You Can’t Handle Tom Cruise’s Tepee! (Oct. 22 – 26)

Leaving George and Wellington behind, we headed north, which is appropriate since there’s nowhere to go but north from windy Welly. In our brief dash through the North Island in the summer we missed the west coast pretty much entirely, so we decided to go that a-way. Fifteen minutes out of Wellington we were instantly taken back to our memories of the N Island; rolling green hills littered with cows, hot and sunny weather, and hazy plains stretching from the sea to the far-off mountains in the center of the island. We drove through the black-sand resort towns of Waikanae and Paraparaumu, where we encountered traffic, of all things, which came as a great shock to us – the South Island doesn’t really do congestion. By the end of the day we were knackered as we reached one of the rural Manawatu region’s big cities, Wanganui. Not much going in Wanganui on the Labor Weekend; it’s not the kind of town that has to be on anyone’s must-see itinerary.

The beautiful "Three Sisters" north of Urenui

The next morning we were off further north to Taranaki, where we had lined up some wwoofing work at an organic brewery, White Cliffs, just outside of New Plymouth, the area’s only major city. As you can probably guess, Taranaki’s another really rural region, basically a remote western peninsula with many, many cows. The region is most notable for the eponymous Mt. Taranaki (or Egmont, depending on who you ask – Taranaki sounds cooler so it’s our preferred nomenclature), a conical snow-capped volcanic mountain which rises out of the center of the Taranaki ring plain to dominate the skyline.

Ron Burgundy is ready for his close-up

We’d been keen to see Mt. Taranaki since we’d been here for nearly a year without spotting it, but we’d heard people say that on remarkably clear days it could be seen as far away as the South Island. We haven’t been that lucky, so we figured we had to go to the source. Even while we cruising along Taranaki’s Surf Highway that runs along the peninsula’s western edge, the mountain was only 10 km away but obscured by a heap of clouds on an otherwise clear day. When Taranaki finally emerged as we drove into NP, it was an amazing sight – if for some reason John Madden was describing the area he might say: you’ve got a lot of flat plains and trees, and then all of a sudden, boom, there’s a mountain right there, amazing.

We began wwoofing at White Cliffs because I’m always into seeing how various breweries do things, get another notch in the belt, etc., so we drove out of New Plymouth, after staying there a night. NP’s a nice little beach city, and judging on the big free museum, art gallery, and big public sculpture on the beach, has a fair bit of money coming from the offshore oil and gas discovered nearby in the Tasman Sea. The brewery is in nearby Urenui, which is a typically rural, bush-covered N Island town: this island was built to grow vegetation.

We weren’t quite sure what to expect from White Cliffs since we’d had only brief contact with the owners beforehand, but they turned out to be two generations of a South African family who’d bought the brewery only 4 months earlier. The husband and wife, Ron and Jill, were the owners, but his parents Mike and Rina, originally from Zimbabwe, did the brewing and much of the day-to-day operations. They were a bit older but had to work, owing to the weakness of the South African rand compared to the kiwi dollar. With the white lab coat, Mike got called ‘The Doctor’ a lot, though we reckon that the short shorts (certainly not uncommon around here) should give him away. The brewery was an interesting little set-up: just a tiny operation where they had a little retail space, tanks, refrigerator, and storage space in the equivalent of a big two-car garage. For our part, Becky and I puttered around for a few days there, helping mostly with the bottling, but not really doing too much else. At this point we’re packaging experts.

The good doctor poses with his tonic to cure all "ales"

Our living space was amusing, as we had a little shack set in the back of the property, in the midst of a wee avocado orchard. It certainly was peaceful and tranquil. The only bummer was that the kitchen and toilet was on the other side of the grove, requiring a 5-minute walk through chilly, wet grass. But our favorite aspect was that in the middle of the orchard, the brewery’s previous owner had bought and placed the tepee used by Tom Cruise in the filming of The Last Samurai, much of which occurred nearby. Even if he’s become a crazy Scientologist, we still had to chuckle when we walked past his tepee every morning. The Taranaki terrain was apparently a good stand-in for rural Japan, especially Mt. Taranaki, which looks like Mt. Fuji from a distance.

Our migrant laborer shack amongst the avocado grove

Overall, it was a reasonable enough place to WWOOF, but it certainly didn’t blow us away, and after a few days we began to get keenly aware that our time in NZ is quickly coming to a close, and there is more we’ve yet to see. It was an unusual WWOOFing situation in that they weren’t feeding us there, but instead were paying us for some of our work. That’s alright, but wasn’t what we anticipated. In addition, I didn’t reckon there would be much that I could learn from them, as they’ve barely had more brewing experience than I’ve had. Thus, we decided to leave after four days. Even though this WWOOFing place was no Arapawa Island, don’t feel bad for us – it’s not every day you get to share a yard with Tom Cruise’s tepee…

I LOVE this tepee!

Marlborough Sounds Like A Good Place to Wwoof (Oct. 3 – 19)

Sometime in the past few months, as we were living in Chch, we began to line up our post-Linda and Don plans for our last two months in NZ. It’s hard to believe that we’ve been here for nine months now, and that we’ve now got less than two months to go. It’s hard to effectively describe it, but at some moments it hardly feels like we’ve been on the South Island for eight months now. On the other hand, there are times when I feel acutely aware of how long we’ve been here. But I digress, since this is making me sound like an old person.

Anyway, we became intrigued with the idea of wwoofing somewhere in the Marlborough Sounds, looking for some isolated place accessible only by boat, where we could soak up the natural scenic beauty, etc. etc. Our recent trek on the Queen Charlotte track with L&D only heightened our anticipation of wwoofing on a lush green island in the middle of Marlborough’s rolling submerged mountain ranges. Thus we were excited to find a wwoofing accommodation with a family living on Arapawa Island.

