Sabbatical VI - Taranaki, Tongariro, but not Taupo

Thursday May 23 –I liked Stratford.  It had lots of stop signs, and few traffic circles.  Foggy, but with coffee, pack up and off to Mt. Taranaki.  I had decided to go to the Dawson Falls access point on Taranaki.  It was the closest to Stratford; more time on the mountain. 

In introductory geology labs, there is always a (to me) pointless unit on landform classifications, including drainage patterns.  One of these is “radial drainage”, i.e. streams that drain from a central point – like an isolated volcano like Mt. Taranaki.  I suffered for my judgement while getting to Dawson Falls, as poor MG labored up and down through valleys carved innumerable radially draining Mt. Taranaki streams. 

Mt. Taranaki used to be called Mt. Egmont, but at some point the Maori name was honored.  It’s still located in Egmont National Park.  I suggest looking at this on Google Maps or the equivalent; it’s an almost circular preserve.  Odd. On the ground, this is an abrupt boundary between open agricultural land and a literal wall of extremely dense native flora.  The road into the park was effectively a tunnel hollowed out of this abundance:

The road was narrow. Blind corners.  At least I was between radial drainages.  We climbed, and the fog vanished.  But I pulled into Dawson Falls to a clear blue sky.

I figured I had a few hours to day hike before heading eastwards towards Tongariro National Park.  The summit was out of reach.  It would be a full day effort with alpine, sub zero conditions at the top.  So a pair of short hikes.  I parked MG at the Visitor Center, right about at 900m elevation. A short downhill (including 230+ steep stairs) to Dawson Falls, which turned out to be an 18 meter waterfall, flowing robustly.  The splash bowl and alcove were humid and verdant – mosses and ferns in abundance.  It was hard to be sure, but I expect the falls formed where Kapuni Stream flows over the lip of a lava flow.  I was puffing hard by the time I got back to MG.  But more uphill was indicated, as I wanted to hike to Wilkies Pools further up the Kapuni Stream drainage.  The trail description said I’d quickly be moving into “goblin forest”.  Hmmm.  Well, an apt designation; the humidity I’d seen at the falls persisted (I expect being on the windward side of New Zealand helps too) and the gnarled, twisted podocarp trunks were literally entombed in mosses and lichen.  It looked very Middle-Earth, even with the sun filtering through the canopy. 

I climbed, crossing the stream a few times, and then basically hiking up a side stream, or so it seemed.  The understory was a dense assortment of broadleafs, vines, and grasses.  If I were a moa, I’d keep my head down for sure.  This would be brutal country to try and walk through – I wonder how the Maori used it.  I was thankful for a nice trail.

Wilkies Pools were underwhelming, although the view of Mt. Taranaki was world-class.  I wasn’t tired yet, so I kept climbing, eventually returning to MG along the Ridge Track. It was described as the “wet weather” route, I guess meaning that you’d be less likely to ride a flash flood on it during heavy weather.  More goblin forest.

Back at MG, another visitor – I’ll guess a Euro in his 20s – walked up to me and asked if he could get to the summit from Dawson Falls.  I said yes, but that it was already very late in the day for a 1400m ascent.  He seemed unconvinced.  He also kept looking over my shoulder: distracting.  I finally turned to see what the deal was.  The pair of German girls I’d passed on the trail were, um, changing all their clothes in the parking lot. 

It was time to leave. 

Back to Stratford, petrol, a ginger beer, and east on Route 43, known as “The Forgotten World Highway”.  How could I not take this road?  It promised the kind of driving I love the most, a sinuous, always interesting up and down and empty road through interesting country.  It requires attention to driving, but with enough latitude to keep an eye on what’s going by outside.  Probably fun in a touring car, but MG did just fine.

The road transected what appeared to be a dissected plateau of uplifted marine sedimentary rocks.  Little evidence of faulting or folding, just lots of jagged hills and steep valleys, with the Forgotten Highway strung across them.  Pretty clearly beach sediments near the start of the drive, grading into deep marine sands and finally muds by the end.  These shallow water rocks to the west, deep water to the east are interesting, because if you think about it, the present coast of New Zealand is the opposite: deep water to the west off the coast.  So perhaps these sediments came from some other landmass which docked with New Zealand in the past. 

