Monday, February 20, 2012

Stray Cat Shuffle (Part Trois)


Monday, February 13

This morning, we haul ourselves out of bed and into the kitchen area where we make sandwiches and get snacks together for the Tongariro Crossing. The Crossing passes over two active volcanoes - Mount Tongariro and Mount Ngauruhoe, better known as "Mount Doom" from The Lord of the Rings films. It takes around seven hours to complete and, at just over 19km, is considered one of the best one-day hikes in the world...and we can't wait to tackle it.

Before we head back onto the bus, Jay puts a few coins into the vending machine and grabs a "One Square Meal" bar, another neat little thing we've discovered in New Zealand. The OSM is something like a granola or energy bar and is exactly what it says it is (the calories in one whole bar is the equivalent of one square meal). Once we're all settled on the bus, Miss P gets on the mic and breaks the bad news. Apparently, the weather today looks pretty lackluster, so, she says, if we can do the Crossing at another time, she recommends waiting. However, she continues, if this is our one and only chance to do it, then we should (as that famous slogan goes) "just do it." She asks whoever wants to do the Crossing to stick up their hands - and it appears we've still got a fine group of people. We put our hands down and she gives us the weather report for the day - fog, high winds, rain, bit on the nippy side...not great, but not bad enough to actually close the Crossing. She asks those of us who still want to do the Crossing to raise our hands and, as expected, fewer go up this time around. Jay, Christa, Heather and I, along with a few other Strays, wave our hands in the air. (Since Jay and I are going to be here for a while, we can probably do the hike another time - but we'd like to do it with our friends, so we don't mind putting up with a bit of typical "Newfie" weather for a few hours.) It appears a guy walking down the sidewalk by the bus has heard Miss P over the mic because as he passes by, he yells out, "You'll get lost!!" We just laugh and hope (unlike the premonitions from the stereotypical "crazy local yokel" you often see in bad horror movies) that he's wrong.

As we drive along, we watch some of the skydiver's videos (which is a dandy way to pass the time), and as we get closer to The National Park, the lovely volcanoes loom in the distance like beacons. We roll past the tree-lined highway and Miss P tells us about the many wild horses that used to roam freely around these parts. Back in those days, she says, the animals were considered a nuisance, so posts were erected in which people who came across the horses would tie them up. Eventually, she continues, someone would go around and round up the horses and bring them to (we're waiting for her to say "a nice, big green meadow to graze," or the equine version of Disney World or something or other, but instead, she says...) the glue factory. To my surprise, Jay (the vegetarian) bursts out laughing - not because he thinks the fate of the poor horses is funny, but because, much like myself, he was expecting (and perhaps hoping for) Miss P's story to have a happy ending. Oh well...

When we reach the park, Miss P drops off the hikers (me, Jay, Christa, Heather, Irish Brian, Philip the German, Sam from England, the other Linda and Camille from France - who is one of the latest to hop on the bus) to the rental place, where a lovely guy named Stew gears us up with everything we need. When I go up to the counter, Stew (like a dad carefully looking over his kid to make sure they're adequately suited up to go play in the snow) eyes me up and down. The treads on my sneakers are good and my pants are suitable, but, he says, the cotton hoodie I have with me (my King's sweater) will get soaked and not keep me warm, so I should consider a thermal shirt. I rent one, along with a hiking stick, and leave the hoodie on the bench. When we're all set, we hop into a small van with Stew (who has christened us "the Stray 9") and drive about 20 minutes or so to the start of the Crossing.

As we drive along, Stew (like a concerned dad again) gives us instructions - stick together; don't veer off the track; don't attempt to climb "Mount Doom"; and when we eventually get to the last hut on the trail, we are to text him so that he will know when to leave to pick us up. If he doesn't hear from us by four, he says, he will call the police and have helicopters come search for us. While Stew appears to be a pretty laid back guy, he seems quite serious about this. When we start feeling a tad nervous, he assures us that we should be fine. After a few more quick words of advice, we're at the start of the Crossing and all hands pile out. We say a quick "see ya later" to Stew, thank him for the ride and are on our way after getting a quick picture together.

The Stray 9: Front: Irish Brian; Middle: Christa, the other Linda, Sam from England, Me, Camille from France and Heather; Back: Jay and Philip the German. Photo courtesy of Linda S.


The first 40 minutes or so along the start of the trail is easy peasy. We're going at a good clip and are enjoying the  pleasant conversation. Eventually, the boardwalk ends and we're walking along gravel and before we know it, we're near the first set of toilets near the base of the mountain. There are big boulders all over the place, so Linda from The Netherlands thinks it'd be cool to get a shot of us together, with each person standing on a different rock. As each of us settles on a spot and Linda fiddles with her camera, an older man walks briskly towards us from up the trail. The man asks if we have a cell phone on us and if so, could we please call for help - his friend, just up the trail, is having a heart attack.

Luckily, several of us have phones. Those of us who do (myself included) jump around from rock to rock like chickens with our heads cut off, trying to get a signal. I stand on one large boulder and it appears I've struck a sweet spot. I'm about to dial when the other Linda yells out that she's also got a signal. She manages to get through to someone, but unfortunately, the signal drops - which keeps happening again and again. The man gives us some details. He's hiking with his wife, his friend and his friend's wife. The friend who's having the heart attack is a doctor and has had a heart attack before, several years ago, so he knew what was happening when the symptoms started (but, he adds, it could possibly be angina). The friend is just up the trail a ways, sitting down with the ladies. Again, Linda manages to get through to someone. She explains the situation and proceeds to tell the person where the man is located - at the Tongariro Crossing near the first set of toilets on the trail. We think this should be enough, but unfortunately, it appears that whoever is on the other end of the line is not in the local area, because they seem to have no clue where we are. Linda tries explaining it all again. She loses the signal. Again, she reaches someone and again, they don't seem to understand where we're located. She loses the signal. This goes on for what seems like hours. Thankfully, Linda does manage to get through to Stew to explain the situation. We walk up the trail a bit and reach the gentleman, who is sitting on a rock, sipping on a bottle of water and looking very uncomfortable. His wife keeps putting his hood over his head and I think it's pretty safe to say that we all feel pretty helpless. Again, Linda manages to get through to someone and it seems she has a bit more luck this time. The person on the phone asks what the weather conditions are like. Linda rattles off information like a pro: "Seventy per cent cloud cover, winds at so many clicks, etc. etc." and adds that the area is suitable for landing a helicopter. Just as we're wondering how Linda seems to know exactly what to say, we find out that she has just finished medical school and is actually a doctor herself (there couldn't possibly have been a better person to get that cell signal)! The person on the phone asks for Linda's number to call her back. We chat with the group, asking where they're from, what they're doing in New Zealand, etc., and ask if they need any food or water. They tell us that they're fine and eventually, the phone rings. It looks like an ambulance isn't the best bet, because even when the emergency responders eventually get to the start of the Crossing, they will still have to hike 40 minutes in (and 40 out) with a stretcher. We're told that if the weather holds and the fog lifts a bit, a helicopter should be able to retrieve the man, but it won't be there for another hour or longer. Linda relays the information and the poor man's wife just kind of looks towards the sky and lets out a big breath (I'm sure, like us, she was hoping for better news). The caller tells Linda to leave her phone with the other group, so when she hangs up, she forks it over and makes arrangements to retrieve it later on. We chat a bit more with the four and eventually ask them if it's okay if we move on, as there's not really much we can do. The man (who fetched us earlier) takes Linda's hand, says, "Thank you, my dear," and thanks us for our help. We wish them the best and then (a little reluctantly) continue on our way.