Arapawa is an island located on the Tory Channel at the northeastern tip of the Sounds, where the Wellington-Picton ferries cruise past every hour. The family with whom we’re staying farm and dive for paua (NZ abalone), and also run a few sheep and cattle on their sprawling island property. When we first contacted them they were keen for us to get there as soon as possible after Oct. 1, so the best we could do was to get there on the 3^rd, after putting L&D on a plane the previous night in Chch.

Back at the ranch on Arapawa Island

We met the husband, Mike, in Picton, where he was making a paua delivery, and rode back with him in their small boat, which is basically the family’s only means of transportation to reach the outside world. As the family lives at the northern end of Arapawa at the end of the Sounds, it’s a bit of a haul to their place, about an hour or so. In fact, from their house on a clear day you can see right across the Cook Strait to the Wellington Hills of the North Island. For those familiar with the Wellington-Picton ferry, their property is the second one on the right as you enter the Sounds, with the red and white maritime markers.

Becky boards the "Freedom" on our way to Arapawa Island

Always prone to motion sickness, Becky had skipped lunch before we boarded, which was smart, as the chop in the Sounds was fairly intense. Arriving at Arapawa we had our most exciting wwoofing induction yet as we had to toss our packs up onto the wharf and then leap from a wildly rocking boat. We narrowly missed a good soaking and lost luggage when a massive wave washed over the wharf right behind us. Antonia quickly came out to meet us on one of their 4x4’s with two dogs and one kid in tow. She then hopped onto the backhoe to pull Mike and the dingy out from the roiling waves. Whew!

The view from the wharf on a calm day

Both Mike, who’s from California, and Antonia, who is a Kiwi, are tremendously keen divers, and met in California some years ago while diving professionally. They’ve been at Arapawa for about 14 years now, and have 3 kids: 9-year old twins Sarah and Jacob, and a 5-year old, James. The kids are tremendously energetic. Mike is often in the States fishing or diving professionally, leaving Antonia to manage the farm in his absence, often with a team of wwoofers. Much like Belinda, she left us amazed at her incredible energy level. There simply aren’t enough hours in a day for her to accomplish everything she’d like to do between teaching the kids, running the house, and all the various tasks in raising paua and running their farm.

Wwoofing at Arapawa gave us an opportunity to do some unique work that we haven’t done previously. Since living on the island requires the family to do correspondence school with their kids, Becky’s background in education came in handy – she helped Antonia in the family’s schoolroom on many days. That was typically followed by sundry household activities (cooking, cleaning, child-minding, pet-minding) until the day eventually wound down around 7:00 PM.

My tasks were generally more varied than Becky’s. In times of better weather, their other wwoofer, Hidei, and I would often go out on the property’s steep hillsides, weeding tarhwini plants and spraying that most hated and invasive plant, gorse. Hidei, who was from Japan, was a good sport and a hard worker, and we got along quite well. Though he spoke almost no English, we communicated reasonably well, which I attribute largely to my excellence in the art of mime.

I’d say I also earned my forestry merit badge at Arapawa, wielding a chainsaw to carve up firewood, which can become tiring, but which I rate as excellent work. It’s surprisingly satisfying to stack up a huge pile of freshly cut firewood. Mostly I was keen to do any job that required use of one of their several 4x4’s. I never mastered backing up a 4x4 with a trailer on the back, but riding around the property, up forested hills and through shallow creeks, I could easily see why you’d want one, or three, as they had at Arapawa. Actually, I think many of their chores might just be convenient excuses to go for a ride on the 4x4…

Andrew's a lumberjack, and he's okay

Sarah and Jacob negotiating turns to ride the blue motorbike

Becky and I both spent heaps of time in the paua farm, especially on the many rainy spring days we endured at Arapawa. If anything, the weather at the edge of the Cook Strait is changeable – some warm, sunny, 20ºC weather interspersed with rainy, cold, 10 ºC days. And the wind is really something there as well; maybe not Canterbury bad, but when a southerly gale is blowing through the Sounds it certainly les you know. On the paua farm our specialty was in separating and sizing small paua, a yearly task that was well-suited for bad weather. We got pretty good at it – I can tell a 45mm paua from a 50mm one by sight.

Becky measures some paua at the farm

We ended up staying with the family for 16 days, and besides a few trips out on their inflatable dinghy never left the island in that time. It’s a unique experience living on an island, and I was interested in how the family lived their life on an isolated island with only a couple neighbors. Though with modern communications, biweekly mail boat visits, and ferries going by every hour, the isolation certainly isn’t complete. They even had broadband Internet and Sky (cable) television, certainly not regular fixtures in all Kiwi homes. We certainly weren’t complaining that they had those things.

We have to say that it was perhaps the most remarkable place we’ve wwoofed at. Between the Sounds, a sprawling property on a relatively isolated island, the outdoorsy 4x4-loving kids, a paua farm and hatchery, and hosts that dive for paua for a living, there were so many interesting things going on. We were properly immersed in the family’s life, even joining them on a family picnic to the “Knob,” the highest point on Arapawa Island. Loaded up on two four-wheelers with two dogs in tow, the eight of us traveled to the Knob for lunch and to take in the views, which were spectacular.

