Bad Apples, Sneaky Silverbeet & Good Eggs

It's taken me a couple of weeks to write today's post, because I don't like writing about negative things as a rule, not unless there's a positive to go with it anyway. But I've decided that I will for several reasons. The main one is that, one of the things people tell me when they read accounts of life on the road is that you never hear about the bad stuff, only the perfect and idyllic. I agree and think it's important to keep it real. The other reasons are that 1) I believe that SOMEBODY needs to speak out about this issue because it happens to too many people far too often and 2) I was actually really deeply affected by these experiences, surprisingly so. Which is pretty ironic because in my last blog I was only just saying how I felt I had grown in confidence and was a lot more comfortable in my own skin. Still, I guess none of us are bullet proof.

You don't need a big flash motorhome to be happy!

As I have previously said, no doubt to the point of boring you all silly, the majority of people we meet on the road are absolutely lovely. We have made so many dear friends, of all ages and from all countries. On the whole, the people you meet in motorhomes are a lot like us - friendly, relaxed and will do anything for anyone. But like most things in life, you only need a few bad apples to spoil the barrel - or at least make it taste a bit sour for a while - and I had the misfortune recently to encounter some two days in a row. Why? For one reason only. I choose to live in a smaller vehicle than they do. In their eyes this naturally makes me poor, quite probably European and most definitely a lesser mortal. It's not the first time we have encountered this treatment and I'm sure it won't be the last, but I need to get this written down and out of my head so that I can hold it up again and move on.

The first instance was when a jaunty lady came marching up to Gareth and I as we pottered outside our van. 'My goodness, you have wings!' she said, referring to the NZMCA sticker which identifies us as being members of the national Motorhoming association. 'Yes, yes we do', we replied. 'We've been living on the road permanently for the past 15 months'. 'In this thing?' she said, 'You know, where we come from, people call them sliders', she nodded wryly towards the van. 'Yes, we know', we said, having heard the term many a time before, due to our vehicle having sliding doors. 'Normally we try to stay as far away as possible from people like you!' she smirked. 'Well we've been here a while now and we help out around the place', we said, smiling through gritted teeth. At this, she burst into peals of hysterical laughter. 'REALLY? You? Oh that's hilarious!' she said, barely able to contain herself, before carrying on her merry way. Gareth and I looked at each other and raised our eyebrows. We had no idea what was so funny, but it seemed we had encountered our first real snob. Still, at least she was a friendly snob.

I'm proud of my little garden!

The next day however I looked out of the window to see a large caravan had pulled up next to the water tap and a couple had got out. I had seen them a few minutes earlier and said hello but they didn't reply. The woman appeared to be very interested in my flourishing vegetable garden and walked around it repeatedly before helping herself to some parsley and returning to her car. I chuckled to myself at the sight of it but didn't really mind. Since taking over care of the vegie patch I've taken a real pride in looking after it and it does get a lot of comments. I'm happy to share our abundance of vegies with anyone if they're going to be here for a few days. However a few minutes later she got out of her vehicle again and started thumbing through my carrots, before then grabbing hold of my silverbeet and was about to pull some out. Bloody cheek of it! I hopped out of the van and strode over to the woman. 'Excuse me, do you want something?' I said, heart pounding. It's not like me to be assertive you see. 'No!' she replied glaring at me, dropping the silverbeet as if it burned her. 'It's OK, you can have some if you like. It's just mine after all', I shrugged. 'This is yours?' she replied, gesturing to the garden. 'How did you get this?' she asked, looking at me as if I was something nasty she'd just found under her shoe.

'I live here', I said. 'I'm an assistant caretaker. I help to look after the place'. 'That's a lie', she immediately jumped down my throat. 'The caretaker died a few days ago!' 'I assure you he's very much alive and well!' I replied. 'You are thinking of the caretaker at Mosgiel who did indeed recently pass away'. Who knows, maybe she thought the garden had been the deceased caretaker's and that it was perfectly acceptable to steal the poor man's vegetables!

At this point, the woman's husband joined in the conversation and thankfully he was friendly enough. 'What's all the writing on your van?' he asked. I explained that I was a writer for Motorhomes, Caravans & Destinations magazine and that often campers know who we are and go out of their way to introduce themselves. He shook my hand, introduced himself and his wife and she also grudgingly shook my hand before asking me, 'So how long have you had your wings?' From here I then had to explain that yes, these WERE my wings, they WERE the real thing, not pinched from anyone else, and I had been an NZMCA member the entire time I had owned this van and lived on the road. To end with, I asked if they had been to stay here before and on hearing they hadn't, told them where they could park and where to find everything, just as I do with all the other campers. The man thanked me and as they left I said to the woman, 'Honestly, feel free to take some lettuces or silverbeet before you go, there really is only so much we can eat ourselves!' 'No. No thank you', she replied loftily, before driving off to the other side of the ground. There she stayed and I never saw her again. She sure as heck didn't go anywhere near the garden after that either!

