Fellowship of the Frings

Our names are Teresa, Stephanie, and Andrew. This is our travel blog for our adventures through New Zealand.

[fellowshipofthefrings]

"What were you doing in New Zealand?" An answer.

Andrew here.

The updates on this blog from here on out are going to be a little bit odd.

The thing is, the Fellowship has returned to the United States. Steph and I are back in Nebraska, the Good Life, and T has been in Minnesota (she'll return to Nebraska for a short stint next Monday).

So these posts from now on are going to be pulled from the Nostalgia File. It depresses me to think of it that way, but our New Zealand adventure is done and dusted, and there's no reason to avoid that fact.

Anyway, I can't speak for the other Frings, but I enjoyed our time on the North Island quite a bit more than our time on the South Island, though I loved both for entirely different reasons.

But living in Wellington, as I've said, was absolutely wonderful.

One of the things several people have been asking me, and I've been meaning to tell you, is what it was I did for work while we were in New Zealand. Since I no longer work there, I suppose there's no good reason why I shouldn't talk about it.

In Dunedin, I worked for the Accident Compensation Corporation.

I started out as a short-term temp, doing simple data entry. Thanks to my great attitude and exceptional work ethic, I eventually made it all the way up to the mail room.

Kind of.

It sounds unimpresive, but it was actually quite stressful. There was a limited amount of files and letters we received every day (our unit technically took all physical files and scanned them into the online database we used across the company, as well as doing the same with e-mailed files), and we were very competetive about getting our daily number of uploads pushed up as high as we could (if you didn't meet your KPI, you'd be let go, which actually happened once while I was in the unit).

So yeah, every day I busted my ass harder than I probably needed to, but it resulted in me being at the top of our daily standings on most days.

My unit was made up of about two dozen people, and I dominated those guys. It wasn't even close.

I'm kidding. It was a repetetive, yet challenging, job, and I enjoyed the hell out of it.

Before I move on, let me tell you a bit about the ACC right quick. Please don't fall asleep.

If you're in New Zealand (resident, tourist or otherwise) and find yourself injured in an accident, there's a law that makes it so that your rehabiliation and medicine and physio and everything related to the accident is paid for by the government, SO LONG AS you're willing to admit it was an accident and not blame any other party for it.

So you can't sue a guy if he accidentally runs a red light and pastes your car, but then you can have your medical bills paid for in full.

It's amazing. Sure, people still complain about it (one of the biggest concerns in the corporation is this idea of having a privacy breach, leaking somebody's sensitive or personal information to the wrong party or to the public in general), so I kind of kept the fact that I worked there to myself (plus, it's more professional to just not mention stuff about your job).

The few times where I would mention I worked for ACC to other Kiwis, they could barely hold back their bile.

I'd respond by inviting them to come to the United States and go through our health system to see how it's different. That usually shut them right up.

After we moved from Dunedin, after our adventure around the South Island, once we resettled in Wellington, I ran into a wall and couldn't find a job for about a month. It was stressful, I dipped into my savings, and it was a huge strain on my relationship with Steph.

But I kept at it, and I eventually found a job with... ACC!

In December of last year, I was hired on as a Claims Administrator in the Sensitive Claims Unit of the Accident Compensation Corporation, and, for the first time in my adult life, I felt as if I was doing something worth a damn.

Let me tell you a thing or two about the SCU at ACC.

If you're living in New Zealand, and you're a victim of sexual assault (and, yes, I use the term “victim” rather than “survivor,” because if you remove the victim status, you're indirectly taking away the nature of the incident as a CRIME, which it very much is), but if you're the victim of a sexual assault, ACC's Sensitive Claims Unit works with you to get your counselling and recovery process fully paid for, down to paying for your petrol to-and-from therapy.

Again, it's amazing.

My actual job may not have been the most glamorous one in the world, but the greater picture made me feel like I was contributing, in my own small way, to making this rock a better one to live on.

The team I was a part of within the unit was made up of me and three girls (roughly the same age as me), and we basically tried to lighten the load for the guys one rung up on the ladder from us.

It was a cool team, as two of us were American, one of the girls was from the UK, and the fourth was from Auckland. I think we were probably the most international team in the unit.

I never really connected with the American or the Kiwi, but the girl from the UK and I became pretty solid friends, I reckon. She's a traveler, and her updates on FB of where in the world she is now are making me insanely jealous every day I see them.

But yeah, she had a pretty negatively skewed idea of what us Americans are like, and I like to think that I helped make us look a little bit better, in her eyes at least, if in nobody else's.

While I felt like I really hit my stride both professionally and creatively in Wellington, I should give you guys full disclosure and admit that I'm at an age where it's incredibly tough to make new friends, and my time in New Zealand was mostly spent by myself (Steph and I had conflicting schedules a lot of the time).

Aside from my co-workers, I really only connected with two or three other people in the entire year we were there, and they were all in Wellington. One of our flatmates was a really cool guy who also shares a passion for movies, so we got to be pretty close, and he brought me around to some of his friends and a few parties, but otherwise, I stayed at home, wrote a lot, and spent most of my evenings reading or watching movies.

This isn't complaining. It was absolutely perfect.

I grew to appreciate my alone time to the point where being home, around people, has been overwhelming. Don't get me wrong, I love my friends, and it's such a lovely treat to see them, and to see the progress they've all made over the past year and some months, but I love, love, love being alone.

Weird note to end it on, but there it is. Thanks for reading.

[fellowshipofthefrings]

Wellington (Or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love New Zealand)

Andrew here.

As T outlined in her latest post, we've now reached the part in our story where we three parted ways, with T flying north to sun and fun, while Steph and I hopped on a big boat for the capital city:  Wellington.

Wellington is a hub for culture and politics and art and nightlife and fine dining, and, let me tell you, we took to it like Abed took to Cougar Town (shh, you don't have to get all of the jokes).

Well, not right away we didn't.  Right away, we had to get ourselves sorted with jobs and such.

Steph applied to something like three different restaurants and bars almost immediately, so, naturally, she was offered three different jobs almost immediately.

It took me a little bit longer than that, but I eventually landed a pretty decent job, too, which takes a lot of pressure off and allows one to enjoy all of those perks of city living that I listed above, without feeling as if you're eventually going to have to start selling your vital organs on the Black Market.

Oh yeah, here's a photo of Wellington:

It's located on the southern tip of the North Island, so to the right of the picture is where boats enter into the harbour.  It's how we got here, as I mentioned before.

There's a giant boat, called the Interislander Ferry, that shuttles folks between the two islands.  It's a three-hour tour, and a quite relaxing one, at that.  Had I not already seen Pacific Rim, I totally could have watched that in their theatre room.

Upon arrival in Wellington, one of the first things you notice is how pedestrian-friendly the city is.  Plus, as we've learned over the course of our time here, wherever you can't get on foot, you can easily hop a bus to get there within minutes.

The population in the main urban area is right around a half million people, making it the second largest city in the country.  Due to the fact that all of those people are crammed into a tight little area, it at times feels like a much larger, busier metropolis than it actually is.

If this sounds to you like you're reading a tourism pamphlet, the reason for that is simple:  I absolutely love this city.

Sure, it rains a lot and the wind is completely out of control, people don't know how to walk down the footpaths without seriously inconveniencing anybody who actually has to be someplace, and there are panhandlers at every major intersection ('SCUSE ME!), but the good far outweighs the bad.

There are cool little art galleries and museums all over the place, and, in addition, there's some pretty stellar street art peppered throughout the city in some of the more slightly off-the-beaten-path areas.

Plus, Peter Jackson's studio (Weta) is here in town, so you can see how much influence he's had on the city since his Lord of the Rings movies blew up a decade ago.

I mean, don't get me wrong, Wellington's not as culturally important as New York or Chicago or even LA, but it's trying really hard, and, for New Zealand, a country chock-full of hardcore rugby enthusiasts, it's kind of amazing.

There's a lot to talk about in regards to this city and how much fun we've been having living in it, but I think this will have to suffice for an introduction to it.

Here's a picture of Steph and I aboard the old-timey cable car here in town:

More to come!  Keep watching the skies!

[fellowshipofthefrings]

The Fellowship of The Frings Has Broken

Hello everyone. We have now arrived at an epic point in our journey: the Point of Departure. Stephanie, Andrew, and I had spent many months in a cold and cloudy city, gathering our forces and finances to prepare ourselves for traveling. Then we had climbed in our trusty van, and set off to see the end the civilized world. We made our way through many mountains and frozen passes, and at night we huddled together for warmth and whispered words of encouragement. Though the way was long and winding, we made it through. Now our paths were destined to part. Andrew and Stephanie were headed to Wellington for culture, excitement, and economic opportunity. I was headed to a little island called Waiheke just off the coast of Auckland for, well, lets be honest, sunshine and wine.

The Departure was both exciting and sad, as all good departures are. I left my two Frings at the Picton ferry with only their backpacks and their love. As I looked back, I felt the force of the Fellowship break. The feeling was similar to the one you get when Frodo casts the ring back into Mount Doom. In my imagination I was Frodo, looking down into the pit of fire as the one ring falls in slow motion. No wait, I'm not Frodo, Hobbits have hairy feet and that's gross. I'm Liv Taylor. Yeah that's right, I have a surreal aura and that elivsh head band. Yeah. 

Okay, Teresa. Collect yourself. Take a picture of the ferry.

Good job. Now remember, you must drive on the LEFT HAND SIDE OF THE ROAD. You are not a fairy princess. You are a girl who has not driven in a long time and you have many kilometers ahead of you, and you MUST FOCUS.