Thankfully, we don't have any other encounters like this for the rest of the journey. Before we reach the ascent of the mountain, we read the sign posted below, basically warning people who may have any health issues to think twice about doing the Crossing before proceeding, as it can be strenuous at times. (The man who asked us for help said it was at this point that his group decided to turn around - and I'm so happy they did, as there's pretty much no cell signal onwards).


What to do if a volcano erupts? Run like hell! 

When we start the trek up, Irish Brian tries to get a spirited singsong of "Going on a Bear Hunt" on the go (thankfully, we definitely won't be running into any of those today!), but Heather's the only other person singing along (perhaps the rest of our lungs are too preoccupied with sucking back air as we slog along up the hill). When Brian starts sharing his bag of gummi dinosaurs, he quickly becomes the most popular member of the group (well, to be fair, we all quite enjoyed his company even before the dinosaurs made their appearance).

When we finally reach the Crossing proper, it's pretty friggin' cool. As I walk on, I turn in circles, taking in all the sights around me. It's so flat up there and so barren, it kind of reminds me of a big, empty highway and I almost expect to see cars driving by - but then I remember that I'm high up, between two volcanoes and come back down to reality. The wind picks up a bit, and since there's nothing around to shield us, I stick up my hood. The rain starts to kick in as well, which makes the walk a bit messy - but I don't mind, and neither does anyone else. (Click the image below to see the video.)


At the Crossing...spot the Lindo at 14 sec!


Happy, and hungry, at the Crossing! Jay, Irish Brian and English Sam, with Camille from France in the back in blue. 

Once we cross over, it's onwards and upwards (literally) again. It is indeed a bit treacherous here, and the rain only makes things more slippery. I grasp the rocks with my hands as I propel myself forwards and think back on many days spent hiking around Signal Hill. When we get near the top, everyone keeps an eye out for the famous red crater. Different voices call out, saying that they've found it. Eventually, someone reaches the peak and yells out, quite confidently, that they can indeed see the crater. When the rest of us catch up, we quickly realize that yes, this is it. (Click the image below to see the video.)


At the red crater...spot the Irishman at 13 sec. (looks like Brian had the same idea as me - great minds really do think alike, hehe).



The red crater is probably one of the coolest things I've ever laid eyes on. We all start snaking our way down the other side of the mound and as we continue along, an awesome array of sights compete for our eyeball's attention - like the stunning Emerald Lakes. It seems that every time we turn a corner, we let out a big, collective "WOW!" There's something beautiful to behold in every nook and cranny of this craggy place. I almost feel like I'm walking on the moon up here. Thankfully the fog lifts quite a bit, letting us drink in all the views.


You can certainly see why they're called the Emerald Lakes. 


Of course I had to pose with them. : )


Heather, Philip and Camille make their way down. 

After climbing up some more steep rocks, we eventually sit down for a rest and some food. I swear that chicken and hummus sandwich is the most friggin' delicious thing I've ever eaten! It's amazing how everything tastes so damn good when you're walking or hiking for hours on end. Eventually, we reach another impressive-looking pile of rocks, and Linda decides to try again for that photo.

Heather, Camille, Philip, Sam, Me, Brian, Christa and Jay, jumping for joy! Photo courtesy of Linda S.

The rest of our journey is pretty easy going, with the most strenuous parts out of our way. We go along at a nice pace and I try not to fall over the hill while I gawk at everything around me. Some several hours later, we stop at one of the huts along the way for another snack. (That's another awesome thing about hiking in New Zealand - besides all of the beautiful scenery and the absence of animals that may eat you - most of the trails have these huts sprinkled around that you can sleep in, should you be going on longer or multi-day hikes.) After having a chat with a nice older British couple, we continue on our way. Half of the group (including Jay) lags behind as they try to get a cell signal to call Stew. I run up ahead a bit and join the others and use this perfect opportunity to play yet another round of "Let's Jump Out at Jay." (Explanatory side note: Once upon a time, back at our apartment in good ol' St. John's, I used to get off work much earlier than Jay. So of course, I used this opportunity, right before Jay came home, to hide in and around various objects in the apartment - behind doors, coat closets, couches; in boxes, crouched under the kitchen counter, etc. etc. I'd usually wait to see if Jay could find me, while other times, I'd just yell and jump out at him, or grab at his feet as he made his way up the stairs - hence the game, "Let's Jump Out at Jay" was born. : ) There's a bunch of bushes and grass to my right, so I dive right in and wait for Jay and the others to pass by. When they do, I jump out of the bush, letting out a big ol' "BLAAARRRGGGHHH!!!" (or something or other), but unfortunately, everyone but Jay (who, well used to my foolishness by now, continues walking by calmly) jumps. Oh well, there'll be other days, I decide. : ) Eventually, someone does manage to reach Stew to give him our estimated time of arrival at the parking lot where he will pick us up. We continue picking our way along the path, and that familiar smell of sulphur stings our nostrils again as we watch steam rising into the air from vents in the ground. No matter how many times I've seen this, it never ceases to amaze me!

After a while, we finally reach the end of the track, walking through trees and streams in the forest before coming out into the open parking lot. There, Stew waits for us outside the van with a big smile on his face and a cooler full of cold beer and cans of Coke. ("Wow, what service!" I think to myself. I wonder if everyone gets free beer at the end of the hike. I find out later that they don't.) He invites us to help ourselves to the drinks, and we each gladly take a bottle and guzzle it down (nothing like a cold brew after a long hike!).

Cheers from Brian, Me, Heather, Christa, Philip, Sam, Linda and Camille (Jay's playing photographer).