Now it may sound like a petty gripe to you but this nasty attitude regarding both young people and people who do not have $200,000 motor homes and CHOOSE to live in smaller vehicles quite happily, needs to stop. My case is a classic example of why you should never judge a book by its cover. In both cases Gareth and I were treated like dirt, yet we were the ones responsible for helping them to enjoy their stay. They were just lucky I was too embarrassed and shaken to ask them to leave. They were also extremely lucky in the second scenario that Gareth was not there to witness their treatment of me! Even so, it has affected me to the point that, even a couple of weeks later, I am still very wary of meeting and greeting people who display that same sticker. Fortunately everybody since has been lovely and have gone out of their way to introduce themselves first.

Us with John and Lynette.  Hooray for good people!

As I said at the start of my post, I don't like writing about anything negative unless I have a positive to follow on with. And as luck would have it, around the same time we bumped into John and Lynette. When I say bumped into I mean quite literally! We were out for a walk and got talking, as happens a lot. Most people always want to know your story; where you come from, how long you've been on the road and what you do and I mentioned I was a writer for Motorhomes, Caravans & Destinations magazine. 'I got an message the other day from someone called Jackie about an article she's writing', the woman said. 'That's me!' I said in disbelief. 'No way! I'm Lynette!' we both burst out laughing. I had no idea where she was when I contacted her, she could have been anywhere and she didn't know where I was either! We chatted for a while and then they said 'We're going across the road to the Town & Country Club a bit later, feel free to join us!' So we did, and the warmth of these lovely people, not to mention Lynette's infectious laugh really restored my faith in humanity.

A few days later I received a message from her. We're moving on today. Will be pop in for a coffee after lunch before we go'. 'Lynette and John are coming over soon', I smiled to Gareth. 'Oh heck, hang on!' I quickly messaged back. 'Be great to see you - but we don't have any mugs or milk as we don't drink coffee!' 'No problem, we'll bring our house to yours!' came the reply. And sure enough, their 9 metre bus rolled alongside us shortly after. They've got that same sticker too; as do many of our favourite people who we've met on the road. And as they say, just because you find one bad apple doesn't mean you should give up the whole tree. I just appreciate the good ones I meet even more now!

The Myths & Reality of Freedom Camping

Tourist season is in full swing and with it comes the inevitable media coverage of hordes of freedom campers descending on some of our nation's prized beauty spots and turning them into a giant rubbish dump and public toilet.  It's a frustrating time because, as with most things in life, the reality is it is usually just a small few disrespecting our country and the privilege of being able to see and experience it at minimum cost.  Unfortunately we all unavoidably get tarred with the same brush, which we hate.  Retired Kiwi couples in $250,000 motor homes are looked upon with the same disdain and negativity by those who read the stories as a group of European teenagers in a tent.  To their mind, we're all the same.  Which technically we are.  Everybody loves something for nothing after all, and some of the most incredible camping spots in the country are free.  We've stayed at them, they remain some of my favourites - often no paid campsite could possibly compare for the views and location - and I never feel luckier than when we get to stay in a place for free.

People picture freedom camping in NZ like this...

When the reality is more like this...

Even so, you wouldn't catch us dead in most of them at this time of year.  We don't need to limit our 'Kiwi experience' to the summer months, we get to enjoy it all the time! We're happy to wait until the rest of the world has gone home and we can take advantage of these beautiful free spots in relative peace and quiet.  And beautiful or not, in summer at least many freedom camps ARE eyesores.  Imagine between 80 and 140 vehicles packed like sardines into the one space every single day and night; everyone hanging out washing, airing bedding, washing dishes, clothes and bodies in rivers and lakes or in buckets.  They're all just doing what they need to do, getting back to basics, like in the good old camping days.  But unlike the 'good old camping days' these places aren't in picturesque fields, tucked away from the rest of the world.  They're in public cark parks and prominent surf and dog walking spots, on waterfronts, in front of people's houses.  They look like shanty towns or a giant hippy gathering and many people find them intimidating.  It doesn't matter how lovely the people are on the inside; from the outside it looks bad and that's why freedom camping is so often in the news.