I was a bit nervous to be honest, on that drive from Picton to ChCh, but focus I did. Obey the speed limit I did. Use my indicators properly, mostly I did. The only time I needed rescuing was one rather embarrassing moment when I was trying to purchase petrol and could not FOR THE LIFE OF ME figure out how to open that little door on the side of the van. A rather hairy man helped me out.....thank you sir. I don't know if you sensed my elvish heritage or not, but I assure you I sent a significant amount of positive aura your way.

After some driving and plane/bus hopping, I arrived at the Auckland ferry and made my way to Waiheke.  

It is not an exaggeration to say I thought I had found paradise. This sun loving girl was transported to a realm of turquoise waters, islands floating in the distance, sunshine, coastlines, sandy beaches, tropical flowers, and a pervasive scent of honeysuckle or jasmine, never could determine which one. Knowing Waiheke, it was probably both.

Things went easily for me this time. I got a job and a flat pretty much the first week I was here. I also made friends and got invited to lots of parties and BBQs.

How far, far away the old life felt now. That cold life in Dunedin where my eye make up remover went frozen in my bedroom for months. Memory my friend, is a tricky thing. Even for a hippie elvish princess. 

[fellowshipofthefrings]

Like Sand in the Hourglass...

Hi there. It's your old fring, Steph, here to talk about a last couple highlights of our South Island adventure. It is coming to a close. Those last 2 posts by my pals oops I mean frings are really, really good and just a teensy bit hard to follow...

As a result of their posts, you may now have a better understanding of the dynamics of our humble trio and the weirdness of traveling for a month in a campervan together. Shit ain't always perfect. What it is is Real Life. Intensely fun and exciting and joyful at times, and other times? A bit dramatic, annoying and frustrating. But real all the same. T and I will be forever friends who maybe learned a little too much about each other's quirks. And as for me and Andrew? Well, I love that bug with everything I've got, but I still some days wish I could drown him in a river or simply remove his throat. That's true love, I reckon :)

What's left to share with you? Well, it breaks down in four ways: Nelson Part Deux, Blenheim, Marlborough Bike Wine Tour (!), and Robin Hood Bay. So let's begin.

1. Nelson Part Deux.

Are you sick of pictures of us on the beach yet? We're sorry.

Nelson was kind of our homebase as we traversed the north part of the South Island. So after our Abel Tasman and Golden Bay days, we returned to this fair sun-filled city to: hang out and and see the movie Gravity, check out the adorable bookstore called Book Lovers, go to the famous Saturday market (which was amazing), and of course PLAN OUR JOURNEY TO THE NORTH ISLAND!

But we made a tiny error. Again. We wanted to change our drop off location from Christchurch to Wellington, since it just made a whole lot more sense for us, but it turns out we waited too long and couldn't do it so now we had to stick with Plan A – meaning someone had to drop the campervan off in Christchurch and then get to the North Island from there. This is boring stuff, isn't it? Long story long, T volunteered to drive down, and then fly up to Auckland as she was moving to Waiheke Island, just off NZ's largest city. Andrew and I had picked Wellington as our next home and we just needed to hop on a ferry to get there. Yes, the gang would soon be splitting up. But we had a couple more days together before it was time for that.

That's really as exciting as it gets for Nelson Part Deux. Thrilling stuff! It's a lovely spot, known for its craft breweries and sun and beaches and even some wineries, but we were low on dough so didn't get to experience the goods as much as one should. Still quite enjoyed the little sparkle.

2. Blenheim

Wait, why am I talking about Blenheim? This is where we went next, because it's a base from where you can visit Marlborough. Blenheim was home to one of the biggest, most obnoxious supermarkets I've seen outside of the States. It was exactly like Bag n' Save, or Super Saver, huge and hideously flourescently lit and overwhelming. Also, we couldn't figure out how to get petrol from the petrol station there.… I'll just move on.

3. Marlborough Wine Bike Tour (!)

One of the last things I REALLY wanted to do on the South Island was visit Marlborough. As a person who loves wine and who is slowly learning about it and who first learned about the grape Sauvignon Blanc IN New Zealand back those years ago, I was extremely enthusiastic to visit one of the most famous wine regions in the world. And what better way to do it then by bike?

I think the tour company is literally called Wine by Bike – T and I had booked our tour at the iSite the day before. Andrew decided to do his own thing, so after he dropped us off at the guy's house who conducted his business out of his garage (less sketchy than it sounds, I promise) and went off to do whatever Andrew things Andrew does, T and I chose our bikes, helmets, loaded up with maps and water bottles. And we were off!

And it was great! In Marlborough, the wineries are all so close to each other that even though it was a bit windy that day, we didn't spend more than 10ish minutes on our bikes at any given time. I think we made it to 5ish wineries, each of them different and unique and cool in their own ways.

Two highlights. First, Nautilus wineries.

Their Sauv (not shone here, obvs) was a wine T and I used to sell at our old restaurant Dish back home in Lincoln, Nebraska. So it was a bit surreal to visit the winery and pose in front of the conch logo. 

It's a giant conch!

Second, we stopped at another winery to grab some food, (recommended by the bike hirer) and had the most DELICIOUS platter ever. Granted, we had been eating campervan food (sandwiches, chips, apples) for weeks, but even so, it was just so well-presented, and yum, and such a fun treat! There were cheeses and spreads and dips and mussels and fish and bread and it was all locally made. Heaven. Especially with wine!

The wineries started closing their doors between 4:30 and 5, so we headed back to base and got picked up by our noble steed. It was an absolutely lovely day, and best of all, T was starting to perk up after all that Nelson sun!

Oh, and we drove by Matua, maker of one of my favorite NZ sauvs. They are so big and commercialized that you can't even visit them, but like any good American, I made Andrew stop the car so I could take a picture of the sign. What a photo. I really nailed it.

4. Last but not least, Robin Hood Bay.

Oh, this campsite was a sphinx. After the wine tour, we began to make our way to this spot that was kind of in the middle of nowhere and was free with good reviews, so we were looking forward to it. It was quite the drive to access—along gravel roads, up a mountain, then down the other side of it—but all of a sudden we popped onto this incredible, secluded beach. Just stunning. Here you felt more at one with the earth.

We loved every second, each having our own private moments of reflection and rock-hunting...

until....

We got attacked by...

THE MOSQUITOS. (You know, like the The Alfred Hitchcock flick, “The Birds”? Same idea.)

It started with just a few, after dinner and a breezy game of cards. The light was fading. Every time we left the van to go use the toilet or get some fresh air, a dozen or more would flock in. Soon, there were at least 100 on the ceiling. At least that's what the frings told me. I had decided to not look and in turn just try to ignore the situation. This left the other two to do the fretting. Not sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but between the two of them, they committed a mosquito genocide of epic proportions. Still it wasn't good enough-the horrible creatures continued to multiply-and we decided it was time to skidaddle. How horrible to have infinite numbers of mosquitos in your house, in the spot you are planning to sleep. Creepy.

So, at around midnight, we packed up. That lovely, isolated beach wasn't worth dying of malaria for, so T picked up the keys and got us the poop out of there. It was dark and those roads were windy, but Teresa rocked her first left-hand driving experience, and we made a beeline straight for Blenheim. Found a motor lodge and packed it in for the night. What luxury! To sleep in a bed at a lodge after weeks inside a van.  

Once we were settled in and could breathe a sigh of relief, we had one more glass of wine to unwind (un"wine"d, get it? hehe) and hit the hay.

Our time on the South Island was dwindling, and our time as a traveling trio was also dwindling ... We could see it draining out from under us...

Like sand from the hourglass, these are the days of our lives. 

[fellowshipofthefrings]

Water, water, everywhere, so let's all have a drink.

Andrew here, reporting for duty.

So.

I've been staring down the barrel of the gun on this blog for the past few weeks, and it's been difficult for me to put down my thoughts properly.

I mean, this blog post that I'm writing right now, well, that you're reading right now - - well, both, actually - - this THING that we're participating in together, this is going to detail my absolute favorite day of our entire South Island Adventure.

How do I convey to you the sense of wonder and amazement and complete and utter bliss that washed over me that day?

That's why this has been so hard for me to write: It's not easy, and I don't want to screw this up.

In a way, T kind of set me up perfectly for this, though. In her last post, she talked about, well, for lack of a better phrase, the downside of our lives in a campervan. It was cloudy and rainy a lot of days, and she was going through an emotional downward-spiral...? roller-coaster...? self-implosion...? kerfuffle? I'll stick with kerfuffle.

It made for some tense mornings, walking back to the van from the hole in the ground you used for a toilet, wondering whether Dr. Jekyll or Miss Hyde was going to be sitting within stabbing distance behind you in the van all day.

But to pin all of our problems on T's mood-swings is unfair.

The fact of the matter is, Steph and I weren't all sunshine and rainbows everyday, either. We were getting on each others' nerves quite a bit. I felt like she was being a bit overbearing and thought maybe she could lay off just an itty-bitty little smidgen, while she was feeling like I would have been a much better travel companion if she could just somehow manage to remove my throat from the rest of my body.

While we were at the Farewell Spit that T talked about in her last post, for instance, I was being wishy-washy about whether or not I was going to participate in the next day's activity, as I thought it was going to end up costing me more than I was comfortable spending.

So while we were at the Spit, one of the most gorgeous strips of land in New Zealand, Steph stormed off in one direction and I stormed off in the other. We both fumed along the coasts of either side of that strip of land while T wandered from one side to the other trying to ignore us.

