Cuppa?

"Having a cuppa" has evolved into one of my favourite New Zealand pastimes. As fall settles in we welcome a cuppa to warm us from the inside, like a hug on these chilly days. Suddenly our trip has taken on a new vibe, and I am feeling nostalgic about New Zealand already. Now is the time to savour our cups of tea.

Walking through the the sleeping plum orchard at Windsong.

Falling feijoas.


Marlborough in harvest.

Wine grapes.


Table grapes.

The fruit that tastes like perfume.

So much to ponder as we leave the South Island
and all the marvelous things on it.

Wonderful Wellington for a stopover before we round
out our trip through the North Island.

Thrown by the Bull Again

Who would have thought that I would travel 14,000 km's to spread silage ("bay-lage") off the back of a truck to feed a couple hundred hungry ewes, a chore I would likely roll my eyes at if my brother tried to convince me back home would be fun. Truth is, WWOOFing in New Zealand has not been my initial contact with farming, I grew up part of it (whether I wanted to or not). But the man next to me, in his gumboots and Carharts, will never be the same. As we both dig the soil from our fingernails, we realize that on our 'vacation' we somehow managed to fall in love with growing food and the people who make a living doing it. Whether we were picking in the blueberry orchard, packing yogurt into bulk containers, or putting the cups on cows, we have been delighted to be part of the process before the plate. Here's the secret about farming: first you grow it, and then eat it. And if you can connect people with their food somewhere in the process, they will care about what they eat. Healthy food, healthy Planet.

Quite simply, there have been so many lessons learned while working alongside our brilliant hosts. However, it's important that I let you know that not all our farm experiences have been enlightening. Although beautiful, we landed at a farm on the east coast a week ago that had us so disappointed it left us questioning the point of WWOOFing. We had signed up for this organically certified (for 20 years), biodynamic grain farm ages ago, and were keen to be part of their process - all the way down to getting dusty in the on-site mill. Turns out, our hosts had something else in mind. If I wanted to scrub the lichens off a bridge I would volunteer for the Department of Transportation. We managed to hold on for 4.5 days, waiting for some knowledge to trickle down to us lowly wwoofers. Instead we baked apple crumble for breakfast and learned that "dinkle flour" is just another word for spelt. "Biodynamic" has something to do with the spiritual harmony of the farm's soil, but does not mean there is harmony among the farm's humans. So not all WWOOF's are created equal; new lesson learned.

We move on, north actually. Back to the comfort of the Blueberry Cottage and the type of hosts that stock the fridge. We're thinning the feijoas and preparing breakfast at the farmers market, baking bread and loving life.

The product of the apple harvest
(great for dessert as well as breakfast).

A chilly fall morning on the farm.

Leaving the farm for a hike instead:
a round the lake loop at Nelson Lakes National Park.

We are treated to a hut to ourselves for the evening,
one of the sweetest things about life in the New Zealand backcountry.

Join the swing to Jerseys

What can I say, the west coast is... wet. It rains pretty much every day here, making the sunny moments that much more stunning. After a difficulty finding farms, we managed to get a wwoof at the end of the northwest coast, in Karamea. Meaning we only had 1 week to see the lovely glaciers. Unfortunately, the cafe / "farm" turned out to be a true disappointment full of crap (both in terms of junk and the hosts). This made us appreciate our previous farms and the hosts even more.

In light of this misfortunate situation Lan managed to put on her superstar hat once again and found us work on a real farm just south of Greymouth. This came at pretty much perfect timing as several severe rain storms passed through, which no doubt would have flooded our little tent.

Upon our arrival we were both shocked and nervous to learn that we would be part of the milking team, milking some 200 jersey cows (which produce milk with 6% fat rather than the usual 3%). It was both a great and fearful experience, great that we learned a new skill and now have a new appreciation for milk. However, we "lived in constant fear" of getting the next greenish brown squirt on the head. At times we had to wonder whether we were collecting milk or poo in the milking barn ("sunhats" were a must).

Aside from the milking shed, we also enjoyed some great company, great food, made butter and yoghurt, and most of all celebrated Lanna's Birthday, what a hoot!! Oh ya, who needs a quad to round up 200 cows before sunrise when you have a pedal bike, a flashlight, and Mr. Bo Jangles (the farm dog).

Now off to the East Coast via Arthur's Pass.