I'm not sure whether other countries use the term 'freedom camping' as much as we do here.  But when it comes to this country at least, I'm not alone in feeling that the term 'freedom camping' gives off the wrong connotations.  What sounds very idyllic in theory is misinterpreted widely, giving overseas visitors and Kiwis alike the impression that here in jolly old Lord of the Rings land you can STAY for free, LIVE for free and all in all BE free.  Even Gareth and I thought this was the case when we first talked about living on the road and thought we would never have to pay a cent to stay anywhere again!  Lovely as that sounds, it simply isn't true.  A couple of years ago it was, but not any more. You can indeed stay for free at a lot of places if you have the right set-up - in other words a certified self-contained vehicle, with a toilet on board which can be used at all times, as well as adequate water and waste disposal facilities.  However most overseas visitors do not have the money to afford a self contained vehicle.  It's cheap enough to buy a vehicle big enough to sleep and cook in - but if you don't have that all important self-contained status, your options for getting around New Zealand cheaply and easily become a lot more limited.

If you don't have one of these, your freedom camping spots are a lot fewer and farther between!

This is where the problem starts.  Our excited young tourists arrive in the country, hop off the plane and buy or rent a non-self contained vehicle, only to find to their horror that they cannot park in a lot of places after all, at least not without risking a $200 fine for not being self-contained.  Ironically a lot of freedom camps DO have public toilets, but still do not permit non-self contained vehicles to stay there, so they still get fined, as happened to a friend of ours who was woken at three o'clock in the morning by a warden issuing her with a sticker.  This leaves them with two options - the first of which is to stay at a paid campground or holiday park, which at this time of year will cost them between $20 and $60 per night.  In all honesty, this is the way it should be - but as we found in our first few weeks of living on the road, nobody can keep that up.  Most freedom campers have very little money.  Spending even $20 a night to stay anywhere is not an option for them because they simply don't have it.  Which sounds crazy, why would you purposely travel to a country on the other side of the world for a holiday with no money?  Simple - they have been led to believe they can stay anywhere they like for free, so they arrive here without enough funds to be able to afford anything else.  So their only other option is to park up wherever the hell they can, often en masse, as long as they can get away with it.  This of course pisses off the locals no end and they kick up a stink.  The tourist industry likes to argue that they spend a lot of money in our country, but this isn't true.  Most of them have bugger all money, and the money they do have they will save for once-in-a-lifetime experiences such as bungy jumping in Queenstown, even if it means they have to live on two-minute noodles and thin air for weeks at a time to do so.

Forgive me here if that paints these poor young people in a negative light.  I'm trying to explain the situation, not the people.  We have made a lot of wonderful friends from all over the world, who rely almost totally on freedom camping to be able to fulfil their dreams.  They live on a miniscule amount of money and struggle every day to a) make ends meet and b) find the next place they can stay safely and legally.  One couple we met had managed to survive for six months with just $1200.  That's just $6.60 per day.  Most of them work to supplement their travels, picking fruit or whatever they can find, working long hours for minimum wage.  I admire the heck out of them, they are all lovely people who are not scared to work hard; they learn very fast that they have to.  It is wrong and inaccurate to call them bludgers for being 'too stingy' or 'lazy' to pay for accommodation; in the majority of cases they are simply trying to survive.  The hardest hit places are the popular tourist centres such as Wanaka, Golden Bay and New Plymouth - places with amazing lake or ocean views.  And what tourist wouldn't want to stay in a place like that for free if they could?

Still, as any New Zealander living on the road will tell you, Kiwis are just as bad as overseas visitors when it comes to flouting the rules.  In fact they're probably worse as for some reason they seem to feel that the rules and laws don't apply to locals.  Which is very poor because we have no excuse.  We have the time, the money and the facilities to all be able to achieve certified self-contained vehicles.  In addition, we also have a nationwide motorhoming association, the NZMCA which makes it super cheap and easy to stay all over the country for next to nothing in their 'member only' camping grounds.  These grounds are increasing in number all the time and cost as little as $3 a night for a safe and pleasant place to stay at anywhere from Kerikeri to Whitianga, Waihi Beach, Fiordland and everywhere else in between.  It costs around $90 a year for our membership and you get a heap of awesome discounts to boot, from the Bluebridge and Interislander ferries, to insurance, Department of Conservation camps - even Specsavers!  If you're planning to travel between the North and South Islands even once a year the discount more than covers the cost of the membership.  We Kiwis are incredibly lucky and well provided for.  For overseas campers in search of freedom however, unfortunately it is only going to get harder, as more and more councils and communities are cracking down and putting new laws and boundaries in place; going as far as to literally lock campers out.  It's a huge shame, but to my mind, it seems our country has become a victim of its own misleading marketing and reputation.

