A Mixed Bag

If I were a blueberry, I would be the one with the frilly bits, and fall off the bush into the pickers bucket with the glance of an eye. If I were a plum, I would probably be a fortune plum, caught between fuchsia and pink and too ripe to be eaten in the car. If I were a wwoofer, who sought the warmth of a home while I was so far away from mine, you could send me to Windsong Orchard, an organic fruit orchard stocked with tree-ripened characters, full of everything good in life.

This has been our home for the better part of January,
parked somewhere between the blueberry patch and the kiwi fruit trees.

As I pick my way through the blueberry orchard, my bare feet pushing into the cool grass, I have had time to contemplate my experiences as a wwoofer ("willing workers on organic farms") in New Zealand. I've come to know my wwoof hosts as agri-warriors, leading a quiet revolution to put the culture back into agri-culture, fostering new attitudes towards food and in turn, life. Unlike the majority of fruit produced in New Zealand, fruit picked here is not bound for international travel. It's grown and sold right here, usually by the hands that picked it for you.

Windsong Orchard stands out in NZ's Marlborough region, not only because people can consume the fruit they produce (unlike the dozens of neighbouring vineyards), but because they personify what it means to create good food. Tree-ripened, hand-picked, never-been-sprayed, Bio-Gro certified, locally grown, "other catchy market terms," fruit. Whatever you may choose to call the quiet food revolution taking place here, it all ends up in the compost bin. Windsong Orchard reminds you there a multitude of simple pleasures in life; like the beauty of living life on the open sea, or sharing meals with a never-ending supply of new friends, or tasting the flavours of all those plums, from tart to sweet.

Above all, Windsong Orchard has taught me that we not only consume food, we create it.

If I were a blueberry I would ask to be baked into a beautiful muffin, served with Earl Grey tea. If I were a plum you could take me to the farmers market and sell me along with all the other plums (like elephant heart, santa rosa, black amber, and billington) in a mixed bag. A mixed bag of delectable plums, grown for you by those lovely Crum's.

Mariana (the sweet soul),
Bob (ripe with critical knowledge & wit),
Jennie (an inspiration on so many levels),
Me (quick-picking fingers) and
Bry (full of blueberries).

Bread to the Birds

Our week between Able Tasman and our next workity wwoof wwoof was mainly spent either camped out near the beach cooking from one pot, or hiking in the mountains, and cooking from one pot. Beautiful meals seem to be much easier to make when we are staying with a friend or when we are staying at a "campsite" that has a kitchen. Bread is part of a beautiful meal.

One thing I've learned from a kiwi cookbook, is that NZ flour is much lower in gluten than Canadian flour and therefore does not rise well, especially whole wheat bread (so it turns out that the past bricks that have come out of the oven were not totally my fault!). An easy way around this is to add ascorbic acid (a.k.a. Vitamin C) to strengthen the gluten bonds...and voila! beautiful bread.

Another revelation in bread making was the bread itself. I make bread because it's a nice pass time, it's relaxing to knead, and there is generally less "fake" stuff in it that ends in orbitol, anthem, and other words that should be reserved for NASA astronaughts and Dendrochronologists. This past week, we've also discovered yet another reason to make your own bread, because the stuff from the store tastes horrible (in comparison). After four months of home made bread, we had forgotten how much superior the home stuff was.

On another topic, since being in NZ, we've seen a lot of birds but had not yet actually gone looking for them. What better spot than the Farewell spit, a place where heaps of shorebirds come to rest on there way back from North America (also a place where hundreds of whales come to beach themselves...). After spending a few hours walking along the spit, the two big players of the day (which weren't even shorebirds) was the Caspian Tern, and the hundreds of Black Swans.

After all that birding, we decided to take in the Golden Bay Agricultural and Pastoral Show, held in Takaka. What a riot! The whole town was there, it was unbelievable. The rural sense of community in the South Island is very strong, especially in comparison to Canada. We saw everything from show jumping, to cow competitions, to wood chopping.

We have now just arrived at our new work station, but more details will have to wait until later...
see ya soon!

The breadbasket...

One of those "one pot" meals along the beach

Sharin' the love at Golden Bay


After getting to the hut in the mountains, we wait out the rainy afternoon sharing a listen to CBC's "the Debaters" on an Ipod


Ok, enough waiting in rain...we go for a wee walk to see the Karst topography.