Truly, if she was our petulant teenager, as she mentioned in her last post, she probably spent an equally uncomfortable amount of time on our trip wishing that mom and dad would stop throwing broken bottles at each others' heads. Or, sorry, “arguing.” I get those two expressions confused sometimes.

Anyway, we never really resolved our argument that day, Steph and I. We sort of pretended to forget about it for a little while, and I think I may have said that I'd think about participating when the time came, but, truth be told, I was just waiting to see if I could somehow weasel out of it without making things worse.

I suppose now I should tell you what this activity was. We were planning on going sea kayaking in Abel Tasman National Park, in Tasman Bay. It's the bay where European explorers, led by Abel Tasman, first landed in New Zealand. The natives sent out a welcoming party, so Tasman and his explorers greeted them in kind by slaughtering every last one of them. There was some misunderstanding that led to it, I'm sure, but it was the sight of a great bloodbath.

Funny how history repeats itself, eh?

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that my girlfriend is akin to a bloodthirsty imperialistic homicidal maniac, but... well, I'm just saying that if the boot fits, y'know?

You might be wondering why I was so completely opposed to this activity, and the answer is simple, and, yes, it actually does have something to do with history repeating itself.

Let me set the stage for you: Panama. Spring of 2008.

I was dating a girl at the time who was living down there, and, while I was visiting, we went kayaking out across a little bay to a secluded island beach. I don't want to write her name (protect the innocent and all that), so let's just call her Smrystral. Well, we were on one of those little dual kayak numbers, like a tandem bike, but a kayak instead.

I'm sure they have a term for that, but I'm not a scientist.

Anyway, we got about ten minutes out onto the water, it started to drizzle, and Smrystral's arms got tired. She stopped putting much effort into it, which I could tell, BECAUSE I WAS SITTING RIGHT THERE.

My temper flared, and I started daydreaming about scenarios involving me “accidentally” clubbing Smrystral over the head, tossing her body overboard, and denying any wrongdoing until the day I died.

The only catch was that it wouldn't somehow magically get me off that water and back into a La-Z-Boy with a mojito sitting on the armrest.

No matter what I did, I was stuck in that stupid little boat with my underdeveloped muscles unable to get me safely back to land.

The point in this is that I know how I get. And I know that Steph isn't exactly the kind of person who goes kayaking all the time, so, if anything, she's probably almost as weak as me. And I knew that if we got out on the water together, all of the little things that had been simmering, annoying us throughout the trip so far to that point, all of those things would boil over, and one of us would be going home in a body bag.

Now, I'm not going to lie to you. That's not exactly how I want to go out.

But sometimes, no matter how hard you try to squirm out of things, there inevitably comes a point where you have to just stand up like a man and... beg a friend to be in the double kayak with your girlfriend instead of you.

That's what being a man is all about.

Really, though, all of this joking aside, after thirty seconds on the water, I'd forgotten about all of this. All of these weird insecurities and hangups faded away almost immediately.

Honestly, how could they not?

There wasn't a cloud in the sky or a ripple on the water.

It was just us and the great blue beyond.

A few hours and a couple bites of food later, Steph and I even reconciled our differences.

Speaking of food, this is where we lunched:

All told, we spent nearly an entire day on the water, sometimes paddling less than ten feet away from seals (and probably dolphins, too, but we never saw any, because we never saw the animals that they said we were supposed to see).

OH AND STEPHANIE SAW A STINGRAY, EVERYBODY. SHE REALLY WANTED ME TO INCLUDE THAT. SHE SAW A STINGRAY, LET THE RECORD SHOW.

One of the cooler things we stopped at was this little island that serves as a bird sanctuary for all sorts of nearly endangered species of birds. It sounds cooler now than it did then - - most of New Zealand is a bird sanctuary, I think, so it didn't seem that special at the time.

Anyway, we eventually tuckered ourselves out and went back to dry land, which is not a myth (we've seen it!). Waterworld? No? Ok.

In retrospect, I worried over absolutely nothing. I feel like I do that a lot. Pardon my language, please, but I sometimes feel like if I didn't always have such an enormous stick up my ass, everybody would have a lot more fun.

If I could do it all over again, I would have let both Steph and T spend more time in the single kayak (I hogged it pretty much the time entire), cuz that thing was crazy fun. But what's done is done.  Done and dusted.

But, yeah, it was pretty, and the activity itself felt invigorating, and it came at the end of a long road of bickering and finally marked the time when we let up and had a little fun in the sun, but there's something more to it than that.

Everybody has their own personal, private reasons for what makes a day stand out to them as one of the best days of their lives.

As for me, I'll never forget the day I spent on the open water with Stephanie and Teresa in New Zealand.

[fellowshipofthefrings]

Fellowship of the Frings turned 1 today!

[fellowshipofthefrings]

The Valley of the Shadow: A Glimpse into T’s Brain

Alright. I’ve been assigned to tell you about two beaches. Also, I will share a secret with you, along with two scholarly lessons, one in linguistics and one in geology. Which, after reading, will make you feel a little bit like me for about three minutes. Then you will return to your own brain and realize how lovely it is there.

This account summarizes our journey through the Golden Bay, a section at the very top west corner of the South Island. It’s not as remote as some of the other places we’ve visited on this trip (for example, the West Coast), but it's still quite remote. As one travel guide put it, unless you’re a migrating whale, you don’t go past the Golden Bay on your way to anywhere.

First, a quick photo of the frings. I want everyone to know that I saw this photo in my mind's eye as we were zooming past the scenery. I forced Andrew to double back with the van, then I posed the two of them against the lookout, and waited 5 minutes until the sun aligned just so, to capture the shot. Totally worth it in my opinion.

Okay, on to the secret. I probably should have told you about this way back at the beginning of the campervan journey, but it’s awkward to write about, and I had so many other topics to cover, that I just side-stepped the whole thing. The truth is that by the end of our time in Dunedin and through the first 2 weeks of this campervan trip, I had a serious case of Seasonal Affective Disorder. I know because I looked it up on the internet. In all truth, it’s not that difficult to diagnose. Symptoms include: lack of energy, difficulty making decisions (ie Steph: Do you want a tuna or chicken sandwich for dinner?, T (teary-eyed): I have no idea, please just decide for me.), lack of energy, withdrawal from social activities, intense fantasies about things that symbolize summer (ie the smell of tar and that feeling when you climb into a super hot car), crying spells, anxiety, irritability, and pessimistic feelings of hopelessness.

The governing factor: sunlight. Again, according to the internet, for people with S.A.D., sunlight controls brain happiness functions, including circadian rhythms and serotonin levels. What all of this means is that for a month or so, I more or less acted like an insane person. Depending, of course, on the weather.

Much later, when the van trip was over, and tensions and symptoms had subsided, Steph told me that she and Andrew used to refer to me as their resident adolescent. Which is just awkward for everyone involved.

The point of all of this is to say that while the southern 3/4ths of the South Island is cloudy and rainy and cold, the northern 1/4th of the island, the part we frings had now arrived in, is notoriously sunny. And as the weather outside improved, the so did the weather inside my brain. I can't exactly recall, but I am pretty sure I didn't cry at all once we reached Nelson. Steph and Andrew gave me this stretch of the trip to write about because the Golden Bay was my favorite part. Chalk it up to the serotonin rush I guess.

Our first important stop was the Pupongo Farm Park and Wharariki Beach. The hike to the beach looked like this:

Here we will pause for our linguistics lesson. After that we can go to the beach. In the Maori language, a letter combination of "Wh" is pronounced like the English "F." So, to say the name of the place we were hiking to, you would say, "Far-a-riki." You probably wouldn't roll your "r's" correctly, but at least people wouldn't look you as if you were completely stupid. 

Okay, lesson complete. Excellent work, class. We will now resume our hike. After 20 minutes or so through the farm park, the green hills started to shrink, the trees faded away, grass grew grew longer and coarser. We could see places where the wind cut into the hills to expose stretches of sand. We hiked on past a river, and up into dunes themselves. You can't imagine my joy when I realized I was going to have to take off my shoes.

We followed the trail up and over a final hill to see this:

  There was also this one dune we had to slide down to get to the ocean:

The wind ravaged us on Wharariki. Walking out to the ocean was like trekking through a sand storm. On the dunes, you could see ripples made by wind. As if the sand was water.

Andrew says this photo reminds him of when R2D2 and C3PO first land on Tatooine. At first, I thought he was being romantic, but on further reflection, I'm not really sure.

I can tell you that it was loud out on the shoreline. The waves pounded the rocks. We were swallowed by the roaring.

From Wharariki we journeyed out to our second beach: Farewell Spit. I know, I know. Two beaches in one day. Sunshine the whole time. Trumpets and harps were playing in my brain.

Now, just to orient you to the landscape, I will present you with a metaphor and a map. If you imagine the top of the South Island as a bird’s head (a kiwi bird, perhaps?), Farewell Spit is the long thin beak that stretches east into the Golden Bay. See:

And this is our cue to pause for our geology lesson. A spit is formed when waves crash into a sandy beach at an oblique angle (remember the wind at Wharariki), then rush back out to sea at a perpendicular angle. This causes to sand to wash out in the opposite direction from which the waves arrive. Sometimes, when conditions are right, this sand can stretch great distances into the ocean, as is the case with the Farewell Spit. The whole process is really cool to think about, and you can waste lots of time doing so.

Some fun facts about the Farewell Spit: 1) The sand bar drops into the ocean very gradually, so when the tide is out, you can see a massive shallow marsh which appears to stretch endlessly toward distant mountains.