Watch out!  Gareth is on the warpath :-D

No matter what though, you always get a few dishonest people who no matter what, try and pull the wool over your eyes.  We've learned that well and truly these past couple of weeks helping to look after the campground.  Our campground is a public domain, with several entrances, meaning that anyone can come in and use the showers or stay for one night or more if they want - for a small fee.  It seems however that for some people even $3 for a shower or $5 for a campsite is more than they are willing to pay and will go to extreme and often amusing lengths to get out of doing so.  Unfortunately for them, they haven't banked on a big hairy Welshman!  The other day Gareth saw a family of Asian motorhomers acting strangely and being deliberately elusive.  Sure enough, his instincts were correct, and despite having brand new signs up, specifically telling campers that washing clothes and dishes in the showers is not permitted, Bevin went and confronted them and discovered that they had paid just $3 (the price of one shower) for four people, and washed around five bags of clothes in the shower!  For starters we have laundry facilities available, as well as water sources all around the campground for washing clothes and dishes, but the biggest problem is the cost of using all the hot water meant for showering.

We ALL need to look after places like this

We've also had to get wise to several people in rental vehicles who like to try and sneak out without paying.  They typically like to slip in late at night, try and park as snugly alongside a fenceline or close to an exit as possible, then leave early in the morning before everyone else is up, so that nobody realises they have even been there.  What they don't realise is that Gareth already has their number plate and we simply ring the rental companies!  If people don't even have $5 to spend, or want to spend at a beautiful campground, surrounded by mountains and some of the most spectacular countryside they can ever hope to see, well then they shouldn't be travelling.  Places like ours are truly unique and precious; we should treasure and respect them, no matter where in the world we come from.  Or as Bevin so rightly sums up.  'If you want to have a great time travelling in New Zealand, don't take the piss!'

BBQ's, Beers & Bloody Good Mates

The past few days have been without a doubt, the hottest I have ever experienced in my whole life.  To some of you living in other countries, 32 degrees celsius may not sound anything too extreme, but the Southland heat is like no other heat we have ever known.  The sun is so incredibly intense down here, you just cannot be out in it.  Which makes things rather interesting when you live in a tiny van.  But on the positive side, we can open up our entire vehicle to let the air through, which is more than a lot of people in the bigger motorhomes are able to do.  This leads to another positive in that everyone has to sit outside in the shade and simply relax.  There is simply nothing else you can do, and this makes for a very social time I can tell you!

Even grown ups love running through a water sprinkler!

Despite the sweltering heat, I am so content right now it's ridiculous.  How can anyone not be happy in this balmy weather, surrounded by lovely people? I think most people would consider me to be an outgoing person, and would probably be surprised to hear that I consider myself to be an introvert.  I love my own space, peace and quiet and am fiercely protective of it but since living on the road I have learned to share that space.  My van is still my haven and if you want to hide away from the world you can simply shut the door, or in the worst case scenario move to another location - but in 15 months we haven't had to do that yet.  I have felt a definite shift in myself lately, and I've noticed it in Gareth too.  He's always been a lovely, friendly bloke but it makes me smile so much to see how well he interacts with all the campers and looks out for everyone.  I feel a lot more confident and relaxed when talking to people and I think it boils down to the fact that I'm just so much happier in my own skin these days.  When you live this way, everyone is equal.  It doesn't matter if you're in a $200,000 motor home or a $2,000 station wagon, we are all out there doing it the same.  Sure, you get the odd sniffy person who doesn't speak or acknowledge anyone else but these are incredibly few and far between.  It's like anything in life; you get what you give, the more you put in, the more you get out.

Wayne, Leanne and their dog Milo, some of the lovely friends we have met recently

Bevin the caretaker and his wife Amy are supposed to be on holiday right now, but had to come back early as the ground was getting too dry and urgently needed irrigation.  Fortunately they knew the perfect place to spend the rest of their break.  You know it must be a good campground when even the caretaker goes on holiday here!  So last night we and some of the other campers got together for a pot luck BBQ and a few beers.  Half of us had never met before, but as tends to happen with other road dwellers, everyone just falls into easy conversation and has plenty of stories to tell.  It made for a very enjoyable and relaxing evening and I thought to myself as I often do, what an amazing life we lead, to make the acquaintance of so many people and so quickly be able to count them as good friends.  Someone said to me recently that one of the biggest fears which stops them from doing what we do is no longer being part of a community.  I could understand that; I had the same fear too, particularly after being part of a very busy and active community in Whangamata.  But that's the thing, we ARE part of a community.  Everyone who lives on the road immediately part of the same special community.  It may sound corny to liken it to being part of a huge family, but that's how it is. There really is nothing like it.