When Stew received the call from Linda about the gentleman earlier that day, he quickly made his way to the Crossing and hiked in to the group; but by the time he got there, the helicopter had already picked up the man and had started rising into the air. We crowed around Stew as he shows us the video of the helicopter he took with his camera. (Even with that incident, we still managed to finish the hike in about 6.5 hours!) By this point, Stew has changed our name from "the Stray 9" to "The Rescuers." We chat in the parking lot for a bit before piling back into the van. There's one lone lady in the parking lot waiting for a ride, so Stew tells her to hop in with us and offers to bring her to her car (which is parked on the other side of the Crossing, where Stew dropped us off earlier). Whatta guy! We all settle back into our seats and continuing guzzling our beer as we cruise along (from what I understand, it's okay to drink in a vehicle if you're a passenger - not the driver - and it's not a liqueur ban area). After we drop off the lady, it's back to home base for us for the evening - The Park Travellers' Lodge, which is more like a motel than a hostel. I haul off my thermal and leave my hiking stick in the backseat as I climb out and thank Stew for everything.

After Jay and I bring our bags to our room, we head for the hot tub to soothe our feet (although I must admit, I'm feeling pretty awesome) and it looks like the rest of the Stray 9 are already out there. We switch back and forth between the tub with the warm water (and the non-working jets), and the one with the working jets (but cool water). One of the employees pops out to try and remedy the situation, but when he realizes he can't, he just hops on in with us (I love NZ!). After a good soak, we head inside to the restaurant for a well deserved meal. Sam sits at our table and we all have a nice long chat as he kindly shares his ketchup (or what they call "tomato sauce" down here) with me - thanks, Sam! : ) It's been a long and awesome day and even though we had a fair bit of RDF (that's rain, drizzle and fog for you non-Newfie folk!) during the hike, not one person complained. I'm so glad that I got the chance to do the Tongariro Crossing with this great group of people...and am looking forward to more adventures yet to come!


Tuesday, February 14

After grabbing a quick breakfast this morning, we all piled back onto the bus and made our way to our next destination - the incredible Blue Duck Lodge (or Blue Duck Station), which is a short drive away compared to some of the other ones we've taken. Everyone seems pretty chipper today (p'raps because it's Valentine's Day and there's a bit more love in the air - although this group is pretty perky anyhow!). As we hit the highway, we notice three hitchhikers (quite a common sight here in NZ) along the side of the road. Miss P asks if we should stop and pick them up and after everyone quickly agrees, she pulls over to the side of the road. "Helloooo, valentines!" she greets them as they hop on, telling them that they'll need to sing a valentine's song to us if they want a ride (she's kidding, but it would've been pretty entertaining). Two of the hitchhikers, a guy and a dreadlocked girl, are from Toronto (go Canada!), which is pretty cool. We don't find out much more about them though because after a short drive we reach our turnoff, so Miss P stops again to let them off. They jump out with a wave and the entire bus is singing some love song at the top of their lungs as we roll away (p'raps the hitchhikers are glad that they're getting off here!).

The Blue Duck Lodge is tucked away in the tiny settlement of Whakahoro (fuck-a-whore-oh...yes, that is how it's pronounced) and seems a million miles away from anywhere. As we drive onward, Miss P gives us options for the activities we can do: clay bird shooting, horseback riding (if we're experienced enough, which I, unfortunately, am not) and we can even go out and shoot goats (yup, that's right). Those of us who want to also sign up for the evening meal, which will be a goat curry (should the hunters be successful). We cross over a small bridge and the bus hugs the hillside as we meander along the narrow dirt road (and I thought Southside Road was bad!). I look out the window as we go, staring down into the canyon directly below and try not to think about what would happen if we somehow started to veer a little too much to the right - but Miss P navigates the big ol' bus like a boss and in her more than capable hands, I feel just fine.

As we drive towards the little cabins where we'll be spending the night, I see people riding horses and sheep grazing in the fields and feel like I've stepped straight into an episode of Bonanza or something. "Home on the range, yes indeed," I think to myself.








In Maori, the "Wh" is pronounced like an "F" sound."

Once we've all piled out again, I immediately start snapping some pictures - including this one which, for some reason, is my absolute favourite out of all the photos I've taken in New Zealand. I think it's a pretty good representation of what you'll find when you first reach Blue Duck Lodge.



We all head for the main building/cafe where our kind host, Dan, has tea and coffee at the ready. After we've all helped ourselves and grabbed a seat at one of several tables, Dan educates us about the place. After travelling the world for some years, eco-warrior Dan decided to head back to home sweet home New Zealand and bought some farmland close to his parents. He named the area after the endangered blue duck, which is found only in this country, and spends his days educating visitors, and encouraging the growth of native bush and trapping predators to help protect the habitat of these lovely little ducks so that they can thrive once again. It's a noble quest, and one that Dan's obviously very passionate about. He hands around some photos for us to have a gander at, including a kinda gross one of some dead sheep which have apparently been gutted from the inside, leaving only their skins. The next picture he hands around is of the offending boar (also dead). Next on the agenda, Dan tells us a bit about our accommodation for the evening. It appears there's one long cabin lined with dorm rooms, and one small single cabin just above the hill (which Jay and I snagged earlier). The little cabin, Dan says, is called the "Honeymoon Suite," so of course, it being Valentine's Day and all, everyone turns to me and Jay and lets out a big, collective "WoooooOOOOOOOoooohhh!"



Thankfully, after that, Dan lets us loose. Not too tired from our trek yesterday, Jay and I, along with Christa and Heather, Irish Brian and the Swedish girls, sign up for a four-hour guided hike. Of course, as soon as we do, it starts raining a bit. But we don't mind.

Our lovely guide (also named Jaye) is also a Canuck, from Quebec, and has been living at the lodge for about three months now WWOOFING (WWOOF stands for "Willing Workers On Organic Farms" and basically people work in exchange for food and accommodation - a popular choice for working holiday folk). Since she's been here a while, Jaye's pretty familiar with the lay of the land and teaches us about the native flora and fauna as we walk along, like the iconic silver fern (the "quasi-national" symbol of New Zelaand), the manuka and kanuka trees, as well as the leaves of a particular plant (the name escapes me at the moment) which, she says, can be used as toilet paper if you're ever lost in the woods. I hope I never find myself in that shitty situation! (Sorry...I just couldn't help myself.)


Jaye, our guide, shows us the difference between a silver fern and a regular fern. 

A little further ahead, we stop along the trail as Jaye shows us how the possum traps work. Setting and emptying the traps are just a couple of her duties here. She also tells us about the time she spent the entire day birthing sheep. Sleep came quite easy that night, she adds.


