Most memorable free campsites from best to worst of the worst

1. Stony Bay The name is not meant to be ironic. Stony Bay was indeed stony, it's beach composed entirely of big, round gray stones and the water was the most divine color - shades of emerald and turquoise and cerulean - gorgeous. This camp site is literally at the end of the road, as up the east side of the Coromandel Peninsula that you can go, 45 minutes up a dusty dirt road.


2. Beach out toward Karikari Peninsula, up Puheke road
We went several kilometers up one of the roughest gravel roads we're encountered, toward the point of an arrow scribbled by Molly with the note "One of the best beaches around! Free camp." At the end, we stopped by a sand dune, rolled up our jeans and popped over to see the most outrageously pristine silica sand beach ever. The sand was as fine as dust. We plopped ourselves down to watch the light turn pink and orange and red and purple under the dark, billowy clouds.


3. Beach near Opotiki Camping
Spot #2 was very close to the beach. Another Molly and Jordy pick was literally ON the beach. We followed a road until it disappeared into the sand, took a sharp left on to a knoll just above the sand and maybe 30 feet from the crashing waves. Not too shabby!

4. Random roadside spot
This is where the list take s a sharp downward turn through the gates of Hell. In the case of camp site 4, the prospecting process has to be factored into the experience. Mitigating factors:
We did not start looking for campsites until near dusk
Molly and Jordy were low on gas and so we went looking ofr a station, which was indeed closed so therefore had to stay within a 10 mile area
We were in a somewhat populated area and it was hard to find a patch of ground that wasn’t someone’s front yard.
So we went cruising and lit upon what appeared to be a great spot – room for two vans, shade trees and a creek . We piled out and Roz and Molly walked around looking for a good place to pitch the tent. Instead, they found 6 dead possums. Apparently the camp was a roadkill dump for the area. I commented, “ Huh, how strange we can’t smell them…” That’s when the wind changed, Roz started gagging and we ran for the vans. Ultimately, we pulled off on a narrow strip just off the road, which worked well enough despite cars blazing past occasionally and sometimes blaring their horns. However, the next morning I work up and peered through the curtains to see a couple of gentlemen teeing off at what I surmised was Hole 6 or 7. They didn’t seem too bothered by us, but a woman in a sweater vest was none too pleased an hour or so later when her concentration was disrupted by Amanda applying deodorant. Needless to say, we didn’t linger over breakfast.


5. Sandy Beach
Reference the movie, The Beach. Appearances can be deceiving. Based on the light sand, great waves, availability of restrooms, heaps of pipi and a free BBQ on which to cook them, our camp site at Sandy Bay should have been the best ever. However, it also had mosquitoes. The night we spent there was among the most hellish we’ve ever spent in our lives, to say the least. See the following entry.

Animals I saw in NZ

Flock of turkeys
Hares
Roadkill – primarily possum
Egret
Huge rat (we told Roz it was a possum or something)
Eels (bit disturbing to see in cave water through which you’re walking)
Sheep
Sheep
More sheep
Cows
Potbellied pig
Horses
Huge cicadas
Bees
Flies
Mosquitoes
Pipi
Cockles
Hawks
Starfish with 11 legs
Extremely little crab inside my cooked mussel
Black swans
Snails
Possums
Goats
Domesticated deer
Red snapper (caught by Roz)
Huge green-lipped mussels
CA quail
Penguins
Albatross? (It might just have been a honking huge seagull. Amanda and I debated for over an hour and went through some photo analysis.)
Tui
Fantail
Bell bird
Kea
Kaka
Sandflies

MOSQUITOES!!!

So much for these posts being in any order whatsoever...
This is a dispatch from our third week, North Island.
Sadly, it is not totally out of date, as I'm still healing from mosquito bites that I got in New Zealand over a month and a half ago.


