So whatever happened to those two bulls?

---

And the story continues.

Thursday, April 2: We drove from Wanaka to Haast had a simple dinner at a restaurant close to the holiday park. We did a short hike into the rainforests, and learnt a little more about the local land. There was an interesting story of a man who had been marrooned on the west coast in the Haast region, and survived on the land for three years until he was discovered by a passing vessel. We wondered how difficult that would have been. The area we were in was very thick, subtropical rainforest. It musn't have been much fun for the guy. There were a few nice sounding birds chirping amongst the leaves and branches, and we took some pictures. Eventually we headed back to the area we were staying and walked to the closest (and only) restaurant, and had a hearty meal and a game of pool. The walk back to the holiday park was cool, but there were no clouds. We naturally looked at the constellations, and again noticed the southern cross. You can only see this from the southern hemisphere, a fact that Dad has pointed out a few times. Also, from our perspective, Orion is standing on his head. I’d say that’s a pretty talented constellation...

Friday, April 3: Friday took us from Haast to Franz Joseph. We experienced the Fox and Franz Joseph Glaciers, and did a hike on a mirrored lake fabled to be a great view of Mount Cook. At the Fox glacier, we reached the end of the recommended walk, and, the young bull suggested that we take a closer look and touch the glacier. The old bull looked over disconcertingly, as a couple over his shoulder remarked that a pair of teenagers had the same idea and paid for it with their lives. They climbed into some caverns in the glacier. Unfortunately for them, it shifted when they were exploring and crushed them underneath the weight of the falling ice, all happening as their parents were watching from behind the fencing. It must have been horrible for them. The young bull conceded and agreed it was a bad idea to go any closer without a trained guide. Later on in the adventure the young bull thought he’d get to a guided tour of the glacier with a guide when Northy arrives. We took lots of photos and turned back, and left for Franz Joseph. We thought this glacier was more impressive, but both were really spectacular. The pictures really don’t do them justice, and my words don’t either. They’re barely believable seeing them in person. This walk was significantly longer, and we had to walk along a glacial river which was running through the valley the glacier created. There were a few waterfalls along the cliffs the glacier created, and there was a family standing underneath it taking pictures of each other. Dad the geologist marvelled at the different rocks that lined the glacial bed. He picked up a really soft piece of rock and started to tear at it with a harder rock, making what looked like aboriginal cutting tools or spear tips. I wondered what I had done wrong... We ogled at the glacier for a while, talked about how amazing it was still not believing we were standing there, then made a hasty return to the car as the temperature dropped. We then did a loop on a scenic walk around a Lake where the view to Mount Cook was unobstructed. Unfortunately when we were there the peak was covered with clouds, but it was a nice walk regardless. We sat and left Andy a message at the turn around point, and found a vine hanging over the path, that seemed better suited for Tarzan than us. We swung on it with reckless abandon, and Dad made some sort of throaty mating call as he swung on it. Thankfully no animals came to investigate. We did see a few Tui birds on our way out, though. We retired in Franz Joseph for the night, at the hostel where we met the only two native Kiwis travelling their own country we came across to that point. They were playing golf across the country and were heading north to Greymouth the next day. Dad wasn't feeling great, but we headed out for a pint and watched some more league rugby, and hit the sack early. You can't keep a good man down for long.

