The third full sun day in a row, and hottest by far. Loving the lack of rain. Ate lunch sprawled out on the porch in the hot rays. Waiting for Isla and Polly to deliver our little Tin-Tin so we can begin our adventure. They arrive, we pay up and give them a tour of KP, then we head back into Auckland to take them home. After dropping them off I jump into the drivers seat, nervous but amped for my first drive. Think left. I pull out, stop and the first intersection, signal right. And of course right away a speeding fire truck comes zooming up behind me, honking its horn condemningly. I am clearly in the way, but I can't pull into oncoming traffic, so it pulls around me and speeds off to the left. I think the coast is clear so I ease forward just as another fire truck, sirens blaring, comes out of no where from my right just as I'm pulling out. I freeze just in time for it to streak past me, then I gun it into the far lane, narrowly missing a stream of cars headed for our right side. If I can make it through that without out crashing or wetting myself, I think I'll be alright.
Cleansing Tin-Tin after the run in with fire trucks
Tues 5/14
Last day of work. It flies by. Jamie and I pull books from shelves in the WWOOFers lounge in preparation for a remodel. A Spice Girls CD provides a brief rock out session to "Wannabe." We gather a pile of books that appeal to us, flipping through in search of interesting quotes and facts.
A male praying mantis cannot ejaculate while his brain is still functioning. Which is why the female devours his head while they are mating. It is only when she is snacking on his protein rich cerebral matter that he can release his sperm and impregnate his coital cannibal. Learn something new everyday, eh?
We prepare for tomorrow's launch then meet everyone at the local pub for a final hurrah! Nothing says safe travels like fried sea food and beer. Gathered around the table, I realize this is only the second time I've been to this pub; when I first arrived and again on the eve of our departure. In only two weeks my relationship with these people has transformed from politely cordial to full on family matters. There's something about traveling that lifts the veil of how we "should" be, and allows us to just BE. Just be you, and you will be loved for it. We're all in the same boat; bearing our souls, shining that light, there's no time for the bullshit. Reuniting for Christmas with these crazy people would be a dream come true. We finish the night cuddled together on the couch, lazily watching Back to the Future. Blissfuly nostalgic. Feels like home.
A male praying mantis cannot ejaculate while his brain is still functioning. Which is why the female devours his head while they are mating. It is only when she is snacking on his protein rich cerebral matter that he can release his sperm and impregnate his coital cannibal. Learn something new everyday, eh?
We prepare for tomorrow's launch then meet everyone at the local pub for a final hurrah! Nothing says safe travels like fried sea food and beer. Gathered around the table, I realize this is only the second time I've been to this pub; when I first arrived and again on the eve of our departure. In only two weeks my relationship with these people has transformed from politely cordial to full on family matters. There's something about traveling that lifts the veil of how we "should" be, and allows us to just BE. Just be you, and you will be loved for it. We're all in the same boat; bearing our souls, shining that light, there's no time for the bullshit. Reuniting for Christmas with these crazy people would be a dream come true. We finish the night cuddled together on the couch, lazily watching Back to the Future. Blissfuly nostalgic. Feels like home.
Wed 5/15
We're flying. Tearful goodbyes over, we speed northward in our little tin can, prayer flags flapping in the breeze. We reach Dargaville by noon, where we hang a left in search of the sacred Waipoua Forest, home of the largest living and most hallowed Kauri tree in NZ, the Lord of the Forest, Tane Mahuta.
First we catch sight of the distant blue and are drawn in.
We bump down a gravel road over a few rolling hills until we reach it, the Tasman sea. Just its name, to me, sounds wild in nature.
Dark, porous volcanic rock spills from the cliff side, held in place only by whatever plants manage to sink their roots there. We drink it in, the rip curl folding then crashing, the salty smells carried in on the wind, the calls of the seagulls. Every now and then it sinks in; we're in New freakin' Zealand. This is one of those moments.
First we catch sight of the distant blue and are drawn in.
We bump down a gravel road over a few rolling hills until we reach it, the Tasman sea. Just its name, to me, sounds wild in nature.