2) Said shallow marsh is really good for birds which is part of the reason this region is a designated bird sanctuary. (If I were better at photoshop I'd photoshop a bird in the following photo.)

3) Sometimes whales get really confused by this marsh and run aground and die. (And, no, Steph, I'm referring here to actual whales. I'm not saying you're fat.)

4) When you’re out on the spit, you’re pretty much in the heart of the Golden Bay, and it’s beautiful and peaceful and much less windy than Wharariki. You might be surprised when you read a sign that explains that when Abel Tasman first came to NZ, there was a big fight in this bay and its original name was Murderer’s Bay. Later it became Massacre Bay (some French guy’s idea), then Coal Bay (when they found coal), and now finally, Golden Bay. At first I thought they were just getting better at PR and perhaps trying to emphasize the sunlight and uplifting views. But Wikipedia says no, they did find gold in the bay. So there you go, geology and economics win again.

  Alright, this concludes the tour through my brain. I'm sorry, I cannot be held responsible for any damages. After all, I didn't force you to read this, did I? 

[fellowshipofthefrings]

Here Comes the Sun (doo-d'n doo-doo)

Andrew here.

When we last left our intrepid heroes on their journey of the South Island of New Zealand, Steph and T were soaking in a bathtub full of rotten eggs (or something, I wasn't paying attention), and I was hanging out by myself, enjoying a little peace and quiet for a change.

I was also supposed to be doing all of the manly van duties, like dumping our gray waste and filling our water tank and getting petrol.

I did one of those!  I couldn't find a petrol station in Hamner Springs, and I figured that since we were about to head through Lewis Pass (another mountainous area with a road through it that bridges the gap between coasts), it would behoove us to go light on the water so the van wouldn't be as weighted down, thus giving us better...

Petrol kilometre-age?

I'm not sure how they say that here.

Before we go much further, I want to post another map, since we've gone a long way at this point.  The red is the route we've already traversed, and the yellow is what will be covered in this a'here blog post:

Anyway, after the three of us met up, we started into the pass, and I knew we were too low on fuel to make it, straight up.  No doubt.  I knew it when we left Hamner Springs, but I stubbornly refused to do anything about it, because Steph made some sassy-pants remark in regards to frittering away a whole day without doing the one thing I was supposed to do, and I am the world's most stubborn idiot.

We made it to our campsite that night (Deer Valley Campground in Lewis Pass, which was about halfway to where we could fuel up), and we were on empty.  I told Steph that things were a bit dire, but I didn't tell T.  I can live with Steph thinking I'm an idiot (that band-aid came off years ago), but I didn't want the word spreading.

The next morning, we hit the road, and the needle on the gauge was even lower than it had been the night before (we'd parked on a slight incline).  The low-fuel light came on as we were climbing a steep road up the side of a mountain, and I became sure that we were going to run out.

Now, some of you may not be able to relate to the idea of running out of petrol or gas or whatever (GOOD FOR YOU, MR./MRS. MONEYBAGS), but, for those of us who always put ten bucks in at a time, it's a constant threat.  It's the Sword of Damocles, hanging just above our heads, reminding us that all good things will eventually come to a wheel-locked, powerless dead-end.  Or, if you're unfortunate enough to be in the mountains of New Zealand when the sword drops, a fiery van of death, rocketing off the side of a cliff into the great hereafter.

White-knuckled, I accelerated on downgrades and begged it'd be enough to propel us back up the next incline, so I wouldn't have to burn fuel trying to fight against gravity.

Finally, after 45 minutes or 9 hours or whatever the time it actually took, we arrived at a petrol station.  Crisis averted.  Dilemma deleted.

Another thing I should mention is an additional reason for keeping the GAS CRISIS a secret from T:  We were driving toward the sunniest spot in New Zealand, and she, even more than the rest of us, was looking forward to that destination.  I didn't want to be the one to cast a dark cloud over that.

I mean, I don't want to use the term "martyr," but, well, if you guys want to, I won't say anything.

This all brings us to Nelson, the sunniest spot in New Zealand.  Or, as the guy in the Greatest Petrol Station on Planet Earth said, "Oh, sweet, that place is sunny as, bro."

I do not understand that expression.  Still.  It's a sad simile that got left hanging, like a high-five that was never finished.

Still, to his credit, it is, indeed, sunny as.

I don't know why I tried to get all artsy fartsy with the photo, but I still think it's pretty gorgeous. 

And, my goodness, the sun was much needed.

We spent the afternoon walking to the beach, wandering around town, and, as a testament to what kinds of people we are, hanging out in a used book shop.

Our campsite was a spacious motor lodge called Maitai Valley Motor Camp.  It had hot showers (word to the wise:  the five minutes of hot water starts AFTER YOU DEPOSIT THE COINS, NOT AFTER YOU START THE WATER), and that alone sold us on staying a couple of nights.

It was sunny; it was warm; it felt like we should have just stopped moving and bought a house.  I even started reading again (hadn't even cracked the spine of a book since Dunedin), and everything felt worth it.  All the walks up the giant hill after work, all of the rainy days and sleepless nights, where you have to cuddle up to a hot water bottle (even though you know it'll leave burns all over your legs) - - it all seemed worth it once we got to Nelson and that glorious, beautiful sun.

I can see why people have been worshiping that thing for ages.

But, as all great things, our time in Nelson was fleeting.  We soon hit the road again for the promise of ADVENTURE to the north.

We headed up toward the top of the South Island, and the first thing of note we hit along the way was Abel Tasman National Park, the largest National Park on the South Island (I think I read that somewhere, please don't fact-check me).

We almost immediately started up into those mountains you can see in the picture above (they're blurry, but just go with me for a minute).  We stopped at a little place called Hawke's Lookout, which will factor into our story again later, where we were able to snap a few photos looking back at Nelson, with only a valley and a bay between us.

Not a bad view, eh?

We knew we'd be doubling back this way again after hitting the northernmost stuff to come (spoiler alert!), so we didn't spend a great deal of time in Abel Tasman, but there was one thing we really wanted to do, and we knew we had to fit it in somewhere.

With that said, we took a dirt road off the main one and drove along a twisting road through hills and valleys (some of which are where they filmed stuff for the Lord of the Rings) before reaching a trailhead for a thing called Harwood Hole, aka Steph's Absolute Favorite Thing of the South Island.

I'll let that sink in for a minute.

After ditching the van and crashing through an Enchanted Forest for about 45 minutes, you come across a single sign post, warning you of imminent danger ahead.

Before you, there are giant boulders, laying around on top of each other, in a part of the world that time forgot.  Of course, we climbed around on them and between them, like it's a thing to do.

As Doctor Malcolm in Jurassic Park would say, "Gee, the lack of humility before nature that's being displayed here, uh... staggers me."

Once I got up on top of one of the giant boulders, I fully realized what we were looking at here.

We were climbing around at the lip of a hole that's over 50 metres wide and almost exactly 200 metres deep.  It descends further than that eventually, but if we had slipped, we would have dropped the equivalent of two football fields, straight down.

Just about twenty feet in front of me, there.

Unfortunately, you can't get a good look down, so you can't photograph the hole itself, but I found a picture on Google of somebody spelunking down into the belly of the beast, and it at least gives you a small idea of what we're talking about here:

Planet Earth, ladies and gentlemen.  Give her a round of applause.

Not all of us were so keen to get up close and personal with Almost Certain Death, though.  T hung back in the Enchanted Forest:

Pictures don't lie, T.  Pictures don't lie.

It was a rush, though, I must say.  It's not every day that you come face-to-face with your own mortality and live to blog about it.

From there, we hiked back to the van, solemnly, each of us deep in our own thoughts, of the South Island, of Harwood, of our places in the world.

Would you believe me if I told you that the best was yet to come?

To be continued.

[fellowshipofthefrings]

The Music of the Universe and Pools that Smell Like Rotten Eggs (by T)

Alright, I'm here to pick up where Steph left off, on the road out of ChCh to meet not only a fellow American, but a fellow Nebraskan, a fellow traveller, and an old, old friend of Steph and her sister Michelle's.

Before we go any further, let me ask you a question. Have you ever met someone and felt that your meeting was inevitable? That at one point there was a chord struck in the universe, and you are one note and the other person is another note, and you are both part of a song, however strange, that is being played? Well, I've given it a lot of thought, and I'm pretty sure that Ashlee Dolton is my soulmate.

Just kidding. Ha! That did sound a bit romantic, though, didn't it? What I mean is this: way back in 2006, two girls, one named Michelle Robinson, the other named Ashlee Dolton, travelled together from Nebraska to New Zealand. They had lots of fun and adventures together, and helped each other transition to their new lives. Even though they parted ways to pursue separate paths (Michelle now lives in Scotland where she is raising a family with her man James, and Ashlee is still on the road living a traveler's life), they remain dear friends. Fast forward to 2013, when two different girls, one named Stephanie Robinson, the other Teresa Franta, also travel to New Zealand, along, of course, with Steph's boyfriend Andrew Potratz. They also have lots of fun and adventures together and help each other transition to their new lives. Later they all become very wealthy and have amazing jobs and the cutest pets and clothes and drive convertibles and get pedicures and travel the world drinking coffees together. Well, Andrew doesn't get the pedicures. He watches ultimate wrestling instead.

So, the point of all this, is that as you can see, Ashlee and I are sort of each other's each other. When Steph got the message from Ashlee saying that she would be in Methven for the end of ski season, and that we were welcome to come visit, welcome to have a go on Mount Hutt and meet a bunch of her snowboarder friends, we knew we had to accept. (Remember the chord that the universe is playing? We didn't want to mess that up.)

