I like their motto: spray and walk away.
We're saying goodbye to Auckland in pictures! Checking out some Breaking-Bad-meets-Friday-the-13th-esque graffiti at the North Head.
I like their motto: spray and walk away.
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This is a far cry from the winters we're used to, but it's still cool enough to tempt you into your blankets for longer than is probably good for you. Most houses don't have heat, so during this time of year it's about as cold indoors as it would be in a conservatively heated New England home, where layers and warm socks are paramount to comfort. It will trigger all your laziest impulses if you're not careful to push yourself outdoors, where it's not actually any colder than your bedroom and everything is green and beautiful. There are oranges growing in our driveway. Oranges. The other perk of getting outside this time of year is that not many other people are doing it. You'll meet a few people hiking or at the beach, but never a crowd. We've hopped in the car to go a few interesting places since purchasing it, starting with the Waiwera hot springs, where we waded through the hot water until we couldn't stand it and then returned to shivering in our swimsuits almost the moment we got out. This is the exact opposite of some experiences I've had swimming outside of Boston in the summer. There are pools that run at all different temperatures. The hottest one, the lava pool, was so hot I could barely get my foot into it. We hunkered down in one that was cooler, but still hot enough that we sometimes felt like part of a big stew. There was an older woman who came within earshot of us while we were saying how funny it would be to show up with a giant wooden spoon and sit on the edge peeling carrots and potatoes. And that if somebody peed in the water they'd leave a cold spot. She must been afraid we were serious about peeing in the pool, because she edged away from us fast. Or it might have been the cannibalism. On Tuesday we bundled up to go to Piha beach. I don't need to tell you it's gorgeous, look at it. I've always loved beaches in the winter for how quiet and bare they are, but this had the extra perk of looking like summer. (Still didn't feel like summer though.) It was a really gusty day. The beach was mostly empty, just a few people out walking their dogs. We doffed our shoes to get our feet wet in the Tasman sea, but it wasn't long before our toes were completely numb. I climbed lion rock partly to get away from the wind! There were some nice protected spots on the far side where the cold blasts couldn't quite wrap around and the sun was warm. Those are the sweet spots. Go to them. Thursday we headed east to go hiking in the Hunua Ranges. It's a healthy area of Kauri forest, so they're really cautious of contaminants on the trails. You have to spray your shoes and use a boot scrubber before entering protected areas. Normally when I'm hiking I leave things like apple cores and banana peels in the bushes to decompose but New Zealand is so intense about bio-contamination I have a feeling they'd frown on that. I have to find out for sure at some point, but until then I guess I won't be sprouting any apple trees. :) We misjudged the amount of time our trail would take to do and didn't wind up getting back until dusk. Part of it involved crossing a river by stepping from stone to stone; thankfully we made it back over the river before it got completely dark. Knowing me I would have definitely fallen into the river, and I was really enjoying dry feet. If your shoes have been soaked recently, you know what I'm talking about.
The winter sun casts long shadows all day, giving you the odd feeling that every hour of morning is very early, and every hour of afternoon is very late. It feels brighter than it does at home, giving everything a surreal quality; magnified, like in a dream. It's taking me some time to get used to. We'll go on a hike and I'll be convinced we have to turn back soon before we lose more daylight, but then Josh will look at the time and remind me it's 2pm. This city is built on a volcanic field containing just over 50 volcanoes: some dormant, some extinct. So far we've climbed four of them. Before you get all impressed, they're small volcanoes. The tallest one (Rangitoto) is only 260 meters high. Small potatoes. If like me, this led you to wonder what a really big volcano looks like, here you go: http://www.universetoday.com/25887/what-is-the-tallest-volcano-on-earth/ Props to Hawaii! Back to something smaller... Rangitoto has only been around for about 600 years. Maori were living on a solitary island called Motutapu when this volcano erupted out of the water right beside it, practically kissing its shore. Apparently a few people may have even escaped and lived to tell about it! What an incredible story that must have made. On Tuesday we started a short tramp across these islands. We came late in the day, so we reached Rangitoto's summit right as the last ferry back to civilization was leaving the wharf. It's quite a feeling, to know you're alone on a volcano. On our way back down, we were struck by a relentless earworm for the lava song from the latest Pixar short. Let's hope we weren't tempting fate by singing it so much, because when we finally headed back to Auckland one of the locals from Motutapu told us he noticed some unusual bubbles forming by the dock. DUN DUNDUNN! There's no place to camp on Rangitoto itself, so you have to walk for a good 4+ hours to get to the campsite on the other island. The islands connect over a short bridge, but really, if there wasn't a bridge would that stop you? Judge for yourself: Crossing over to the next island takes you abruptly into a different world of smells. Rangitoto is earthy, whereas Motutapu is filled the familiar, sweet smell of manure, damp trees, and grass. I guess farmland smells like farmland wherever you go. I can't remember if we took any pictures, but trust me when I tell you...mossy, dramatically rolling hills at sunset: gorgeous.
We should have arrived at the campsite on the other side just before dark, but after mile or two the tramping trail fizzled out into the tall grass and we couldn't find where it led. At one point, the grass caught my boot and the weight of my pack sent me falling over like humpty dumpty. Eventually the sun set and we decided to backtrack towards the road. The temperature dropped and I had to tie my scarf around my head like a turban to keep the high winds from blowing hair into my eyes and obstructing what little I could see. We had to stop a few times because the packs were wrenching our shoulders, and I was tempted more than once to drop my bag and sleep on the side of the road. In the end we overshot the campground a little bit. We realized we'd gone too far when the road starting turning back into the mountains, knowing the only legal campground was on the shore. We hobbled back and blindly picked a spot on the grass, exhilarated by the thought of a bed for the night. Or more accurately, a tiny inflatable sleeping pad. In the morning though, everything was beautiful. Because we're already hobbits, we decided it was time for second breakfast pretty much the moment we got into Auckland. When you can't sleep, eat! From there we jumped straight into all the boring stuff: setting up a local bank accounts and mobile numbers, and applying for an IRD number (for taxes). Then we hit the grocery store to get some food for the week, including some old school no-cream-removed super fatty milk we couldn't resist buying. We made oatmeal with it that turned out tasting like pudding. Delicious! If you're reading this from home, it's already tomorrow here. We're cozied up right on the other side of the international date line, and cool fact I learned today: in summer (so, around New Year's) New Zealand is the first place on earth to see the light of day. Here's an article that explains more: http://www.nzherald.co.nz/nz/news/article.cfm?c_id=1&objectid=10776581 We haven't gotten to know many Kiwis yet, but they seem like our kind of people. While I was cleaning up our breakfast one of the bowls slipped from my hand, bounced off the counter, and crashed onto the floor with that loud breaking sound that always stops a room in its tracks. Instead of leaving me to awkward shame, everyone cheered in solidarity. I started picking up the pieces, and a guy came out with a broom like he was on parade. It was amazing. I hope that rubs off on me. |
Like our photos?You can thank the talented
Josh Salim for taking most of them. Check out his other work at joshsalim.weebly.com © Lady on the Tramp, 2016
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