Interlude - Insanity

It is difficult to try to record the events of this trip while simultaneously making an effort not to post blogs that are too similar to Mephistos... then again, we were on the same trip, so with that in mind, I give you day three/four -- the adventure between adventures.

23.03.06 Early Morning.

Blackfoot wakes me up. My muscles are still sore from the previous two days. Since I left Nakano I have not allowed my body much rest. While the night before I still had a good 6 hours of sleep, it seemd strangely inadequate. I get out of bed and grab my things. I welcome the idea of a day of busses and ferrys. This day should be easy. I can catch up on sleep.

There is a problem though. As I pack my things, I am reminded of a glaring ommision from a backpack meant to accompany me on a three day hike: a sleeping bag. Our journey to Wellington requires a few transfers without even seconds to spare. We will not reach any major city until night, and by then stores will be closed. Hopefully we will run into a bit of luck otherwise the nights in Abel Tasman are going to be chilly ones.

We check out of our hostel. The girl behind the desk is little and blonde. Her name is Hailey. Blackfoot asks her where we could find camping gear. Her answer is the name of a small town that we never heard of and would never remember. Most importantly, its a small town that we will not have time to reach before our noon bus. Situation does not seem good until we get that miricle we were looking for. Hailey offers to meet us in Otoranga (which Blackfoot will call "Orangatang" for the remainder fo the trip) before our bus picks us up, and take us to a store to buy supplies. God I love this country and the people in it.

We hop in a small van that takes us from the hostel to Otoranga. The driver, Freddie, the self proclaimed "oldest living fossil in New Zealand" drove us there while sharing all maner of facts on the kiwi bird and rabbit shearing.

It is raining in Otoranga. Good, let the rain get its kicks in before we start hiking. Hailey picks us up and takes us to the store to gear up. Turns out its her day off AND she cancelled an appointment to do this. I love this country. We try to give her money for gas but she won't accept.

The bus rides down to Wellington were long, but not awful. The drivers made frequent rest stops which I could have done without. We reached Wellington a little after 8pm and had to kill time before the 3am ferry down to the South Island. The bus station is in the middle of nowhere between the city and the docks and it's raining. Big deal. Blackfoot and I don our Uniqlo raincoats (purchased as we were leaving Narita...in case) and walk towards the city.

Wellington is windy. That, plus rain and the fact that we hadn't eaten in a while, keeps us moving quickly, but with absolutely no idea about the city or where we are, an uneasy feeling sets in. I take out our lonely planet and try to look for a map that could tell us anything. As we trace the map grid, trying desperately to shield the pages from the rain and wind that had already started to tax the book, a young woman comes down the street smiling.

"You looking for somehting?" she asks? She does not speak with a Kiwi accent.
"Food" we reply. She chuckles. Unless you are flying, the ferry is the only way down to the South Island, and Wellington is the port city. If she spends a lot of time around here I'm positive she often runs into more than her share of travelers.

She is a Canadian working down in New Zealand. Nice girl, but seems like one of those high energy sort of people that you are happy to have leading you somewhere but will start to grind on your nerves as the night goes on. I never caught her name. She leads us to the city center and left us to handle ourselves. I'm not wearing a watch but its probably past ten. Still plenty of time to go. Problem is, where?

There are a number of Chinese restaurants. They look greasy, like the ones in New York. God I miss the Chinese food in New York. Could these be the same? Only one way to tell.

No. They don't have General Tso's Chicken. Unless a Chinese restaurant is familiar with the General, I am not interested.

There is a guy standing against the wall in the shadow of a convienience store smoking a cigarette. He is looking right at us and I realize that I saw him a few blocks back as well. Why is he looking at us?

Blackfoot senses it too and with a smile walks over to him.

"Hey dude, know where we can grab a bite?" She asks. While the situation did not seem to be kosher, something in my gut tells me that this guy is ok. His name is Max. He rattles off the names of a few bars and pubs and asks us if we would be interested in having a pint with him. Japan doesn't have many import beers and the ones they have are hella expensive. One of the bars he mentions is Irish. Blackfoot is on the same page as I am. We both crave the same drink we haven't tasted in far too long.

