On my 4th time off the kiwi island, which occurred back in September, Rose’s and my trip did not go as planned. This was also when everyone in Fairbanks began classes again, making me a real human being rather than a student for the first time in my life. Weird, eh?
For those (such as my mom) who has or used to have thoughts of my ferry to the island, here’s what the “ferry” sometimes carries…
We had intentions of going to the South Island, but Rose’s car had other ideas. About 1.5 hours out of Palmerston North, it broke down on us. I’m not going into details – otherwise Rose might read this and kill me for bringing up bad memories – but we ended up needing to use my car to putz around while mechanics looked Rose’s car over. Instead of sitting around and dwelling on the bad situation, I suggested we go for a tramp in the Ruahine Forest Park.
A talk with Sarah’s man Kyle pointed us in the direction of the Rangiwahia Hut. Other than a steep climb/scramble detour around a massive slip, the track was pretty nice! We even crossed a bridge that almost shares my birthday; it was built on December 2, 1988! The track was a climb almost the entire way, but the views, gas heater, and company were worth it. Some kiwis had to remind the Michigander of how to play euchre. (I would be embarrassed if Jeff had ever succeeded in teaching me how to play in the first place.)
The Rangi Hut has a fantastic view of Mount Ruapehu and Mount Doom worthy of an early morning alarm for sunrise photography. After crawling back in the sleeping bag and then rising at a normal hour, Rose and I spent a leisurely day exploring the higher country on a day hike. If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought I was in Alaska!
Looking at the boot/mountain photo makes me recognize my kind of research: outdoor research. (aka what wildlife biology should be) I want the job of finding what’s beyond the next hill, mountain, forest, or plain. What wildlife is out there? How are the views? Who else can I find out there? What are they like? Was it worth the effort of getting to the view or destination? Those questions are much more fun to answer than something like “What is the standard deviation…” I seem to have lost my own interest before finishing the question. Hmm. The true question is, who will pay me to find answers to those more exciting questions?
After our visit to the Ruahines we ducked back into Palmerston North before tackling a tramp in the Tararua Range.
After all, this sign was in a shelter along the Mount Holdsworth Circuit. Pardon the profanity, but I needed a photo.
The track led gently upwards for awhile before becoming a steep climb and then breaking through the treeline to windy blasts on tundra. The Holdsworth Hut itself was perched on the eastern side of the range, and the winds howled all afternoon, evening, night, and next morning. Particularly eerie was the sound of it through the chimney. I’m amazed that the plants (and the hut) don’t get blown off the mountain. I guess that’s what adaptation and quality construction can do! The longdrop at the hut definitely had a nice view. Unfortunately the weather was such that we decided attempting to do the whole circuit on the ridge would be dangerous, so we headed back down and made a shorter loop.
Leaving the Tararuas early did mean we could take a side trip over to Castlepoint, a mysterious place a French guy told me about when I was in Thames. All I knew was that it was in the Masterton district and probably his favorite place in NZ.
After taking the 40+km drive down the road to get there, I completely understood what he meant. Within 10 minutes I was in love.
Unfortunately to get to a cheap DOC campsite at a reasonable hour, which is what Rose likes to do, we had to leave after only about 1.5 hours there. We didn’t get to climb to the top of that awesome cliff/hill, nor did we catch sunrise or sunset.
As much as I really, really want to make a return trip, I’m sadly starting to acknowledge I don’t have enough time to do everything once let alone try for second trips. 🙁
Since the Rugby World Cup was held here from September to October, it was impossible to live in this country without hearing about the tournament at every waking second. At first I wasn’t that interested, but then I learned the event is the 3rd or 4th largest sporting event in the world. I decided that since I’m here and rugby is the national religion of New Zealand, I should go to a game.
After convincing Rose it would be an experience, we purchased standing room tickets for the September 11th Ireland vs. USA game in New Plymouth. That’s a fitting way to recognize the 10thanniversary, right? (It was strange to not hear much about such a huge aspect of recent US history.) To get to New Plymouth, we drove from the Tararuas to Taumarunui before taking the Forgotten Highway to Stratford.
The Forgotten Highway features some unique natural features that make it worth a drive. Most people probably make numerous stops on the way, but the rain poured down for most of our trip. We did make a stop out of the country, though. What, you say? How did you leave New Zealand? Easy. Just stop in the Republic of Whangamomona.
Apparently residents of the town weren’t happy with some new zoning in the Manawatu-Wanganui region, so they declared the town a republic on November 1, 1989. Every year they hold celebrations in the streets on that day!
After leaving the Forgotten Highway, we drove to the holiday park (like KOA) in the surfing town of Oakura for which we had booked a site. We had seen lots of cars with Irish flags in them on various roads in the country, and we soon learned the Irish rugby team has a huge following. I got in the American spirit by booing at cars decked out for Ireland.
When we arrived at the holiday park, Rose and I walked into the office to find ourselves surrounded by 10ish facepainted and green-clad Irish supporters. Oops. I think we picked the wrong accommodation. Although I have red hair and people often ask if I have Irish blood, I’m quite American. I got a kick out of being such a minority in that office. The US doesn’t really give a hoot about rugby at this point in time, and it was obvious the Irish fans would vastly outnumber the Americans.
We could have caught a bus back to town for the game, which would have been a fun experience of listening to the Irish (who had already started to drink) sing their national songs. Instead, Rose and I drove downtown and then caught a shuttle to the park. We got the same dose of Irish pride on that short ride. It’s safe to say that was a bus ride I won’t soon forget.
Even though we only had standing room, we could see just fine. Of course, that didn’t really matter because neither Rose nor I knew what was going on. When I pulled out my binoculars, I did get to actually check out some faces of players… We couldn’t figure out why each team kept kicking the ball back to the other or why the team that just scored would receive the kick-off. To our credit, we did know the Americans were losing. Luckily the US brought the final score to a more respectable 23-10 rather than 23-3 in the final plays.
We returned to the holiday park, where the Irish likely celebrated well into the morning. Apparently one fan (probably American) had a rough night and chose to sleep in the men’s restroom. The owner of the holiday park actually brought a camera man in to film him, and I guess he’s part of the crew putting together some sort of production about fans and the World Cup! The poor dude should have picked a more private area to sleep.
After that game our time off the island was almost up. We rocked out to the Beach Boys as we drove the Surf Highway before checking on Rose’s car in Palmerston North and then driving back up to the Hauraki Gulf. All in all, we covered some ground and tried some things we weren’t expecting, but we had a good time!