Enjoying our picnic lunch at the Knob

Also, many of the things about wwoofing at Arapawa were top-notch. Antonia is an excellent cook, preparing roasts, cottage pies, and heaps of other tasty dishes at dinner. And don’t even get me started on desserts – they took dessert very seriously, which I was happy to see. There was always a cake, cookies, or a crumble around. Mike says he gains ten pounds when he’s at home, and I could certainly believe it. If I hadn’t been running around as much as I was, I probably would’ve gained weight as well. Additionally, the family had a very good set-up for having wwoofers, as we had our own very nice ensuite room in a small building off the house. Hidei had his own ensuite room separate from the house as well. You could hardly ask for better food or accommodation in a wwoofing arrangement.

After some sub-par wwoofing experiences (see Lemon Tree and the garlic farm), Arapawa Island proved to be the wwoofing tonic we were looking for. We were made to feel a part of this amazing family and learned a great deal during our time here. They benefited from our efforts and 6+ hours of work a day while we enjoyed comfortable accommodation and delicious food. Becky’s cooking will have improved after our stay here, and I’ve learned new things as well (most importantly, I’ve learned I should try and figure out how to get a 4x4 when I get home, hehe). It’s been a great way to spend a few weeks this spring before our quickly approaching departure from the South Island. Cheers, Arapawa!

A final farewell from the wharf

Mouth-Watering Pavlova (May 9)

Sometime shortly after we arrived in New Zealand, we heard about Pavlova, considered to be the Kiwi national dessert, the antipodean answer to the apple pie, if you will. Nevermind that Australia has also laid claim to the dessert’s provenance; as more than a few Kiwis have reminded us, who can trust a country of convicts? (To any Aussies reading this, please don’t have your pet kangaroos beat us up…) As Pavlova is basically a giant meringue topped with fresh fruit and cream, though, its origin seems moot since you’d have to imagine the concept of meringue was developed at some point before anyone was baking anything in Australasia.

Anyway, we decided that, strictly in the interest of furthering our cultural awareness, we would have to sample Pavlova at some point. And for authenticity’s sake, not just any grocery store-bought version would do. To get the real experience, we felt it would be best to have a real home-made, Kiwi-made Pavlova. Not to mention that having made many a meal at a hostel, we knew we’d feel a little out of place eating a grand dessert whilst people around us ate beans out of cans, instant noodles, and spaghetti out of the pot (to save cleaning another dish, natch).

Isabel spreads out the pavlova for the oven

Up to date, we’d struck out so far. Apparently making a good Pavlova is a dying skill, or we’d just been unlucky where we’d stopped. However, when we got to Lawrence, we found out that a good friend of Thomas and Alex’s, an elderly local woman named Isabel, not only made a mean Pavlova, she often had their wwoofers over to show them how to make one. Becky was eager to see, so she had Thomas book us a visit on one of our days off. We suspect Thomas was happy to arrange it as he mentioned eating a huge portion of the last Pavlova from Isabel.

After trekking across Lawrence (that makes it sound far; in reality a 10-minute walk) we arrived at Isabel’s small hillside home. Isabel is a spry and lovely 83-year old Kiwi lady who knows her way around the kitchen. Besides Pavlova, she has a repertoire of heaps of other desserts. It isn’t often you meet someone who’s an expert on plum pudding these days. She recounted stories of past baking exploits, and it certainly sounds like she deserves a plaque of gratitude from the local hospital for the goodly sized portion of it that her donated baked goods must’ve paid for.

Her plum pudding was a special hit at the annual bake sale when she prepared 27 of them for the raffle one year. Becky, in her naivety, asked Isabel where she got all the plums to make the pudding (as Kiwis often have fruit trees in their backyards). That was the funniest thing Isabel had heard recently, as plum puddings apparently contain no plums at all. She was kind enough bake (or rather boil) us one of these as well. Isabel recommends only a small spoonful of her brandy sauce with the dessert, but we think you can hardly go wrong with a ladleful.

Plum pudding only looks like a plum. Or a brain, which is decidedly less appetizing.

Isabel was a really terrific host; we had a relatively proper tea with scones after she baked the Pavlova - I knew I should’ve brought my white gloves along. OK, maybe not that fancy but quite nice.

Pavlova in the beard, you know it's good!

Pavlova turned out to be really pretty simple to make. Beat egg whites, sugar, and some other ingredients (including vinegar for a dessert?) for awhile, then bake for an hour and leave in the oven overnight. Afterwards top with whipped cream and fresh fruit. Becky was happy to get a new, novel recipe, and I was happy for dessert, erm, to enjoy the cultural experience the next night.

As for the Pavlova itself, we found it to be tasty and quite rich. It had a nice crunchy outside and was soft like a giant marshmallow on the inside. Since it’s basically a ginormous meringue it’s really light, so you feel you can eat heaps of it. It should come with a warning not to do that though, as eating too much will leave you with the “wow I didn’t realize it was that rich” feeling you’ll regret for awhile.

The finished product... Diagnosis: delicious!

P.S. In the spirit of full disclosure, I’ll admit that a good part of the reason that I wrote this post was because the title basically wrote itself. Much like pavlova itself, who could resist?

Recipe:

Ingredients:

4 egg whites
Pinch of salt
4 tablespoons cold water
1 large cup of sugar
4 teaspoons cornflour
1 teaspoon vinegar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Beat the egg whites, salt, and water until soft peaks form. Add the sugar gradually beating all the time until stiff. Fold in cornflour, vinegar, and vanilla. Put damp grease proof paper on oven tray. Gently pour mixture on to the paper and form a high round cake. Place in the middle of an oven set at 355 F for 3 minutes. Turn down the temperature to 210 F. Leave in the oven for an hour. The pavlova may sit in a cold oven over night. The pavlova should be topped with fresh whipping cream and seasonal fruit (although, we must state a preferance for the kiwi).