Bevin's wife and all-round amazing lady Amy, in their motor home 

No shortage of beer and banter when you live on the road!

Am struggling to even write in this heat today but heaven knows there are people faring a lot worse than me.  This morning I stopped to chat to a friendly young Asian man who had just packed up his tent.  He was carrying an enormous pack on his back and another on his front, as well as his sleeping mat.  'Are you leaving now?'  I asked in disbelief, referring to the heat.  'Where are you going?'  'Invercargill!' he smiled.  He was about to walk/hitchhike 65km along a smoking hot highway.  I hope like hell that a) somebody picked him up quickly and b) he hasn't collapsed from heat exhaustion!  But nothing touched me more than the Otago Rescue Helicopter pilot we all witnessed this morning.  Our campground is the place it always lands whenever there is an accident and emergency and we see it far too often.  There were four heat-related fires in Gore yesterday alone and this morning the siren went off early and the chopper was quickly brought in to meet the ambulance and receive the patient.  Normally this all happens fairly swiftly but for whatever reason today it didn't and the pilot had no choice but to stay with his helicopter until everyone else arrived.  There he waited, in the middle of the searing hot rugby field, with no shade whatsoever, for more than three hours.  After a while in desperation he took shelter under the actual helicopter, in an effort to get into the shade somehow.  It made quite a picture and I would have loved to photograph it but it didn't seem quite right under the circumstances.  So instead I went out to him to see if he would like a cold drink.  'I'm OK, I don't know what the hold up is, but thank you!' he grinned.  Mercifully it wasn't too much longer before the ambulance arrived and everyone was on their way but as I pottered around outside, doing my handwashing and cooking brunch I felt actually guilty that my life is so simple and my whole house and everything I need is with me at all times.  One thing is for sure though, I never take any of it for granted!

Swing Bridges and Roundabouts!

Now that 2018 is well underway it's high time we caught up on some of our recent adventures!  A few weeks ago it was my birthday.  Initially we planned to go to Dunedin for a long weekend but it seemed that everything was stacked against us, as every single thing we wanted to do was either closed or booked out.  On the positive side, it was going to save us a heck of a lot of money, and so we put our thinking caps on to see what other, cheaper activities we could come up with instead.  When you're on the road for a while, particularly if you are a member of Facebook groups along with other nomads, there are some places and names which you see crop up a LOT and one of them is Piano Flat.  I never really knew what it was but thought it had a cool name and seeing as it seemed to be such a popular destination we were keen to check it out.

Still plenty of gold to be found here in the form of buttercups!

Piano Flat is a riverside campground, surrounded by forest, farmland and mountains in the far north of Southland.  It got its quirky name from a colourful character called Harry Selig, who was known back in the 1800's as Piano Harry, seeing as he played piano in the local orchestra, entertaining the early settlers and miners in the area.  Harry was the first person to discover gold there, and it was originally named 'Piano Harry's Flat' in his honour, before being shortened to the name we know it as today.  Technically it's in the middle of nowhere, but you're not so far away from civilisation as to feel horribly isolated, with the little town of Waikaia just a short drive away.  As soon as we arrived it wasn't hard to see why so many people love to come here - this place is HUGE. Despite its popularity it's the perfect place for those seeking peace and quiet, there's just so much room!  There is plenty to do here, from swimming and kayaking to cycling, hiking, horse riding, trout fishing and even 4-wheel driving.  Being a Dept of Conservation campground it is a low-cost place to stay and is one of the few DOC grounds which also accept dogs.  Today however we had a Minnie-free day as we were planning on a long hike.  We thought we had done our research fully prior to leaving; however we had no idea how long our leisurely hike was going to turn out to be!

We jumped out of the van and immediately realised the one, most important thing we had forgotten - insect repellent.  Unfortunately Piano Flat is also notorious for its sandflies!  As they immediately began attacking our arms and legs we thanked our lucky stars we weren't staying the night.  There was only one thing we could do to try and keep them somewhat at bay and that was to keep moving.  There are several walks available, from half-hour rambles through the 10,500 hectares of beech forest, to a four-hour, 12 km loop and a seven-hour 15km hike to the Titan Rocks.  We decided we would take the middle of the road option and opted for the four-hour loop along the Waikaia River.  Tramping is one of my very favourite pastimes and I was really looking forward to a good, long birthday hike.  There was just one major challenge I had to get out of the way first and it came at the very start of our walk.