It was a sneak attack in the dead of night. We thought we heard that distinctive buzz off in the distance as dusk set it, but cast it off as so much travling-induced paranoia. As we settled into the van, they moved in. Snack, slap, swear. Repeat. All night long. No casualties, heavy injuries on our side. 30 bites on one thigh for Molly, irritation factor compounded by sandfly bites on feet and five yellow jacket bites between Molly and Roz after group stumbled on nest during day hike. We debated moving camp sites, but those camped in other areas assured us attacks had been uniform throughout the Kaueranga Valley. We hunkered down with 30 percent DEET bug spray, stealthily diving in the van sans light to disguise our whereabouts. Result - more of the same.
Score:
Mosquitoes: 150 bites
Humans: 6-7 kills at the cost of blood smears on sheets and ceiling
We fled to the metropolis of Auckland, still pursued, then headed north up the coast to a primo free camping spot at Sandy Beach. Nortland might be more appropriately dubbed Mosquito Coast. It was a massacre. Roz, Amanda and I crawled into the van, enduring unbearable heat in order to effect an air tight seal - a bunker of sorts. however, the buggers made it through the ventilation. A transcript of the night's battles:
A= Amanda
R= Roz
Me = Me

11 p.m.
All: Good night!
R: It is so hot in here
A: I know
12 p.m.
R: (tinge of hysteria in voice) You guys? One just buzzed me, they're definitely in here
A: I'm getting my light.
(Light switched on, three mosquitoes dive bomb, smack x 5)
A: Did you get it?
R: I don't think so...wait! There's its body on the sheet.
All: Yes!!
(long pause)
A: There's another one! Get it!
SMACK! SMACK!
R: Omigod, I can't believe how much blood there was in that one!
(lights off, Return to tossing and turning in the dark)
1 a.m.
R: Amanda, stop scratching! (Whacks her)
A: (moaning) I can't help it...ughhhh...
R: You know it just makes it worse.
A: I know,...ughhhh (scratch, scratch)
R: I think there are more in here, turn on the light.
(Amanda flips light, everyone holds breat)
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
(Roz gets 3 kills, proceeds to smack Amanda's feet and lets to alleviate itchiness. Lights off.)
2 a.m.
I sit up.
A: Are you okay?
Me: I'm going insane. That's it, I'm takign a Benadryl.
A: Can I have one?
Me: Roz, do you know where the water is?
R: Up front somewhere.
(Amanda extracts bottle. We down capsules, lay down. I throw comforter up front and wrap legs in towel, then attempt to cool down by pressing body against window panes)
2:30 a.m.
R: That fucker just bit me!
(lights on)
A: It totally just buzzed in my ear
R: They're getting in here, there are, like, 10.
(We proceed to rustle curtains and stare at walls, all in a heightened state of paranoia)
A: There's one!!
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
(Lights off)
3:30 a.m.
R: there are more in here. Amanda?
(indiscernable noises, mumbling)
R: Can you turn on the light? It buzzed me.
(No response. Amanda and I are catatonic/just don't give a damn thanks to Benadryl, our sweet salvation.)

The photographic evidence

The first jump


See that waterfall? We were in the canyon below it.