Keep us posted on all your pavlova making ventures!

A Lemon Tree Grows In Lawrence (Apr. 26 – May 15)

Leaving the dusty fields of the Alexandra area behind, we headed south to Lawrence, site of our next wwoofing mission, working at The Lemon Tree Café and Restaurant. In a bit of an unusual twist, the owners of the café were a German couple who rely on wwoofers to do much of the café work since the town has few eligible workers from which to draw.

Lawrence, a wee village of 500 nestled in a small valley an hour inland from Dunedin would seem to be the quintessential sleepy New Zealand town. It’s a fairly unremarkable town, but has a quaint charm with verdant sheep farms and logging-pine laden hills surrounding the town. In the town itself are a heap of churches and a main street, on which all the town’s shops and surprisingly numerous cafes (3 in a row!) are located. Walking around town at night, the nighttime sky is brilliant and full of stars, if you don’t mind the smoky haze from burning coal that most locals use to heat their homes. The locals like their rugby, their Speight’s, and their duck hunting, if our time there is any indication.

Becky, Andrew and Andrea in front of the Lemon Tree. Our last day of work!

As with many towns in the South Island, particularly in the Otago region, Lawrence was formerly a gold town, and like so many of those towns has all the obligatory historical memorabilia, tourist sites, and businesses with names in that vein that inevitably follow. We took the historical gold mining ‘interpretive walk’ in nearby Gabriel’s Gully one day, and while it made for a nice bushwalk, the informational plaques scattered around the trail didn’t really make it a ‘must-visit’ spot. One wonders whether there is that much interest in the New Zealand gold rush among travelers that it can sustain basically the same tourism activities in what has to be dozens of towns on the South Island.

Our buddy, Cam, the sous chef at the Lemon Tree

Not that Lawrence seems to be banking on that most days. As it’s a popular route from Dunedin to Queenstown, Lawrence does get a fair bit of traffic from those travelers, especially on weekends, but other than that it’s a somnolent little burg. We were told that in summer the café really gets hopping with over 100 lunches served a day, but while we were there in the chill of autumn we generally served only about 30-40.

The Lemon Tree Cafe and Restaurant

We found our hosts to be pretty interesting, as you wouldn’t expect to find too many German transplants running a successful café in what can only be described as the middle of nowhere in Otago. Their house, for starters, is a nice, big Victorian-style home with bookshelves in seemingly every room, which are necessary since they must’ve brought a whole shipping container of possessions here. Without trying to be too unkind, you could describe their home as German-Attic-Exploded-In-Kiwi-Mid-Century-Victorian.

They both must love New Zealand, though they seem horrified by small town attitudes and the lack of amenities. Perhaps we shouldn’t have told them about some of our happenings at the pub, as it only seemed to galvanize their opinions even stronger. I didn’t really mean to instigate there, but couldn’t help it… It seems pretty apparent that they would readily move back home except for the café and having a young family.

A view of Gabriel's Gully on a beautiful fall day

One funny anecdote that encapsulates their experience is story of the Giant Ice Creams. When our hosts bought the restaurant property it was the local fish and chips shop that featured giant ice cream cones (an advertisement prominently hand-painted on a shed along the highway a few miles outside of town that is so damn cute and NZ-country you’d be hard-pressed not to want to stop). While they were renovating the property, one day two rednecks roared past in their pick-up and shouted “Where the f*** are the giant ice creams?!” as they looked on in horror. As he said to us, “I was thinking, what have I gotten myself into?”

As far as the actual work went, since we’d just escaped the fields o’garlic, we were hopeful for a better wwoofing experience at the café, especially since Becky is so fond of restaurant work. As I noted in the last post, working for only room and board has served to enhance our appreciation for work that you know, pays. I have to admit that my enthusiasm for wwoofing has been flagging, not to mention that I had to cajole Becky into not quitting garlic farming within an hour of our beginning to haul rocks out of the fields.

A squid salad, replete with ornate presentation. You should've seen the BLTs!

When we arrived in town at noon on a Thursday, we were quickly thrown into the fire at the café, starting work immediately, with none of the cozy get-to-know-you period that we’ve grown accustomed to (typically a dinner and night’s rest before the work begins). Instead, Becky and I suited up in the bright yellow Lemon Tree tee shirts and café aprons to begin our first day of wwoofing.

Our work at the café was pretty typical as far as café labor goes. When it’s busy with customers, Becky does a variety of things: baking, taking orders, running food, busing tables, washing dishes, prep work, etc. There’s also no shortage of cleaning to be done. Because I’m a dude, I’ve ended up with most of the grunt work, like chopping up heaps of pumpkins for their soup (Becky thinks I’ve earned my merit badge on that one), cutting frozen chickens, and other fun things. I actually don’t mind that work, as I’d rather do that then ferry coffees to the tables.

I’ve also done lots of groundskeeping work at their sprawling Victorian property, with some paint-scraping and sanding thrown in, as well. Becky thinks it should qualify as an “estate” by NZ standards, since most are nondescript ranch homes with no landscaping. Again, not bad work, especially when the weather has been nice, though they may have been a bit anal about the lawn, or they were just been giving me busywork. To wit, I raked the property twice one week, and nearly a third, while there were still leaves on the trees. The futility factor of such work gets dangerously close to rock-pulling in garlic fields.