The drive from ChCh to Methven was stunning! Unfortunately, it was very difficult to photograph. Here's a poor approximation of the awesomeness:

When we arrived in Methven, Ashlee and her friends took us in with the grace of well-seasoned travelers. By which I mean they gave us full access to their driveway, restroom, kitchen, livingroom, xbox, and beer without batting an eye. Later that night, they also invited us to their end of the season bonfire, where they told us stories about the slopes. The following morning, as we were preparing to head up to Mt Hutt to join in the last day of skiing/snowboarding, something strange happened to me. I was pouring myself a cup of tea (in what turned out to be a beer mug rather than a tea mug), and the whole thing just exploded on my hand. Even though I soaked the burn in cold water for a while, by the time we were on the bus to the mountaintop, blisters started appearing all over my hand. It was ugly and painful, but in the end not that big of a deal. The only reason I mention it is because when we arrived on Mt Hutt, Ashlee hooked us up with gear and some passes......but none of us three frings made it beyond the bunny hill. Pathetic. I for one had an excuse: I couldn't put a glove on my left hand. Those other two jokers, though. When you see them, be sure to enquire.  Here's a glimpse of Mt Hutt in its end of the season glory:

One thing that I can say about the Mt Hutt experience, is that I finally understand the hype about the slopes/ski seasons in general. The atmosphere up there was buzzy. As if adrenaline is contagious. Even to watch some people work the hills was exciting. Plus, I loved hearing stories about slope hierarchy. Who has enough skills to board with the truly talented. How the most dangerous crashes happened. Which limbs were broken and how bad. The insane envy expressed for those with superhuman balance.

After the official end of the season dance party at a bar in Methven, Ashlee still had a few days to spend before her flight departed for Oz. So she decided to join us for a stint in the van. First, we went to Kaikoura, a popular tourist destination known for its rolling green hills and spectacular coast lines.

Kaikoura is also a place where you can whale watch, which we considered doing but ultimately decided was too expensive. Plus it would have taken the better half of a day, and you just can't do everything. Instead, we hiked to a waterfall to take a peek at some baby seals. Good lord they were SO CUTE! They were rolling around, splashing, and jumping in the waterfall. Even Andrew felt a moment of joy watching those seals. He may deny it, but I know the truth.

We also hiked up to a lookout point to enjoy some views:

From Kaikoura, we went to Hanmer Springs, another popular tourist destination, this one known for its natural hot springs. Unfortunately Ashlee had to leave before we had time to relax in the pools. So, we hugged her a fond farewell, thanked her for all her hospitality, and left her on the side of the road with her bag. Ha! I know it sounds awful, but in all truth, hitchhiking in NZ is easy and mostly safe, and Ashlees's done it lots of times before and felt totally comfortable. So it was all okay.

Before Steph and I did the hot springs, the three of us hiked up Conical Hill just outside Hanmer. 

After we descended, Steph and I spent the rest of the day soaking in hot mineral water. Honestly it was a bit of a disappointing experience because the pools themselves are man made, and they just run the spring water into them using your typical plumbing systems. I guess I was imagining something a little more earth-goddessy. Still, no one can complain about a day spent lounging in pools and hot tubs, even if they do make you smell like rotten eggs.

[fellowshipofthefrings]

Steph on ChCh: 2013 v. 2007

The main focus of this post is Christchurch, but before I forge ahead, I'm going to overlap just a bit with T's last post to share 2 photos from Lake Mahinapua. First, a glimpse into what our lives looked like most of the time when we were camped. A tent and some chairs joined our caravan in Hokitika:

And secondly, this horrid little creature deserves a shout out. He's called a Weka. I was more amused than annoyed by his antics of zooming between our legs and just not going away, but he was quite horrible. and gross! Poor T was especially disenchanted.

Anyway, it's been a while since we've posted a map, and even I'm getting a bit confused as to where we are. So here's a beautiful visual recap of our progress, courtesy of the driver.

The route marked in red takes us up to now, and the route marked in yellow covers this post that you're reading right here right now!

So now that we all know where we are, I want to show you one more bird we met, this time in Arthur's Pass. This is the Kea, the world's only Alpine parrot, and a smart, mischievous little guy who can undo zippers and car doors and steal all your crap! He got fed up with us taking his picture, so he flew on top of the van and was trying to poke his way in. A cool little fella though, eh? Much more regal than the Weka. 

As we continued through the Alps and out of reach of naughty birds, we made a quick stop at Castle Hill, a cluster of natural limestone rock formations:

I took that photo, and then I turned around and took this one. He's pretty, huh? 

So it's about a three hour drive from Hokitika to Christchurch. Of course it took us longer because we had to stop and take lots of photos. But we rolled in to the city around 5 or so and found ourselves at Amber Holiday Park. This was one of the few holiday parks we stayed in, and we did so here because it was centrally located and it seemed like the best option at the time. It wasn't a bad one, and I appreciated the hot shower, but overall I don't really think holiday parks are much worth the money, especially if you're on a budget. You kind of feel like you're parked on top of your neighbor, to be honest. But it's just part of camping in the city.

After we got settled in, we decided to take a walk into town. We were all like, "It's Friday night, I'm sure if we just walk into the city centre, we'll find the fun stuff and the people and we'll have fun." So did we find fun stuff and people? No. What we found instead... was desolation. Cue the beginning of my bizarre, brain-scrambling experience of Christchurch 2013 v. Christchurch 2007. 

Remember a few years back there were a couple of major earthquakes in New Zealand? To recap, in September of 2010, Christchurch (and the Canterbury region) experienced a 7.1 earthquake, causing significant damage but no casualties. Then, in February of 2011, a 6.3 earthquake rocked the region again, this time causing 185 deaths and a lot more damage. Multiple aftershocks followed, causing even more damage. As you can imagine, the city has suffered quite a lot.

This was, I think, maybe, the hostel I stayed at with my sisters in 2007: 

Reoccurring sights at every turn were temporary construction fencing, scaffolding and walls of shipping containers. These were evidently stacked next to the crumbling buildings to help stabilize them.

Christchurch, for me, was simply unrecognizable. I felt out of place, strange and confused. It was like my brain knew I had been here before and was trying to play connect the dots between something that had at once felt historic and cozy and comfortable to something ghostly and lacking its former sparkle. The city was (is...) in search of a new self-identity, a new soul.

Here's the weirdest thing. This is my sisters and I sitting in Cathedral Square with ChristChurch Cathedral behind us in April of 2007. Blast from the past, right?

Later that night:

And here's the cathedral in October of 2013:

Cathedral Square, as the heart of the city, was the only thing from the whole city that felt even vaguely familiar. But it didn't feel familiar in a good way.

No city has ever made me feel so weird. We spent less than 24 hours here, but that was enough. 

With all that said, Christchurch is not giving up. They are rebuilding the city and reconstructing their image. There is a section of shops and restaurants just a few blocks from the cathedral called Re:Start. The shipping container has become an image that Christchurchians (?) are proud to showcase; even the big banks, in an effort to fit in, are outfitting their small pop-ups in the shipping container style. 

In 10 or 15 years Christchurch is probably going to be the most modernized, techno-savvy city in the southern hemisphere. I just hope they've suffered enough and those tectonic plates settle down a bit.

After a quick gander around the stunning botanic gardens...

we left the city and headed southwest towards a town called Methven, to see an old, old friend of Michelle and I's from Nebraska: Ashlee Dolton! 

It's about time to hand the reigns over for the next post, but I'll just say this: We were all quite excited to see another fellow Nebraskan, especially in some random town we wouldn't otherwise have visited. Ashlee is the girl that my sister Michelle first moved to New Zealand with back in 2006 and someone I hadn't seen in 5ish years, so I was particularly eager to catch up. 

But that's all I'm going to say about that for now. Onward!

[fellowshipofthefrings]

The Campsite at the End of the World or A Palate Cleanser Post (by T)

From Fox Glacier, we continued on our path headed north along the West Coast to a campsite near Lake Mahinapua just outside the small town of Hokitika. The guide books describe this coastal strip as a region with an end of the world feel, a place where desolation reigns. In retrospect, I think the emotional impact is created by a combination of factors. 1) To get there you have to cross the main divide of the Southern Alps mountain range. 2) Once you cross the range, you are cut off from most civilization. 3) The beaches are long, relatively uninterrupted, and scattered with stones and driftwood. 4) The sky is cloudy, the wind strong, and the ocean turbulent (at least while we were there).

Please to observe:

After trekking through the end of the world, we arrived at this campsite:

  Our original plan was to spend one night here, drive into the mountains, camp one night in Arthur’s Pass, then continue on our way to Christchurch. Lucky for us, we shared our ideas with a friendly hardware store worker. He suggested that we may not want to camp in Arthur’s Pass since recently it had been a bit chilly up there. So, we changed our minds and decided to take a day in Hokitika to organize our lives. Then we would sleep a second night at Lake Mahinapua, get up early the next morning, and drive to ChCh in one go.

  So, this is how we ended up spending what Andrew considers the most boring day of our trip. Hokitika is a small town, and that day the rain came down hard. We did laundry and emailed and bought groceries.

  Instead of sharing more fascinating details from our time in Hokitika, I will instead present you with a small palate cleanser. Please to enjoy a brief summary of life in the van, organized into a list of fun facts:

  1)   We each had a role. Andrew was the driver. Steph was the navigator and DJ. I was the cook. Isn’t it funny how even in the most unregimented environments people tend to form little habits and patterns? I guess it just makes things easier.