Before going to New Zealand, I believed the word "canyon" was a noun. I found things get much more interesting when it is used as a verb. For instance, "Would you like to go canyoning with me?" "What?! Are you crazy?"
It turns out I am.
Queenstown is the adventure capital of New Zealand, if not of the entire Pacific. The adrenaline-fueled spirit is so insidious you find yourself thinking about doing things you wouldn't otherwise consider in a million years - like jumping out of airplanes, riding through whitewater rapids on a small piece of plastic and rappeling down a canyon in the snow.
The latter was my choice of activity.
My mom told me about canyoning years ago, explaining it as sort of scrambling down rocks with a bit of rappeling and swimming. She said they do it in New Zealand. I have to admit that this was when I decided I wanted to go to NZ. Lord of the Rings and the testimonial of my best friend only sealed the deal.
So just days before my two months are up, I booked it. At this point, I'm on kind of a tight schedule, as a I have a flight to catch, so this Thursday is pretty much my one and only chance - a dodgy proposition in a place where the weather changes faster than celebrity hairstyles.
Thus I was pretty disappointed to awaken to not just rain, but Queenstown's first snow of the season. I called the canyoning place and they said it was a go, however. An hour up the road, our guide admitted he couldn't actually guarantee we were on, but we're drive two hours up the road and have a look-see, huh? By this point, something else had come to my attention, namely that the mountains around Queenstown were fairly smothered in snow and the thremometer read 6 degrees C.
In my initial daydreams about canyoning, I pictured sunshine and a bikini, needless to say. Our party of 6, plus two guides, rolled up to the carpark at the foot of the trail, which, like the mountains, was covered in a foot of fresh powder. The guides just kind of looked at us. One cleared his throat. "It's up to you guys whether we go. It just depends on the group at this point." After we'd all made some noise about bucking up, the Canadians sealed the deal with "For God's sake, we're from Canada!" That's when our guide admitted he'd taken groups when there was snow only "up there, not so much right here."
The die had been cast, however. We suited up in polypropylene and two wetsuits, resulting in what I imagine will be the only photo ever taken of me in a wetsuit in the snow.
I realized the excursion was going to be perhaps a tidbit more hardcore than I had vaguely imagined when we peeked over the bridge into a steep canyon and the guide indicated that we would be entering said canyon by jumping off a 10-foot cliff into a small pool of snow melt. I gifued the adrenaline might keep me warm. I might have lost my breath before I even hit the water on that first jump, numbly padding to the side and creeping across slippery rocks, my carabiner clipped to a rope. Then we slid down a chute of rock, hooked up to another rope and scuttled across a slimy rock face where one of the guides hooked us in and we rappeled down to a a waterfall. And two precipitous plunges and a few rappels were still to come. On most of the jumps, our guide coached us to land sort of sitting in a Lazy boy style so that we wouldn't go too deep. Apparently, those were the deep pools because on this next one, he wanted us fully horizontal when we landed, which of course went against my every natural impulse. I made it, though alpine water shooting through my sinus cavities gave me a wicked case of brain freeze, to say the least.
Ultimately, I was sorry to see us scramble out of the canyon and restore our bodies to their usual temperatures and adrenaline levels. All in all, a great trip which I would never recommend to most of my friends (ie: all of the ones who hate the cold, are afraid of heights, afraid of water and generally think I share my family's whacked sense of what is "fun").

Stewart Island

This might be the last posting for a while since I'm getting cut off from free internet. It's actually up to date. This past weekend, Amanda and I and Petey and two friends, Elizabeth and Megan (from Platzberg, NY (sp?) and Colorado respectively) went to the southernmost point of New Zealand - Steward Island, a ferry ride off the southern coast. The island boasts a population of 390 humans and 20,000 kiwi birds. We tramped 36K over three days and saw some cool birds - a bellbird, a tui, an oystercatcher, a fantail...some seagulls. No kiwi needless to say since I didn't really feel like wandering around the forest at night. I heard one and feel pretty content about that. The bottom photo is the view when we took the ferry back to shore on the last day.

Southern Man

Our friend Petey probably merits his own post. He's not actually a southern man, being from Hamilton on the north island, but he is a Speight's drinker (the brewery here in Dunedin where Amanda's going to school which puts out commercials featuring the so-called "Southern man"). The first thing most people notice about Petey is that he is 6'5" and 300 or so pounds. It is hard to overlook. He also has a mullet and mutton chops as you might have noted. And sometimes he wears a canary yellow track suit.
Like the van, a minor library of books, lots of vitamins and a set of dishes, Amanda and I inherited Petey from Amanda's friend, Molly, who studied at the University of Otago here in Dunedin over the past year, and introduced us. Petey's a rugby player - I think a prop? and he studies finance and, most importantly, he's really funny and he laughs at your jokes. Among the best phrases he's busted out - calling us all repeatedly "silly sausages" and saying something about fancying "a slap and tickle" which might actually beat the horizontal hokey pokey.

Space

I've been really enamored with New Zealand's open spaces. Something like 85% of the country has been deforested to make room for cattle, sheep and the occasional goat. The open grasslands topped by billowy clouds are strangely compelling to me. The top pic was taken riding the bus on the north island from Rotorua to Wellington, the second taken a week ago while I was bicycling through Central Otago. I spent the day riding along a converted railroad right-of-way that is now a mellow bike ride through spaces so open you feel like you could disappear for being so insignificant. Strangely stunning.

Scariest bird ever

I am ashamed to admit I was relieved and even happy when I found out the Giant Moa bird is extinct. The extinction of no species should really be celebrated. However, the Giant Moa freaks me out. This model was at Te Papa, the national museum in Wellington. Our tour guide said hawks and Moa often fought to the death and proved it by pointed at a Moa skull with a hawk skull's beak partially embedded in it.

