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Published: April 12th 2010
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From the West Coast I headed up to the north coast to pick blueberries. They hung like grapes on the high bushes. Blueberries with every meal. In cereal, with honey, or as dessert. My favorite was grabbing a big handful for a break while in the field. We picked in the morning then sorted and packed in the afternoon to be sent off to farmers markets every other day. Upper Moutere was a picturesque area, a mountainous valley chock full of vineyards and orchards. Checked out New Zealand's oldest pub which was unfortunately recently done over and lost all of its old charm.
I then stayed for two weeks in Pohara near the northern terminus of the Abel Tasman National Park trail. My hosts Ro and Joanna were a couple in their 60s living quite well off of 3/4 of an acre. They can grow year round here and have a model of a garden with high yielding fruit and nut trees, bees, and the usual vegetables. Grains and dairy were bartered for from neighboring farms. We went swimming in the ocean every afternoon. The water was incredibly warm because the shallow bay is protected by the islands of Marlborough
Sounds on one side and the thin sand dune peninsula Farewell Spit nearly completes the circle on the other.
They started an alternative currency that can only be used in Golden Bay with a corresponding online directory of services or goods that people can offer or need. There is also a quarterly market at which only the local currency is used. Everyone starts at zero and must alternate between buying and selling to pass through zero as much as possible. The point is to increase local spending and local employment. As a result, Golden Bay is one of the most self-sufficient places I've ever seen.
Bob Christie's friend John Gilardi was giving a talk on seed saving at the quarterly market and I caught a ride up to his house in Collingwood, near Farwell Spit. John is a fellow tennis playing, artistic biologist so we had plenty to talk about. We did some releasing of native trees from invasives at the land trust he runs on the western side of the mountains and twice hoped to get in some surfing but the sea was too calm. One day (along with some volunteers) we planted 600 native trees along
a streamside that was originally cleared for pasture. Farmers are starting to realize the importance of keeping cattle away from streams to protect the quality of their water. Runnoff containing E. coli and other cattle diseases are cleaned up by the trees. They also provide shade to help the fish populations come back as well as habitat/food for native birds. The organization that John heads up grows the trees from seed in a nursury by the school and is struggling to keep up with farmers' requests.
Saving seeds of heirloom varieties of vegetables has become a rare activity because fewer people are growing food for themselves. The problem is that vegetables grown commercially are selected for durabilty and transportability rather than taste or nutritional value. Many of the centuries-old varieties have been lost. There's not too much to it (drying the the seeds and storing them) and I'm hopefully going to start some of John's heirlooms back in Maine.
I really liked the sense of community in Golden Bay. John was always dropping off extra vegetables to the neighbors and it seemed that everytime we returned to the house their seemed to be some goats' cheese, mussels, or
bread waiting on the doorstep. Everyone waves when driving and people often drop whatever they're doing to catch up.
Travel around New Zealand has been a breeze. Especially compared to the countless buses and ferries needed to see patagonia. I don't know if this would work anywhere else in the world but it seemed that whether wwoofing or staying at a hostel, you always end up meeting someone going in the same direction who offers a ride. A nice example is Sophie, who I met at the quarterly market, gave me a ride from John's to the Banks Peninsula where we stayed at her aunt Tess's bach for a few days. The Banks Peninsula is a volcanic crater furrowed with inlets and harbors. The main town, Akaroa, was settled by the French and has retained its French feel. We then headed back to Christchurch, where I'll spend my final week in New Zealand exploring the old, stone city center on a friend's scooter.
New Zealand has been much more relaxing time than Chile. Obviously, talking with local people here has been much easier due to my lack of spanish. However, Chile was much more of an adventure and
a wilder place in many ways. I'm looking foward to getting back to Maine though and I know it's cliche but after traveling for so long I've discovered that my own home isn't such a bad place.
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