2)   We ate a lot of sandwiches. Especially in the beginning. For breakfast, peanut butter sandwiches. Lunch, tuna. Or ham and cheese. For dinner, the same. We also ate chips, crackers, apples, and bananas. Stephanie and I ate chocolate. We were very excited when we rediscovered yogurt. (How could we have ever forgotten yogurt?!?) Sometimes if we didn’t have running water, we washed our dishes with wet wipes.

3)   At night, we entertained ourselves by playing cards and making up gossip about our friends back home. Other activities included writing in the journals, listening to music, watching Ricky Gervais, or playing games. I know at one point we played MASH, a real throwback.

4)   Life in the van is dirty. Most of the time we went 3 days without a shower. Andrew said he was impressed with how well Steph and I handled it……he might have just been being nice, but I definitely took it as a compliment at the time. (Perhaps I was a bit desperate for compliments.)

5)   Yes, there were lots of times we almost drove each other crazy. The space we lived in (and stored all our personal belongings in) was small. To do anything, we had to shift bags, reorganize, communicate. For most of the trip, we had only the three of us to talk to. Plus driving all day can make a person tired and sore and generally crabby. Still, we held ourselves together pretty well……in the end we didn’t come out much crazier than we were when we started. At least I'm pretty sure we didn't.

6)   We spent a significant amount of money on petrol. Around $1,300 I think. Actually, I don’t want to think about it.

Just so your imagination doesn't have to do all the work:

Out of Hokitika, we drove east as planned. We were a bit shocked (though of course we shouldn’t have been) to find that not only was Arthur’s Pass a little chilly, it also looked like this:

Good thing we didn’t try to camp up there!

[fellowshipofthefrings]

Fox and Frings or... The Glacier!

One of the few things I (Steph) was still desperate to do when I left NZ in 2007 was go for a hike on a glacier. It just sounded magical and beautiful and wondrous and freakin' cool. And I didn't want to go all the way to the South Pole to do it, cuz that sounded a little too cool - if ya know what I mean ;)

Also, the opportunity to actually visit a glacier in all its glory is diminishing by the day. Sometime early last year, Andrew and I watched this mind-boggling documentary called Chasing Ice, which used time-lapse photography to capture the overwhelming retreat and calving of glaciers all over the world in the last however many years. Straight off of Climate Change in NZ's Wikipedia (cuz they say it best): "The National Institute of Water and Atmospheric Research considers that the volume of ice in New Zealand's glaciers has declined by about 50% in the last century." Oddly, Fox Glacier is unique as it's one of the few glaciers in the world to actually advance in the past few decades (since 1985). But that is incredibly rare.

ANYWAY, my point in saying all of this is that THE GLACIERS ARE MELTING and it's a big concern and I really wanted to go look at one up close and touch one because how many other opportunities will I have. So when we planned our South Island adventure, visiting one was at the top of my list - - along with Milford Sound and whatever ol' whatever waterfall. I could not wait to go and accomplish my dream of glaciering. (I have lots of things I refer to as "my dream," like riding in a hot air balloon and becoming a wizard, but that doesn't make any of them less special than the others).

The excitement that I was on the verge of doing this long-awaited thing began to creep in the night before, but I was much more concerned about which clothes to wear/pack (3-4 upper body layers - - it's at least 5 degrees C colder on the glacier than in the town, but you get sweaty as you hike up) and whether or not we were going to make it in town for a pre-glacier coffee. We were scheduled for an 8:35 departure! Early as!

Here's a view of the beast as we drove into town from camp. And I'm not talking about that cow...

[By the way, Andrew mentioned this briefly, but I wanted to quickly say: there are two hike-able glaciers on the West Coast that are virtually side by side. We chose Fox because it was a bit cheaper (we did a half-day "Fox Trot"), you spent less time hiking before you actually got on the glacier itself, and it just seemed a bit more like what we wanted. Plus, the brochure was more visually enticing. I'm sure Franz Josef would have been just as spectacular, though.]

Here's a boring photo showing you roughly where Fox is located on the South Island:

And here's a much cooler map, that I'm just posting cuz I like it:

So, finally, on to Glacier Day!!! We made it to Fox Glacier township, had our coffees, got geared up with our special leather boots that we had put on over our special hiking socks, and chucked our crampons into our special rain-proof bags with our rain ponchos. It was all very official. When everyone was ready, we emptied our bladders, double checked our packs and boarded a bus for a quick ride through the rain forest and into the glacial valley, out to the site of departure.

And man, it was as cool as I imagined! Even better, maybe, because upon actually walking on it, it felt Alive. I could see the dead ice moving underneath the surface, creeping its way, ever so slowly. I saw the other guides way out there on the ice, picking away with their axes to recreate the stairs that had been almost angular the day before, but had now been rounded out by the daily melt. Oh here's a guy!

There were icicles that had been formed on the sunny sides, dripping madly onto the ice below while the shady sides didn't melt a drop. I actually ate a piece of ice off the glacier...I ate some of the glacier! It makes me feel a bit responsible for the polar bears' impending extinction.

Visiting Fox Glacier was a full-on sensory experience. Upon viewing it from the beach and the bus in all its glory, then getting my first close look from the ground up, I could only think, Wow, so that's what a glacier actually looks like in real life. It's just stuck there, hanging out between 2 mountains. So weird. Upon closer viewing, Whoa! It's a glacier! It's so big, yet so small! That's a lotta ice! Just ridiculous reactions I couldn't have predicted. It smelled...clean and fresh and cold. It tasted...well, it tasted like ice. It sounded like a Brazilian guide named Bia who knew exactly what she was talking about from the first and who was excited about sharing it. And It felt...REAL. it made me feel real small, like there were much bigger phenomenons occurring right in front of me. (Which of course there were!)

Okay, seriously, Steph. Enough jibber jabber. Here are some photos!

Our first peek of the ice during our hike up:

Down there in the next photo near that ice mouth is where a couple of brothers were crushed to death in 2009 after not heeding the warning signs and wandering off the path into danger zone. The glacier is no joke.

But on to some happier photos!

  I think we all felt pretty bad ass.

Okay, this last photo is of blue ice. If you ever see a small body of water that has a vibrant turquoise color like this, you can know it comes from a glacier. I was going to explain why, but I'm not a doctor.

And that's it. Oh yeah, the weather was perfect! We got super lucky - - it started raining just as we were boarding our bus to head back to the township. It was actually hard for me to say goodbye because I knew that the big guy would look different the next day, and the day after that and the day after that. Because Fox is alive, and it's changing all the time and melting and someday it just won't be there. Kinda like me! Okay, this got morbid. It was a fantastic day and truly a dream come true! Goodbye!

xoxo S

[fellowshipofthefrings]

Through the Gates of Haast and Beyond, with Andrew at the Wheel

First of all, let me just say how relieved I am that T ended up writing that last entry.  I'm afraid I wouldn't have been able to write anything exciting about that day.

While the ladies were on their little wine escapade, I wandered around Wanaka with nowhere in particular in mind as my destination.  And, really, I spent a good couple of hours sitting on a park bench staring out at the lake and mountains behind it.

Y'know, truly thrilling stuff to blog about.

Luckily, I have more to say about the following day.

We got a relatively early start the next morning, hitting up some place in town for coffees before starting the long drive to the West Coast.

By this point, I had gotten used to driving on the left side of the road, so I didn't need to concentrate quite as much, which allowed for a more entertaining bit of scenic driving.

Also, we finally got around to listening to some stand-up comedy and some music and stuff, which I was against at the beginning, since I was terrified of the whole driving thing.  In retrospect, sure, I shouldn't have been, but it never hurt anybody to be a little cautious.

I don't know if that's true.  Don't think about it too hard.

Anyhow, after we left Wanaka, we drove past a giant lake, up and down through the mountains.  Little tip if you ever find yourself driving a big campervan in the mountains of New Zealand:  Pull over frequently to let people behind you pass.  It might seem obvious, and it might not even need to be said, but that small, common courtesy shouldn't be overlooked.  You have no idea how frustrating it is to get stuck behind somebody in those mountains, which are too narrow and winding for an occasional passing lane, apparently.

After a few hours of driving, we arrived at the Gates of Haast, which is one of several passes from the Otago/Canterbury regions to the West Coast.

It's a cool little bridge on the side of a mountain, and it would have been a perfect spot to pull over and take some photos.  Again, if you ever find yourself tooling around New Zealand in a van, check it out.

Unfortunately, we didn't stop, because there was a huge slip (what they call rock slides) there the week before we passed through, so it was all blocked off with orange cones, leaving only enough space to drive through.

Still, I figured it was worth mentioning, not only because it's a spectacular drive, but also because it has one of the coolest-sounding names ever.  THE GATES OF HAAST.

Just sounds epic.

After a few more hours of driving, we found ourselves on the West Coast.  It's famous for being abundant in Pounamu, also known as "greenstone," which is used in all sorts of jewelry.

Also, for a brief run in the mid-1800s, somebody found gold in them there hills, and there was a mad Gold Rush.

Also, there are two glaciers on the West Coast, and we were fixing to walk on one of them.  We bought our tickets upon arrival for the following day and then set out in search of our camping site for the evening.

In a scene straight out of "Top Gear Rally," we took a winding, narrow dirt road through the jungle, through dizzying twists and turns, for about fifteen-twenty minutes before popping out at a place called Gillespie's Beach.

Our campsite for the evening was literally a parking lot next to a drop toilet.

