Thumb up, no deer down

I’ve been up to a lot since my last post.

I hitchhiked around S.I. (South Island). From Queenstown to Dunedin, Dunedin to Christchurch, Chch to Kaikoura and Kaikoura to Picton. Or that was the plan. Everything mostly went according to plan.

I got 10 different rides. Only one was from a woman. She said it was the first time she’d picked up a hitchhiker, but since I was alone and a girl she thought I can’t be too dangerous. And she had a little white dog to protect her. The only other woman I shared a car with was a French girl, who was travelling with her boyfriend. About half of my rides were from fellow tourists. None were from maori. Only one ride was unpleasant, the one from the Frenchies, and that was because they smoked in the van.

I was heading for Picton, because that was where I had to meet up with other volunteers for DOC (Department of Conservation, not Conversation). Two years ago DOC acquired a large piece of farm land on d'Urville Island. The piece is now being converted to a nature reserve, and we were to help with the conversion.

However, my last ride to Picton didn't happen. From Kaikoura, I got a ride from a Kiwi, who offered me a bed in Blenheim and a 26 km ride to Picton in the morning. I accepted.

The volunteer week was more like two days. It took us all of Monday to devise a shopping list, do the shopping, load up with tools, turn back to get the project leader's rifle, drive to French pass, cross the choppy strait and drive across half the island. Then on Tuesday morning we were free to explore the surroundings while the truck was away - getting the mail for the two volunteers who live at the old farm stead full-time. In the afternoon and all of Wednesday we spent constructing wind breakers for the camp site. We used deer gates, green shade cloth and old deer fence. On Thursday we explored, it was the best day. The DOC project leader went deer hunting three times, but we didn't get any venison. He did see two deer though, but couldn't get close enough to shoot. On Friday we had to face the long drive back to Picton...

Now I’m back in Blenheim, the place with the most sunshine hours in New Zealand (it’s pouring down), job hunting. To say that it’s looking a bit thin is an understatement.

My host took me to see his granddaughters. They are 5 and 7, adorable, and so tiring. They absolutely adore pink. The older one wants to be a singer or a dancer or a fashion designer or a model. One evening she wanted to play fashion show for hours. She knew how to look sexy much better than I could. She’d glance at me from under her eyelashes and pout and play with her hair and stick her hips out. Dreadful. Then she gave me a small statue of Tinkerbell that she’d painted herself and a little note saying “Keep it”. I was speechless.

I’ve been passing my mornings at the Riding for the Disabled. It’s very interesting, and I get to be with horses. No, they don’t have a job for me, they rely on volunteers.

I’ve been all over the place: supermarkets, shops, hostels, even the theatre. No luck. If I don’t find something soon, I will move on.

Singing in the rain, sweating in the sun

I went tramping on the Routeburn track. I can understand why they call it a great walk: there was such diversity on the track!

I've never left in such a hurry. When I went to the DOC Visitor Centre on Thursday morning, they told me the best weather would be that day and the next, and that there was a bus leaving in 1.5 hours. I left in a hurry, but still managed to pack everything I needed, including matches which a surprising number of people didn't have, and nothing extra, including togs (Kiwi for swimming gear) which I got to use in alpine Lake MacKenzie. How refreshing! When I emerged from the first 8-second dip, I felt warm. After the second dip I thought my chest was freezing, let alone my wet hair.

[Notice the colour coding - completely unintentional!]
This is me and my Canadian tramping buddy (met on the bus) on Conical Hill. The slope was partly frozen and getting up and down was careful work. But we were rewarded with 360 degree views of the surrounding snowcapped mountains - and a glimpse of the West Coast! We had the perfect day for this, a completely cloudless sky.

To my great disappointment we didn't see a kea in this alpine section. I would have wanted to see the world's only alpine parrot.