Jaye demonstrates the trigger mechanism of a possum trap. 

We continue on and soon, Jaye stops to tell us that she's going to run up the trail a little ways to fetch us some lifejackets. She directs us to the section of trail that branches off towards the river just below. We grab onto the branches along the way and skitter down like a line of ants. Waiting for us below is a lovely gushing waterfall and several small kayaks (I just can't seem to get away from 'em!) and in no time, Jaye reappears with lifejackets in tow.


Me at the waterfall. 

Jaye, the other Jay and I and Irish Brian hop into the kayaks first (thankfully, this time around, we each get our own, so there's no room - literally - for arguing). We follow Jaye towards the waterfall and then turn around, ducking under a log and then past a narrow corridor of stone before we turn around again and make our way back towards the others. Christa, Heather and a couple of the Swedish girls are next and Heather, toting her waterproof camera, gets some great shots of them in action.


Photo courtesy of Heather S. 

We carefully pick our steps back up towards the trail. The rain has made things a bit slick, so I frantically grab at rocks and branches on my way, trying not to slip. Once we're all at the top in one piece, we carry on, past a fence and up a grassy hill, stopping by the small shack so Jaye can return the lifejackets. The shack looks like the kinda place where cowboys would stop for tea (or maybe something a little harder) and a weenie roast before heading out and rustling cattle (or whatever it is that cowboys do).





As we walk on, we see colourful boxes everywhere, lying amongst the bushes. Jaye explains that these boxes actually contain beehives which are dropped, by helicopter, all over NZ so that honey can be produced from native manuka and other trees. Later, they are collected in the same way.



Next comes probably the most strenuous part of the hike. Jaye boots it up over a steep, muddy hill and we all follow. Each of us starts to lag behind a bit as our feet struggle to make contact with the muck underfoot (it almost feels like I'm walking on a treadmill). It seems like we've been hiking up that muddy mess for an hour. Jaye (putting us all to shame) is "Woohoooo!"-ing, calling out and encouraging us from the top. When all of us finally make it, we can see why she's so enthused. The endless green hills roll out before us like a vast, verdant carpet. It is so breathtakingly beautiful up here all I can do is stand and stare.





Before we know it we're making our way back down again, zig-zagging along a cow path, dodging piles of mud and manure along the way. Irish Brian decides this would be a good time to have a game of Frisbee, so he whips the disc out and we all have a grand ol' time chasing it as it flies around, all the while making sure we don't roll down over the hill.




Frisbee!!!

Again, we hit the muddy part of the trail. The further we walk, it seems, the muddier it gets. The rain has picked up a bit, making the trail quite slippery. Soon, my sneakers become camouflaged as they get caked in the gooey grey stuff.


Yup, I should definitely haul these off before I walk into someone's house! 

Everyone is now sliding, not walking, down the path, and we laugh as we try to grab a hold of the tree branches along the way to steady ourselves. It's dirty, wet...and freakin' wonderful! The Frisbee just keeps on flyin' and at one point, we loose it down a hill in the underbrush - but Irish Brian, being the trooper that he is, just dives right in to retrieve it.



After crossing over a small stream, we're pretty much back on dry land again. The cows and sheep stare at us like nosey old ladies at a bingo hall as we walk past.



Once we get closer to "civilization," Jaye (who was an awesome guide) bids us adieu and heads back down another path as she points us in the right direction. A car (an odd thing to see after spending hours in the middle of nowhere) pulls over by the side of the road and picks up Brian to bring him to where the clay bird shooting is happening. After Jay and I spray down our rotten sneakers with the hose, we head over with the others to watch the action.


Our bus driver, Miss P, packs heat. 

There's also a log where people are trying their hand at axe throwing. Oddly enough, it's located just down the hill from the Honeymoon Suite. Nothing says romance like wielding a big friggin' axe and hurling it at a chunk of wood, right?



A little later, those that signed up for the goat curry (I kind of regret that I didn't) head back down to the cafe, while the rest of us listen to tunes as we prepare supper in the kitchen/living area that is connected to the cabin with the dorms. Christa and Heather share their pasta with me, Jay and Sam from England. While we're eating, one of the newest Strays, James (also from England), strolls over with a plate. He was the lone goat hunter today and it appears he got lucky. He offers us some goat, straight off the BBQ, and most of us eagerly accept. I've never eaten goat before, until now. It's pretty chewy...and very fresh. Guess there's a first time for everything! And that's what this trip is all about.

When dusk falls, Jay and I take a little stroll down the lane, just past the cafe, where a group of people sit on the front deck chatting by candlelight. We say hello to some of the horses on our way back to the cabins, the stars lighting our way, and the only thing we hear is distant chatter and the crickets singing. It's a perfect evening. Just outside the cabins, one of the German girls (who is travelling on the bus with her pretty hip dad) is giving some of the guys (including her father and Irish Brian) haircuts by the campfire light. She's obviously a professional as she does a bang-up job and the guys strut around flaunting their new dos.

When we get back to the main cabin, the other Linda asks if we want to play a game of De Weerwolven van Wakkerdam (Werewolves of Wakkerdam) - a card game which the two Dutch girls, sisters Manon and Charlotte, brought along on the bus. Basically, each player is given a card assigning them a certain role (werewolf, witch, all seeing eye, innocent girl, Cupid, citizen, etc.) and everyone has to guess who the werewolves are who are ravaging the town at night and killing innocent citizens. We're game, so to speak, so after arranging the couches in a circle the three of us, along with Manon and Charlotte, Heather, Camille from France, and Sam and James from England sit  near the warmth of the stove, in the candlelight, and go around the room throwing accusations at each other. I'm not usually a fan of these card games (just ask anyone who has ever tried to get me to play Munchkin) but I can really get into this one. (Funnily enough, the sweet and soft-spoken Sam ends up being the murderous werewolf for most of the rounds.) Outside, another group of Strays have gathered around the fire pit and are listening to Philip the German again playing the guitar. After wrapping up the game of Werewolves, Jay and I pull up a wooden bench and join them. In a little while, most of the others have started to hit the proverbial hay, so after listening to a few more tunes, Jay and I finally head up the hill and retire to the Honeymoon Suite. This whole journey has felt like a honeymoon of sorts - albeit with 60 other people. I know I've said this about pretty much every place we've visited so far, but our time at the Blue Duck Lodge will likely go down as one of the most memorable parts of the trip. What an amazing place.