Disclaimer: I spent some time looking for a good overview of New Zealand geology before this trip but couldn’t find anything that was at the “ABC” level or severely local and technical.  So I am faking it as I go along. 

Initially, the Forgotten Highway countryside - through Toko, Douglas, and Strathmore – was agricultural, sheep and beef cattle.  Grassy hills and ridges, fingerprinted by livestock tracks.  What I expect now in New Zealand.  Eventually, somewhere past Huiakama, the terrain got too steep for animals, and the native bush has survived.  The same high density as at Taranaki, but on a grander scale, including tree ferns, a couple of the native conifers, and taller shrubs.  Still lots of moss.  At a distance, this gives the landscape a sort of spongy, quilted texture, much nicer to look at than sheep and grass. 

Halfway, a pause at Whangamomona for a long black (Americano) at the Whangamomona Hotel bar.  If I liked bars, this place would rock.  Clearly the center of local culture (generations of pictures of the local rugby club) and tourist universe. 

Onwards through Marco, Tahora, and onto the 16 km dirt section of the highway.  This was the most comfortable part of the drive.  I couldn’t rush.  There was no traffic.  The road surface felt smoother.  

Best of all, I finally solved the mystery of MG’s horrid rattle: it’s the custom bracket that holds up the curtains between the cab and bedroom.  Nothing a pair of dirty socks couldn’t fix.  

Yup, a dirt road through a dirt tunnel

Back into ag land, and a flattening of topography as the rocks got muddier (and softer).  An end to the Forgotten World at Taumarunui.  South on Route 4 to National Park.  An abrupt termination to marine sediments (faults?) as we entered the Taupo Volcanic Zone, the north-northeast to south-southwest volcanic core of North Island.  Everything hereabouts is covered over by recent volcanic eruptions.  East on Route 47, then southeast and uphill to my destination, Whakapapa, in Tongariro National Park.

Tongariro is a UN World Heritage Area, and has long been on my list of places to go.  It has a fabulous world-renowned hike, the Tongariro Alpine Crossing, which transits the high plateau between Mount Ngauruhoe (aka Mt. Doom in LOTR) and Mount Tongariro.  At 21 km, it was totally doable even with crampons and ice axe.  I brought enough gear that I’d stay warm, I hoped.  But, ultimately I opted against the trek as conditions the next day were to be foggy and well below freezing; the point was to see bits of Tongariro, not check a box on the accomplishments list.  I was not surprised, I’m here out of season for doing stuff at elevation. 

Friday May 24 - A predictably cold night at 1640 m.  Extra condensation on MG’s windows.  I was plenty warm in my nest, although it was hard to get up.

The Whakapapa I-Site recommended the Tama Lakes track as an alternative to the Crossing.  Why not?  It started in Whakapapa, so that was good.  I drove MG 500m from my campground to the portal, loaded up my pack (lunch, snacks, first aid kit, rain gear, extra warm clothing, water, camera gear, repair and emergency kit) and headed off.  It was foggy.  The trail - grey gravel set in rip-rap, cut into the landscape – was impossible to lose.  This is good, as New Zealand parks aren’t big on accurate maps.  People seem puzzled when I ask about them.  There are just signs that say things like “Tama Lakes, 2.5 hours”.  No distances specified. 

It stayed foggy.  I descended into a birch forest, then into open subalpine landscape.  I was by myself.  I thought, this is great.  It’s awesome to be out.  I descended and ascended over numerous drainages (vaguely radial, the topography was complex).  I took a detour look at Taranaki Falls; another cascade over a waterfall, with another brutal set of stairs. 

Then a long two hours walk out to Lower Tama Lake.  I’d gradually been catching up with a hiker wearing red.  When I got to Lower Tama Lake, she was there.  We said hello.  She was French.  We waited for an opening in the clouds.  Lower Tama Lake is basically a volcanic crater lake, one of a series in this zone on the slopes between Mt. Ruapehu and Mt. Ngauruhoe.  I was happy to look down into the lake basin and avoid the steep scramble down to the water. 

