Man Tramp: The birth of a dream


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November 14th 2012
Published: November 14th 2012
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For an adventurer such as myself, travel is everything. I have a deep love for the road in all its forms, but also one that sometimes holds some small trepidation and fear. For the life of an adventurer can be, at times, one of loneliness, an old companion that I know well. One of the costs of freedom, and one that rises and falls from day to day, but one that I pay gladly. Well, most of the time. But more on that later...



Ka ka happens little buddy, ka ka happens...

There is something about hanging out the side of a train that we just can't get in New Zealand anymore, with all our safety laws and bubble wrap. Its hard enough just trying to find a decent slide at a playground. Moving from place to place watching the world role by with the wind in your hair, the blast of another train passing just a couple of feet away.
Even the small droplets of moisture hitting my face, which I suspect are aerated urine from a carriage ahead, can not dampen my mood right now. Sometimes you've just gotta smile and roll with it.

One of my favorite traveling memories is from Bangladesh. I was out walking with a friend I had made and I bought a bag of peanuts for us to share. After a while I mentioned that they had a slightly unusual but pleasant taste. Slighlty vinegary.
"Oh yes, the little boys, they pee on them to wash them.."
I stopped with one halfway to my mouth, the thought "Well, we've eaten half the bag already" and we finished them off. Sometimes you've just gotta take the bad with the good, and if its not so bad, just try and ignore it. Ka ka happens little buddy, ka ka happens. And with a 24 hour train ride to come in the next few days I felt it important to ignore a little aerial wee. A four seater cabin is a small place to get caught up in unpleasantires with so much time on ones hands to think about them.

Another example is the beating Isaac and I recieved in Varanasi.
"Hello sir, your beard?" No thank you, I was quite attached to it and it was almost long enough to start straining soup and catching driftwood.
"Your hand, can I see?"
Before I knew it his hands were working their way up my arm and attacking, quite literally, the knots in my shoulders. By the time I realised what I had gotten into I was laid out flat on a couple of boardsand he was pummeling my back and then my ribs in an attempt at some sort of massage I think. Not entirely unpleasant though; I came away feeling a little less tense, if quite sore both in body and in pocket. These fellas charge a mean price to do you over.
But this is all part of the experience, part of the journey. You have to give in and let go a bit sometimes. What would be the point if we flashed through and all I had to say was "we visited Varanasi. The ghats were interesting. The river smells."
And to be honest it was worth it just to see the look on Isaacs face as he got beaten next to me. He didn't escape this one either.

Man Tramp: Are you sure we packed enough tea?

So my love of travelling just for the sake of travelling and experiencing all that it entails leads partly to Man Tramp. At first a bit of a joke and a dream over a beer, but now something far more substantial and sacred.
Its Beggining lies in a tramp I did with my sister and dad to Lake Angelus in Nelson Lakes National Park on boxing day 2011.Just an overnight up the hill to the hut and back again. However I never antcipated the freedom and beauty I would find up there by that freezing lake, and even had a small mountain-top experience (in both senses). It is absolutly breathtaking and amazing and one of the few places in my life I have managed to accurately capyure within the confines of a photograph. And it awoke in me a desire to be a part of this wilderness far more.
I had already grown well and truly tired of working in the city, and was coming to especially despise the security industry I worked in, partly as a symbol of western paranoia and fear. Yes, I was done with working for the city, it'd made a rat outta me. The money was good, but in my current state of mind it was simply fueling ad lifestyle that was somewhat detrimental to the adventurer in me, and definately not growing me as a person.

Now I'd found where I longed to be, wether in conservation; one of the keepers of Gods garden, or adventure tourism; leading others through the beauty of His wilderness.

And so, over a beer, Isaac and I settled on tramping from Makara to Owhiro Bay on the south coast of Wellington. Something I'd meant to do for a long, long time. We jokingly dubbed it Man Tramp: this was no ordinary expedition, this was far more manly than that. Nothing in the way of maps(not that we really needed them - just keep the sea on your right), only a vauge idea of the terrain and access to water, about 50 tea bags and the promises of a utopia of green grass and lush bush called Cable Bay (this sadly turned out to be a barren, industriallised eyesore and we decided not to camp there). I even had hopes of spying a mythical beast, as this desolate stretch seemed 'just the place for a Snark.'
Although not that difficult as far as hikes go, it turned out to be one of the best weekends I've had in a long time. Traipsing from bay to bay, always wondering what will be around the next head. Climbing the hills when we found the way made impassable by high tides and cliffs plunging into the sea. Boiling a pot of filthy, goaty water that was all we could collect from a trickle running out of a hill. Wondering, a little apprehensivly, what was killing all the goats. Pigs? Or the Snark? Or perhaps Chipocabra? And a night in our most enjoyable find of the trip, Cave hut, with its 'Northly' and 'Southly' fires. Make sure you light the correct one for the direction of the wind...
Pure, boyzone adventure.

And after returning we quickly found it wasn't enough. We craved more discovery, more desolate bays, more of the beauty of our land.
So more plans were laid. How about Makara to Porrirua? Hmm, one day. Alright, Eastbourne to Castle Point? A good two weeks or so. Infact, blow the small stuff, lets circumnavigate the North Island by coast, I don't think anyones done that.

And so Man Tramp was born, matured and is now a lifetime goal. The amount of crappy food, dodgy water and bad sleep ahead, I can't wait! And still with my mistress, the road, in one of her many forms.

But for now a different road awaits, one in a far off land of elephants and spices. I have to ride this one out first, even though I find I am struggling with India in a way I hadn't anticipated.

Also, I think my stomach has finally settled. Its nice to be farting with confidence again.

Chase your dreams
Traveller, out.

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18th November 2012

Ah yes grasshopper
Grasshopper - you write well of your travels you do :) (OK so that is a bad mixture of sage and yoda). I think there is definitely a book in this Man Tramp, and I'd be happy to be your mentor along the way. For every journey there is the delicious anticipation of the next... Keep writing. Keep feeling. Keep finding. Aroha Adventure Aunty

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