HOLY COW! We are above the clouds! I love this hike "this much".

Here we are looking so tiny at 1500 m. Part of Mt Arthur to the right.

Part of Farewell Spit

Weka coming in for a closer inspection.

Oystercatcher catching some...er...mussels...

Sheep shearing competition using old school shearers.

One Great Walk.

Here's a tip for your next backpacking trip (kiwi translation "tramp"): soak your oats the night before, add dates. The soaking will reduce cooking time (and fuel consumption) while making them a spectacular mushy texture. The cooked dates will ooze natural sugars that will taste as good as bacon after a night of sleeping on the ground listening to the eager mosquitos buzz by your tent. In addition to your morning glory, other food items that fit nicely into your backpack could include: pepperoni (which oddly will last days despite the heat), cheese (this however, will get soggier with humidity), and more Whitakers chocolate than you think you'll need.

Apart from enjoying your well-earned food, a hiking trip can make you fall in love with the outdoors all over again. While there are always the bits that test your ability to either endure or enjoy (say, for instance - rain that causes the skin to raisin or perhaps sandflies that cause body to swel, etc.) they are far many more bits that make you want to burst. From the moment we left the trail head at Marahau until the water taxi fetched us at Totaranui - Abel Tasman was one great walk.

Please see the photo description below.

Abel Tasman is a gentle walk, so gentle we wore running shoes (only to be passed by day-trippers in flip-flops). This being our third "Great Journey" in NZ (basically by "Great" meaning spectacular and popular), we knew the trip wouldn't disappoint. Here you can see I am obviously thrilled to be beginning our first South Island tramp.

Walking along on our first day we were getting the feeling that Abel Tasman National Park was the place to be. Until we realized that it essentially was. The park is actually incredibly accessible by boat (both personal operators and water taxis). So our first lunch break was spent sharing the beach with a few dozen kiwi families and their motorboats.

Our first campsite: A beach (almost) to ourselves, (somewhat) warm Tasman Bay water, our groundsheet as a beach blanket, and some reading material. When you are unemployed by choice you do your best to stimulate your intellectual by reading copious amounts of books (both fiction and non). I've decided it helps keep you sharp.

When the NZ weather catches you off guard, you wait it out in a hut, for four to five hours. We hang the tent under the veranda hoping that it will dry out somewhat despite the 100% humidity. The pounding rain was the soundtrack to our afternoon in the hut, as we (along with some fellow trampers and a few stranded kayakers) waited for the precipitation to subside and the tide to roll out.

The next day, the sun poured out with a vengenance, as if begging forgiveness for the day before. We were dry, warm, happy, and met with too many glorious beaches to know what to do with.

A tidal crossing leaves Bry ferrying our packs above his head while nervous trampers watch on. He offers to carry me across the stream above his head, however unlike my sleeping bag, I do not mind getting wet.

Being the brilliant folks we are, we actually find a cafe en route that agrees to serve us a beer, chocolate milk, and piece of cake (for a small fee of $23 NZD - money well spent). As we reflect over our journey we agree that something about this Great Walk felt odd. Perhaps it was the lack of commradery of our fellow coastal walkers, or maybe it was the fact that walkers could taxi their gear ahead and carry only their camera, or even drop in via motorboat to a spectacular beach it took you 4 days to walk to. In any case, Abel Tasman is breathtaking, and was worth every step.

A little Merlot with your hatchback burrito?

Well first of all, Merry Christmas and a Happy Hanukah to everyone.

After a brief visit in Wellington with the family, and many hours “searching” on the internet for a new car, we departed north for Wanganui with our new ride “Merlot”. Merlot is a beautiful wine coloured (hence the name) Renault, a little French car that has taken the place of Fern. Last week was his maiden voyage, which we were able to share with our Canadian friend Jocelyn. For starters, it was definitely not a traditional Christmas for us, what Canadians “traditionally” go on a canoe trip over Christmas? Oh well, that’s what we were looking for, something different so that we didn’t miss our families too much (we did still miss you though).

Like many of you, it was not a white Christmas, but a wet one, a very very wet one…at least the days leading up to it. So wet in fact that our 4 day canoe journey down the Wanganui River was nearly cancelled due to the river being between 4 and 6 meters higher than usual! Holy cow eh?! The river did end up going down significantly and we ended up having a magnificent trip despite the chocolaty brown water and the slippery, muddy, gooey banks (and dirty bums due to that said slipperyness). Join us on our little pictographic journey of the river trip….