Lower Tama Lake.  Note French woman and German man

As I got up to proceed to Upper Tama Lake, the French woman asked me if it was worth the climb.  I said, why not, when else am I going to be back here?  She seemed unconvinced, but then hiked with me up the trail.  She plied me with questions about Taranaki.  I got ahead of her on the steep ridge of loose volcanic debris (porphyritic andesite, sand- to boulder-sized rocks speckled with white feldspar crystals).  I arrived, puffing.  She was not far behind.  We agreed that the view as worthwhile:

Lunch, adios, and I started my descent.  I’d seen a few more hikers on my outward leg, all Euros, mostly young, who were as severely equipped as I was.  Often in full windproof rain gear; it was pretty blustery.  Then at the beginning of the drop to Lower Tama, I passed and greeted a dozen Kiwi guys – they were wearing shorts and t-shirts.  A few of them were carrying water bottles, no packs.   

The commute back to MG began to drag on a bit.  The sky stayed overcast, although the fog had lifted.  No mountains to be awed by.  So I started looking at the flora.  I know nothing about botany, but there seem to be two distinct plant communities on these subalpine slopes.  The broad ridges were capped by a solid quilt of what I’ll call heather – broadleafs, at least a dozen kinds of mosses (bryology paradise), bunch grasses, small shrubs, and dwarf cedars, all set in a healthy soil horizon a meter or so thick, weathered out of volcanic deposits.  Clearly undisturbed by eruptions recently.  I could have a yard full of this stuff and be content, if it wouldn’t require building a refrigeration unit covering my property.  It was wildly colorful: dark red, three shades of yellow-green, four shades of green, orange, olive, very pale pink, red-brown, rust, pale yellow, and orange-rust.  The heather was interrupted by drainages, which were dominated by lichen and other types of moss, encrusting all the rocks and boulders.  A bit less colorful, including fluorescent orange, darkest red, and pale green.  I’m not clear at the relationship between the heather and these lower, more barren areas.  The latter could have grown at the expense of the former through landslides, plus erosion by streams and the occasional lahar from the volcano.

Eventually, the parking lot.  I was tired.  Another night in Whakapapa seemed like a good idea.

Saturday May 25 -Another cold night’s rest.  I discovered that the campground had a drying room, so I was pleased to have a non-damp towel in the morning.  Another Tongariro hike, this time a couple hours return jaunt to Silica Rapids.  I can’t resist an interesting mineral spring.  The cloud ceiling was higher this morning, so I had hopes of seeing the peaks.  The trail wound through birch “goblin forest” before entering subalpine heather like I’d seen the day before.  Much of this seemed rather boggy; the trail followed boardwalks for several kilometers across this.  Better that wet gooey boots.  I kept checking the skyline.  Finally, Mt. Ngauruhoe almost peaked out of the clouds:

Backlit, but still awesome.  Presently I reached the Waikate Stream drainage and turned uphill towards Silica Rapids.  I assume this is a fault-controlled drainage, and that water rich in iron, aluminum, silica, and other stuff dissolved out of the underlying volcanic rock makes it to the surface along the cracks.  I crossed a bridge, and the stream bed turned rust orange: iron-rich cold springs.  I’ve seen lots of these in the Cascades in Washington State. 

I climbed further.  When Waikate Stream came back into sight, its bed was a pale yellow color; aluminum and silica cold spring deposits.  Unexpected.  Unique as far as I know. 

Back to MG, and time to leave Tongariro.  I regret not doing the Crossing.  Maybe it would have been fine.  Maybe I’ll come back.  We headed northeast on Route 47 to Turangi, and then further on Route 1 to Taupo. Much of the drive was along the shore of Lake Taupo.  It’s a volcanic caldera, approximately the size of Singapore (Xin, there will not be a quiz).  It formed from a series of catastrophic eruptions about 26,000 years ago.  Eruptions of this scale are rare, thankfully, it would have caused a good decade’s worth of global cooling. 

The weather was gross for looking at the lake: hazy and humid.  The town of Taupo grossed me out even more.  It’s a holiday place, and the descent from Tongariro into streets full of boutique shops, hotels, eateries, and LOTS of people revolted me.  I’d planned to stop there for lunch, but I fled further north instead.  I was not emotionally prepared for the abrupt transition; my mind was still out in the quiet of the park.  I recognized this reaction from previous reentries into “civilization”.  Oh well.