Saturday, April 4: We drove through Hokitika, and Jade or Greenstone is the main attraction. It and the surrounding area is where most of the country’s jade originates. The weather was horrible when we were there, but we visited one of the many stores that specialized in jade goods. In the back, the workshop where the stone is cut was open, and had lots of interesting information on the rock, how it had been collected, and some pictures of the biggest deposits found. Some pieces that were made by local artists were really nice, and priced accordingly. We saw a few items selling for $25,000 and one for $70,000. Mostly, though, people coming through buy little necklaces which range in price, and you can find a lot for under $100. We enjoyed a coffee and meat pie, both which were delicious, and went on our way. We made an unexpected stop in Shantytown on the way to Greymouth. It was a recreated Kiwi gold mining town of the 19th century. I loved it. Dad loved it. For a few brief hours we left the 21st century. We did everything you could there; first thing we saw was the steam train pull into the station. Nate, you would have LOVED the train. Little Malcolm would have thought it was pretty cool too. We enjoyed a trip on the train, and Dad was taken back to his childhood when he smelled the familiar smell of the steam engine. We were dropped off at the saw mill, and read about the men who would have worked there and their families. Apparently the working conditions weren’t so safe back then. Earmuffs warning here for anyone who might be squeamish. One story recalled the death of one worker, who because of a failed connection on a metal wire, had his head crushed between two massive logs. The workers around him described that his body immediately stood up, almost like it was not aware of what had just happened, then suddenly dropped dead to the ground. After reading about other horrible accidents and inspecting the huge circular saw for any possible defects, Dad and I made our way towards the Gold panning troughs. We tried our luck after getting a short lesson from an experienced guide, and we ended up with our little treasure; a few flakes of gold. Dad suspecting our samples had been dusted by the staff there. I had to disagree, and believed it was our lucky day. We celebrated at Rosie’s house of Ill Repute down the laneway. Of course she had been out of business for many years, but we had a gander anyways, just in case... We made stops at the old hospital, saloon, jail, and fire station, and soon bid adieu to Shantytown. We spent the night spent in Greymouth, a one horse town. We enjoyed a tasty supper at Jones's café as we crashed a 60th birthday party, who were the only other guests there. Dad wasn't feeling his usual self, as he was still battling the cold I had so nicely given to him. That evening we slept at The Duke Backpackers.
Sunday, April 5: We drove from Greymouth to Nelson hoping for a more exciting day. We visited the I-Site in Nelson and figured we would spend the day there, instead of going straight through to Picton. The young bull browsed pamphlets with all sorts of interesting activities on them, then checked into a hostel called Accents. It was a very nice place, probably the best we had stayed at. We took a wander around town at night, and the streets were calm. We retired early to the hostel, and as Dad went to the room to catch up with some reading and emails I headed down to the restaurant / bar area where they were set to play the movie Stepbrothers. It’s just a ridiculous movie, but somehow it was a lot funnier the second time around. Dad would have hated it. He prefers laughing at Manuel’s antics on Faulty Towers more than he would laugh at Will Ferrell farting during a job interview. Mom would have liked it, though! Dad thought Nelson would be nice place during the Canadian winters he dreads. The city is big enough to have some life, it’s on the sea, and he knows where a few fish and chips shops are. We didn't get as far as looking at real estate prices, but Dad has marked his map as a good candidate for a return trip.

Monday, April 6: Most of the day was spent in Nelson, and the natural choice was to spend it at the beach. The weather was brilliant. We got our shorts and sandals on for the first time in a while, since the weather in the South was much cooler. We took off our sandals and dipped our toes in the sea. We searched for hermit crabs that were stealing others shells and hiding from the birds searching for them. These birds had long beaks designed to pick their prey out of their shells. Poor little guys didn’t have much chance. After inhaling yet another serving of fish and chips along the beach, we went on to Cable Bay. From there was one of the best views I’ve seen. The water was an amazing blue and the coastline was rugged and rocky. I’ll let the pictures tell you more. Dad and I hiked out towards the tip of the peninsula, and I ran into a few mountain goats climbing a very steep part of the cliff side. We spent the night in Picton, and stayed in a previous haunt of mine called The Villa. It would have been appreciated by the Alonzos of Collingwood who share very similar styles of decor. I felt like if I walked out the front door it would only be a ten minute ride to Blue Mountain! They had a nice courtyard where Dad and I sat in front of an outdoor wood stove and swapped some stories. Dad and I sat in front of the fire, and sampled some of the apple crumble and ice cream they serve every night over their winter season. It wasn’t as good as Dad’s classic Rhubarb crumble served hot out of the oven at 9 Donlea. But it came pretty damn close.