We’re not actually sure how much we enjoyed our time at the Lemon Tree. We found Lawrence to be nice enough, if a bit too sleepy, and despite long hours on our working days, the work was pretty agreeable, making time fly by, in stark contrast to garlic planting. When our hosts were engaging, we got along well with them and enjoyed talking to them, as they’ve had some really interesting experiences. Food at the café was also generally very tasty, and we enjoyed our daily coffees tremendously. One of the wwoofers, Andrea, made some awesome espresso drinks at the Lemon Tree that must be the best in Otago: we were hooked almost immediately and will truly miss our daily gratis mochaccinos/lattes. Camaraderie with our fellow workers was also great, as we really got on well with Andrea, Steffi, Cameron, Thilo, Jessica, and James and Vicki. They were all hard workers, full of good spirit, and a pleasure to work with. Special thanks to Steffi for the German lessons. We learned a bunch of useful German phrases, which will come in handy when we get to Oktoberfest someday.

We did indeed like a number of things about the café, as we asked to stay for a week longer than the two week period we’d originally promised. However, we soon regretted making the request, as we started to get a strong vibe from our hosts that they weren’t very keen to have us around. We often felt that we weren’t meeting some unexplained criteria, and so we just didn’t know how to improve the situation. We did wonder why they said we could stay on longer, and we joked together more than a few times that we wouldn’t really have minded if they’d asked us to leave. I guess not everyone will like you, but we really wish we knew what we were doing to offend them.

Our home in Lawrence for three weeks - "The Property"

Well, we don’t want to make this a completely whingey post, so we’ll skip it for now. We will take some good memories away from this experience and we certainly feel like we tried to make the best of it while we were there. However, our wwoofing days are probably over for the time being. Working hard for room and board and living in close quarters (where quiet hours are always in effect) with a young family and five other twentysomethings may not always be the best combination – we’re learning new things all the time here!

Checking In

By now at least a handful of you must be wondering what we’ve been up to over the last few weeks. We apologize for not being able to put up any real updates lately, but fear not, you dedicated few, as we haven’t fallen off the face of the earth. Although it’s felt that way sometimes over the past few weeks since we left Queenstown, traveling through Central Otago.

To be honest, the last couple weeks haven’t been the most thrilling, though there have been some pretty interesting moments. For the past week we’ve been wwoofing for a German couple at their café in Lawrence (more on that in a later post), a rural town in Otago. We escaped ‘to town’, Dunedin, on Tuesday, one of our days off to get back to civilization for a bit, where we tried to update the blog. Unfortunately Blogger wasn’t in the mood to cooperate that day, so we had to punt til today. We’ve just been to a rugby match between Otago’s team, the Highlanders (in a town named Dunedin the Scottish influence is strong), and an Australian side, Brumbies. The Highlanders were unfortunately crushed by a score of 22-10, but we still enjoyed the match.

As far as our trip goes, right now we’re at a bit of an impasse, trying to figure out what to do until the winter season really starts. Becky has an interview for a ticketing position at Treble Cone coming up soon, but bummer for me as I didn’t score even an interview. Hindsight being 20/20 I probably should’ve applied for less sexy positions than lift operator without previous experience, theme park or otherwise, but oh well, perhaps it will work out better somehow?

You can definitely feel that it’s in-between seasons here at the moment, with colder weather gradually making its presence felt, and not much going on of note. (As a side note, you can always tell when the weather is getting cold in NZ: the telltale smell of wood and coal burning in towns. We were somewhat amazed to learn that in Christchurch, a city of 300,000 people, they have a smog problem due in large part to wood fires in people’s homes.) Although our viewpoint may be at least partly influenced by the fact that we’ve been in some pretty sparsely inhabited areas lately.

Hopefully, we’ll be able to grab jobs in Wanaka, but even then that won’t start until mid-to-late June, so we have a bit of time until then. Which leaves us 5-6 weeks without much of a definitive plan. We don’t really feel like doing much more driving through NZ right now, as we’ve driven through most of the areas that are within about 8 hrs from here, and it would feel too much like backtracking to go back up the South Island now. We’d like to save some sights for when Linda visits in a few months, as well. Wwoofing has also been steadily losing much of its appeal, as it has been dawning on us why people generally insist on getting paid for their labor.

So, perhaps we’ll go to Australia for a few weeks now! But more likely we’ll just try to get some temporary work near somewhere like Dunedin. I’m sure we’ll figure out something to do over the next few weeks, and I’m not just comment fishing here, but if anybody has any brilliant ideas, the suggestion box is officially open!

Sleeping In A Van On Porpoise (Bay) (Apr. 6 - 11)

After leaving Waikawa, we headed just down the road to Dolphin Lodge on Porpoise Bay to continue wwoofing for Nick there. With a mostly full house of backpackers, our accommodations weren’t quite as deluxe as our double room in Waikawa, as we were living in a van, down by the river mailbox! Though the weather has been cool in this area the past week, with 4 or 5 duvets we hardly noticed the chill in the van. To tell the truth, in some ways the van was a bit better than the dorms, as the van provided a reprieve from the snoring, creaking beds, and other assorted unpleasant noises (not to mention odors) that accompany dorm life. (Postscript: our last night in the van, however, was not good times, as Becky’s side of the van leaked and I couldn’t sleep as I had come down with a wicked cold – we decided to leave that morning.)