Lunch then at Craters of the Moon, a local geothermal area run by a land trust.  Nice steamy views:

Tonight, I’m in Rotarua.  Much quieter than Taupo.  Tomorrow, more geothermal, some Maori culture, and whatever looks enticing.

Sabbatical V: Heading South, and North

Sunday, May 19.  Rested, somewhat, so time to move on.  I have already realized, all over again, that in a new and interesting place like New Zealand, there are just too many intriguing choices of what to do.  I trust fate, weather, fatigue, and ongoing research that I will see enough.  In this mood, I started my journey with a short drive to Te Mata Peak, a local land trust park in Havelock North, which had a set of recommended hikes.  It was busy, clearly a popular Sunday outing.  I took the Giant Circuit, about 6 km of trail with significant elevation gain to top of Te Mata.  My knee hated the downhills, but no more than usual.  Lovely as usual to be out in the real world:

I think this part of Hawkes Bay, and southeast New Zealand overall, is mostly forearc basin geology, meaning it’s all semiparallel mountains and ridges that are being bulldozed up in front of the volcanoes that have formed along this convergent plate boundary - scraped off the subducting plate.  Te Mata Peak is an example – my track wandered along the gentler northwest face at first, including through a sequoia grove, and then ascended to the ridge crest along the “Chutes and Ladders”.  Suddenly I was at a 370 meter cliff, and it was hyperwindy.  I had trouble staying upright.  This is a hang-gliding venue, but today was too blustery.  Dramatic views towards the Pacific:

Moving further on, heading south on Route 2.  A bit more used to MG, as I get acclimated to road behavior.  The squirrels, I mean engine, seem happiest at 95 kph or less on this kind of windy lumpy surface.  Through Waipawa, Waipukaru, Norsewood, Dannevirke (Scandinavians immigrated to the area in the 19^th century to cut timber), Woodville. Rain squalls on and off, so it was a good time to be driving. 

At Woodville, a turn onto Route 3, and northwest across the Ruahine Range (forearc plus transpression?). Coming on sunset.  Winding road.  Wind turbines by the dozen.  Into Ashhurst, where my amazing camping app recommended the Ashhurst Domain, i.e., park.  A small nest of campers in an isolated, quiet corner by a cemetery.  A good space for MG. 

Monday May 20 – First, a view of the wind farm:

A short drive to Palmerston North, home of the New Zealand Rugby Museum.  I have been an All Blacks fan since seeing them play South Africa in 1996.  I still don’t fully grasp rugby rules, but I know beautiful play when I see it. First though, Sengita had figured out that I could stand in front of a webcam in the Town Square, so I achieved a hello wave to North America.  

The Rugby Museum is part of the Te Manawata Museum complex, so before looking at jerseys and balls, I learned a bit more about the Maori (the Rangitane iwi) and European cultural histories of the Manatawa region.  The Rugby Museum was fine.  The history of rugby, starting with its origins at Rugby School in south England, and then a decade-scale tour of All Blacks history.  They have been very good for a long time.  The displays were chock full of original artifacts, ranging from jerseys to balls to sheep bladders (early ball inflators) to team caps.  The main information foci were on how well the All Blacks played, primarily against England and South Africa, and the evolution of the game in Kiwi society.  All Blacks teams were integrated from the first side in 1905.  Women’s teams developed early on.  Almost all players fought in the World Wars.  The protests and drama around games against South Africa during the apartheid era were covered honestly.  And again, the sense of national identity was clear.  It would be as if the USA Olympics Men’s Basketball “Dream Team” played together against other countries all the time.  Here are a few pix - the displays show items from the 2010s, 1910s and 1970s (sorry for the random order).

Decision point.  Northwest toward Taranaki (hiking), or south to a day in Wellington (museums).  Wellington won.  When else am I going to be here?  So back on the road, through Shannon, Otau, Otaki, and finally Paekakariki.

Camp, and a walk on the beach till sunset over the Tasman Sea:

Tuesday, May 21 – Another walk on the beach before dawn.  Breakfast and then down to Wellington.  I am still sorting out Kiwi traffic.  Leaving Paekakariki, there was a line of cars in the left turn lane to get on Route 1.  It didn’t move.  I began to suspect something was off then the driver in front of me got out of her car and when to get espresso.  OK, it was a parking lane.  In the middle of the street. 