Tuesday, April 7: We had an early morning to catch the 8am Ferry. We had a small breakfast and some tea and drove to the Ferry loading area. The washrooms at the loading dock were unfortunately right in front of all the parked cars, so you had an audience of a few hundred people waiting with nothing better to do but to watch you. It reminded me of a Just For Laughs Gag. The scenario was the same, but took place at a port-o-potty in the street. The crowd cheered loudly as the person left the port-o-potty. I hope no one had performance anxiety... We drove up to the second level on the boat, parked our car and got settled in the sitting area. I got stuck in my next book which I had bought in Wanaka at a small book exchange. It was called Birdsong, and I was addicted. The entire Ferry trip was spent buried in that book. Dad snoozed, sat, people watched, took to the stern of the boat to enjoy the ocean, but was blown back by the gale forced winds. I couldn't be bothered. And thankfully, unlike the last time I took the trip, the water was very calm. We arrived in Windy Welly, after a smooth three hour trip. We sat down at a café and ordered some brunch. We visited the Museum of New Zealand, Te Papa Tongarewa, and it was well worth a look. We took our time and enjoyed the exhibits. The Maori history and culture was especially interesting. We paid for two virtual reality moving rides, and learnt about some underwater volcanoes off the east coast of NZ. The Museum also boasts the only Giant Squid on display anywhere in the world. Dad was blown away by the squids fully rotating spurs on its tentacles used to capture its prey. This dangerous looking squid also had a beak used to chomp at it's lunch... It's eyeballs were the size of soccer balls and the squid weighed over 450 kilos. It's a pretty incredible animal. It made me second guess doing any scuba diving in open ocean, even though I would come no where close to the depth where this guy hangs out. Just sharing the same body of water freaks me out a little bit. We also went into another interesting exhibit hall that featured old memorabilia strewn across the room. On the screen ahead of us, a video from behind a storefront window displayed a busy downtown street front. Suddenly a store keeper appeared on the screen, and closed the shop window. We realized we were locked in after closing. Uh oh... We sat in old chairs and couches as the lights dimmed. The memorabilia that was between us and the screen were in darkness, but when the time was right, some would light up and move as images from New Zealand's history flashed on the screen. Images and videos of wartime was accompanied by two machine gun turrets that popped out of a wooden chest in front of us. The barrels lit up orange as a machine gun fire sounded. I don’t think Nate would have liked that. As images of people and old movies played of summertime past times flickered on the screen, an old photo album lit up and flipped open. And when images of the royal visit from the Queen leaving on a steam engine came on screen, a toy train hurtled across the floor, tooting its horn. Nate and Malcolm would have liked that one. It was an excellent show. Again, Dad noticed a few paraphenilia from his childhood. Don't mock the afflicted, he’d remind me. The young bull giggled anyways, but always sincerely enjoyed the old bull’s personal stories behind the items. Someday the young bull will mature to tell stories about the Nintendo set in a museum to his young’en. He’ll probably be laughed at too. There were also some information on the devastating earthquake in Napier in 1931. Dad was a little uneasy looking at the devastation and where the fault lines exist in New Zealand. There are 30,000 quakes varying in magnitude every year in New Zealand. We actually read in the papers about one that was recorded just outside Twizel, near the Mount Cook area a few days after we had been in the area, that was at least a 4 on the Richter Scale.. Since the last big quake the New Zealand government has made earthquake proofing buildings a bigger priority to make the cities less vulnerable to damage. The Museum itself sat on struts that lessened the effect of a quake. We learnt about the natural side of New Zealand, native species of land and sea animals, as well as introduced species. I've seen them before at the museum in Christchurch, but the now extinct Moa bird wasn't exactly a graceful looking animal. We read about their focus on Agriculture as a nation. Throughout our trip it's been pretty evident how important it is to their economy, even though according to our bus driver to Milford Sound said that tourism now generates the most jobs in NZ. The museum generated quite a thirst for both Dad and I, so we jogged over to the local Irish pub and ordered a few beers. Did they ever go down well. We enjoyed ourselves at that Irish Pub for a good while. We met a few Brits who were great to chat to. They were from Wales, another from Nottingham, England, and the last was from Ireland, but had all met in Wellington while living and working in New Zealand. We enjoyed some British sarcasm, some colourful language and some folk music that was playing. After too many pints and a few piddles in between, we gathered most of our stuff and headed home, a nearby hotel, for a rest. We would feel worse for ware the next morning.