The Swing Bridge of Doom.  At least, if you're me...

As some of you may recall, I have a phobia of heights - a HUGE phobia.  I literally freeze and am unable to move, which usually leaves me with no choice but to turn back.  Swing bridges come very much under that phobia and from the photos I had seen this one was a big one.  However, this particular route had been my choice.  I had steeled myself prior to the trip and told myself that no way was I going to miss out on doing this walk!  All I had to do was get that bridge over with, waddle calmly across the boardwalk and then I could relax for the rest of the trip.  It would be just fine.  And then we saw the bridge, stretching across the entire width of the river.  I had known from the photos that it was long - what I didn't realise was how NARROW and rickety it was.  My visions of a gently wobbling boardwalk were dashed as I surveyed what was basically a glorified tightrope made of chainlink.  There was room only to put one foot in front of the other, baby step style and I knew before I even ascended the equally rickety steps that there was no way in hell I was going to be able to set foot on that bridge.

Even Gareth wasn't keen to cross the creaking, rickety bridge!

Fortunately, for once, Gareth felt the same.  Normally he likes nothing better than scaling, balancing and leaping over things but having tentatively tested the bridge he had to admit he didn't like it either.  My lip started to tremble in defeat.  I could not let this bloody bridge get the better of me!  It would put the cobblers on the whole day.  There was only one thing for it.  We were going to have to cross the river.  And so we took off our shoes, waded into the current and wobbled and slid our way across on the slippery rocks, with the sandflies mercilessly munching on us all the while.  At last we reached the other side.  Success!  I looked around in total happiness as we found ourselves standing in an enormous field of golden buttercups, surrounded by mountains on one side and the river on the other.  It took us another good ten minutes to scramble over to where the bridge officially ended and then we were finally on track.  

We did it!  

After our unexpected detour, the track itself was a breeze!  Despite searching the Internet for more information, we couldn't really find too many details about it, but four hours sounded like a good walk to us so we just followed the trail merrily and to start with we were making good time.  After a couple of hours we stopped for a spot of lunch down at the river and were amazed to see a large antler, shed by a red deer at the water's edge.  We were just about to leave when we saw a figure crossing the river, apparently coming towards us.  What were they doing, alone all the way out here in the middle of nowhere?  Unlike most walking tracks, we hadn't seen another soul on the path all day.  'It's Valentin!' Gareth suddenly said in recognition, and indeed it was!  We hadn't seen him or his girlfriend Sandra since our wedding almost three weeks before, having left the campground after the reception.  It was a lovely surprise as we weren't expecting to see them again, yet here he was, a couple of hours' drive away, out in the middle of the bush!  'I saw a huge trout, swimming down this way!' he grinned, fishing rod in hand as always.  'If I'm lucky, maybe I can catch it.  Sandra is walking the track somewhere, you'll probably see her!'

A riverside picnic in the middle of nowhere.  

This was the last place we expected to bump into our old friend!

We had a brief chat before leaving Valentin to his fishing and continued on our way.  But we didn't see Sandra.  As before, we didn't see another soul and the further we went, the harder the track was becoming to find.  In fact it wasn't so much of a track as an obstacle course.  It became almost impossible to even put one foot in front of the other without having to move something, climb over something or edge our way gingerly along cliff edges and over worryingly large chasms.  It really was quite hazardous in places and made me very conscious that, should an accident have befallen either Gareth or I, it would have been a very long, solitary and nervewracking walk back to get help.  Still, we did our best to keep smiling and for the most part we enjoyed the challenge.  As the four-hour mark drew up however, we couldn't believe it.  'Four hours already?  But the sign still says 6km to go!  We're barely halfway!' we said in disbelief.  Thanks to the quality of the track - or lack of it, the going was incredibly slow.  The one thing we did know, was that we were supposed to follow the river's edge for the first part of the trip, then return back the way we came but on the opposite side of the river, along the road.

The 'track' becomes a tad more challenging!

 And that was when the track came abruptly to an end and we saw the second swing bridge.  What second swing bridge?  Exactly - none of the literature we had read anywhere had mentioned anything about a second bridge.  We had thought the first bridge was rickety enough, but it wasn't a patch on this one!  Again it stretched across the river, but this one was attached by a steel wire wound worryingly loosely around a tree - and not even a very large tree at that.  The bridge itself was in a far worse state of repair, being covered in rust and to top it off, the HAZARD sign warning only one person to cross at a time had obviously been broken long ago and nobody had been or thought to replace it.  Piano Flat may have been a popular campground but it was very obvious that very few people ever used this track.

Another dodgy swing bridge?  Oh hell no!

Crossing the river on foot was not an option this time!

I didn't even have to voice my concerns this time.  'No way am I getting on that - no way', said Gareth, and set about finding us an alternative route across the river.  This time however it was far less straightforward.  The water was a lot deeper, the rocks were a lot bigger (as were the gaps between them) and the current was a lot stronger.  We must have spent a good half hour trying to find a safe place to cross but to no avail.  'It's no good', Gareth sighed.  'We're just going to have to go all the way back to where we saw Valentin and cross there.  We saw him do it, so we must be able to'.  So back we went, feeling thoroughly disheartened and dishevelled as we hauled ourselves once again through branches and over and under tree trunks and limbs.  Despite sounding less than idyllic, it wasn't all bad though.  A delightful South Island robin had made our acquaintance and stopped for a while to say hello, before following us happily through the bush, feasting on all the insects we were disturbing and sending up from the ground for him.  Gareth also had the most enormous and beautiful dragonfly come and settle on his hand whilst taking photos!  And complaining aside, it felt wonderful to be out in the bush just doing something; filthy dirty, drenched in sweat but thoroughly exhilerated.

This dear little South Island Robin was super friendly!

An hour and a half later, we finally arrived back where we had left Valentin fishing.  He had gone, and instead some fresh deer tracks were at the place he had crossed.  Darn, we missed the deer again!  Getting across the river was quite time consuming, but at least here it wasn't dangerous and at last we were able to climb up the steep bank and follow our noses to the track which would lead us home.  Already it had taken us a good two hours longer than planned and we were exhausted, but in a good way.  After what seemed like an age, we emerged from the bush and out onto the road, where Sandra was sitting in her van, waiting for Valentin who had gone to retrieve a fishing lure he had left behind down at the river.  We chatted briefly before saying our goodbyes and heading wearily along the road back towards the campground.  There was only 3km to go but to us it felt endless as we trudged along. 'God I stink!' Gareth remarked, sniffing the air in disdain as we wandered along.  'You stink?  I stink!' I replied, wiping my sweaty brow for the 100th time.

Testing the water.  We did get VERY wet...

At last!  The road back home

It was around then we heard a vehicle approaching behind us.  It was Valentin and Sandra!  'Would you like a ride back?' they smiled.  Gareth and I looked at each other.  I could see Gareth was keen but - 'We smell!' I said pitifully, not wanting to cram our sweaty, stinky bodies into the confines of their van.  'It's OK, we smell too!' laughed Sandra.  'We haven't been able to get to a shower for a week.  We wash in the river but - you know, it's not the same', she shrugged her shoulders, smiling.  And so we gratefully climbed in and trundled our way back down the last 3km of gravel road.  As we passed through the tiny settlement of Riversdale on the way home, Gareth almost shot into the back of the van as I braked suddenly at the sight of a bottle store!  But it was my birthday, and boy had we earned it.  It wasn't quite the leisurely ramble either of us had anticipated.  But it was a brilliant day and despite everything we had an absolute blast.

A very happy Southern Man with a box of well-earned beers!

Incidentally, just a few days ago I happened to come across a brochure on Southland walks.  It describes the four-hour Waikaia River loop as being 'Challenging, for advanced trampers only.  Track is of poor quality in places'. Really?  No sh*t.  They also mentioned the second swing bridge at the end of the track, which is the only way you can get across the river.  If only the Department of Conservation had thought to put such information on THEIR website too!  But one thing is for sure; we will go back to Piano Flat again in the near future and this time we will stay.  As long as we remember the insect repellent!  

Our Place in the World

Rata trees in flower on the Hokonui Hills, photo credit Wild Frontier.  

We may not be by the beach this year, but the scenery is still stunning!

Ahh, it's all a bit idyllic here at the moment.  While the rest of the world seemingly is caught up in traffic jams and fighting their way through crowds, we're sitting outside in the sunshine enjoying nothing but peace and tranquility.  There's maybe another ten vehicles here, but our campground is so big everyone has plenty of room to themselves to spread out and relax.  I can't think of anywhere else I would rather be right now!  It's a little strange not being by the sea for summer but a change is as good as a break, as they say and this holiday season is certainly proving to be that!

A little corner of our camping 'village', as seen from our back door!