Wednesday, February 15

Today, we awoke to the sight of the early morning mist creeping in towards the trees ("Mmmm..prehistoric-y," as Pee-Wee would say). After getting our things together and joining the others in the kitchen for a quick breakfast, I walk around one last time and snap a few more pictures, which really doesn't do this beautiful place justice. As we drive away from Blue Duck Lodge, Miss P gets the tunes pumping and soon Coldplay's "Paradise" rings out. I think there couldn't be a more perfect soundtrack for a setting so serene as this.

We make our way back towards the Park Travellers Lodge near Tongariro, where we spent the previous night. Sadly, this is where we say goodbye to Irish Brian, the Italians Mariella and Luca, and Jen from Sweden. Some of them are staying in the area for an extra couple of days to do more hiking, while the others are heading back up towards Auckland. After we all jump off to use the restrooms and grab coffee and tea for the long ride ahead, we say our see you laters and exchange big hugs. The other Italian, Valeria, is staying on the bus and watching her say goodbye to her fellow countrymen and friends, Mariella and Luca, is enough to break your heart. I thought that the three of them had known each other back in Italy and had been friends for years, but it turns out that they never even knew each other prior to their Stray experience (which just goes to show the strength of the bonds that can form on the bus). As we drive away, we press our faces up against the windows and wave enthusiastically until we can see our friends no longer. As we drive along, I notice that the bus is quieter than usual. It appears that the more boisterous of the Strays are gone. Even though there are a number of empty seats now, there's still a good crew on board as we happily roll on towards the capital city of Wellington.

On our way, we pass through the small town of Taihape, aka the "Gumboot Capital of the World." The town takes its gumboot claim to fame rather seriously (as evidenced by this rather large gumboot that I manage to snap through the streaky bus window) and even hosts an annual gumboot-throwing contest.


Those sure are some big boots to fill!

After passing through the town of Bulls (which seems to toss the word "bull" into everything - case in point: the sign for the police station reads "Const-a-bull," while other signs read "Admire-a-bull," "Fashion-a-bull," etc. I love these quirky Kiwi towns!) we stop for a lunch break. Jay and I head to Subway (our first time having it in NZ) with the other Linda and Sam and it is here where we discover that "capsicums" are green peppers. Like they say, you learn something new everyday!

As we get closer to Wellington, I feel like I'm driving towards downtown St. John's. The first thing that greets us is the fog and the cool sea breeze (as I said, just like home!). Kiwis know the place as "Windy Wellington" and apparently, it is regarded as the windiest city in the world - though I think St. John's could definitely give it a run for its money.

When we reach the downtown core, it feels even more like home, but with a west coast/California vibe. We roll up to another BASE hostel and everyone piles out once again to collect their bags. There are no planned activities for the day, so we're given free reign to do what we want. After we've all checked in, everyone scatters and kind of goes their own way and it becomes apparent that the group is breaking up. Tonight, we'll be sharing a room with fellow Strays Nora and Anita from Germany and Anne from Holland. In a little while, our last roommate strolls in (a guy from the Netherlands) and after we've introduced ourselves and have a quick chat, Jay and I head back out with Christa and Heather and make our way just around the corner to Sweet Mother's Kitchen (a cool, New Orleans-style restaurant with Cajun and Creole influences that's filled to the gills with trinkets and Deep South inspired decor ) for "the last supper."

While our Canuck friends are sailing over to the South Island at the crack of dawn tomorrow morning with most of the remaining Strays, Jay and I are staying behind. When we first bought our Stray pass, we decided that Wellington would be a good place to hop off because A: we need to look for work at some point, and B: since we're going to be here for the whole year (unlike Christa and Heather and some of the other Strays, who are only here for a few weeks) we thought it would be a good idea to save some of our Stray trip for later instead of doing it all in one shot. Of course, now that we've made these friendships, we kind of wish that we could continue the adventure with them...but unfortunately, it's a little too late to change our minds.

After an awesome meal and a little stroll, we head back to the hostel where a spirited game of "Saboteurs" - another fun card game - is happening in the dining hall. I see the other Linda, English Sam and James, Manon and Charlotte and a few other people I don't recognize. Jay and I sit down and join in the fun for a few rounds while Christa and Heather head back upstairs to prepare for tomorrow. After a while, Christa comes back down and over to our table to give us a hug and say goodbye before she heads to bed. Even though we only met her and Heather a couple of weeks ago, it seems like we've known them much longer. Actually, I've probably spent more time with them over these past two weeks than I have with some of my friends over the past year back home. Like I said, it's amazing how well you get to know people and the bonds that form when you share all these crazy adventures and moments together.

In a little while, Jay and I are down for the count so we say goodbye and goodnight to our friends at the table and make our way upstairs towards Christa and Heather's room to exchange USB sticks. Christa's in the washroom down the hall, so we chat with Heather and swap stories and photos, recounting the awesome week we just had. I really hope I see these guys again and something tells me that I probably will. (While I sometimes curse it, it's times like this that I'm thankful for things like Facebook.) After Jay and I each give Heather a big hug, we make our way back to our room. I gaze out the window, down at the Stray bus parked on the side of the road, and while I feel a bit sad that we won't be hopping back on in the morning, I'm thankful that we got on when we did and met all these awesome people and shared all these adventures together. And, as I always say, there are many more adventures yet to come...


Saturday, February 18

So...what have we been up to these past few days? Well, after deciding to stay in Wellington for a bit to take in some more of the sights, we checked out of our dorm room and into a rather nice double room a few floors up. We spent some time doing those boring things that you have to do when you're travelling, like paying bills, buying groceries and doing laundry. At the grocery store, I kept seeing people that looked familiar - then I remembered that those people were back in Newfoundland and the chances of them being here in Wellington were few and far between. Our awesome clothesline made an appearance again, but this time, we strung it up outside, along our balcony.


BASE balcony view of Windy Wellington. 

I blogged a bit, Jay worked on his own thing and when we managed to haul ourselves out of the room and into the dining hall for meals, we ran into a few people from the Stray bus who were still hanging around the area - like Anne and Anita, our former roommates. A little later, we also ran into Craig from England, American Ashley and Lauren the Canadian (who had all gotten off the bus earlier in Rotorua). It was nice to see familiar faces again in a sea full of strangers.

What's next? To tell you the truth, I have no friggin' clue. Who knows what kinds of trouble we'll get into. But whatever it is, I'll be sure to let you know. For now, here are a few pics of some sights around Wellington. How does one know they're in Wellington? Well, when you see Gandalf strolling around, that's one sure sign!








Nope - that's not nudie Jay, it's a statue along the Wellington waterfront. 




Oceanside poetry

And now, for your cute quota, here's a vid of a little blue penguin trying to catch fish in Wellington harbour. You kill those lil' fishies you cute lil' penguin! (Click the image to see the video.)

Sunday, February 19, 2012

Stray Cat Shuffle (Part Deux)


Still Saturday, February 11

After we left Waitomo we rolled on through Te Puke (the kiwifruit capitol of the world) and then onto our final destination for the evening - the small town of Maketu, located in the beautiful Bay of Plenty.

As we get closer to Uncle Boy’s Place, Miss P gives us a rundown of the schedule of events. More importantly, she gives us a friendly warning. Before we hop off the bus, we’re told Uncle Boy will hop on to welcome us and give us some more information about what’s happening this evening. When Uncle Boy appears, we are to greet him with a rousing “KIA ORA!” (the traditional Maori greeting), yelling in unison as loudly as we can. If we fail in our mission, we will be tormented in Uncle Boy’s good natured way. We will also be tormented if we refuse to participate in any of the activities this evening. We practice shouting out our “KIA ORA!” a few times and when Uncle Boy steps on, the big smile on his face tells us he’s not disappointed.

Uncle Boy is a man who takes his culture and history very seriously - and he loves nothing more than to share it with others. And that’s the whole point of his marae really. It is a “living” marae, he tells us, and is more like an educational centre where visitors are expected to participate instead of just standing around and passively observing the culture from a distance (as they would at a museum). After his warm welcome, Uncle Boy invites us to come on into the marae, hang our wet things out on the clothesline and put our beers in the fridge.

In the kitchen area, after we’ve all helped ourselves to tea and coffee and taken our places at the rows of tables, Uncle Boy sits at the front of the room. He wants to get to know us a little better and find out where we’re from, so he starts yelling out the names of various countries and when we hear ours, we raise our hands. When the three Swedish girls stick their hands up in the air, Uncle Boy smiles and says “Ahhh…ABBA!” (Not many of us may know Swedish, but the language of ABBA is universal.

Next, Uncle Boy lays down the law. This is how it will go - after we’ve enjoyed a hot, home cooked meal, everyone will gather together in the room next door to take in a Maori cultural performance consisting of the haka (a series of movements, traditionally performed by Maori warriors before battle, that includes bulging eyeballs, flailing tongues and just overall fierceness) and the poi (a dance that consists of rhythmically swinging strings with balls attached at the ends). After this, the guys and girls will separate and the guys will learn the haka (shirtless and all!) while the girls will learn the poi (we can leave our shirts on, if we want to, Uncle Boy adds with a laugh). After our lessons, the guys will perform for the girls and vice versa. Uncle Boy goes on to say that if any one of us doesn’t take part in the festivities or give it their all, that is fine - but we will be signalled out and ridiculed to no end. As I said, Uncle Boy is very proud of his culture and the only way to ensure its survival is by passing it along and teaching others the traditional ways.


Uncle Boy, layin' down the law. Photo courtesy of Heather S.

Before we do anything, however, Uncle Boy assigns our group a traditional Maori name and tells us that we must choose a leader. This is usually the oldest male of the group, but since that particular person in our group doesn’t feel up to the task, we are allowed to choose another. Canadian Nate, who everyone loves, is chosen unanimously, so after a round of applause, he stands and Uncle Boy proceeds to give him (and the rest of us) instructions.

Before the performance, Uncle Boy goes on to say, a young “warrior” will start the ceremony by coming out to greet us, spear swinging. Nate and the warrior will look at each other directly in the eyes and are to hold this eye contact throughout the whole encounter. The warrior will then place a leaf upon the ground before our leader. Nate is to pick up this leaf (keeping eye contact the whole time) as a sign of respect and acknowledgement that his intentions are friendly. If Nate moves forward before he is supposed to, oversteps his bounds or is disrespectful in any way, Uncle Boy tells us that we will be asked to collect our things, get back on the bus and leave. This has never happened before, he says, and so he doesn’t want to see it happen to us. (Not sure how serious Uncle Boy is about all this, but judging by the look on his face, nobody is going to test him.) Once this ceremony is finished, all of us will be officially welcomed inside to enjoy the show.

Uncle Boy believes that since we’re all travelling together and sharing in all of these activities, that we should probably know each other a bit better than we do. He challenges one of us to stand, look around the tables and name as many people as they can. Irish Brian accepts the challenge, stands up and starts pointing and riddling off names, starting with our table: “Christa, Heather, Linda, Jay, Craig…” and on and on he goes. Uncle Boy is obviously impressed and pleased by this. But still, he says, he bets some of us have hardly spoken a word to each other since we’ve hopped on the bus (and, seeing how there’s about 60 of us, he’s probably right). So, he asks us all to get up, go around the room and talk to someone we’ve never spoken to before. Jay and I chat with a couple of Irish girls that just got on the bus, as well as three guys from the Netherlands (probably the youngest dudes on the whole bus) who were sitting directly in front of us on the first day (even still, Uncle Boy is right - we’ve never said a word to them…until now). That’s one of the things that I love most about this Stray trip - aside from doing so many insanely fun activities, you get to meet awesome people from all over the world.

After this rather intense info. session, Uncle Boy stands, smiles and invites us to help ourselves to the buffet-style dinner - chicken, beef, stuffing, potatoes, peas, salad, coleslaw, etc…and a veggie quiche for the vegetarians. Once we’re all stuffed, we help clean up in the kitchen. In the washroom, I run into one of the ladies who helped prepare the meal and is now putting on a costume. I tell her the food was delicious and how good it was to have a home cooked dinner after eating on the run so much. She gives me a warm smile and says thank you. She seems very sweet and grandmotherly. For this reason, I shall refer to her as "Maori Nan." (I mean no disrespect whatsoever by this. As a matter of fact, this kind lady kinda reminds me of my own nan a bit - which is one of the highest compliments I can give someone.)

In a little bit, we gather behind Nate in the room next door and watch as the fierce young warrior begins the ceremony. Nate, of course, plays his part perfectly. After the boy joins the rest of the performers, Nate walks towards Uncle Boy, shakes his hand, says “Kia Ora,” and then presses his forehead and nose against Uncle Boy’s. This is known as a “hongi” and is the traditional Maori way of greeting someone. It is a lovely tradition - probably my favourite in New Zealand.


Chief Canadian Nate, preparing to hongi Uncle Boy. Photo courtesy of Heather S. 

After Uncle Boy, Nate goes on to "hongi" the performers, then joins them at the end of the line. The next person in our group goes up to Uncle Boy, does the hongi, then moves onto the performers, then Nate, then joins the line, and on and on it goes. I'm near the end of the line, so by the time it's my turn, there are well over 60 people circling the room. I walk up to Uncle Boy, shake his hand and say "Kia Ora." "Ahhaaa...good job," he says with a big smile as he presses his forehead and nose against mine. I then move onto the performers. When I reach Maori Nan, she smiles, puts both hands on my arms and hauls me in for a good ol' hearty hongi. I then move onto the rest of the performers, then Nate, then all the other Strays. I'm half dizzy by the time I'm through. I have never in my life touched noses with so many people! The hongi is really a great way to get close to people - literally!

Once the hongi is through, we all sit along the side of the room while the performers entertain us with traditional Maori songs and dances. Even though the guys in the group are fairly young, when they perform the haka, they exhibit a fierceness and wisdom beyond their years. I try to imagine what it would've been like to encounter a group of Maori warriors doing the haka centuries ago. I come to the conclusion that it would be absolutely terrifying. Have a look for yourselves. (Click the image to see the video.)



Once the guys are through stomping their feet, beating their chests and waggling their tongues at us, the ladies take over with the much softer and gentler poi. Traditionally, the poi was performed by women to strengthen their wrists for things like weaving, and by warriors to strengthen their wrists for battle (back then, the ball at the end of the string would've been a stone, not the balled up plastic bags that the performers are using). I have no idea what the ladies are singing, but it has a nice tune and you can't help tapping your toes to the rhythm.


The pros perform the poi. 

Once the performers are finished, they announce that it's our turn to step up to the plate. The Stray guys follow the male performers into the dining area, while the girls stay in the room with the female performers. Each of us is given a string with balled up bags attached to the ends. We form several lines across the room and do our best to keep up with the pros while trying not to hit each other in the head. One of the younger girls strolls along the lines eying us up and down, like a drill sergeant inspecting the new recruits. We're instructed to "catch, catch, swing swing catch" (swinging the ball up to meet our hands) over and over again, keeping time with the words of a tune that none of us understand, all the while swaying our hips to the beat. Clearly, some of us are having trouble keeping track of all this. "I pretend that I'm looking at a good looking guy," one of the performers tells us as she swings her hips back and forth. After a few runs, the back line gets bumped to the middle while those in the middle line (that's me!) move up to the front and the front moves to the back, so that we all get a chance to shine (or something like that!) in the spotlight. When we (kinda) become a bit more inept, the guitarist picks up the pace and we swing our strings faster and faster. When the music stops, we can hear the guys in the next room shouting their lungs out like a bunch of hungry savages chasing after a runaway hog. We snicker amongst ourselves but that ends once it's announced that we're ready to perform for each other. One of the ladies tells us to take a seat along the side of the room while we wait for the guys to enter. She tells us to encourage them by clapping and cheering loudly and stomping our feet. This is harder for them than us, she says, since they're going to be sans shirts and all, so a little encouragement will go a long way. As soon as the guys march into the room, we hoot and holler as loudly as we can. It seems to be working, as the guys give it their all and put on a fine show. Have a look (again, click the image to see the video).


The Stray guys perform the haka (or at least try to. : )


Just lookit these brutes (there's Jay near the back, in the centre, with shaved head and glasses. 

They guys have a bit of an extra challenge, as they have to say the words of the haka as they perform (which is posted on the wall for them, but still - you try saying this stuff correctly while you're doing your damnedest to display your fierce face).


"Tongue out eyes wide and angry." Yup, that about sums it up!

Next, it's our turn. We swap places with the guys and form our lines. I nab a spot in the middle line. I figure it's a safe bet - not right up in front and not too far in the back so that I'll get signalled out. It doesn't matter though, because after we perform once, we go right back into it again - but not before switching positions. I'm glad we had a fair bit of practice beforehand!

From Shared New Zealand Album 2

I'm in the aqua-coloured shirt near the middle, trying very hard not to knock someone in the noggin'.

After we've all had a chance to soak in the spotlight, the pros jump back up, hold hands and sway back and forth as they perform one last tune for us to officially close the ceremony. Maori Nan seems a bit emotional, and even appears to be a bit teary-eyed. (Click the image to see the video.)



The whole evening has been awesome and we mingle with the performers afterwards to tell them so and get some snaps with them. Of course, everyone seems to love Maori Nan - including me and Jay! She puts an arm around each of us as we gather together for a photo. After, she gives us each a hug and a kiss and smiles as she says she'll see us in the morning - like I said, very grandmotherly!




The Stray family all gathered together. 

After the performers leave, each of the Strays grabs a mattress, blankets and pillows from the corner of the room and chooses a sleeping spot for the night. Some of the Strays set their mattresses up inside the marae along the walls, while some of us choose to sleep outside in one of several big white tents, or out on the front deck.


Sleepover! 

Since it's a fairly warm night, Jay and I hit the deck along with chief Nate and a few other Strays, including Sam from England, who just hopped on the bus the other day. Sam sets up next to Jay and I and we all have a fine chat and get to know each other better while we make our beds. The land around kind of reminds me of my nan's place in Red Head Cove - it's so green and quiet and feels a million miles away from anywhere. Some of the Strays turn in early while the others gather in the dining area to have a few drinks and listen to Philip the German sing and play the guitar. Jay and I, after our caving adventure today, are spent, so we choose the former. We hop onto our mattresses and throw blankets over ourselves as the notes of Philip's guitar in the background lulls us to sleep. I feel like a little kid at a sleepover! This has been one of the best nights ever, I decide, as I fall asleep under the stars.


Sunday, February 12

Early the next morning I fling the blankets off my head and awake to the sounds of ABBA's "Mama Mia." At first, I think the music is coming from one of the tents, but I smile as I realize it's coming from the kitchen ("Uncle Boy must have been inspired by the Swedish girls yesterday!" I think to myself). After Jay and I haul ourselves out of bed - or, off our mattresses, I should say - we put our things away and head to the kitchen to have some cereal and toast with everyone. Before we head back onto the bus, Uncle Boy whips out his camera. It's sort of a tradition to get a snap of every group that comes by, and he's not about to let us get away without one. We all gather together along the front deck and smile as Uncle Boy smiles back at us like a proud dad. He tells us we've been one of the best, most spirited groups to visit the marae. (Maybe he says this to everyone, but there's a sincerity about him that makes me think he's telling the truth.) Everyone strolls up to him to say goodbye before hopping back onto the bus. Jay and I shake his hand and thank him for such an awesome experience. Truly, the time we spent at the marae will likely go down as one of my favourite moments in New Zealand. Again, that corny word "magical" rolls around my brain - but there's really no better way to describe the experience we just had.