Becky is blown away by our sleeping accomodations

Wwoofing continued to be cruisey at Dolphin Lodge, with an hour or two of sweeping, mopping, and cleaning to do each day. To be honest, we wouldn’t have necessarily minded a bit more work most days, as there’s only so much to do in the area, especially when the weather is chilly and windy, as it often is. The Southland (region where the Catlins are located) plasters “Southland - Spirit of a Nation” on its signs, whatever that means, although “Southland – Gusty and Mostly Cloudy” would be more apt. This is one windswept little area, and when we’ve seen sun this week, we’ve learned to appreciate it, as it’s parceled out mighty stingily here at the bottom of NZ. Not that a little grey weather will stop you from surfing…

Purakaunui Falls in the Catlins

Far from it actually, as Nick says the worst weather often makes for the best surf. In that spirit, we took surfing lessons from Nick one day in what was probably about 55ºF temperatures. With full wetsuits, you hardly notice the cold though, so being in the ocean for a few hours isn’t bad at all. I really enjoyed the surfing, and we both got up on our boards the first day, catching some waves. I could see how people get a kick out of surfing in all types of weather, as it’s good fun to be the only guy out in the ocean on a freezing day, riding waves and enjoying the surf. Becky feels like it’s a pastime she should get behind, as it would finally justify her vocabulary (“I was like, dude, these waves were so sweet”).

Andrew posing with his extreme foam board

Perhaps the best part of surfing was that several Hector’s dolphins joined us while we took our lesson, swimming just meters from us, and playing around by riding the waves themselves! Porpoise Bay is said to be one of the only beach areas that Hectors come to without being fed by humans, so they’re like locals themselves. It certainly made us glad that we hadn’t paid to swim with dolphins earlier in Kaikoura, Akaroa, etc.

Catching a wave in Porpoise Bay

With little other to do in the area, we went to see the other typical NZ outdoor sights in the area: picturesque caves, beaches, and waterfalls. The Catlins has its own Cathedral Cave, although we’d have to say it’s inferior to the one in the Coromandel, especially since they charge admission here. Tip: don’t go on Easter Sunday as heaps of other people seem to have the same idea, making for a crowded hike. Parakaunui Falls and McLean Falls were worthwhile, however, and we enjoyed the short hikes to get there.

They have sheep in the Catlins!

So what else is there to do in Porpoise Bay? Answer: not much, and there’s a lot of it. To be sure, the Catlins is remote and languid, which I can get behind, in moderation. After a few days of hanging out at Porpoise Bay, though, we went a bit stir crazy. There are only so many penguins you can stake out, dolphins you can spy, and cups of tea you can drink before you bug out from the caffeine and need something else to do. Unfortunately, there isn’t that something more anywhere nearby.

They have blue skies in the Catlins, too! (on occasion)

I could see recommending 2-3 days in the area to see the sights and wildlife and to relax, but more than that takes either a heap of reading material or a staggering dedication to inactivity that we were unable to maintain. We didn’t think of ourselves as “high-energy people”, but after spending a week in the Catlins, I think we established what our minimum threshold of stimulation is. As you might have guessed, Porpoise Bay wasn’t exactly surpassing it.

Despite a bit of ennui and the bad cold I caught there, I think we’ll look back on our time in the Catlins pretty favorably. As the guidebooks will tell you, it’s certainly beautiful and unspoiled, and when the weather is good, the natural beauty really comes through. I’m glad we came here and took surfing lessons, and I’m looking forward to surfing some more when we drive north through the country in the spring. As for the cold, there’s more than a few probable culprits: surfing in really cold weather, cleaning rooms in a hostel, sleeping in a van for a week, just being exposed to heaps of germs in a hostel, who knows…

The sun sets over another lazy day in the Catlins

After wwoofing at several places now, I think we can safely say that the best stays are ones where you’re able to develop a strong rapport and hang out with the hosts. Although Nick and Tomo were certainly nice and friendly people, that didn’t happen for this visit, so we ended up trying to entertain ourselves, which was hit-or-miss. Also, coming from our last wwoofing experience where we were really active most of the time and got on so well with our hosts, this location couldn’t help but end up feeling a little anticlimactic. If we were really into surfing, this would be a tremendous spot, as we’d only have to do a few hours of work a day, then be free to surf and hang out the rest of the time, but oh well, it was pretty good. Next we head on toward the bright lights of big city Invercargill...

Nick and Tomo at the Dolphin Lodge

Way Out In The Catlins (Apr. 2 - 6)

Several weeks ago we were cruising on the WWOOF website and saw a wwoofing opportunity at a hostel in the Catlins region of the South Island that touted a beachside location, free surfing lesson, and penguin conservation work. Intrigued, I sent an email inquiring about wwoofing there, but they replied that they were booked for wwoofers for the season. A week or two later, Becky was reading the posting again, and decided to send another wwoofing request, to which they replied that they might need some help in early April. Not sure what the moral of this story is, maybe that it’s usually better to have a girl send the email?

The ends of the earth, New Zealand-style

Anyway, we arranged to stay in early April and drove to the Catlins from Dunedin. Now when you’re in NZ, you often experience the feeling that you’ve gone a bit back in time to a slower, simpler, and somewhat isolated way of life, especially when you’re outside the major cities. That covers just about the whole of the South Island, with the exception of the Christchurch area.

Windblown trees at Slope Point

Having said that, driving into the Catlins brings that to a whole other level in NZ, as the whole area just feels remote, so remote as to necessitate italics. The Catlins bills itself as “Where the forest meets the sea”, which apparently only occurs hours from civilization. The area is a beautiful stretch of land, but feels far away from just about everything, even though the distances aren’t that great. It may be only a 3-4 hr drive to Dunedin, but it’s a long 3-4 hrs, winding and twisting your way along the coast and the mountains for a few hundred kms. Becky, in particular, didn’t enjoy that aspect of the drive.

Our wwoofing contact, Nick, manages the Curio Bay Dolphin Lodge and also owns another small hostel/holiday house a short ways up the road in Waikawa. Since he and his fiancée Tomo already had a wwoofer booked at the Dolphin Lodge, for the first several days he had us stay and work at the Waikawa Holiday Lodge. In return for a free room, we cleaned the place for a few hours each day, making beds and other bits and pieces.