Dark, porous volcanic rock spills from the cliff side, held in place only by whatever plants manage to sink their roots there. We drink it in, the rip curl folding then crashing, the salty smells carried in on the wind, the calls of the seagulls. Every now and then it sinks in; we're in New freakin' Zealand. This is one of those moments.
Tin-Tin ambles along the winding road until we reach the Waipoua. A thick canopy of pines and ferns, relics of pre-European native NZ, turn the vast expanse of blue into an azure sliver.
We're standing at the base of Tane Mahuta, a 2,000+ year old Goliath whose branches stretch over 50m into the sky and whose trunk would require 8 adult tree-huggers, hand in hand, to get the job done.
To be in the presence of a living being so primeval makes everything else seem utterly insignificant. All the wars we've waged, the discoveries, inventions, revelations, religions, empires, and here it has remained, Lord of the Forest, patient and wise, observant and stoic, leaves collecting 2,000 years worth of sun, roots nourished by two thousand years worth of soil, providing refuge, solace and inspiration.
We're standing at the base of Tane Mahuta, a 2,000+ year old Goliath whose branches stretch over 50m into the sky and whose trunk would require 8 adult tree-huggers, hand in hand, to get the job done.
To be in the presence of a living being so primeval makes everything else seem utterly insignificant. All the wars we've waged, the discoveries, inventions, revelations, religions, empires, and here it has remained, Lord of the Forest, patient and wise, observant and stoic, leaves collecting 2,000 years worth of sun, roots nourished by two thousand years worth of soil, providing refuge, solace and inspiration.
We load Tin-Tin onto the ferry at Rawene and make it to A's before dark. He greets us with the hug of a grandfather you don't see all that often, and one you're not particularly close with. He's a soft-spoken, white haired, wiry older man, probably in his late 60's. We get a quick tour of the grounds just as the sun is setting. A's little slice of paradise.
Thurs 5/16
I'll paraphrase:
"It crushes your soul, working, slaving away for someone else. I spent many years sitting all day in an office and poking my head outside to say, 'Hey, it was a nice day.' So now I do things here when I want to." We begin work after lunch, around 1pm. It's not really 'work' though, because A says, "I prefer to call it 'doing things.' If it starts to feel like 'work' we'll find something else for you to do." So we grab some gloves, ear muffs, an axe, a rake, and a shovel and spend the cooler part of the day chain sawing and hacking timber into pieces small enough to fit into the mulcher, or saving the the heartier pieces for firewood. We're a couple of axe wielding lumber-jaynes.
From what I've pieced together, A spent the better part of his adulthood at a 9-5 engineering job in Auckland. Like so many rat-racers, the competitive, fast-paced lifestyle didn't suit him, but unlike so many, he left. So about 15 years ago he found 100 acres just 3 km past the sleepy little bay town of Kohukohu, and started again. Fruit trees cover the property, ranging from most imaginable citruses (orange, lime, lemon, grapefruit, tangelo), to guava, feijoa, apple, apricot, peach, banana, even macadamia nut! And what does dear A do with all this fruit? He makes some jams, jellies, marmalades, but turns most of it into liqueurs and fruit wines. Kiwi wine, apricot liqueur. We'll see if we get to get our feet dirty and squash some fruit up!
We begin our day with a hot bowl of A's home-made muesli and a cup of tea. The sunlight filters in a rich yellow through the mist and the fruit trees. Not sure what to expect for our first day, our curiosity is piqued when A announces that every day after breakfast he must take his massive white guard dog, named Mister Dog, on a walk around the property because he won't relax until he's scouted out his territory. So we set out on a narrow path in the bush that winds through the native pine trees.
Totara, Kahikatea, Rimu, Miro, Titree, and even a couple of ancient sacred Kauri left by the settlers. We top out on a bluff that overlooks Hokianga Harbor, a long stretch of sea water that mixes with fresh river water from upstream. We climb a steep 4x4 drive to Wally's house, a friend of A's who purchased a bit of property from him and built a gorgeous little house with breath-taking 360 views of the land. All electricity runs on a wind turbine and solar panels, and there only place to relieve yourself is in a composting toilet underneath the house. We have some tea, admire the views, discuss the natural history of NZ, and snack on some tree tomatoes growing in the yard.