Wednesday, April 8: We woke up with headaches and a wicked thirst. We left the hotel to return to the pub and retrieve my jacket I left behind. Luckily they still had it. I thought 26 was too young to be losing your short term memory. I thought 26 was too young to be losing your short term memory. It was a really nice day, and we felt bad wasting some of it driving, but it needed to be done. We had places to be, and were headed towards Napier. It was only a four hour drive, but it felt double that. We had a quick bite at gas station along highway two. Halfway through we needed a snooze at a picnic area. We called gran and grandad to say our hellos. Dad started to drive and mistook the wipers for the signal lights only a few times, went around some roundabouts, and eventually arrived safely at Wally's Hostel. As we learnt at the museum, Napier was leveled by an earthquake in 1931 and was restored in Art Deco style. There were memorials around town, especially along the waterfront, honouring those who served in the armed forces, and honoured the lives lost because of the earthquake. The War memorial had been destroyed during the quake and resurrected some years later. We wandered around town looking for something to keep us out of trouble, and found an interesting fish and chips shop. We couldn’t resist it. We walked through the door I felt like I stepped over a few decades and landed in 1955. The walls were faded lime green and yellow; the light fixtures were all cone shaped and harshly lit. We sat down at a linoleum covered particle board table that sat four. There was salt, pepper and malt vinegar sitting on the table against the wall, and the brown plastic covered seats were surprisingly comfortable. There were a few other patrons enjoying their meal quietly, but the place was far from being full. After a few moments the owner noticed we had sat down and came over to offer us a simple menu. We ordered the fish special.If you haven’t caught on by now, we’ve had more than our fair share of fish and chips on this trip. Dad's even mentioned under his breath, that the fish and chips he's had in New Zealand are better than those he’s had in Scotland. He's asked me not to tell anyone in our family who have Scottish ties. I haven't up until this point, but perhaps a little controversy is good every once in a while! Let the discussion begin! The meal came quickly and we enjoyed it with a cup of tea each. The no-frills meal was a nice end to our evening. We stepped back into 2009 and retired to our room. We spent the rest of the night quietly. We anticipated a big night in Auckland in a few nights and needed our rest.

Thursday, April 9: Drive took us from Napier to Rotorua. We had a late start in the morning. We weren’t too fond of Wally’s place in Napier, although the town itself was very nice. We stopped in the morning to have a light breakfast at a busy café before we took off towards Rotarua. Eventually we were on our way towards our next nights stay via Lake Taupo. The traffic on our way was more congested than usual. On some parts of our journey we would be the only car on the road for half an hour at a time, in either direction. On this section there were almost too many cars, some of which decided to pass dangerously. There are passing lanes here, but for some sections they come too rarely for some drivers. Passing sometimes means driving into oncoming traffic. Most people are sensible and do it on straight sections, but we’ve seen people do it on corners and before dips in the road. Some drivers have been very lucky, fearless, stupid, or all of the above. Mind you, every few kilometers there are makeshift memories on the side of the road for casualties of the roads here, so not everyone is so lucky. It’s a pretty sober reminder to keep your eye on the road and your mind on driving. I can see why they’re strict on drink driving here. I couldn’t drive these roads comfortably if I was even a little bit tired or drowsy. And thankfully, Dad and I have avoided driving at night. Some of these roads hang precariously off the edge of mountains and steep hills, and if you miss your turn you’re toast. We stopped in Taupo along the way to check out the largest fresh water lake in New Zealand. It was a breezy when we arrived, and we walked into town a little bit and bought some apples for the ride. On the way back to the car we noticed there were people on mats hitting balls into the lake, towards a floating platform. There were three holes on it, each with different sized holes. The objective was to hit it in one of those holes for a prize, the largest of the prizes (corresponding to the smallest hole) was $5000. I dropped $15 for eighteen chances at a hole in one. Surprisingly I hit the pontoon quite a few times (only because dad was my caddy and gave me some great tips). I wasn’t lucky enough to hit any of the holes. It was a good break from the driving for a bit. We had a laugh and we hit the road, towards Rotorua. Rotarua stinks, and I mean it. Sulphur fumes are literally leaking from the ground here. It’s also New Zealand’s most frequented city by tourists. I had never considered visiting it on my own, but Dad insisted on coming. I’m glad we did. When we arrived we wanted to pick up some bread at the Pack n’ Save, but it was packed with Easter weekend shoppers. We could barely find a parking spot, and decided the bread wasn’t worth the wait. There’s a law in New Zealand that businesses cannot conduct their business on Good Friday. It’s a law that’s being disputed in Parliament, and that is ignored by some business owners. Funny law, I think. We found ourselves at a decent hostel, gathered ourselves and then headed out for another Indian dinner. We stuffed ourselves stupid again, not learning from our earlier experience, and enjoyed every second of it.

