Hitching Around: The first
thing I did after arriving in New Zealand was that I started to
hitchhike.
I spent a few days hitching around the North Island and then headed
south. Once there, I walked a track and yes, did some more
hitching until I arrived at my final destination of
Fiordlands.
This chapter isn't your typical travel story. It's not so
much
about what I saw, but who I met on the road.
November 13-14
I landed at the Auckland airport and looked for my friend Gareth, but
he wasn’t there, so I had to hitchhike right from the
airport. I
was a bit pessimistic about getting a ride. I had set a goal
for
myself where I wouldn’t spend any money on transport. I would
walk or hitch or do whatever--anything but pay. It wasn’t a
matter of money, it was just something I wanted to do. After
35
minutes I got a ride from three Indian guys who made me laugh as we
rode along. There aren’t a lot of places where you can get a
ride
right out of an international airport, but New Zealand is one of
them. They gave me a ride to a motorway where it took me two
minutes to get a ride. Three Maori (indigenous NZ people)
guys
welcomed me to their country and gave me a ride to the south.
After a fifteen-minute wait, a guy in a construction truck
stopped. He had to repack his truck so that I could fit in,
apologizing the whole time about it. It’s part of what makes
hitching fun. After that ride, it took me two minutes to get
another one. Two women who were on the way to visit a
relative in
a nursing home stopped. They were going to cancel their visit because I
was with them and I had to talk them into not doing that.
Even
then, they repeatedly asked me if it was ok. I told them that
I
was in no hurry and once again, it’s part of the fun. They
drove
me right into Gareth’s hometown of Hamilton and even bought me
strawberries. What more could one want from a day of hitching?
I arrived at his house and greeted my friend who saw me off from my
last NZ trip. He seemed a bit distant and told me that he was
too
tired to pick me up from the airport. I spent the evening
with
him and his wife Claudia. We had a nice time and perhaps my
feeling that he was distant to me was mistaken. I’ve spent
some
good times at his home and it was good to be back.
The following morning Gareth and I went to town to do a few things and
he said that I would have to leave tomorrow as he wanted to spend time
with Claudia. I was really surprised by this. He
asked me
if I was hurt and I told him I was. I live halfway around the
world and who knows the next time that we would cross paths and it
seemed strange being asked to leave less than 24 hours after
arriving. I guess people have to follow their own
path.
Later in the afternoon we went to the West Coast to an immense beach on
which we were the only people. There is a hot water volcanic
vent
somewhere in the shallows. We could detect its sulfurous smell, but
couldn’t quite seem to find it. We had to console ourselves
with
some fine red snapper on the shore. Later that evening, I got
a
call from a Dutch friend, Rob. He is someone I traveled with
on
my last trip to NZ. It was good to talk to him and it brought
back so many memories of my last trip. It was a weird, though
pleasant, feeling to be back in this country.
November 15
I did some shopping before meeting Gareth for lunch. I guess
we
came to an understanding of sorts, but I was still hurt. I
walked
to the outskirts of Hamilton to begin hitching. A guy at a
gas
station saw me walking with my pack and asked where I was
going.
He told me to hop in and off we went. His name was Renick and
he
was the happiest guy in the world. He couldn’t have been more
pleased to be exactly where he was, even if it was Highway 3 going
south out of Hamilton. He told me about some of the fishing
he
had done in fiords of the South Island (where I was heading in a few
days). It was a real pleasure to get a ride from him and it
was
too bad that it was only a 30 km. ride to the town of Te
Awamutu.
Less than a minute later I was picked up by a civil engineer named
Karen, who told me how roads were built, and gave me a ride to
Kihikihi. I started to walk to the edge of town where I could
find a better hitching spot, but I was picked up by Yates after less
than 100 meters of walking. He gave me a 20 km. ride and when
I
got out of his truck I noticed a car about to turn onto the
road.
The car, driven by Mary and her son, stopped to pick me up before I had
to walk a single step. They gave me a ride of 30 km. to where
they had to turn off the highway. I started to walk, hoping
my
hitching luck would hold, but it didn’t.
I walked quite a bit during the wait and got to see the green, rolling
hills of central NZ. It took about fifty minutes to get a
ride,
but even that isn’t that long of a wait on some days. A
woman,
Eltje, stopped to pick me up. She was cyclist, so we had
plenty
to talk about. She was from Germany and visited NZ on a
vacation,
got married, and decided to stay. She drove me to the town of
Te
Kuiti and told me exactly where to hitch, “Beyond the bridge, but don’t
go up the hill” she said. I followed her instructions and got
a
ride from a pleasant couple, Don and Nancy, in less than three
minutes. They drove me to a point where the highway
splits.
Three minutes later, Neil stopped to pick me up. He was
somewhat
gruff with a voice of gravel, but pleasant in his own way. He
gave me a ride through the scenic countryside along with a discussion
of politics. We could see Mt. Taranaki from far, far
away.