A note on hedges

I've taken what in the olden days would be referred to as "several rolls of film" trying to capture a bona fide New Zealand super hedge, but this is as well as I could do. Hedge is not an accurate descriptor. When we pass through farmlands, property lines are denoted by a tightly planted row of pine trees which are meticulously manicured into a giant hedge that appears inpenetrable. These hedges towering 10 to 20 feet high are everywhere. A Kiwi man I met said he had a tool for shaping hedges. It involved a hydraulic lift. I'm willing to say these hedges could easily replace any of those ancient wonders of the world that have been destroyed.

Sea harvest

Not all of them, but a decent amount of north island beaches are loaded with pipi and cockles, two shellfish you can harvest en masse for a mini-feast. We had a windfall of cockles from one salty mudflat that we cooked up for dinner.

Tongariro Crossing

Honestly, the photos pretty much speak for themselves. Tongariro Crossing is one of New Zealand Department of Conservation's 10 Great Walks and the only one doable in one day. In 14 miles, we passed through some seriously surreal scenery completely devoid of vegetation. We scrambled up a rock field, wandered across a flat crater, then continued upward, eventually emerging over the top of a peak and looking down on 3 stunning emerald lakes. Something else.

The smelliest place on earth

After parting ways with Molly, Jordy and Roz, who all had to return to the States, Amanda and I headed east, cutting down from Tauranga to Gisborne, Napier, Hawkes Bay area up to Taupo, where we did Tongariro Crossing (which merits its own post, forthcoming), then took Amanda to her school orientation in Rotorua. We were not more than one minute into town before the smell of rotten eggs was upon us. Some might smell the most wretched sulphurous smell on earth and think, "Maybe we should find somewhere else to sleep for the night." The founders of Rotorua did not feel that way. Indeed, they founded a good-sized city on the spot. The whole town faintly reeks, even more so when you walk around the lake, the edge of which is lined with belching mud holes. There were some very cool black swans (introduced from Australia) however. Even though I was in Rotorua for several days, I couldn't quite get used to the geothermal activity everywhere. The Government Gardens downtown, complete with lawn bowling, petanque and croquet areas, couldn't be more formal. Yet they are punctuated by holes of nasty, stinking mud and 212 degree water. The local rugby field had to be condemned when things got too hot and I spotted some sulphurous steam coming up from the storm drain on a residential street. Go figure.

AAAAAAHHHH!

I guess you can learn a lot about a culture from exploring their deepest fears. Amanda and I saw this poster for an upcoming feature at the cinema in Wellington. The vacant look that sheep have has seemed all the more sinister since then.

90 mile beach

Some things that might not get so much as an eyebrow raise from the Kiwis over here are still exciting novelties for me . Among them: driving on the left side of the road; digging my toes into the sand and pulling out loads of pipi (they're like clams) that I can cook and eat for dinner; and...driving on the beach. Not just any beach of course - 90 mile beach at the northern tip of the north island. It's actually 70 kilometers, but who's counting? Kudos to the PR girl. It's one long, railroad-straight, unbroken strip of sand so flat during low tide that you can drive a bus on it. Or even T-Rex.

Beaches of varying degrees of drop-dead gorgeousness

*These images have not been doctored in any way. They actually fall short of reality if you can believe it.

As I mentioned in Dispatch #1 (unnecessarily titled as such as it has indeed stood alone as the only dispatch for about 5 weeks), I wasn't expecting New Zealand beaches to be quite so knock-out. Even better, in our time on the north island, we were camping for free on them. I've posted a few pics to give you all a taste of our first three weeks here in NZ - walking along white and black sand beaches, ogling at all the amazing shells and occasionally devouring newspapers full of spicy wedges.

And now what you've all been waiting for...PHOTOS!

Meet T-Rex. He's a 1985 Datsun Nissan Vanette, currently taken so don't get any ideas, ladies...