Franz Josef Glacier in all it's glory.

Lanna's "all dressed pie" at Blanchfield's Bakery (est. 1892).

My Pie didn't have peas and potatoes on top...

Morning milking at Fern Valley Jerseys

...hoping the bench won't break...

Off to round up the cows for the afternoon milking.

picture says it all...cuuuuutie!

Trying to avoid the golden shower while getting the cups on.

Fence repairs.

Arthur's pass, cold and tired from a week of milking.

Making it Happen vs. Letting it Happen

When I first described to a friend how the inner-workings of our trip to NZ would develop I told him that I was a planner and Bry was most comfortable going with the flow. I tried to hide my anxiety as I imagined myself living out of my savings account with little to no agenda except that I needed a break from the everyday and NZ seemed like a great place to do it, and well... Bry relished the blank slate we were working with. Over the past 6 months we have managed to reach a series of compromises (not without the colourful frustration that often preludes a compromise of course). Those compromises have landed somewhere between tramping the entire South Island and being a surf bum, or - making it happen and letting it happen.

In the past few weeks we have had one farm host cancel on us and another not return our phone calls. We've felt the arrival of fall in the South, dealt with the rain of Fiordland, and became reacquainted with sandflies. What with the current situation unfolding in Canterbury, we quickly realized that our troubles were trivial. We push onwards, relieved to be together and safe.

The Moeraki boulders, falling out of the cliffs and into the sea.

We reach Dunedin, a classy little city I could imagine myself being very comfortable in despite the persistent rain. While visiting with Brit & Ben for a few days we make fish cakes, see an albatross, and watch blue penguins waddle up to the beach at dusk.

We visit a sheep farm in the Caitlins for a few days, the Southland's east coast. Here we are with the smallest 'ute' (trucks in NZ are known as 'utes' short for utility vehicles) and the biggest pile of weeds. You can call this glamour-wwoofing.

Chased by a bull seal on the southern most beach in NZ.

We arrive at Milford Sound (which is ironically a fiord) and decide to join all the other NZ tourists and book ourselves in for a cruise. One of the key selling points: a BBQ buffet lunch was included in our tour. We make a stopover at the new Milford Sound Discovery Centre and descend a staircase to the sea, full of phenomenal marine life.

While on our Milford tour we pause with the rest of NZ for a moment of silence to show our support for the people of Christchurch. I realized that whether we are making it happen or letting it happen, our relationship with this country has taught us that the beauty of NZ goes beyond the mountains that plummet into the sea.

White Gold

In this case, I’m thinking about milk! Dairy is one of the largest industries in NZ, and growing by the day. This past week, we had the opportunity to spend a week not only on a small organic dairy farm, but on an organic dairy farm that also produces delicious yogurt less than 10 m from the milking shed. What a beautiful process of using none other than fresh milk, culture, and a little bit of heat to make this extremely "low food-miles" product.

On the farm, not only did we drink a lot of fresh milk and yogurt, but we also got to make some feta cheese, AND make some yummy ice cream!

During our time on the farm, we were also asked to participate in two presentations/discussions on "water conservation issues in the Canterbury Region". Some of it was very interesting, some...not so much... Although I have a feeling that intensive dairy systems should not exist in the arid areas that need constant irrigation of there pastures, it was not discussed during the water strategy meetings. Instead we learned that there are plans to expand the dairy industry in the area despite the already present water restriction. Go figure.

Following our stay on the farm, we headed west to see the other "White Gold", this time in the form of snow and ice (and tourists!). We arrived at the base of Mt Cook/Aoraki awestruck by its grandeur. It is no wonder why Sir Ed Hillary chose this area to train for his ascent of Mt Everest!

We decided walking around the base and campground was not enough for us and therefore decided to do the 4hour climb up to the Mueller Hut (1800 m). Not only was the scenery on the climb up beautiful, the hut was directly across from many of the glaciers!

Now, on our way to Dunedin to visit Brit and Ben, where we hope to see the magnificent Royal Albatross!

Standing outside the Clearwater farm.

Jackie milking the cows (I got to milk one of these lovely ladies by hand!).

The nearly finished product.

Two familiar faces with Mt Cook in the background.

Mueller Hut, our humble abode for the evening.


Flowers and Ice (sounds like a James Taylor song...)

Until next time...

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.