On this section of the track I was half expecting Treebeard to stride through the trees. Or the trees to start talking about the consistency of squirrel droppings. And then I thought maybe Rölli would come skipping along the track. My favourite part. The guide at the hut that night told us that this is a 'cloud forest'; that's why the moss grows so well. It can take moisture straight from the air.

Then we went to Milford Sound. It rained. It was brilliant. The boat sailed straight into a white mist. The cliffs of the fiord were alive with waterfalls. For most of the time I stood outside with an Englishman I'd met on the bus (oh, did I tell you that I also travelled for a while with a German guy I met on a bus? :D), admiring the wetness. My camera still works, well done Canon!
We sailed into spray off a giant waterfall and all the Japanese girls screamed and got thoroughly soaked. I closed my eyes but opened my mouth for a drink and although I came through dripping, I was dry inside. Halti is the best :)

We also saw young New Zealand fur seals, lazily enjoying the attention on Seal Rock. How cute! Almost as cute as kiwis.

The two species of possums and one cave woman

It's been long. Too long. I've been travelling for two weeks. Two very fun weeks. I won't tell you everything, it would take me way too long. I'm going to keep travelling for another two weeks or so, then volunteer for DOC (Department of Conservation) and then get a new job.

The West Coast (of the South Island) was amazing. Very lush and green, rainforests grow next door to glaciers. But, I found, the glaciers were just glaciers. Similar to those in Iceland: the ice is all broken up with cracks and crevasses and dirtied by soil and rocks, not smooth and gleaming blue like in children's stories. And there is no magic to using cramp-ons.

The West Coasters deserve a chapter for themselves. There was Peter, the Bushman, who set up the Bushman Centre with his son in Pukekura. The population of Pukekura is three, and all of them either work in the Bushman Centre, or own it. In the Bushman Centre you can view the less frequently sighted species of possums: the round one. The flat variety can be admired by tourists in abundance.

Then there was Steve, the knife-maker in Barrytown. His wife is the knife-seller; she sells all the models Steve makes for the tourists who come to make their own. Apparently the Lonely Planet says that he tells the worst jokes in the world. The Lonely Planet doesn't mention anybody else's jokes.

Then here's what other kiwis think of the West Coasters: Our last night in Marahau near Abel Tasman was our guide's last night on the tour (The Wild West, by Flying Kiwi). We were going to dine together in the Park Cafe, and she wanted us to dress up, either in 80's style or in no clothes. That doesn't mean naked (she's Canadian, after all), but in something that isn't a piece of clothing. I think the winner of the night was the Dutch guy who turned up in his backpack! So, the guide herself wrapped herself in a brown, furry blanket and painted brown streaks on her cheeks. The waitress in the restaurant asked her where she was from. She urged her to take a guess. "The West Coast?"

In all my travels, I'm getting sick of two things: one is people telling me I have a British accent. Yes, I know! Everybody says the same! Don't you think I've been told that before?

Maybe I'm being unfair, seeing as I've worked on my accent deliberately and would be disappointed if I didn't have a British accent.

The other thing is having to repeat my name at least three times or spell it out every time I meet someone new.

I'm being unfair again. I like my name because it's so unusual. But it's not "long and horrible and complicated", as the woman in the Cromwell i-site put it. For god's sake, it's only five letters long! And it's not horrible, it's unusual. Complicated, well that it appears to be. More complicated than I ever thought. Even when I've used the abbreviation Ot, people go, "What?" So I've given up on that one.

Oh, did I mention that my beloved sister has got me to almost empty my bank account? We've been rafting (so much fun, I told you already), canyoning (wet and cold, but once you've jumped off an 8-metre cliff, you're bound to be pleased with yourself), tramping (Abel Tasman coastal track was gorgeous, we walked 30k's...), sky diving (woohoo!), and best of all, flying an acrobatic plane. Words simply can't describe it, but it left me, um, speechless, with shining eyes. They're still shining, even though my sister's gone back to Auckland to fly out in two days' time... I'll miss you, Aura!