in like a crack-head and am constantly flicking it open for my next fix. Brilliant books, but an un-necessary distraction while I have this trip to plan.

After running around during my last week in London I finally boarded a plane. A few days rest on a tropical island sanctuary, followed by a long weekend in Phnom Penh, and I find myself in Sydney. Thursday I fly to Auckland!

It feels good to now be so close to arriving. It’s been over a year since I hatched this scheme, and a lot has happened since. People ask me whether I feel nervous or excited, and though I do feel a little of both, impatience seems to be taking over. All I want now is to hit the trail and start walking. I’ve been training here and there but nowhere near as much as I should be. The first couple of weeks on the trail will be my baptism of fire.

Thank you to all those who’ve supported me in different ways over the last couple of months – it means a lot. Only three weeks to go now…

Written on October 11th, 2011 , Pre-Trip Tags: , , , , , , ,
New Zealand North To South