As we wander on, A introduces us to the native flora and a bit of local ecology, all the while Mister Dog braves on, sturdily blazing our trail.
Totara, Kahikatea, Rimu, Miro, Titree, and even a couple of ancient sacred Kauri left by the settlers. We top out on a bluff that overlooks Hokianga Harbor, a long stretch of sea water that mixes with fresh river water from upstream. We climb a steep 4x4 drive to Wally's house, a friend of A's who purchased a bit of property from him and built a gorgeous little house with breath-taking 360 views of the land. All electricity runs on a wind turbine and solar panels, and there only place to relieve yourself is in a composting toilet underneath the house. We have some tea, admire the views, discuss the natural history of NZ, and snack on some tree tomatoes growing in the yard.
As we wander on, A introduces us to the native flora and a bit of local ecology, all the while Mister Dog braves on, sturdily blazing our trail.
It's already noon, so we break for lunch and enjoy our sandwiches in the sun on the porch. I sit there soaking in the autumn rays, supposedly the last sunny day before the rain starts up again. Until now, everything has reminded me of something. KP's trees and rain from My Neighbor Toroto. Driving north through the countryside and it's autumn in the hills of Tennessee. But this, here, the trees, the bird songs, the vistas, the autonomy, is perfectly singular.
It's a quarter past one when we don our gear and begin 'doing things.' Which is where the aforementioned axe babes scene commences.
Jamie and I make dinner, a random bake of whatever veggies we can scourge from A's fridge and some from the garden. Right now he's only got mustard greens, beet greens and some red lettuce growing. A watches his favorite television program, The Big Bang Theory, while Jamie and I read. The only time he seems talkative at all is when he's explaining the plot of the show. He smiles to himself as he watches it.
Sat 5/18
Our first day that feels like we're really earning our keep. After yesterday's kiwi fruit loading and caravan washing, I felt our purpose here had been forgotten.
Instead of dinking around all morning and waiting 'til afternoon to begin, Jamie and I take the reigns just after the morning walk ritual. This time we walk with purpose; to get our heart rates up. Call us Westerners, busy bodies, what have you, if we stop moving now we may never start again. Maybe A's lackadaisical work ethics aren't quite up our alley. The sun comes and goes between showers, but it is warm and strong.
We weed grass from a 10x10 fenced bed, add compost and bone meal for fertilizer, then mix it all back in again and water it down. A stood there, showed us what to do and how to do it, then stood back commenting that we needed to do it differently, that we didn't have enough power or that we were cheating if we missed a spot. We both felt pretty uncomfortable and un-nurtured.
Finally we finished close enough to his standards to earn a trip into the tiny town of Kohukohu, population 190, to see the art gallery.
We wandered around for an hour or so, grabbing a scoop of the local favorite flavor of ice-cream, Hokey Pokey. Saw some spoon-billed birds and took a few pictures. Kind of felt like we were treading through a sludge of energy draining goo. As lovely as the sights were, we both felt ready to move on.
Instead of dinking around all morning and waiting 'til afternoon to begin, Jamie and I take the reigns just after the morning walk ritual. This time we walk with purpose; to get our heart rates up. Call us Westerners, busy bodies, what have you, if we stop moving now we may never start again. Maybe A's lackadaisical work ethics aren't quite up our alley. The sun comes and goes between showers, but it is warm and strong.
We weed grass from a 10x10 fenced bed, add compost and bone meal for fertilizer, then mix it all back in again and water it down. A stood there, showed us what to do and how to do it, then stood back commenting that we needed to do it differently, that we didn't have enough power or that we were cheating if we missed a spot. We both felt pretty uncomfortable and un-nurtured.
Finally we finished close enough to his standards to earn a trip into the tiny town of Kohukohu, population 190, to see the art gallery.
We wandered around for an hour or so, grabbing a scoop of the local favorite flavor of ice-cream, Hokey Pokey. Saw some spoon-billed birds and took a few pictures. Kind of felt like we were treading through a sludge of energy draining goo. As lovely as the sights were, we both felt ready to move on.