I was twitchy about driving MG into an urban setting – too much to keep track of while driving.  At least it was hard to get lost; Route 1 is the only main road into the city from the northwest.  Gripping the wheel tightly, I easily found Aotearoa Quay Road, and hence my destination, The Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa, aka, “Te Papa.  I parked MG in the campervan ghetto:

The museum is a six story modern pile of natural history, social history, and art.  I’ll let the pictures explain how well-designed it is:

 

Panorama of Wellington, Te Papa on the left

I took a quick spin through the geology and biology sections, which were full of moms and small children who were having a grand time banging on all the interactive exhibits or trying to moderate such behavior.  Noisy, but at least I saw the kiwis (chicken-scale) and the embalmed giant squid:

A very good section on human impacts of the natural environment. Based on palynological studies, pre-human New Zealand was 85% forest.  The Maori dropped this to 55%, clearing land for gardens.  Europeans then “made the land useful” by felling trees, draining swamps, burning native bush and introducing grasses and livestock.  Only 25% of the original forest remains.  Based on maps, protected land is mostly what’s too steep or frozen to “use”.  This is changing; like in the USA, as I see in my work at TWS, there’s blooming awareness of the need to conserve a full a spectrum of ecosystems, especially given climate change.

Upwards to the floors on social history.  I particularly wanted to see the Maori section.  This was the only part of the museum where photography was not allowed, as most of the artifacts continue to have living cultural importance.  The exhibits told the story of the Rangowhataata people: their origin myths; arrival on North Island; contact with European; disenfranchisement from their lands and traditions; modern resolution.  It was clear the Maori strive to maintain their culture, and have been participants in national culture, albeit too much as second class citizens.  But not pushed to the side to the great degree that Native American peoples have experienced (except maybe the Hopi, Zuni, and some of the Inuit groups?).  All that said, what moved me to tears was the power of the artifacts – I can’t explain why.  They had living power.  As an example, one of Te Papa’s meeting rooms featured an example of a modern Maori meeting house, maybe it gives a sense of what I felt:

Espresso, and onto the art section, which was – mostly closed.  I did enjoy a series of amusing sculptures (?) made from paint by Helen Calder, for example:

That was the morning.  Wellington has other museums, a botanical garden, a cable car, always of which sounded good and were in my plan.  But with a strong push from Sengita, and realizing that this was a unique opportunity, I decided to go on the Weta Cave tour.  Weta Studios is one of the movie production companies in “Wellywood” - that does special effects – think Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, the Chronicles of Narnia, Avatar, King Kong, District 9, and about 200 other films.  Trust me, you’ve seen their work.  I took a tour bus from downtown.  Ray, the driver, was an extra in LOTR and delighted in pointing out the park where 19 scenes from LOTR were shot, as well as all the studio buildings – mostly nondescript warehouses - which have intergrown organically into the suburb of Miramar, oh, that building is the biggest green screen set in the world… etc. 

The Weta tour was – OMG, the real stuff – orc costumes, dwarf armor, weapons of every type and size (I got to swing a dwarf mace and Prince Caspian’s sword), etc. ad infinitum. Examples, mostly from LOTR:

Bex, our Weta guide, walked us through the whole design process conceptualization, prototyping, mass production - using a dwarf helmet as an example.  Weta have invented and built many of the machines and materials that this requires.  The final highlight was meeting Warren Beaton, who is one of Weta’s master craftsmen.  He is the guy who built that gooey womb like thing that orcs were born out in LOTR.  He invented a polymer modeling material which you can read about here.

When we met him, he was building a model out of cooking foil and cardboard for the Weta miniatures display.  He kept saying, oh you can do this at home.