Friday, April 10: Friday’s a Rugby Day!!! But before we started off for Auckland, we went to Te Paiu, where we watched the ground spit hot water at us, and watched as mud boiled. It was a strange scene. You never really expect to see things like that. We also enjoyed a Maori performance, and it was really great. A Maori warrior first greeted us by running up towards us with his tongue out and his eyes wide open, and placing a little leaf on the ground as a sign of peace. I was relieved... There was a poi performance by the ladies, and a haka was done by the men. People were invited to try the haka and the poi balls, but it wasn't nearly as graceful and intimidating as when the Maori did it. It was a good laugh. Dad wanted me to go up and try the haka, but I didn't want to embarrass anyone, especially myself. It was a good laugh. When we arrived in Auckland we checked into our hostel near Eden Park. The plan was to meet Alex and Aaron from the Toronto Nomads. We drove in from Rotorua We approached the stadium along Valley Road from our hostel. It was a convenient fifteen minute downhill walk there, but was a more challenging half hour, uphill return wobble. As we got closer to the stadium the crowd got denser, we found ourselves in the middle of a gaggle of Kiwi rugby fans. As we shuffled our way to the ticket booth to pick up our tickets, the Auckland Blues cheerleaders were walking by; I momentarily lost my focus and tripped over a curb. I blame the uneven sidewalk. They would greet us throughout the game with a dance or two to keep me distracted from the rugby for only a few moments. When we got through the gate we met Alex who led us into a members only area where we caught up and enjoyed a few bevvies. Aaron was there along with his son and his wife, whom he had met and married while in Toronto. They now live in Napier, an area where we had been and enjoyed. Aaron had coached me for a season or two when I first joined the Nomads. Alex was also a coach, and while in Toronto hooked me up with some casual summer work in construction that I was barely qualified for. Regardless, I had nothing but fond memories on the team and on the job site, so it was good to see them. Alex had been in the same trade since returning to New Zealand. He also has a new addition to the family; a baby girl.

We finished our drinks and headed to our seats to watch the game.

Both Dad and I were anticipating watching this game for most of our trip, and planned our itinerary accordingly. Neither of us had really watched a rugby game of this caliber live, so it was exciting to be there. Rugby is to New Zealand as hockey is to Canada, or say American Football is to the United States. Perhaps even, how the game Forty Winks is to Dad... Opposite us, across the field new stands were being constructed at Eden Park. Presumably it was in preparation for the Rugby World Cup in 2011. Both Dad and I have discussed the possibilities of coming back in 2011 to check the progress on the stadium. Having the World Cup here is only natural. Of the many rugby pitches we passed, every single one was groomed perfectly, with at least three inches of soft, level grass. They all featured newly painted, and properly measured markings; both features together a rarity on most pitches in Canada. The pitch at Eden Park was so perfect I thought it was artificial turf at first glance, then noticed the tufts of grass that flipped up from the scrums and mauls as they formed. The entire nation is rugby mad, and follow the game religiously. It’s all over the nightly evening news, and the players are revered. The game was dominated from the start by the Blues, whose opponents were the Lions from South Africa (Super 14 teams come from NZ, Australia, and South Africa). The skills these guys have are really unbelievable. The set plays were almost flawless, although there were a few knock-ons and sloppy play at the beginning of the game. The play was almost always continuous, and there were some barely believable individual efforts. The action was so fast at the back of the rucks and mauls that sometimes a prop would be dishing the ball out to the backs to keep the momentum, and he passed the ball with finesse and accuracy. Other plays that stood out were Joe Rokoko’s (sp?) unstoppable and powerful runs down the sideline, one which ended in a try, and a replacement fullback on the Lions successful chip kick to himself over a solid line of Blues, which also resulted in a try. The conversion kicks were almost always on point, missing by a few feet if they missed at all. It was nice to watch, and I appreciated what great rugby looked like. I’m sure watching this long enough would innately make you a better player, although fitness is probably the biggest thing (something that I didn’t always take seriously during my playing days with the Nomads and at Uni). These guys are all big, fit, and fast. It’s a scary combination.