We took a wander along an old trail to the beach (passing by a ton of sheep along the way - - those things are literally everywhere on the South Island), and we found a bunch of old mining equipment used during the Gold Rush.

I guess those prospectors left in a hurry, because they didn't really bother cleaning up after themselves.  Steph took a bunch of pictures.  Here's one:

After hoofing it back to the van, we had our nightly meal time, consisting of crackers, cheese, fresh kiwifruit, and some tuna (or chicken) sandwiches.  Meat in a can!  Can't beat it.  Actually, you can.  We just didn't.

As we started eating, the sun started going down, and, after a considerable amount of arm-pulling, I convinced Steph to walk back out onto the beach with me to watch it.

I'm kidding.  She agreed without hesitation.

I'm glad she did.  Check it:

I think this might have been my favorite sunset of the trip.  Again, Steph snapped this photo.

As she was taking photos of the sunset, I was busy marveling at how clear and fresh the air is on the coast.  While doing so, I spun around to look behind me, to see where we'd come from, and I am glad I did.

In the distance, we had a clear view of Mount Cook (New Zealand's tallest mountain) and Fox Glacier, where we were headed the next day.  As the sun dropped below the horizon, the reflection of its light kissed off the mountains in such a way that left me dumbstruck, a feeling New Zealand keeps hitting me with again and again.

Hard to believe we almost didn't see that.  Says something about the sunset, doesn't it?

After a short while, the show was over, and we headed back to the van, back to our sandwiches, back to life, back to reality.

We got a solid night's sleep and hit the road early the following day.

Destination: Glacier.

We're coming for you, big guy.

To be continued.

[fellowshipofthefrings]

A Day in the Vineyard by T

As you may have gathered from Steph's recent post, we crammed a lot into our brief time in the Catlins. Saturday night marked the end of the 5th day of our journey, and on Sunday we woke up and drove the 5 hour stretch through Central Otago back up to Wanaka which is near Queenstown. Basically, our arrival in Wanaka completed a massive loop around the southern coast of the south island. 

Our previous travels back and forth between Queenstown and Dunedin had already taken us through Central Otago twice. This time, however, when we drove through in our van, the weather was warmer than it had ever been, and the region was beginning to show signs of spring. It's a place renowned for its orchards and vineyards, and had we passed through a bit later in the season, we would have stopped for cherries or peaches at some of the stands that were beginning to appear along the roadside. 

When we arrived in Wanaka, we were tired. We felt satisfied with our tour of the Catlins, and we agreed to take a day off before heading into the wilderness of the West Coast. Also, Steph and I were determined to visit a winery. Even though we'd been in New Zealand for months now, we hadn't stepped so much as a toe into a vineyard, and we simply couldn't leave Central Otago without drinking some Pinot Noir in a proper tasting room.  Just outside Wanaka, we found the Albert Town campsite which is spacious, clean, sheltered by massive pines, and located on the banks of a sparkling river. It was nice to be near a town again, to not have to worry about running out of petrol or food. Plus Wanaka is gorgeous. It's a lakeside town, nestled in a mountain valley, similar to Queenstown but with less commercialism and adrenaline. 

On Monday, Steph and I visited the Rippon vineyard, which is a ten minute drive out of town. The day was beautiful and filled with sunshine, and we felt so happy to be out of the van. 

After the tasting, we walked around the vineyard and took a few photos. Then we hiked the 40 minute lakeside track back to Wanaka where we met Andrew and returned to our campsite. It was very windy that night, but we slept well, huddled in our van beneath the Albert Town pines. 

[fellowshipofthefrings]

Steph's Love Letter to The Catlins

The Catlins! Oh, how I loved The Catlins.  I want to write a love letter to The Catlins, I loved them so, so much. Okay, so this is basically a love letter...

Allow me to give you a litte perspective. Here is a map of the Southern Scenic Route, the road we took from Queenstown west to Milford / Fiordland and then proceeded on southward to the subject of today’s post.

We spent the afternoon in Te Anau doing the tedious, practical things that you always have to do while traveling - showering, charging of devices, grocery shopping, that sort of thing. Public showers are easily accessed ($5 for a public shower ... TOTALLY WORTH IT), you can usually charge at a local bar/restuarant (as long as you buy something) or maybe the library, and you can grocery shop at - get this - the local supermarket! or a weekend market. There are a fair amount of amazing markets throughout the country, but more on that later. (If you have questions about anything ever there is an iSite in every major town and they will hook you up with any knowledge you could possibly need).

The map following depicts everything we’ve seen…Red = the route we’ve traversed up until this point; Yellow = what I will be describing in this post here.

From Te Anau, we pushed on through Invercargill, the "big city" of the south. We only spent about 20 minutes in this town, but my bro-in-law’s assessment that it is the “armpit of the world” is, I reckon, a fairly accurate description. My memory delivers nothing more than huge supermarkets and liquor stores, massive car lots, and John Deere tractors. Sounds an awfully lot like the Midwest... Hmm...

     [I should mention here that Invercargill is pretty much the main stopping off point before heading down to Stewart Island, New Zealand's third main island and a worthwhile venture if you have $100+ to spend on the ferry either way and a couple of days to tramp through the national park that comprises 85% of the island. Would have been cool, but you truly can't do everything.]

That evening we pulled up to our next campsite, Fortrose, perhaps one of the best of our whole adventure and an ideal kickoff point for an exploration of the Catlins. Little did we know, this was to be our only opportunity to build a campfire during our entire South Island adventure. And build it T and Andrew did…

We got to look at that for most of the night. And there's our Jucy!

And here are my frings, from the other, more amazing side of the fire:

Our night here was terrific. Nights like this is why I came back to New Zealand. I came here to lay my back onto a stunning beach with some of my favorite people and a couple of delicious drinks…. next to a fireplace and access to a cozy coze for sleeping right next to the sea. A tar-filled, black sea, once the darkness became too much to bear. Indeed it was one of my favorite things of our entire trip.

Which brings me to the point of this post. The Rough Guide to NZ describes the Catlins coast as this: “Roaring southeasterlies and the remorseless sea have shaped the coastline into plunging cliffs, windswept headlands, white-sand beaches, rocky bays and gaping caves…wildlife abounds…and the whole region rings with birdsong most of the year.” So basically everything you could want in a day's journey, although you could easily spend more than a day. 

Our first stop the next morning on the Catlins Coastal Heritage Trail, after coffees and obligatory sheep photography: 

was Slope Point, the furthest southern point of New Zealand. We took a 20-30 minute walk through some sheep paddocks towards the cliffs and sea and found this: 

Antarctica's over there somewhere...

We saw a dead sheep along our walk in the paddocks, and like the weirdo I am, I took a picture of it. I don't think Andrew and Teresa would be pleased if I posted it here though. Outside of the dead sheep, it was pretty stunning here.

Next stop! Curio Bay and Porpoise Bay. Curio Bay is the site of petrified forest remains. You can still see the fossilized Jurassic trees from 170 million years ago. Pretty neat!

Porpoise Bay, a mere 5 minute drive from Curio Bay, looks like this. T was inspired to go running! 

Evidently at a different time of year you can see Hector's Dolphins here. So they say. 

Next, Andrew and I hiked up to a waterfall called McLean Falls:

These photos are doing such terrible justice to the sights and sounds and smells of the places. So it goes. 

Our next stop should have been the famed Cathedral Caves, massive caves created by the ferocious sea, but alas, they have become inaccessible for long stretches in the last few years due to changing beaches and coastlines. So we had to drive right by and carry on..

At this point we were quite low on petrol, so our stops became much less frequent. There were a couple of points on the South Island that concerns for the whereabouts of a petrol station became urgent. Never did we actually run out, but I guess the lesson here is fill up where you can, or someone might freak out, or potentially according to our driver you could run out and the steering wheel could lock up and you could accidentally drive off a cliff. The South Island is so sparsely populated outside of the major cities, you can sometimes breeze past town after town after town without finding a station, and then you're S.O.L.!

We did make a quick stop at the roadside Florence Hill Lookout, which I am mostly mentioning to post this photo of the beard:

Pretty good, huh?

Two more highlights from our day! After filling up in Owaka, we (especially Andrew, the driver) breathed a sigh of relief and decided to hit up one more hot spot on the Catlins tour. We took a 10km drive from Owaka down to Jack's Bay, a freedom camping spot we were going to choose to camp at for the night until a weird interaction with a local lady scared us off. (We found out later we were indeed in the right and could have, without qualm, camped there.) Before we left, we decided to go on the 30-minute hike to Jack's Blowhole, a mysterious 55-meter deep hole in the ground with a 200-meter tunnel connecting it with the sea. We had no idea what to expect, as none of us had seen anything like this before. And... oh boy. It was AMAZING!!! I have this dumb, dumb, dumb picture for you:

But it's ridiculous to pretend this captures what we experienced. It may be tiring to hear that, but it's just so true. 

So let's just move on. This was taken during our hike back from the blowhole to the campervan.

We were tired, and very overwhelmed by all the amazingness. And Andrew had just told a bad joke, I'm sure of it. He's full of 'em. It was quite a day. 

So I just have one more thing to tell you about: our final destination and our chosen campsite for the night, Hillview Camping Stay near Nugget Point. It turns out this was one of the best campsites we got the pleasure of staying at. We found it on the Rankers camping app we spent so much time using, and were so very pleased. This place, run by Kevin and Sue and located on the grounds of their home, had so much to offer for just $5/person. They charged pennies on top for hot showers, device-charging overnight, and whatever else you could need. They offered free wi-fi (which is SO RARE), movies and reasonably priced delicious hot breakfast the next morning, served by them in their home kitchen. We were so terribly happy with their hospitality. For some reason I'm unable to hyperlink this, but this is the location of their Rankers site: https://www.rankers.co.nz/experiences/6018-Hillview_Camping_Stay_Nugget_Point. If you look closely, you can read Andrew's review, not far from the top. 