Back to MG, and time to escape Wellington.  It was the start of rush hour.  Some portion of Wellington’s 200,000 residents were all trying to commute on the same two lane (and randomly four lane) Route 1 as was I.  It got tiring very fast. And dark.  I got as far north as where I had started in Paekakariki, and ran up the white flag, booking another night in the same campground.  I was amped up from the drive and the day, so I burned off some energy by going for a run on the beach after sunset.  This was one of the coolest things I’ve ever done in the dark.  It was just past low tide, so the beach was flat and hard-packed.  There was just enough moonlight to be able to dodge driftwood and stay out of the ocean.  I thought, this is one run where it would be impossible to get lost – you either run into the water on one side, or a wall of sand of the other. 

Wednesday, May 22 – Atonement for a run on the beach and adequate rest was a long driving day.  I wanted to get well north into Taranki to be staged for hiking tomorrow.  So I got up, quick breakfast, quick wash, and – it started raining.  Back on Route 1.  It’s good MG is a bit loud, I can’t hear the windshield wipers.  I drove through squalls for a couple hours – Levin, Foxton, Bulls, Tarakini.

Foxton Windmill - Built in 2005

Eventually Whanganui, a major town near the mouth of the Whanganui River.  A destination as my guide book said it had a great regional museum.  You may have noticed I cannot resist a good museum.  Leaving MG by the river, I wondered around and eventually found the museum.  Yes, two floors of “Whangi” history.  I learned two things.  First, the moa, NZ’s extinct giant flightless bird, was REALLY BIG.  Approaching Clydesdale-scale.  The Maori ate them to extinction. There are several major fossil sites in the area, hence the paleontology in this museum. The first British naturalists reconstructed moa skeletons with long upright necks, so they looked like humongous ostriches (they are in the same taxonomic group).  Much more recently, biologists realized that any giant flightless bird with such an upright posture would continually be clotheslining itself.  So they looked at moa neck bones, and the vertebral alignment indicates that they carried their heads forward, not up.  Science wins again (there’s currently a stupid auto insurance commercial on in the USA, which has an emu in it – imagine that bird, just four times bigger). 

Second, an excellent exhibit on the local Maori.  In contrast to Te Papa, this museum gave me a good understanding of how the Maori lived – farming, fishing, warfare, weaving, carving, and sea faring.  Although a different group to the spiritual story at Te Papa, this filled in a lot of gaps in my understanding.  The Maori were a thriving culture before being disrupted by Europeans.  I don’t know how much of this reflects their roots in Polynesia, but no doubt much of it is unique to this land, Te Aotearoa.  It’s also clear that they had the will and the spirit to acculturate with the Europeans and still persistently fight for their culture.  Witness the Maori players on the All Blacks since conception.

Downtown Whanganui

Further north, no rain, just clouds. Kai Iwi, Waverley, Kakarmea, and a turn north at Hawera.  I’ve ended the night in Stratford, which has a serious Shakespeare theme going down.  Tomorrow to Mt. Taranaki, a 2518 m, beautifully symmetrical volcanic peak.  The summit is frozen, so some short hikes on the margins will have to do.  

Mt. Taranaki from Stratford

Sabbatical IV - Hawkes Bay International Marathon

Saturday, May 18:  To be clear, I ran the half marathon.  I am giving the weird system that is my left thigh and knee as long as it needs to find a healthy normal.  That means 21 kms is enough.  As is not spending days of this trip recovering from full marathons.  Disclaimer done.

I picked this race for timing and location.  Why not?  When am I ever going to run a race in New Zealand again? 

5 am.  Napier.  Still a couple hours ahead of NZ time.  It’s 27 F in Havelock North, where the race starts.  WTF?  I anticipated 40 F.  Oh well.  I brought shorts, nothing to do about that.  I added an extra layer on my torso.  I thought, the sun will come up, I will get warm.  At least it was 39 F in town as I walked to the shuttle bus.  Lots of other cold, surprised runners in shorts – or maybe everyone is just more cold-adapted.  Chatted with a woman from Auckland on the ride.  She is a classic Kiwi type – probably in her late 60s, working in order to travel and curious about all of the world.  She’d won her age group in the Mumbai Half Marathon last year, plans multiple trips to Eastern Europe in the future. 

The start venue was cold.  So were the porta-loos.  When the sun rose, I found a spot to get maximum thermal input.  Ok, finally time to shed insulation and go to the start.  By the time I got there, I could not feel my toes.