Next, we head onto Rotorua - probably one of the most unique places I've ever had the pleasure of visiting. You smell Rotorua long before you see it. Rotorua stinks (quite literally!) like rotten eggs due to the sulphur from all the geothermic activity in the area. As we roll into the town, we stick our faces up to the window and stare agape at all the mud pools everywhere, bubbling up like miniature volcanoes - one of the most freakin' amazing things I've ever seen! Once we reach the local BASE hostel, Miss P pulls up to the curb and lets us loose for a few hours so we can explore. Jay, Christa, Heather and I (being the big kids that we are), head for the local playground where we climb onto some metal contraption that looks like a huge web.



We then make our way around the park, gawking at all the incredible, smelly sights around us. Amazing, awesome, supercalafraga something or other - I could throw these words around all day, but it just doesn't do this place justice.


Follow your nose! Or not...



We head further down the street, closer to the water, and continue gawking at all the bubbling mud pools sprinkled around the maraes and people's homes. Apparently, people used to have their own private mud pools on their property, but this isn't really permitted anymore (as far as I know). Some of the steaming pools have little fences around them, to keep people away from the boiling water. Still, I can't help but lean in for a closer look.


Where's Linda? A sauna in the street! 


Nope, the town's not on fire - just steaming hot pools everywhere! 


This guys looks a wee bit hungry! 

When we can manage to tear ourselves away, we head further uptown, past a big field where dozens and dozens of people appear to be doing aerobics on the grass (looks like a pretty active community!) before ducking into a cafe for a snack. You'll never go hungry in New Zealand as there seem to be cafes sprinkled around everywhere, no matter the size of the community (though Rotorua seems to be a fairly large town).

After heading back towards the bus and laying in the grass in the sun for a bit, everyone piles back on and we head towards our next destination, Taupo. Before we leave town, though, we pull over to one hostel where a few Strays hop off - Craig the Englishman, a couple of the American girls and, sadly, Canadian Nate. (That's one thing that sucks about being on the bus. You meet so many awesome people and make so many friends, but you know eventually, you'll have to say goodbye.) Before he steps off the bus, Nate stands at the front and snaps a few pics of us. He gives us a wave and a smile and joins the others on the sidewalk where they stand and wave as they watch us roll away. "Canadaaaaa....tsk, Awwwww..." says Miss P as we drive away. I think it's safe to say we all feel the same way.

Before we leave town, we stop at another hostel and pick up a new passenger - another Linda, from the Netherlands (turns out she knows English Sam as they were both on the Stray bus together previously). We stop at one last massive, bubbling mud pool just on the outskirts of town. The other mud pools we've seen so far pale in comparison to this monster. (Click the image below to see the video).



Before we hit Taupo proper, Miss P pulls over by a big dam so that we can snap a few more pictures and to drop the skydivers off. The insects (like crickets) in the trees are chirping like crazy, so much so that we mistake the noise for the buzz of electrical wires. But when we look around, there are no such wires to be seen.


Dam...that's a lot of water!

Irish Brian, the Swedish girls and Christa are a few of the brave Stray souls who have signed up to take a giant leap of faith. Miss P is going to jump (again) as well, after she brings the rest of us to our destination. (I considered signing up as well, but Mr. Jay told me that if I waited, he would consider doing a skydive with me later on - there, it's on my blog now, so it's official Jay! ; ) I don't mind too much, as I've skydived before; but I would love to do it again Down Under.) The guys are jumping with Skydive Taupo, who actually picks up their jumpers in a limousine - go big or go home, right? Before we drive away, Christa gives Heather a big hug (you know, just in case!).

When we hit our hostel, everyone piles out and makes a mad dash for the bar to sign up for a room. Heather nabs one for the four of us. Once we've gotten our gear stacked away, Jay and I join Heather on a grocery run.


Havin' a time on the way to the grocery store! 

Tomorrow, we're taking on the mighty Tongariro Crossing, so we need to make sure we have enough fuel. We load up on fruit and sandwich fixings before heading back to the hostel.

As I jump out of the shower, Christa returns, giddy and happy as all hell (skydiving does that to ya). "I jumped out of an f'en plane," she says over and over again. We go to the bar for some chile con carne as she tells us all about her adventure.

Later in the evening, Jay and I head out for a walk to explore the area. Since it's Sunday, things are fairly quiet - but back at the hostel, it's a bit more lively. Jay hits the shower and I shoot the breeze with Irish Brian at the bar. At some point during the conversation I look up, only to see our ol' pal Canadian Nate stroll through the front door! He comes through the bar, handing out hugs along the way. "What are you doing here?!" I ask, as he leans down and gives me a big squeeze. Turns out, he wasn't happy with how we all parted ways, so he hitchhiked from Rotorua to Taupo (roughly 81 km) just to say a proper goodbye. "I thought we were going to have lunch!" he says, talking about hopping off the bus earlier that day. We all shared such a special evening together at Uncle Boy's place, he continues, that it didn't feel right hopping off the bus without getting everyone's email addresses and contact info. to keep in touch. Needless to say, we're just as happy to see Nate as he is to see us.

When Jay gets out of the shower, we grab some drinks and a table outside to chat with everyone. (At the bar, a guy with a guitar has just plugged into an amp and is turning out cover tunes, so it's a wee bit loud.) Irish Brian is at our table, so we tell him a bit about Newfoundland while he tells us about his home, including Ted Fest - an annual event where everybody dresses up as their favourite characters from Father Ted, heads to a nearby island and drinks all weekend. (Gotta love the Irish and their wacky traditions!) A little later, we head back inside and Anita the German walks by and tells us that Whitney Houston just died. Wow - I really wasn't expecting that! You know how people always say, "I remember where I was when so and so happened..."? Well, I'll definitely remember exactly where I was when I heard this news. Eventually, Nate makes his way around, saying goodbye to everyone yet again. He comes over and gives me a lingering hug. We promise to keep in touch and when I jokingly ask him if we'll see him again tomorrow, he assures me that he's gone for good this time. He heads back out through the door, throwing a final glance as he steps out onto the street and walks away towards his hostel down the road. It seems I've been chatting with Brian and the others for a while because before we know it, the bar is closing up and people are scattering.I join my "roommates" and head for my bunk underneath Jay's. Again, it feels a bit like a sleepover, which is awesome when you're (as I said before) big kids like us. : ) After reading the graffiti left by previous travellers scrawled along the bottom of Jay's bunk (much like I'd read an Archie comic before bed), I close my eyes and wait for sleep to come. It's gonna be a long day tomorrow, so I need as much of it as I can get. It's hard to believe that this time last night, we were sleeping under the stars outside Uncle Boy's marae. We've seen and done so much - and yet there's so much more to come. And I can't wait.