It appeared massive and beautiful and in a day or two, I would be
climbing to the top. He gave me a ride to the town New
Plymouth. I didn’t know where I wanted to be dropped off, so
I
picked a backpackers at random and he drove me right to the
door.
The man who lived next door noticed me poking around and told me that
the backpackers was closed and offered me a ride to another
one.
His name was Tom Clow and he was a clown (“Just add an “N” to my name
and you have ‘Clown’” he told me). When I say he was a clown,
I
don’t mean in a personal, figurative sense, rather in a literal
sense. You know, red ball nose and funny socks sort of
clown. I mentioned that I was a serious bicyclist and he
brought
me to his garage and showed me his cycling creations. One of
the
bikes had a bed frame welded into the middle. He cut up
several
bikes and created bikes made for two, some of them designed to ride
extra high off the ground and others extra long and all sorts of
things. All of them were of his own design created out of old
bikes and a welding torch. He told me how he likes to make
people
happy. I related to him how I dressed up like a lobster and
made
people laugh and I think I understood how he felt. We talked
about funny stuff for quite a while before he gave me a ride to a
backpackers. It was a nice backpackers, but it all paled
beside
the great day I had hitching. It reminded me of how much I
like
the Kiwis (New Zealanders).
November 16-17
I
took off on my hike up the 2500-meter tall Mt. Taranaki. It’s
not
the highest mountain, but it’s striking in that it’s a perfectly shaped
volcanic cone that rises straight out of a flat plain. The
day
was blustery and cold and the higher I climbed up the loose slopes, the
colder and windier it got. Eventually the clouds settled in
on
the mountain. Every year, someone dies on this mountain and
with
the clouds, I wouldn’t have been able to see any incoming storms, so I
turned back. I met two women who made it within fifty meters
of
the top, but turned back as it was getting too icy. They
showed
better judgement than I probably could have mustered.
In the morning, I was eager to get out hitching again. It’s
not
only where you go or even the journey, it’s also about how you make
that journey. At this point, it was about seeing the
countryside
but also about meeting the people. I just like to
hitch.
You never know who will pick you up and every single person I’ve met
had something interesting to say. In that spirit, off I went.
It
took me a few minutes to get a ride from Christian. He was a
tramper (NZ term for a hiker) and told me about some of the tracks that
he had done. He dropped me off in the town of Eltham where I
was
picked up by three people. They mentioned that I looked very
fit. “How do you stay fit? Do you eat
healthy?” I
said, “I had two bananas and strawberries for breakfast.” “We
had
battered fish! Think that might be part of the problem?” they
replied. A national election was coming up and one them said,
“The party that I’m voting for is trying to legalize
marijuana.
Even the Bible says that you should partake of the herbs of the
Earth.” I looked at her with a sly smile and asked her,
“Exactly
how many other passages in the Bible can you quote?” All she
could do is manage a sheepish grin. Her friends got a big
kick
out of that.
After that it didn’t take long to get a ride from Larry. It
was a
tad crowded and it took some effort to keep my feet out of the cat box
with my pack on my lap. His stated destination came and went
and
I experienced one of the rare times that I felt fear when
hitching. I became a bit more concerned when he turned down a
small road. What was he up to? I asked him where he
was
going and he said, “Oh, sorry about that. I’m retired and I
really don’t have any place to go today so I thought I would keep
giving you a ride. I’m just heading down to my house to pick
up a
few things.” His home was a small shack on a farm.
He lived
a simple life and seemed content with it and made sure to introduce me
to his dog. He then drove out of his way to Palmerston
North. On the way, we stopped at Ohakea air force
base.
Larry is ex-military and likes to watch the planes. We saw
the
entire fighter wing of the NZ air force (all
five of them, 60’s vintage at that) practicing. Between the
tarmac and us was a short fence that said, “Entrance strictly
forbidden.” I don’t know how serious they were about this as
the
gate was similar to the gates in many people’s gardens. I
mentioned to Larry about the type of security they have around air
bases in the U.S. He told me that Ohakea had short wire fence
around the base, mostly meant to keep the sheep off the runways.
After Larry, I was quickly picked up by Toby, an officer in the NZ
army. He had done some peacekeeping in Papua-New Guinea (one
of
my future destinations), so he had many stories to tell. He
drove
me to the outskirts of Napier. Sticking to my goal of not
spending money on transport, I had a long walk to the city. I
asked someone how far it was to the
center. “Hop in.” she responded.
I stayed at the Waterfront Backpackers where I met Anne. She
smiled at me when I arrived and I liked her smile. We talked
very
late into the night and went out and sat on the ocean. We
talked
of history, of nature, of all
sorts of things--all to the background of the breaking surf.