Countdown, and off.  The Hawkes Bay region is agricultural.  It’s billed as wine country, but I’d say more than half of the agriculture we ran by was apple orchards (remember this next time you get NZ apples in the USA, they probably came from here).  Mile 4: I could not feel my toes, fingers, or nose.  The course was a mixture of well-maintained sandy granite trails and road verges.  The former were better, especially the long segment on a man-made levee paralleling the Tukituki River.  Scenic:

Mile 7: I could feel all my extremities, and hey, I was actually sweating!  Probably 50 F by now.  We were running from Havelock to the Elephant Hill Winery, on the ocean.  Mile 12: the Pacific came into view, and I was still feeling pretty good.  A really tall Kiwi dude, probably older than me, started chatting with me.  Eventually I said, wanna burn it?  He was game, so we picked up the pace to the finish.  Glad handshakes.

My chip time was around 2:03, my Garmin gave me 2:01, which is about the right difference given my photo ops.  Fast for the current iteration of my running life, no complaints.  After stretching, I wandered the venue trying to find my gear bag and the shuttle back to Napier.  I somehow got in the wine line and was handed a glass of something chardonnay-like.  I was parched, so drank it right off.  I did not feel the alcohol at all. 

This was half marathon #49.

Shuttle bus, trying not to worry that I’d be late back to my hotel.  I’d begged a late check out.  Made it, and of course, since I’m in New Zealand, after 5 minutes of pleasantries with reception, it was like, no rush, take your time.  Shower, pack, haul gear to MG.  I had told myself I had to have a look at Napier, which has the highest abundance of Art Deco buildings in the world.  Alas, I was too race-tired other than to appreciate that they were amazing.  A large Malaysian lunch didn’t help. 

So I did my big provisions shop and headed south.  I quickly realized I was too tired to drive, so I found a nice campground in Hastings, took another shower and figured out how to arrange the insides of MG to my liking – surprisingly straightforward.  Here's the nightime nest:

Enough for one day.

Sabbatical III: Auckland and Meeting Mt. Goldsmith

Thursday 5/18: A recovery day in Auckland – time to see the city for the first time since 2001.  Seemed wise to be somewhat coherent before heading south-southeast across North Island to Napier to the Hawkes Bay Marathon.  I woke up well before dawn; a 5 km running tour of the waterfront seemed about right, lest I be stiff and pathetic for the race.  I ran past a restored 19^th century sailing ship just as it disgorged about two dozen or so sleepy teens, who must have been on a learning trip.  I crossed paths with them twice further on.

After breakfast, I joined the daily Auckland Free Walking Tour, led daily by volunteers.  I wanted to do at least one thing where I’d be hanging out with people, rather than moving around solo.  The tour turned out to be an excellent 2.5 hour wander through downtown, attended by visitors from Australia, Chile, the USA (besides me), Ireland, and the UK.  Louise, the guide, gave us a good introduction to Kiwi history overall as well as the story of Auckland, starting with the first Maori arrivals in the 12^th century up to the present.  Fun information too, such as explaining that the red neon along a certain alley was a nod to its past as the red light district and pointing out the local boutique that wardrobes the Prime Minister:

She wore the black dress this week.

Louise was also a proud New Zealander who was also clear-seeing about the country’s imperfections.  We had an interesting discussion about native peoples, contrasting how the Maori, Australian Aboriginals, and Native Americans have fared.  I was very impressed by her sense that there is a clear NZ national identity, and some consensus about how they want to be “go their own way” as nation in the world.  As presented, this was a pretty “blue” center-left perspective, which sounded good to me.  Also quite refreshing after living with the tiring discord that rules the USA. 

She also gave us the demographics of the country: 10% Maori, 20% Pacific Islander, 20% Asian (including the Indian subcontinent) the rest some variety of Caucasian.  This diversity was apparent as I wandered Auckland.  It was also clear that the latest generation of Kiwis is hybridizing, an observation that Louise confirmed.  A couple other people observations: 1) people don’t make constant eye contact here, as they do in California; 2) I have no seen anyone who is severely to morbidly obese; and 3) everyone has been friendly, helpful, and interested in my trip.  These are first impressions, we'll see how they hold up as I travel. 

