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").