...this picture is self explanatory...

Our first sight of the Wanganui River, despite the smiles, we are all shaking with fear with the thought of getting on the extremely swollen river...

...so we decide to have some burritos from the back of "Merlot" (the car).

Here is day one on the river. Waterfalls like this are everywhere due to the rain, however few were captured on photograph since our cameras pretty much lived in the dry bags.

Despite the rain and dirty water, we were still pumped to be on the river and not a campground.

Yum! Christmas diner, Kumera (sweet potatoe), capsicum (red pepper), quinoi (quinoi), and peperoni!

...and dessert! (the water level was going down so fast on the river that this bottle was actually in the water 30 minutes earlier!)

Post bubbly, loving life and probably thinking of family.

Christmas morning we were rewarded with sunshine...some of us may have gotten a little crazy after 3 days on the river...

We saw so many animals on this trip, wild goats, sheep, a billion ducks (and 4 ducklings), 3 very large possums (sneakily trying to get our food at night), 2 rats, and a Tui in a pear tree...er...flax tree.

Have a Happy New Year!

Rounding out our tour of the North

After cruising the North Island in true rubbertramp fashion, we are back on the parade in Wellington, overlooking Oriental Bay. Such a strange feeling to return to the capital city, some 2.5 months after our first visit, now feeling like (somewhat) seasoned New Zealand travelers. There are a few talents that mark this achievement: understanding the local language (togs, boot [of a car], jandals, a cuppa, etc.), not lapsing into shock at the sight of a 5-pronged roundabout, and never underestimating the power of foamed full milk on top of a shot of espresso.

Since we last checked in (I know, it's been ages), we have covered a lot of road. We climbed to the Pinnacles in the Coromandel, watched the surf breaks in Mt. Maunganui, admired the orchards of kiwi fruit in the Bay of Plenty, ate pie in Rotorua, wwoofed on a dairy farm near Dannevirke, and tramped in the Tararua Forest Park. For a more detailed description, please see photo montage below:

Hiking through beautiful NZ native bush on the way
down from the Pinnacles in the Coromandel.

Bry takes a dip in the (freezing cold) Cathedral Cove,
on the East side of the Coromandel.

Meet: our improvised chilly bin. It is here that I should report that after much deliberation,
Bry and I decided that Fern had to go. The (lack of) fuel economy was biting our budget in the butt, and so we are now on the look out for a wee car to see the South.
Translation: we're addicted to TradeMe.

When you're on the road, you stop at waterfalls. It's just what you do. Here's a waterfall, somewhere in NZ, rather ordinary looking, with two not-so-ordinary smelly travelers.

Eager for some new scenery, we make a dairy farm our home for the week. Jeff
(man in the yellow suit) and Annie (lady in the hot wellies) treat us more like royalty
that wwoofers (they are new at this wwoof thing). We love every minute of it.

Many lessons learned on the dairy farm, a few being:
(1) there's more to Japanese cuisine than sushi,
(2) now matter how elaborate the rain dance, it's still dry in Dannevirke,
and (3) always make more home brew than you think you will need.

We meet up with a long lost love, Jocelyne, and hike the Tararua Range.
We decided that we saw a lot of the tramp in it's true form
(or, what it looks like 90% of the time).

The beauty of NZ tramping is the huts. Oh the huts. Parnoosh warned me about them,
but I underestimated just how fabulous they would be after a day of tramping in the rain.
I am now a believer.

Sweet as.

The view from the patio: resting on the parade in Wellington with
family until our next adventure. Stay tuned.

Home is Where you Park It

This morning we woke up to the sound of rain on our "moon roof." Rain is a welcome sight to the gardens of the Whangarei region, as it has apparently been dry for weeks. There's no doubt that Fern needed the wash, but we left the towels outside to dry last night, which are evidently now still wet. Life on the road is the sort of stuff you joke about later over beers, when you are off the road. Waking up at 2am to swat at the mosquitos who have wandered through the open window (an attempt to counteract the effective greenhouse our van is by day) doesn't make for the most glorious travel stories. But there is plenty of glory to be found in NZ, usually when we are on break from our mobile apartment.

We have been north-bound for just over a week now, in search of the top of NZ. Here are some of the highlights:

- A stop in Auckland to see the largest metropolis in NZ and visit with Tom, who has escaped the UK to study at Auckland University for his PhD. We share fabulous food, share stimulating conversation, and hike Rangitoto, Auckland's newest volcano.