Not surprisingly, Auckland has changed a bit since 2001.  Then, Queen Street and adjacent parallel streets were pretty much the main CBD.  The area is canyon-like; narrow street, tall buildings, wide awnings over shops, which range from cheap junk for tourists to upscale brands.  Somehow, it had a hodgepodge, slightly dingy feel.  This has not changed, although the shops are modern – no Starbucks then.  What has changed is an abundance of well-planned development (housing, tech businesses, boutiques, ubiquitous expresso bars, and swanky cafes) in the areas around Queen Street.  Nice to walk and run through.  Louise said that this development has given Auckland the same housing issues facing the Bay Area; high prices, limited affordable stock, with attendant social problems.  Here are a couple pictures of the city:

The waterfront at night.

Lights in the sidewalk.

After lunch, I took the commuter ferry to Devonport, a suburb across the harbor from the city, which every travel source categorically described as “quaint, charming, and picturesque “.  Nice to be on the water, not to mention the city view:

Devonport was as advertised; luscious well-kept Victorian housing and shops along the waterfront.  But I didn’t need stuff.  So I walked along the beach to Torpedo Bay, which is home to the museum of the Royal New Zealand Navy (the main RNZN base is further west).  This small facility told the story of New Zealand’s handful of ships, their crews, and their global adventures, from World War I through the present.  Great ship models and artifacts, such as the piupiu, a Maori skirt presented to the captain of the battlecruiser HMRNS New Zealand, which fought in European sea battles in World War I.  The captain was to wear the necklace during battles to protect the crew and ship.  He did.  It worked; they even got through the Battle of Jutland with no casualties.  It was rewarding to plug these stories into my broader knowledge of history, adding this non-American perspective.  Just like the morning tour, there was a strong sense of Kiwi identity to the exhibits.  There was also a powerful memorial to sailors lost at sea: 

Friday May 18: Time to leave Auckland.  An Uber to Mad Campers, where I had a reservation for 15 day rental.  A  nice welcome by Amy, an hour of espresso-fueled, thorough orientation and a test drive.  My campervan is a 2012 Nissan – well, egg-shaped thing, named Mt. Goldsmith (one of the adjacent peaks to Mt. Cook on South Island, yes, I knew that), whom I think I will call MG for short.  MG’s interior has been very cleverly customized.  Rather than describe it, I will point you to this Mad Campers overview.

We set off.  MG is not my e-Golf.  He will be fine for this trip, but I may get tired of the somewhat springy ride, engine that tries hard but isn’t quite enough, noisy ride, and driving something with aspirations to be a sail.  I am not complaining.  I fit in the bed.  The paint job screams tourist, which makes me feel safer in traffic.

Setting off was the five and a half hour drive, call it 450 kilometers, to Napier.  South out of Auckland sprawl into agricultural Waikato.  Working lands – crops, animals, and eventually endless tree farms and their evil twin, clear cuts.  Only rare bits of native flora.  Windy.  We gradually climbed to Taupo, sited on the shores of Lake Taupo, a very large volcanic caldera.  This is the land of geothermal action – more when I get back there. 

Of course, I am driving on the left.  I acclimate easily to this, given my tours of duty Down Under.  It was a little more exciting with MG as I got used to how to maintain situational awareness. I am already tired of navigating roundabouts, which appear to be a national obsession. 

From Taupo, I followed the Thermal Explorer Highway across the transpressional mountain spine of North Island.  I got used to pulling over so faster cars could pass me.  Highway in New Zealand means winding two lane road – the equivalent of the “Blue Highways” in America that William Least Heat Moon wrote about so well.  I was tired by now, up down, up down, pull over, listen to MG grind up the mountains.  The steeper parts of the drive were undeveloped – finally, large patches of native bush: tree ferns, acacias, bunch grasses, and many other things I don’t know.

Eventually down the coastal plain into Napier.  Found my hotel.  Hmm, MG would not fit in the car park.  The staff were lovely, and both figured out where I could park and took MG there for me.  It probably helped that I chatted with them for a while and that the manager was from Mississippi.  She was great.  A stroll through Napier to the Hawkes Bay Marathon/Half Marathon Expo, an Indian dinner, race prep, and bed.  Here's moon rise over the Pacific, with the Napier Fountain in the foreground: