So it's been more than a week already since I arrived in Aotearoa New Zealand (The Land of the Long White Cloud) - can you believe it? Lots to report – and too little time to sit on a computer in this place - so let's get started, and I’ll fill in the other bits later:
I flew over on Air Tahiti Nui, with a brief layover in Papeete (that's with four syllables, not two - I'll let you try to figure out how to pronounce it). It was unexceptional in a broad sense, as layovers tend to be, but about the most pleasant experience you can have under such circumstances. Firstly, you disembark to the sound of local island music being played - live, by locals - with ukeleles and other instruments of the string variety, and are greeted with a small flower to brighten your day (I assume it's national flower of French Polynesia, but would have to research that). The terminal is open to the fresh air, with outdoor courtyards if you wish to get some sunshine. After 9 hours on a plane (and 4.5 to go), that's quite a nice option. Just before it was time to board the plane for Auckland, as is likely to occur on tropical islands, a thunderstorm hits. Given the charming atmosphere and pleasantness of the experience to this point, I suppose I can forgive the Tahitians for not having jetways out to the planes on the tarmac. You just have to grip your bags, shield your glasses if you have them, dash 50 yards to the stairway and climb up to the plane - rain be damned.
So that was that; now onto Auckland. I had arranged to stay with some friends - Ben and Vic Coleman - we'd met while living in Wellington, and Vic offered to collect me from the airport. This was massive, considering I had a bike in a box all in pieces, and a few other bags. The Colemans have been rock star hosts, in the way a box of See's chocolates and a bottle of Pinot doesn't nearly convey my appreciation. They've just recently returned from 5 (or so?) years living in London, and bought a very comfy place east of the city center not far from the waterfront with terrific views of Rangitoto Island, among others. And it makes for awesome cycling and running, even if you're doing it will a hundred other fitness freaks.
Shifting into abbrev mode, in the interest of time (I would love to wax poetic, but I’m sitting on a felled tree on a river bank at this time of writing, the water is passing me by just inches above my screen and the hills painting the background): I met up with another Wellington friend, Davinia, for drinks and dinner of Friday night for a lovely visit. We first stopped at a pub with quite and interesting décor – circular bookshelf columns (neat) and a variety of vintage-looking lamps/shades positioned upside down on the ceiling (weird, but cool). Dinner at an Asian fusion joint was tasty, and we were on our way. Dee has since come up huge with an old cell phone (mobile here), for which I only had to purchase a new SIM card for use in NZ. I will meet up with Dee again later in the trip over in the Coromandel my last weekend here, so you’ll hear more about that to be sure.
Saturday I went to Waiheke Island for a fab day of weather and wine tasting. I cycled to the ferry at the city center, boarded with the bike at no additional cost and enjoyed a beaut of a cruise over. The weather to this point has been stellar – low-mid 20s C (75+ F – when in Rome, aye mate) and sunshine all the way. Some great vines indeed (and wines from which they were produced), breathtaking views, and a nice ride with some decent hills. As I headed for the mothership – Stonyridge Vineyard (the one that got me hooked; ask about it sometime) – I discovered they were closed for a private function. So I made due (wink) and visited some other shops nearby. On my way out after a feed of fish tacos (authentic, of course), I was pedaling up a wee hill when I (for the first time ever) dropped a chain. You don’t have to be an expert cyclist to know that a bike doesn’t run very well without one (or perhaps it does indeed ‘run’ well, but I didn’t have that pair of shoes with me). I suppose a more experienced bloke would’ve thought to bring his tools with him, but I had apparently not graduated past novice. SOL, right? Not in this land. A fellow rider was approaching and so I thought I take a chance and ask if he had a chain break. He hadn’t, but as luck would have it, he was on his way to meet some friends for a ride down to the beach and a swim. The friend would have the tools, surely. So we walked up a few clicks, and indeed he did. To make a long story short(er), we managed (finally) to get everything properly arranged, and further managed to strike up a conversation about the US in general, and politics more specifically. I don’t find much trepidation about discussing US politics abroad is necessary, so long as you’re not a Republican (side note for you, Gordo: it’s conversations like these that ease my mind about maddening convos with nutters like Ms Stallman).
At any rate, typical Kiwi hospitality has already come right as rain, but just for good measure I was invited to join these nice folks for a skiff down to Onetangi Beach and a swim in the ocean (or more precisely, the Hauraki Gulf). I duly obliged, though I had to work out how this would occur without having brought any togs (swimtrunks) with me. (I didn’t have any jandals (flip flops) either, but that’s rather less of a worry). My solution was simple: strip down to your skivvies and go for it. Apparently, the patrons on the other side of the beach wouldn’t have batted an eye if I’d gone one further, but I wasn’t sure exactly how cold the water was. Very nice, as it turns out, but I had brought a spare pair of Calvin Klein’s anyway. The waves were great too, and I reckon blood pressure medication wouldn’t be necessary at all if every sufferer had access to this kind of spot on this kind of day. And so the time came to say goodbye to my new friends (they asked for my email and have since been in touch in case I find myself that way again), after which I slyly put on something dry, snapped a few photos, clipped into the pedals and headed off down the road.
The climb to the main road on the other side of the island was steep and persistent. Given the extra weight of a quarter case of wine in my backpack and a weakened chain link, I was measured in my approach to the hills so as not to disturb any agitated parts. All was well on the way, and the scenery grew better as the rise continued. I passed a winery I would’ve liked to visit, if the cellar door (tasting room) had still been open. But the top of the hill would make a great picture of the vines below. Ten meters left and the chain broke again. MF. Fortuitously, somebody nearby had summoned a taxi, which approached as I walked up to the nearest intersection (this was a pretty sparsely populated part of the island). He called me a ride, and I took the easy way back to the 8 o’clock ferry bound for Auckland. So it could’ve gone better, but no matter, I think I’ll have to return for a day/half just before I fly home and see if I have better luck. If I happen to be just as unfortunate, I’d still consider myself a lucky bugger on the whole. It would be paradise, if only Sarah Lynn was here with me.
At that, I’ll pause and leave you with a little teaser: on the Overlander train from Auckland south through the North Island, I shared a row with the kids from Narnia. And I'm pretty sure I saw Samwise Gamgee and Frodo Baggins frolicking about the hillside. More to come…(not perfect, but good enough, aye Mandy?)