- We camp at Rawene and Bry makes bread in the camp kitchen's oven. Making the most of motorcamp facilities makes it less painful to pay obsence amounts for less than brilliant accomodation.

- We lunch in Ahipara with a view of the beginning of the 90 Mile Beach, a beach that actually doubles as a highway.

- We enjoy a quiet coffee break in Kaitai, 30 minutes of free internet at the local library, and stock up at local Pak 'n' Save for supplies (needed daily as our chilly bin is a mere decoration and hasn't worked since day 1).

- We reach Cape Reinga, the very top of NZ where the Tasman sea and the Pacific Ocean meet, before 8am and our fellow tourists. We are rewarded with a massive beach to ourselves to soak it all in.

- We scorch our feet on the Te Paki sand dunes during the hottest time of the day. Who's idea was this?

- In Paihia, I buy Bry a "cheap" NZ breakfast ($13 NZD) which seems like a good idea at the time, but actually results in hours of "gut rot." While Bry recovers in the van I frolic in the Pacific, realizing that the "moving seaweed" I am swimming with is actually a huge (sting?) ray.

- And then YESTERDAY! We splurge on a tour of the Poor Knights marine reserve which is just off the coast of Tutukaka. The tour includes a boat tour of the reserve, snorkeling, sea kayaking, paddle boarding, and lunch. Oh and an unexpected bonus; wild dolphins! So we swam with wild dolphins, no big deal... These surprisingly large, magestic beauties were within metres of us for about 20 minutes. As we struggled to keep up with them, they danced in circles alongside us, almost mocking our rudimentary swimming abilities. We (along with our fellow divers from the tour) were both simply bursting. It was the perfect day.

I realize that it will be hard to top swimming with wild dolphins, but the trip is still young. Until then, don't pee in a rented wetsuit.

Some photos for you to enjoy.

We realize that in NZ a "jafa" is not a type of caffeinated beverage, but simply an affectionate name for Auckland urbanites.

Murray, the Atlantic Puffin who joins us in the front seat. He is constantly pouring over the map, consistently annoyed at Fern's ability to consume petrol like it's her job, and manages to enjoy the cd's we purchased from the Waikato District's Libary for $2 each.

Fern, in all her glory.

Just relaxing where the Tasman Sea ends and the Pacific Ocean begins.

Te Paki sand dunes at noon.

Leaving the Poor Knights Islands marine reserve, estatic.

Meet your Meat

It's been a while since our last post. I believe we were in Raglan, which is now a distant memory of great friends and great waves. A lot has happened since we embarked on our second WWOOF. For one, living on a farm with a family has been very different than "working" at a hostel with other travelers.

On this free range, rare breed farm, we have seen the full spectrum from birth to plate. This included day-old piglets, bottle feeding calves, and well... making sausage. We have had the opportunity to learn a great deal from our hosts (along with their friends, organic dairy farmers). We covered everything from NZ farming in general, how bacon is processed and smoked, how to make lard, NZ gardening techniques, as well as the less appetizing things like how prosciutto is aged for a year.

We have also gained some interesting insight in farmers markets. Although we are both used to going to the farmers market, I for one have never acted as the vendor. I learned a lot about how people act, as well as body language that can predict whether we were dealing with a "browser" or a "buyer". Surprisingly, Kiwi can be frugal with their food purchases and complain that the Soggy Bottom free range, nitrate-free, no additives (snout, feet, floor-droppings) added meat is just too expensive. Lesson learned: real food is supposed to cost money.

Although much of our time at Soggy Bottom was spent mucking about or in the butchery, we also got to leave the farm a few times for our own little adventures. This included re-attempting and completing the Tongariro Alpine Crossing after much of the snow had melted, delivering meat to Raglan (for the organic burger shack) and staying for a surf, visiting an organic dairy operation, and going swimming in one of the Waikato regions many lakes.

So many thank-yous to the Walkers, Torben (our fellow WWOOFer, a spunky German who embraced our "words of the day" while feeding the pigs), and Stonker.

Soggy Bottom Bacon

Makin' the bacon

the bacon.

planting an oak at the top of the farm

Lanna, Torben, and Number Two

feeding Moosley

a moment for the Discovery Channel
- Emerald Lakes at Tongario Crossing

the morning embrace.