Dispatch #1

I hope this finds you well. From the get go, I apologize for sending a mass e-mail. Unfortunately, I'm stuck in a catch-22 which is that if I send thoughtful individual e-mails to everyone, I 'll blow my whole budget on the internet and indeed won't have money to do anything worth writing about. So I'll try to stay focused on my goals here: 1) sharing amusing anecdotes which will hopefully brighten your day; 2) answering pressing questions about New Zealand as best as I can; 3) making all you 9-to-5ers jealous.
For the past three weeks I've been cruising around the northern half of the North Island of New Zealand with my friend Amanda and her friends, Roz, Molly and Jordan. Molly and her boyfriend Jordan left NZ a week ago and sold us their pimped-out van T-Rex. T-Rex is a silver 1985 Nissan Vanette which has had seven owners, 3 in 2002 alone. The first owner was Japanese so I hope the various warnings in Japanese all over the car don't contain any items of interest. T-Rex has a bed in the back, a set of drawers containing vitamins, books, shells and the like. There is a skull and cross bones banner across the front and what appears to be a huge rabbit skull, but which I think is actually some critter's pelvis. People wave at us a lot. The van is also currently covered with a thick coat of dust (as do my lungs), since we recently took a cruise at about 80-100km up 90 mile beach (actually 70 km), then up a gnarly stream bed. T-Rex won my heart forever upon delivering us more or less intact.
So where to begin...?
For anyone who actually knows the area, here is where we've actually been, everyone else can scroll down:
Flew into Auckland, went to Raglan, hot water beaches near Wawhai, Waitomo caves, worked our way around the Coromandel Peninsula, all the way up to Stony Bay at the tip, then back through Auckland to drop off Molly and Jordan, then up to Northland, up the east coast all the way to Cape Reinga at the northernmost tip, back down the west coast, dropped Roz in Auckland, now Amanda and I are in Tauranga for a few hours before heading towards Gisborne and Hawke's Bay.
Rather than boring you with too many details, I will start with my preconceptions of NZ and whether they've been panning out:
- Sheep everywhere.
Definitely. In fact, we woke up to 5 outside our van this morning.
- Looks like Lord of the Rings
That was pretty much filmed in the South Island. Thus far, besides the gorgeous beaches, a lot of the drive looks like the drive to Bolinas or Tomales Bay but a bit greener. There are all these Lord of the Rings tours though and one Kiwi told me that during the filming, being an extra was a legitimate excuse to miss class.
- Winemakers produce sauvignon blanc and nothing but sauvignon blanc all the livelong day
Obviously not true, that's just what they export. I've had some really tasty pinot noir here and some cab/merlot blends and even better, they don't charge tasting fees and the winemaker's usually pouring!
- NZ is woodsy and hilly
Deforestation - good God! Formerly forested hills are now covered with sheep and cows. Any trees that aren't in state parks are pretty much timber farms and look bizarre because there will just be this stand of trees that are all exactly the same height, very close together and that abruptly stop at the edge of the next property line There are only a handful of kauri left, the 2nd biggest tree in the world. Redwoods are taller and smell better.
- Kiwis are rugby crazed.
Absolutely true. The sports section of the newspaper rivals the World News section. I've also seen a lot of people playing cricket.

Now on to some things that surprised me:
- The beaches are drop dead gorgeous. We've found lots of free camping at breathtaking white and black sand beaches with water warm enough to swim and there are barely any peopel around - and this is still high season. There are also fantastic shells all over the place and you can dig up pipi which are like small clams.
- The forests are loud. There's always a hint of the tropical here and the forests are fantastically lush. They are full of cicadas which maintain a constant whirring crackling racket punctuated by the drone of flies and mosquitoes and constant bird tweeting.
- Towns are outrageously small and lots of roads are unpaved. We drive on gravel roads everyday. If the size of towns is supposed to correspond to the size of the font on our map, Auckland should read across a two page spread and most the rest should require a magnifying glass to work out.

At this point, I'd like to open the floor for questions. Angie already sent a good one: What do Kiwis eat for breakfast? Amanda says they have standard English breakfast which is eggs and tomatoes on toast in the like. They also drink enormous lattes out of bowls and eat Wheatbix which is like a bran cereal bar.
So keep the questions coming. If I don't have the answer, I'll look into it. Hit me.
Also, there is nothing more depressing than paying $2 to log into my e-mail and finding only junkmail so drop me a line and tell me how are things!
As the Kiwis say for hello, goodbye, okay and most things - cheers!