The night ended in a bar halfway between the stadium and our hostel. It was an upper scale bar where the decor was sophisticated. Dad mentioned that he’d never believed that I would have friends who would frequent that type of establishment. I let that comment slide seeing as he has been my financier for the last month. Only that once, though. 😊

The night progressed, and we got into the drink and the chatter. Alex further impressed Dad by introducing a bottle of Cabernet Souvignon, 2005 vintage from Church Road Vineyard. Alex was apparently an avid wine connoisseur. He and Alex happily finished the bottle with little help from Aaron and I. While they enjoyed the wine, Aaron mentioned that he thought I had a similar playing style to a member of a Super 14 team, who’s game was being broadcast in the bar. I’m entirely positive it was the beer and the wine speaking on his behalf. I wanted to assure him that I had no playing ‘style’ whatsoever. I simply tried to do what I was told, and to avoid embarrassment. One of these days I’ll give myself some more credit, but really this is much more fun... Regardless, watching all of that rugby made me want to play again. I haven’t played since leaving Uni, and I do miss it. First I would have to get into rugby shape, though, and that will be a challenge... Aaron mentioned that the club in Napier is always looking for players and that Northy and I should look into playing if we end up in the area. It is a major wine and apple orchard region, and we wouldn’t have to look long for a job. It sounded like an interesting idea.

Dad and I had a great night, and would need some of the next day to recover.


Saturday, April 11: The morning was a quiet one, but was interrupted by moans and groans from both Dad and I. We were paying for our sins from the previous night. We had a late start, but wandered around the corner to a café for a cooked breakfast. We both had coffee with it, and Dad had a fading headache, which was gone by early afternoon. He blamed it on the good company of Aaron and Alex. I had been desperate for another good book after finishing the last one, called Birdsong written by Sebastian Faulks. It was another book that hooked me right away. Dad’s close to finishing it as well, so it’s another recommended read. Four thumbs up from Kiwi GB and Kiwi Malky. We found a bookstore on High Street in central Auckland that we might have been able to find Bill Bryson’s A Short History of Nearly Everything. I’ve only heard good things about the book, and I knew I was a fan of Bryson’s writing already. Travelling with a man who is forever intrigued with evolution and always pondering the mysteries of life itself helped make this book purchase decision easier. Between discussions about our next tourist hot spot to go to, whether or not there’s a public bathroom around the next bend, or whether we want fish and chips, a meat pie or a coffee, there have been deeper exchanges about the meaning of all of it. I promise... It’s true! We often, sometimes jokingly ask each other, “What the heck are we doing here?”, or “Where are we?”, but really, they are good questions! Dad and I have found ourselves discussing the topics that the book tackles, while on our hikes into the rainforests or up in the mountains, or looking at the stars in Lake Tekapo. Those stars were spectacularly clear that night, and made us look up in awe and really wonder... (Note from the blogger: I promise that will be the longest, inconsequential rant in this blog. If I ever ramble on like this again please msg me and tell me to quit it. Regards, Kiwi GB). We ended up on High Street and found the book in the bookstore. I was a happy boy. We wandered around the area for forty five minutes fighting off the last of our booze the night before, and headed back to the hostel to read and relax. Dad read and in between sentences snoozed in the room, while I found a comfy couch to read on. I met an American couple originally from New Jersey but now lived in South Carolina while I started the book. They had been trying to sell their car for the past week in Auckland and were spending a few more days trying to sell it. They weren’t too optimistic about it. We talked about American College Football (they both went to Clemson which has a strong Football program), and I decided I would have to go watch a game some day. And maybe I’ll partake in the tailgating which supposedly is entirely its own experience. Supposedly on game days the campus swells from 16,000 students to 100,000 enthusiastic football fans. We talked about our different New Zealand adventures so far, places we wanted to go and haven’t been yet, and not surprisingly about Beer Pong. For dinner Dad and I went to a restaurant called Circus Circus, which was also conveniently close to our hostel. Auckland’s becoming more and more a likely candidate to settle in for a while with Northy. It’s a nice city, and there must be the most employment opportunities available. We had a nice dinner, bought a bottle of wine on the way home, and took it easy for the rest of the night. Even though it was Saturday night, we promised that only every second night was a big night... The plan for Sunday was to be the day we visit Kelly Tarlton’s.

Sunday, April 12: Easter Sunday started in Auckland at the hostel. It turned out the previous night was a big party night for the rest of the hostel. There was wrestling of an unknown nature going on in the halls (not sure if it was greco-roman or WWE style, but it took them all throughout the hallways). There was at least one musician with a guitar and harmonica who sounded great from far away, and there were at least three people singing along with the radio. In the morning the evidence of the fun had in the recycling box underneath the kitchen counter. Dad and I left just before ten and visited the same café for a familiar breakfast. We decided we would cheat a little and drive to the summit of Mount Eden, which was really only a forty five minute hike up. The view from the top was nice; we could see all of Auckland, as well as the ocean and the islands just offshore. We enjoyed the breeze and the fresh walk on the summit before getting in the car heading towards Kelly Tarlton’s. We had originally planned to spend at least part of the afternoon there, but the Easter Weekend brought more visitors to the area than Dad and I had seen the whole trip. We saw the line-up of unloaded tour bus passengers at Kelly Tarlton’s and decided it was better if we held off for a few days. We had the luxury to come back another day, and according to Auntie Maureen, it’s a can’t miss attraction, so we will end up seeing it before we leave. We drove down the coast a little bit, took a gander of the ocean again from a lookout point amongst some large homes, then decided we’d head out of the city to enjoy the Northland. It took us two and a half hours to get there, but our destination just outside of Whaipato (sp??) was well worth the effort. We checked in at another stellar BBH hostel called Little Earth Lodge. It’s exactly as it sounds. Homey, in the middle of nowhere, clean, and most welcoming. The decor was all shipped from Bali, and it really is one of our favourite places to rest our weary travelling bones. There’s plenty to do close-by, including a waterfall hike, as well as some cave exploring, which we planned to do the next day. Instead, after our long drive, we had a cup of tea, I retired to a perfectly placed hammock on a huge tree to do some more reading, and Dad did the same and some internet surfing from the comfort of the indoors. For dinner we pulled a few random items from our grocery bag and had a nutritious and horribly simple meal of peanut butter and banana sandwhiches and soup, and a glass of wine each. Over dinner we met a local girl named Sarah who was there enjoying the diving at Poor Knights Island. I had heard of this site before from a woman sitting beside me in a bus in Fiji, and had read all about it in travel guides and pamphlets. Supposedly it’s one of the ten top dive spots in the world. Jacques Cousteau was a big fan of it, which wouldn’t hinder its popularity amongst diving enthusiasts. Sarah was a much more experienced diver than myself, but she still spoke about it with excitement. Dad was subjected to a long discussion about where we had been and how many dives we’ve done. She was heading to Fiji and I told her about my experience there. She was excited to see it for herself. I promised her and myself that I would come back and do the Poor Knights dive while Northy is here. We watched Borat with the three other guests that were at the lodge before we headed to bed. I’m sorry Dad had to endure that movie, but I was laughing through it (uncomfortably, mind you). I still can’t believe Sasha Baron Cohen made it through some of those scenes without laughing at himself or at the people he met...

Monday, April 13: At home it was Easter Sunday, and a gang had gathered at Steve and Marie’s for some Sunday brunch. Unfortunately, it was five in the morning local time, but it didn’t stop Dad and I from making a phone call to wish them a happy easter. We killed a few birds with one stone and talked to everyone that was enjoying the day. Dad and I were slightly jealous, as we had to walk up to the top of the steep drive from the Lodge to get any cell phone reception. The call was well worth the early rise, and before heading back to bed we grabbed a small breakfast.