I
really enjoy this travel thing and I really
enjoyed my time with Anne. It’s so rare that I meet someone
like
her back home.
November 18
I wandered around Napier, enjoying the unique architecture.
It’s
a nice town that was rebuilt in the Art Deco style after being
devastated by an earthquake in 1931. Afterwards, I said
goodbye
to Anne and began the long walk out of town to a hitching
spot.
It took me about ten minutes to get a ride from Nathan who was on his
way to Auckland. He drove me to the Auckland/Gisborne split
in
the road. After that I was given a ride by a woman who told
me
about Maori day care. It only took me a few minutes to get
picked
up by two happy guys, Ray and George. We shared some laughs
as we
drove along the twisting roads up to Raupunga. They reminded
me
of Renick in that they too seemed pleased to be exactly where they
were.
After that, Peter drove me all the way into Gisborne. When
Peter
first saw me he was passing a truck and couldn’t stop. He
drove
down the road until he found a safe spot to turn around. He
actually came back to pick me up. Not something that most
people
would do. He showed me around Gisborne and drove to a hill
where
we could overlook all of the town and the sea. He then drove
me
to the outskirts so that I would have an easier time
hitching.
After that Kalarni gave me a ride of about 15 km, it took me a
minute or two to get a ride from Frank. He was an auto dealer
who
outfitted cars for the handicapped. I told him I was
surprised
that he stopped for me, as I had never been picked up by a person
wearing a tie. We hit it off immediately. We drove
through
deep, beautiful valleys and he offered to drive me all the way to
Hamilton, but I would have gotten into town too late to call Gareth, so
he dropped me off in Tauranga. He didn’t know where to drop
me
off, so I just picked an area. I stopped at a gas station and
asked if there was a backpackers nearby. The attendant said
that
it was far away, so he recruited two customers to give me a
ride.
Once again, Kiwi hospitality at its best. I really didn’t do
much
today except for hitching, but that
is what I wanted. I met some great people and saw some
beautiful
country. What more could you want?
November 19
I had a long walk out of Tauranga to get to a good hitching
point. The backpackers offered to drive me to the hitching
spot,
but I would have to pay the $2 for a bridge toll. It was a
nice
offer, but I wanted to stick with my goal of only free transport and
walked. I had to walk 9 km. (and sometimes one wonders if it
is
worth it for $2) to where the road splits. After the split,
it
took me less than a minute to get a ride. Once people knew
which
direction I was going, it didn’t take long.
This
ride brought me into Te Puke, where once again I stuck out my
thumb. Two guys passed me up giving me a signal, pointing to
the
left, which usually indicates one is going to be turning off the road
shortly. Actually they meant to indicate that they were
pulling
off the road to pick me up, so I walked right by them where they had
pulled off for me. They took a side road, saying they wanted
to
stop for some tea. I thought it a bit different, but it was
ok. Pete and Max introduced me to their father Collin when we
arrived at their house. They got out some food and made me
lunch
and showed me around their place. They bought their house
very
cheaply as it was moved from another farm. In fact they had
to
cut the house in two before they moved it and they showed me the seams
where it had been patched together. The four of us spent many
hours talking the afternoon away. It felt like I was with old
friends. Max created art and showed me some of his
work.
They asked if I wanted to spend the night there as I had been there 6-7
hours already, but I said that I had to get moving, so they brought me
back to the road. They owned a fruit orchard and before I
left, I
received a tour of the grounds and was given a whole heap of fruit. In
the morning I had decided that I wanted to get to the South Island as
soon as possible and this is why I wanted to move on. I
regret
doing that and once I left, I wished I had spent more time
there.
Those three guys were really great. When travelling,
schedules
can be a real bad idea. I guess we live and learn.
Before
they dropped me off, Peter and Max told me that they had picked me up
as they said I looked “mature.” I tried to discover what they
meant by mature. Did they mean “mature” as in I looked wise
or
“mature” as in “you looked too old to carry that pack in the hot sun
and we thought we would help you out because it looked like you were
about to keel over” sort of mature? I never did find out.
It took me less than ten minutes to get a ride from Ian. I
found
him a pleasant conversationalist and he told me that I would do just
fine hitching anywhere in NZ saying "You have the perfect
personality for hitchhiking.” Yeah, that’s a
compliment.
After a brief wait, I was picked up by Michael. He was a
serious
hunter and knew about George Sound (an area I was going to
visit). He was a part-time writer who gave me some lessons in
Maori. I was picked up a short time later by Steven, another
serious hunter who also knew of George Sound. He made some
suggestions of areas that I might go hiking and of ecological
issues. His truck was loaded down with gear as he was on a
hunting trip. He was running late to meet a friend and
apologized
for having to drop me off outside of the town of Taupo. It
was
only a few km. walk so I told him it wasn’t a problem. It was
too
short of a distance to hitch, so I walked.