Sun 5/19
Yesterday in town we saw a poster advertising a drop-in yoga class at Waiora Gardens, just a few km up a steep and winding dirt road from A's place. My body isn't just telling me to go, it's screaming. We skip the dense muesli and swap it for chia seeds in water with fresh kiwi fruit. I'm feeling lighter already, a happy change from last night's food baby of pasta Alfredo.
The moment we pull down the drive out of A's place my fuzzy head begins to clear. We're laughing and singing again as we arrive in the gardens. The early morning light casts a golden, misty glaze on the fields spread out like patchwork quilts below us. A friendly puppy and its lovely owner greet us warmly as we approach.
Energy. It hits me like a bolt of lightning. The energy of a place, of its people, is so real. If I hadn't realized it before, or hadn't had it so clearly articulated, I'm a firm believer now. My eyes well up with tears as the positive vibes rush in. I can smile, I can laugh, I can breathe and move and feel! The energy at A's is stagnant, static. Not terrible or unsafe, just immobile. There are piles of junk everywhere, inside the house and out. Cobwebs matted against nearly every window, in every corner. It's not totally filthy, not putrid, but there is no flow, no circulation.
Don't get me wrong, the views are more than lovely, there are hundreds of birds singing happily, and A isn't a bad guy. So there's something about the energy of the place.
Don't get me wrong, the views are more than lovely, there are hundreds of birds singing happily, and A isn't a bad guy. So there's something about the energy of the place.
That's clear now that we're here. It's a community, like KP but much smaller. The buildings are modest but creative and colorful. Every porch, every walkway is lined with gorgeous flowers and succulents. There are gardens, a swimming pond, an open, large vaulted ceiling in the kitchen/living room, and a spacious room for yoga with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the bush. It's a little slice of paradise and the energy is Re: rejuvenating, revitalizing, reviving, regenerating, reawakening, reanimating, etc.
THE BEST YOGA I'VE EVER PRACTICED. We sit in a circle and introduce ourselves, 10 women, 10 unique, open-hearted women, then pick Unicorn cards. Jamie's says "Be yourself" and mind says "Breathe out the Stress." Perfect. My body is thrilled as I breathe in new life, forcing the inert air out and away. My mind is clear, my muscles loosen. Ahhhhhhhhhhh.
We're leaving tomorrow to camp in Russel and then head down the east coast to Whangerai where we'll meet our next WWOOF hosts on Wednesday. Stay tuned!
Projects Completed at A's:
Wed: Arrival. Dinner: roasted veggies.
Thurs: Chainsawing & Axing Totara wood into smaller pieces. Running termite wood through mulcher. Hacking solid wood into firewood. Hauling and unloading mulch into piles. Hauling and unloading firewood into separate piles. Dinner: roasted kumara and other veggies.
Fri: Trip into town to collect boot full of reject kiwi fruit from harvesting plant. Grocery shopping. Scrub and wash outside of 2 caravans. Dinner: Green curry w/ rice and veggies.
Sat: Weeding 10x10 garden bed. Pitch-forking and raking soil. Raking in compost and bone meal, then smoothing over and watering. Dinner: Pasta Alfredo w/ veggies and salad.
Sun: Transplanting pak choy seedlings from compost pile to refurbished garden bed. Clipping and weeding around apricot trees. Mulching below all apricot trees. Dinner: Pea stew.
Waiting for Rawene ferry to Kohukohu
Jamie and Mister Dog on Wally's porch
Wally and his Tree Tomatoes
A cracking Macademia nuts
Jamie cracking nuts
Spider web with morning dew
Pictures:
View on the way to Rawene
Jamie and Mister Dog on Wally's porch
View from Wally's
Wally and his Tree Tomatoes
A cracking Macademia nuts
Jamie cracking nuts
Fantail watching us
Spider web with morning dew
View from A's
Kingfishers
What's left of the Kohukohu bank vault after a devastating fire
Local wildlife
Kohukohu
Kohukohu
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