Guiness.

I always love when you are in a bar where the bartender knows how to properly pour a Guiness. The initial tip pour until the glass is slightly less than three-quarters full, then the waiting period when the drink settles and the head nearly shrinks away, then the final pour, a perpendicular blast from the tap that fills the balance of the glass with a tan froth and disturbs the blackness in the rest of the glass. If the bartender does it right, you get a perfect stout with proper head and a full body. Wrong in either direction and you are either drinking foam or Guiness juice.

The guy behind the bar knows what he is doing. First two rounds of Guinesses are on Max. I pick up the third. Max is a little crazy, but a good guy. He is from the UK and launches off into stories about how he ended up in New Zealand, helicoptors that follow him, and his various inventions. He buys the table a round of Jamesons.

Blackfoot and I realize that we still hadn't eaten. We go to a burger-king and get double bacon cheeseburger meals. We go to another bar and keep drinking until it is time to catch the ferry.

24.03.06 Somewhere in Between Dreams.

On the ferry we find a comfortable room on the upper deck. We take our sleeping bags and crash out. At 6am we arrive in Picton on the South Island.

Our journey is no where near to being over. Picton is on the eastern side of the south island, but we have to head west towards Nelson, so at 6am we hold out our thumbs to hitch a ride across the island.

It is not too long before an old SUV car pulls over. The driver is tall and his shoes are untied. I wonder for a second if he is too tall and cannot reach his laces. Jane hops in the back amidst tons of machine parts and equipment. I sit shotgun. The song "Go to Sleep lil Baby" from O Brother Where Art Thou? is playing. The man is hurried, he is on his way to work. He is a research scientist working on developing biodesiel as an alternative for fossil fuels. He drives us to an intersection near a convienence store and heads to work.

We wait longer this time for another driver. Another SUV pulls over, this one is also old. The driver is stocky with unruly white hair and a large nose. He clears aside some antique books and helps Jane put her bag in the car. I put mine in as well. He is running late for work and hurries us into his car. We are underway and he talks a lot which is fine because he is interesting. He is an archeologist studying the Maori. He tells us the story of an orange cat named "Fatty," his daughter who playes golf, and a toilet in Abel Tasman that engulfs you in orange sunlight as you are eliminating. Midway through a story a car cuts into the road and the Archeologist lets out a string of curses that would make Dice blush.

He drops us off on a road outside of Havelock (the green-shelled mussel capital of the world). We are halfway to Nelson. We wait for over two hours on the side of a road that is as busy as a sex shop near a church. For two hours we sit and wait. A car pulls up. No luck they are just pulling a U-turn and felt that pulling oveer next to tired hitchikers would be fine. Other cars pass pretending not to see us or give an apologetic nod.

The problem with our current location is that if we do not get picked up we are screwed. There is nothing for miles. We try not to lose faith but it is becoming harder not to. Another car pulls in. It is nice, we don't even bother getting up, it can't be for us. A young girl pokes her head out of the car.

"You guys need a ride or not?"

We get in the car. Her friend (or sister) is around the same age and sits shotgun. The trunk is small and can only fit Jane's bag. I put mine on my lap and we squeeze into the back seat. The passenger offers us beer and potato chips. I take stock of my situation. Two young girls pick up hitchikers and offer them beer and chips...and they say movies are not realistic.

It turns out the driver was a single mother. After about a half hour of driving, she pulls over. The car is overheating and she has to pour cold water over the engine. We sit for a while until the car cools off. She drives us the rest of the way to Nelson. We force her to take gas money




Nelson is a beautiful town. It reminds me of the Hamptons. We plan out our three days in Abel Tasman and get some falafel. I pick up a Maori pendent. It is a bone hook, a water sign that provides protection for travelers. We find our Hostel, and prepare food and supplies for our next three days in Abel Tasman.