More a New Zealand bach than a proper backpackers, Waikawa Holiday Lodge

When we first pulled into the Lodge, Becky was unimpressed, saying that if this was a place we had just come to stay for the night, we’d probably be turning around and going somewhere else. To be sure, it’s not an impressive structure from the outside, but the inside is much cozier, especially when the fire’s going in the fireplace. We came to realize that although it is technically a backpackers, it’s best to think of the place more as a rustic bach. Once Becky realized that the Lodge was every bit as nice as the lodgings her family stays in on the Outer Banks, with a substantially bigger shower and a fireplace to boot, she suddenly developed warmer feelings for the place.

Andrew enjoying the fire at the Waikawa Holiday Lodge

What to say about Waikawa… It’s definitely a relaxed and back-to-basics kind of town, with the only internet connection at a local man’s (Jim) house, which is available “anytime I’m at home.” While in the area, we took in the local points of interest, including Nugget Point, which has an awesome location for a lighthouse, and also has heaps of seals nearby. Slope Point, the southernmost spot on the South Island (sorry, Bluff!) is also nearby, so of course we had to stop there and get the requisite photos.

The lighthouse at Nugget Point is a real gem

We stayed and wwoofed in Waikawa for a few days until a family rented out the place for the long Easter weekend, and on the whole had a nice time with the place largely to ourselves. We did meet a nice Kiwi couple from the Wellington area that offered to put us up if we’re ever in their neck of the woods. Well, we almost definitely will be there sooner or later, so Brenda and Blair, see ya in a few months! We’re also hoping the depressive German girls who stayed for a few nights perk up soon, or they’ll be having a miserable rest of their trip.

Andrew leans into the wind at Slope Point

Becky Gets Muddy (Middlemarch-ish)

During our stay in Amberley, I had the opportunity on several occasions to work with Belinda at the Muddy Water winery when the workload required extra hands. Although I’m usually known as Andrew’s designated beer buddy, it provided an interesting chance to branch out and experience the finer side of alcohol production.

My task in my first trip to Muddy Water (interestingly, it’s the English translation of Waipara, the area in which the wine is produced) was to help in the labeling and “noodling” of the wine bottles for a large overseas shipment to the U.S. Overseas wine bottles contain all the additional warnings and nutrition information required by the country in which it will be sold. The labels for the States are especially wordy, as we must read a mile-long disclaimer before being allowed to consume an alcoholic beverage. The upshot is that we can’t say we weren’t warned about operating a bulldozer under the influence of a crisp Sauvignon Blanc.

A view of the winery

Helpfully, Kieran brought in his nifty labeling machine from the brewery (just one of the benefits of having a brewer and a winemaker in the same family!), so while the rest of the winery staff laboriously hand-applied labels, I zipped through a couple hundred bottles with ease with his fantabulous contraption. At the same time, the bottles also require “noodles,” a strip of gray adhesive (they’re only shaped like a noodle; they definitely don’t taste like one) placed over the top of the screw cap. As an aside, unbound by antiquated traditions, most NZ wineries have gone over to screw caps instead of corks, which I fully support. Although the noodle strip can be, and usually is, claimed by the pro-noodle faction to function as an anti-tampering device, word round the campfire suspects that they’re mostly used because management likes the noodle-rific aesthetics.

I’ll reserve further comment, as noodles are an unexpectedly controversial issue at MW. But…when one calculates the man hours required to put little strips of adhesive on each bottle to go through the winery, one wonders whether the whole enterprise is really worth it? Obviously someone above my pay grade thinks so, so my first day at the winery was chock full of oodles of noodles, as it were.

Payment that first day came in the form of two bottles of wine: the 2004 and 2005 vintages of Muddy Water’s pinot noir, given for comparative purposes. Verdict: they both taste like wine! OK I’m mostly kidding. For the 2005 version, diagnosis: delicious! As for the 2004 version, we also thought it was good until Belinda told us it had a bit of sulfur character, at which point we were convinced we could discern it as well. We must say it was nice of her to give us the unvarnished scoop, as she probably could’ve convinced us it tasted like anything, given our knowledge of wine. All in all, the bottles of wine were a great bonus, as I considered this to be just another day in the life of a WWOOFer, no payment necessary. Jane, if you happen to be reading this post, and are still reading even after all the talk of pro-noodle factions, we’ve already drank the wine, so we can’t give it back at this point, sorry!

Work at the winery isn’t all noodles and labels, however. I also had the opportunity to work for a few days harvesting grapes (my first stint as a migrant laborer!). The grapes came in a bit riper than expected for this time of the season, so the harvest kicked into full swing earlier than anticipated. Belinda asked if I wouldn’t mind picking some grapes, and I decided that it would be a great idea, even with the 6:30 AM start time. Early in the morning is the best time to be out in the vineyard anyway, before the sun is really up and while the air is still cool.

Grape picking is just as you would imagine it to be – fairly tedious and a touch back-breaking. It’s just hard to be bent over for that many hours of the day. I’m really impressed by people who work for the whole harvest, although I like to imagine that I would have worked my way into “picking shape” before too long.

Rows of grapes just waiting to be picked!

On the plus side, working outside is enjoyable, and you do get a fair amount of satisfaction out of filling your bucket with grapes. And after months of unemployment, a few extra dollars going into the wallet was a nice change of direction, fiscally speaking. I was almost tempted to stay on for the rest of the harvest, as we’d really been enjoying our time in Amberley, but figured that long-term fruit picking probably wasn’t for me, and truth be told, wasn’t too eager to find out. Which is funny because I really did enjoy all the time I spent working in the garden the last few weeks (mostly weeding). On the other hand, gardening does provide a variety of tasks, as opposed to the monotony of grape picking.