Most of our little Christmas village is still here, although a few have moved on now.  I have to say, I have never experienced so many consecutive hangovers in my entire life as I have this festive season!  Not that we're complaining mind; it just goes to show how much wonderful company we have been treated to lately, from old friends and new.  Christmas Day itself was somewhat quieter than we planned, thanks to the heavy rain which kept everyone from mingling as planned and cooped up in their motor homes instead.  Even so, the weather did nothing to dampen our spirits and we curled up inside listening to corny Christmas music, watching festive movies and playing card games badly until the rain subsided.  Later that evening we went to Bevin and Amy's house for a BBQ and it was so lovely and relaxing chatting to everyone on the veranda and strolling around their beautiful garden.

Us with Annelieke

The days between Christmas and New Year were a bit of a blur!  Or should that be a social whirl?  Our fellow campers were all keen to get outside and chat after the previous wet day and there was an influx of new arrivals, many from overseas.  When it comes to travellers, everyone is different.  Some people keep very much to themselves and don't interact at all except for a wave when they leave; others are extremely friendly and keen to chat.  Such as Annelieke, a bubbly Dutch lady with a great sense of humour.  From the start she was wonderfully outgoing and had only been at the campground ten minutes before she was riding a horse around the arena, thanks to a local who happened to be there practising polo.  Shortly after her arrival we were joined by another Dutch couple, Axel and Astrid, who after making smalltalk asked if they could camp next to us for the night and continue the conversation.  Annelieke returned to join us after her horse ride and the five of us were a merry group, sharing dinner and talking into the night before it got too cold and we all had to give in and retire!  Spontaneous evenings such as these are always so memorable and enjoyable and it's lovely to learn so much about different people, their cultures and their countries.  We all exchanged details in the morning before they left and promised to keep in touch.  Hopefully we will see them again one day!  It's such a special place here, often people do come back; such as the South African family of five we have camping next to us this week.  It's always so nice to see people who love it here as much as we do.

The best thing about having a BBQ is that it's always the blokes who cook it!

We have also enjoyed some fun evenings with our young French friends, which have also resulted in some spectacular headaches the next morning!  When we first hit the road, I imagined that we would naturally meet a lot of people; however I never envisaged what good friends they would also become.  With not too much going on in the way of New Year entertainment in Gore, we agreed we would spend New Year's Eve with Valentin and Sandra and the four of us settled comfortably out in the sunshine for a relaxing evening of dinner, drinks and conversation.  Here in Southland, it doesn't get dark until around 10.30 - 11pm at the moment and as the countdown to midnight drew closer a vehicle pulled up alongside us, blaring music.  It was Paul and his wife Chrissy from the other end of the campground, and they had also brought along Debra, to see the New Year in all together.  I can't remember the last time I laughed so much - or sang!  There was our merry group, all from different countries, all different ages, talking and joking up a storm.  We hugged and sang Auld Lang Syne, watched the neighbours' fireworks and carried on the celebrations until once again it got too cold.  And as I sat there in my camping chair, with Paul and Chrissy's little dog Fergus asleep on my lap, I thought to myself how far Gareth and I had come and what a brilliant year it had been.  I couldn't have possibly asked for any more from my life right then.

The next day was blazing hot and Paul and Chrissy invited us for New Year's lunch.  It had been years since I had sat round a table for New Year's Day; not since I lived in England, and tired as we all were (and hungover as some of us also were!) it was so lovely to be able to do that again.  For the millionth time I felt truly blessed to have met so many wonderful people.  It's particularly touching for Gareth and I, because being vegan we are used to doing our own thing and not wishing to be an inconvenience to others when eating out; yet both Bevin and Amy and Paul and Chrissy all insisted we join them and went out of their way to make sure there was plenty of food for us to eat.  It really was so much appreciated!

Working on one of our many projects in my outdoor office!

Who knows what this year will bring for us?  There are all sorts of things we WANT to do; it's just a question of whether we will have the time, already the year is filling up fast for us!  For now we are happy right where we are and have plenty to do, as well as some big projects we are working on.  Once those are done, then we will treat ourselves to some more adventuring!  Saying that, we had a very busy December, visiting all sorts of new places, which I will tell you about next time.  If I had one wish for 2018, it would be that my family could see and experience life the way I do.  I saw this quote recently on my gorgeous friend Lin's motivational website Inspire Beyond Belief and it really struck a chord with me:

As far as I'm concerned there are no truer words!  I may not have known where the heck I was going this time last year, and I still don't know now.  But we both agree it was the best year ever.  We've found our place in the world  - and it's the WHOLE world!