Tuesday we enjoyed our last supper together. During the day we took our time getting back to Auckland from the north, had a cup of coffee down at the waterfront in Auckland and went for a lazy walk. I realized how much I’d miss his company after he leaves!

So this young bull and an old bull were grazing in a paddock. Beside them in the next pen there were hundreds of beautiful, blue eyed cows. The young bull turned to the old bull and said “Boy! Look over there!” He pointed with his hoof. “ Look at all of those beautiful, blue eyed cows grazing in that field! Look at them all! C’mon! Let’s run over there, jump the gate, and have one of those cows!” There was a little pause, then the old bull lifted his head and said “Hold it, Young Bull.” He looked at the young bull who could barely contain his excitement. He continued, “How about this. We wander over to the fence, calmly open it, and walk over and surround ourselves with all of those beautiful, blue eyed cows. The young bull was eager. “Yeah, yeah? Then what, old bull? Then what?” He couldn’t stand still. Finally, the old bull wisely says, “Then, young bull, we have all of them.”

We did have it all, and lived to tell about it. What an experience it was. I tried my best not to take the opportunity for granted. But, much like the scenery we were spoiled with and became nonchalant about, it was easy to forget how lucky I was to hang out with him. We had some laughs, made some unforgettable (and forgettable) memories. We thought of home quite a bit, and I know Dad’s eager to share his side of the story when he returns. We will speak of our time in New Zealand fondly, and will always be reminded of it as we eat fish and chips, or a meat pie, wherever we are.

A new character will be introduced in this next bit of the story. He’s a friend from high school with whom I have already shared many adventures with. Bryan North has decided to come over to NZ to live and work for a few months, and continue travelling with me until we finish spending some time in Asia with another infamous and sometimes wildly unpredictable character (I regret I cannot publish his name until I get a signed approval. Supposedly he has a reputation he needs to uphold. We’ll see how long that lasts...). I wonder who will be the old bull, and the young bull in our company... Maybe we’ll be two of the same breed. I guess we won’t have to wait long to find out!

I hope you are all keeping well. Please send some stories from home... It makes me feel much closer to all of you. So keep them coming!

Bye for now,

Young Bull

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Photos

Fox glacier
from a distance

warning signs
at the glacier

cliff
created by the fox glacier

Fox glacier
closer up

franz joseph glacier
from a distance

franz joseph
The water to the left was nice to skip rocks on.

Pondering life's mysteries
At Cable Bay

Cable Bay
on a beautiful day

baaaaaaaaah
two goats heading up an almost sheer wall

Ode to Andy at Cable Bay
I got down on my knees to take this one. Andy would have got a better shot somehow though... It was pretty there anyways.

Do you smell what the rock is cooking?
In Cable Bay

Cook Straight passing
No one threw up this time.

Rotarua walking trail
This pictures a scratch and sniff. That's right. Scratch your computer screen, and you'll smell what we smelt. Sulphur. yuck. Smell it?

Maori Warrior
welcoming us

Retaliatory Maori war face
It's not nearly as scary as Dad's though.

Hoot! Hoot!
An owl just hanging out in Rotarua. I was waiting below for a hairball to fall down...

More noxious steam in Rotorua
excuse YOU!

Public notice in Rotarua public park
Not like drinking 40's in Sunnybrook park... Here your life is in serious peril. And it was open to the public.

Top of Mount Eden
in Auckland. It was Easter Sunday - we should have had some eggs to rool down the hill.

City wide View
Mount Eden, Auckland

Ready for an adventure
We act and look tough, but we're really cuddly. I promise. We started to cling for each other in the darkness of the caves

Looks like a scene out of LOTR
FRODO NOOOO!!!!!!

Caving
It was extremely dark down there. We needed the ridiculous looking headlamps to see where we were stepping.

Glowworms there
you can't see them glowing, but they were there.

Safe and Successful Expedition
No cave trolls in here! Just us!

Happy as a clam
eating his Indian Food in Rotorua. I didn't exist at this point. He was almost as happy as when he was eating those fish and chips in Auckland

funny looking
found this in the cave