Another photo of the newly weeded garden

In the end, I really enjoyed the time that I got to spend at the winery. Our travels are always pretty beer-intensive, so it was fun to learn about winemaking for a change. And it seems that our time enjoying quality wines at Kieran and Belinda’s is already paying shocking dividends, in that Andrew and I might have actually started to develop some sort of wine palate! To wit: we bought a cheapo NZ$7 bottle of wine to drink with our pasta dinner during our first night back at a hostel (mostly to console ourselves on leaving after a few great weeks). After the initial sips, we simultaneously wrinkled our noses. Apparently, the cheap stuff just won’t do anymore. As such, we’re looking forward to enjoying the bottle of wine we were generously given for our efforts at the Waipara Wine & Food Festival – Muddy Water’s most fabulous (read: expensive) wine, the Mojo Pinot Noir. A great gift, we’ll enjoy it while celebrating my upcoming birthday.

North Canterbury Tales (Mar. 17 – 28)

So after our first week in Amberley, we’d had such a good time that we were keen to stay on longer and continue to help out at the farm and the brewery. Luckily, Kieran and Belinda were also happy to have us continue wwoofing as well, so we extended our time in Amberley for another busy week and a half.

Back at the big red farm house...

We should first mention that staying with a winemaker and brewer certainly has its merits. Seriously, Becky and I are now experts on the Brew Moon beers and most of the Muddy Water wines. Although I remain extremely suspect to suggestion when tasting wines, so hopefully K&B are steering us in the right direction there…

Add in the fact that we ate really well the entire time, and from a gustatory standpoint we had a fantastic few weeks here in the North Canterbury area. Dinners have been great, with plenty of vegetables from the garden, lamb, and pears, especially. K&B have a pear tree that is ridiculously laden with fruit, so we’ve been thinking up as many uses for pears as possible, with pears usually in dessert somewhere. Muffins, cobbler, crisp, poached pears in wine, we’ve really run the gamut for pear possibilities I think.

This display almost put me (Becky) off the meat again, but then dinner was so delicious...

At the brewery, Kieran and I did more brewing, cleaning, bottling, and labeling, and I think I acquitted myself well in the end. I must have appeared like I knew what I was doing in the brewery, since Kieran would occasionally ask me technical questions or my opinion on things. Hopefully my answers didn’t steer us too far afield! Although I must say I think I got the hang of bottling, as I’m now known as the ‘Automated Bottling Machine’ in certain parts of Amberley.

On the farm, Becky spent a lot more time in the garden, mostly weeding anything that moved in the garden. A few of the sections were her favorite type of weeding, pulling everything indiscriminately, so that you know you can’t make a mistake and pull the wrong thing. Becky also did heaps of other things on the farm as well, plaiting and planting garlic, feeding the chooks and horses, and trying to prevent Moses, Belinda’s parents’ dog who was staying for a few days, from buggering off back to their house a few km away. It was mostly a success; the chooks got fed, and Moses stayed at home more days than not.

He may look sweet and innocent (if a little bit scruffy), but Moses used to be a well-known chicken killer before he saw the light and mended his ways

I helped at the farm a bit as well, mostly in skimming some of the paths, basically ripping up the grass that had grown there. Take our word for it, the grass didn’t seem keen on being ripped up. Kieran and I also did some lumberjack-type stuff, cutting down a pine tree and splitting firewood with a hydraulic ram. It’s good fun and really the only way to do a heap of firewood; using an axe is for the birds. Taking down the pine tree also gave me a chance to drive the tractor down the road laden with huge logs. I’m not sure why Kieran thought I’d be good at it, but I didn’t lose the logs or ram anyone, so it seemed to go OK. And I now think that everyone should drive a tractor at some point in their life, so thanks Kieran.

An aerial view of the garden, sans weeds

We also worked the farmer’s market in Lyttelton, just south of Christchurch, for Brew Moon on a couple Saturdays as part of our wwoofing work. We have to say it was really good fun, giving samples and selling beer at the market, which was easily the best farmer’s market we’ve seen in NZ so far. We had absolutely gorgeous weather two weeks in a row for the market, which is quite helpful when you’re trying to sell beer. Our first day at the market also coincided with St. Patrick’s Day, and while it’s not as big of a drinking holiday here as in the States, was quite helpful in trying to persuade people to try beers samples before noon. We sold a lot of beer that day, and did pretty well the next week as well.

Andrew sellings his wares at the farmers' market

On a similar note, we also helped to sell wine for Muddy Water at the Waipara Food & Wine Festival on Sunday, a few days ago. We had a great time pouring and tasting wine, listening to jazz, and seeing people walk around in wine-induced stupors in the afternoon sun. How people can drink heaps of wine in 30C sunny weather is beyond me, but to each their own. To be fair though, I did really find it helpful to taste a number of the Muddy Water wines to really pick out the differences (Note to my brother Adam: please don’t take this to mean that I’ll be able to follow you when you’re talking about wines now).

Our sweet ride to the Lyttleton farmers' market

Whew, I get tired just thinking of all the stuff we did these past few weeks! All in all, we have to say we had a great time, worked hard, ate and drank extremely well, and learned a lot. Many thanks to Kieran and Belinda, who couldn’t have been more gracious or accommodating, putting us up and making us feel at home. You’ve made it hard to leave, but worry not, as we’ll definitely be back on our way up through the country later this year!