Okay, that's all for now. That's The Catlins in a nutshell! We will have much more to come about our South Island adventure. Stay tuned! 

[fellowshipofthefrings]

Depths in Fathoms (by T)

Hello everyone,

I'm here to pick up where Andrew left off..... In the morning of day 2 of our campervan trip, about to continue our journey along the Milford Road.

This day was a big day in our trip. Milford Sound, as Andrew mentioned previously, gets a lot of hype in the travel books. Often touted as the 8th wonder of the world, picaresque beyond belief, and the only sound (well, fjord technically) in Fiordland accessible by road, it's a place I've fantasized about visiting ever since we began planning this trip way back when we still lived in Lincoln. 

To get to Milford, we had to drive a couple of hours from our campsite at Deer Flat. We woke up early enough to stop and see a few sights along the way. 

As we made our way towards Milford, the roads grew more and more treacherous. We wound our way up carefully through the sheer cliffs, along sections of road known for rockslides. Andrew had volunteered to be the primary driver on this trip, and since he has a lot of experience driving a van, Steph and I gratefully agreed (although Steph especially was determined to get some experience driving on the left side of the road). Andrew admitted later that he was a bit terrified those first few days.....but you wouldn't have known it at the time. Thanks Andrew, you're a champ!

We arrived at the dock in plenty of time and relaxed a bit before boarding. The route is pretty basic, a single loop out to the Tasman Sea with a return along a slightly different path. We were lucky because the sun shone the day we took the tour, which allowed us to see a much farther distance into the sound than if it had been rainy.

Much later that evening, when we had made our way back down the Milford Road to another DOC campsite called Cascade Creek, Steph told Andrew and me one of the Maori legends about the creation of Milford. The Maori name for the sound is Piopiotahi (a now extinct bird species). The creator of the region is named Tu-te-raki-whanoa, an atua (godly figure) who aspired to be a carver and was assigned to cut out the Fiordlands. For strength, he summoned a chant, and began to chop through the rocks, leaving in his wake a land of towering cliffs. 

His skill improved as he worked his way from south to north, and by he time he reached his final destination (Piopiotahi), he was prepared to carve his masterpiece. The sound he created as his last work was so beautiful, the goddess Hinenui-te-Po grew concerned. To discourage humans from lingering too long in such a beautiful place, she released sandflies into the region, which pester visitors to this day.

When you're in Milford, you can see why Hinenui-te-Po was concerned. The guidebooks and the blogs do not lie. Milford Sound is every bit as good as people say. Every last bit. 

[fellowshipofthefrings]

Beginning South Island Tour, One Night in Queenstown, Camping along the Milford Road

Andrew here.

During the first five months of our year-long stay in New Zealand, our approach to things was, in a word, conservative.

We hunkered down in a small city with a mostly student population, working jobs, saving money, and planning for our departure and tour of New Zealand's South Island. We purposefully started out in a city close to the southern tip, so that we could work our way north and eventually get to the North Island and, basically, rinse and repeat.

And so it was, the day after the finale of Breaking Bad, that we packed all of our earthly possessions (except for the stuff we left at our parents' houses and at Johnny and Nicole's place, plus all my comic books at Joe's house (HI JOE!)) into a few bags, climbed aboard a bus, and left Dunedin in our rear-view.

A mere four hours later, we arrived in the same city we originally arrived in from America, way back in April - - Queenstown. We showed surprisingly little interest in the city this time around, in spite of the fact that it's absolutely gorgeous and bustling with adventure 24/7. Instead, we went straight to the house where we planned on spending the night, where we were graciously hosted by the mother of one of Steph's coworkers from Etrusco. Her name is Diane, and she's from Florida originally (though it sounds like she's lived just about everywhere in the world since), so it was nice to speak to another American, which I hadn't had a chance to do in nearly the entire time we were in Dunedin.

We talked about everything you're probably not supposed to talk about in mixed company - - religion, politics, and just about everything in between. It was delightful and quite refreshing. I feel like I spent most of our time in Dunedin watching movies and eating takeaways by myself, so it was great being able to actually spend an evening like a normal person for a change.

Anyway, the next morning, Diane drove us to the airport, where our month-long adventure was set to commence. We had many different options for how we were going to go about this trek, and we eventually decided that our best option, both for the freedom it provided and the affordability of it, was to rent a big van and spend the month camping out of it.

There are several different companies that provide relatively affordable accommodations, but we went with Jucy, which rents out giant camper vans (which they nauseatingly refer to as “campas”) that are two-toned green and purple (if you rent from Jucy, you will never have to wonder where you parked when leaving the supermarket) or smaller-sized camper van models or just regular cars, depending on your needs/budget/etc. Since we were going to be three people living in a van down by the river for a month, we opted for their largest model, which includes a stove and a refrigerator and a potable water tank.

The model we picked is also certified fully self-contained, which means all gray water storage is kept in a separate tank (dishwater and soapy water and toothpastey water and the like), plus it has an emergency toilet (which we never used), so you can camp pretty much anywhere in the entire country where it's permitted.

Now, a word on camping with a van in New Zealand: Like I said, if you're fully self-contained, you can camp just about anywhere, but it breaks down into, for the most part, three main options: 1) Freedom Camping - - Camping where, if you're fully self-contained, you basically pull over by the side of the road and park for the night, though there are designated Freedom Camping sites all over the place, which are a little more secluded and have a drop-toilet nearby (also worth noting, you can't Freedom Camp within five-ten kilometers of a township or where there are signs posted expressly forbidding it); 2) DOC Campsites - - Campsites that are maintained by the Department of Conservation, which usually cost around $6 per person per night for a site with a drop-toilet and some running water (these are also found in the most gorgeous parts of the country, so they're well worth the scratch); 3) Holiday Parks - - Campsites that are privately owned, usually closer to cities, where you basically pull in, drive to a patch of grass that's sectioned out in sizes similar to that of your van, with little to no privacy, and camp, but they have buildings with kitchens and showers and all the amenities you can't find elsewhere. These usually cost a bit more, around $10-15 per person per night.

Also, at Holiday Parks, you can shell out a few extra dollars per person per night for what's called a Powered Site, where you plug your van into a power socket so you can watch movies and run space heaters and toast bread and play solitaire on your laptop. We never used a Powered Site.

Naturally, we tried to Freedom Camp as much as possible, but it seems like it's getting harder to do so over the past few years, thanks to some campers abusing the system and leaving waste in their wake. It's not surprising, considering how lax the campsites are in America, for instance, where you basically can do whatever the hell you want and leave a mess behind because nobody cares. Here, the motto is, “Leave nothing but footprints, take nothing but photographs.” If you're caught dumping your gray water anywhere other than a designated Dump Station, for example, you can get a $300 fine. And if you're caught Freedom Camping where you're not supposed to, they also can hand out $200 fines per person, on the spot.

Now, we played it safe and didn't even come close to breaking any rules, were very respectful, etc, but I'm sure it's a lot more lax than it sounds. Kiwis seem to be all about giving you a list of rules with harsh punishments outlined for breaking them, but once you actually have a conversation with somebody about it, you quickly realize it's not as big of a deal as it sounds.

Still, I err on the side of caution, and I don't want to be disrespectful of nature (especially considering the sheer scope and awe of the environment in this country), and I dunno, it's just easier to follow the rules for me. I'm sure I annoyed the crap out of Steph and T at times, which I think is safe for me to assume, considering they flat-out told me I was annoying the crap out of them at times, but it's just the way I'm hardwired. My parents raised me up right, I suppose you could say.

Anyway, after a quick stop at the grocery store and some terrifying encounters with clockwise-turning roundabouts (everything is backwards when driving here!), we were out of Queenstown and snaking our way along the Southern Scenic Route.

Right away, and, spoiler alert, this is going to be a theme over the next few posts, we realized just how jaw-droppingly epic everything in this country is. Now let me explain: Epic is a word that is so grossly overused these days (“Oh, man, I had an epic sandwich yesterday!”) that it's nearly lost its meaning. But I mean it in the sense that everything here, all of the landscapes, are just so unbelievably massive that you cannot photograph them. They can't be captured. The size, the scale of things, there's just no way to measure it in any appreciable way. This is Planet Earth, front and centre, humbling you and making you realize just how small everything you've ever known truly is, and as that settles into your head, you can't help but feel a bit overwhelmed.

It was about ten minutes out of Queenstown when we pulled over at our first lookout and this feeling started to wash over us. It's a feeling that I still haven't been able to shake, and I don't know if I ever will.

Anyway, within a couple of hours, we found ourselves in Te Anau, last stop before Milford Sound (the 8th Wonder of the World, according to Rudyard Kipling). We booked our boat tour for the following day and embarked north, along Milford Road. Before long, we were flanked on all sides by giant mountains with snow-capped peaks, though we were still driving through windswept fields at the bottom of a valley.

Our first night, we pulled into a DOC site called Deer Flat, slightly off the road, with spectacular views of what was to come the following day. Our brains reeling with that excitement that comes at the beginning of any big trip, we filled our bellies with subpar cold cuts and hit the hay.

The next morning, this was the view that greeted us out the back of our campervan:

To be continued.