A woman named Dinis stopped even though I wasn’t even
hitching.
She said that she would drive me to a backpackers. She
apologized
to me saying, “I usually would put you up for the night in my house,
but my husband is out of town and…” I told her, “It’s
ok.
You don’t have to apologize for that.” The backpackers was
just
down the street from her house and she asked me to come over for
breakfast in the morning.
November 20
I went over to Dinis’ house and she cooked me a fine
breakfast.
She got her car out and showed me some of the local scenery.
Afterwards, she dropped me off outside of town so I could continue my
journey to the south. There was a group of motorcyclists
riding
south and just behind them was Jill, who stopped to pick me
up.
She had done a lot of hitching herself, including on a cotton truck in
Afghanistan that never went faster than 10 km/h, so she always picked
up hitchers. We had some great conversation including a bit
of
good-natured verbal sparring. She picked up another hitcher who when
asked his opinion said, “It’s quite interesting to just listen to your
conversation, besides I couldn’t keep up with you two.” After
the
ride with Jill, I got picked up by Richard. He was a Chinese
man
from Jamaica who was living in New York City. He had quite an
interesting story and drove me all the way into Wellington. I
did
some shopping in town and in the meantime, it started to
rain. I
asked someone where the ferry terminal was and they ended up giving me
a ride there rather than letting me walk in the rain.
Even though I was determined not to spend any money on transport, I had
to pay for the ferry. There simply was no way around this
one. I met the group of motorcyclists that I had seen near
Taupo. I was goofing around with them and one of the riders,
a
very attractive blond woman in black leather, said to me, “I didn’t get
a good look at you on the road. I’ll give you a ride anytime you
want.” I probably
should have said or done something…but I didn’t have the foggiest idea
what.
I also met an Australian couple from Adelaide. We were
talking
for a while and I asked, “Do you guys ever box kangaroos?“ He
rolled his eyes as if to say, “What do you think we
are?” I said, “I know that you don’t do it as a regular
matter,
but does it ever happen?” His wife piped in, “Actually there
is
Max. Our neighbor has raised a kangaroo named Max from birth
in
his backyard and he does box with him. Occasionally Max gets
too
enthusiastic and gives him a kick, leaving Mike with bruises.
So
we do box kangaroos.” They told me that if you were to box
with a
kangaroo that wasn’t tame, it would kick the crap out of you.
I
couldn’t wait to see Australia.
When the ferry docked in Picton, I made my way to the Juggler's
Rest,
a wonderful hostel run by juggling fanatics, with nightly juggling and
fire-eating lessons. The juggling lessons bring people
together
as they try to work it out and everyon has a good time. It’s
a small, homey place, with plenty of places to lounge around and
beanbag
chairs on the floor. They didn’t have a TV--which is one
of the best decisions that a backpackers can make. Juggler's
Rest
would be the best place that I stayed at for the
entire three years.
November 21-23
The
Queen Charlotte Track was my reason for being in Picton.
After
catching the boat across the Marlborough Sound, I began the trail by
climbing up the muddy and somewhat slick hills. This isn't anything
that I couldn't handle, and certainly not anything like I
knew I
would be facing in the weeks ahead. The forests were
pleasant
and I had
nice panoramas of the water and shoreline. It started to
rain,
but once again, nothing that I couldn’t handle. I got a place
to
stay for the night and met a nice couple who ran the lodge.
They
had just taken over the place and I talked with them about our family’s
experiences when we ran a resort. I had a room all to myself,
well, not quite by myself. I did have a curious mouse to
share it
with, but that was ok with me.
It was sunny and clear when I left in the morning. I had a
lot of
climbing to do that day, which is what I wanted. Later in the
day, it clouded up. This would turn out to be a good thing in
that it helped to keep me cool on the climbs and there wasn’t much
water to be found on the track. The forests were nice, but
the
highlights of the day were the many views of the Marlborough Sound far
below. There were many islands and inlets that I looked at
from
on
high. I arrived at the Cowshed Bay campground at around 8
p.m.
and was greeted by the very pleasant campground hosts. I had
been
on the track for almost ten hours. It was good to know that I
could be tramping for an entire day without tiring at all.
The next morning I met a German woman on the trail. We walked
together, but she was tired and her feet hurt. Whenever her
feet
would start to hurt, she would ask me to tell her a funny story to keep
her mind distracted. Sometimes I couldn’t think of a good
story,
but we would talk and before long, I would think of another funny story
to tell her. It was nice to walk the Queen Charlotte Track,
but
just as important is that it was a warm up to tramping the George Sound
Track down south in Fiordlands. If I could feel strong the
whole
way and know that I hadn’t lost any of my fitness in the last month, I
would be ready to go. After today, I could say that I felt
not
just good, but great, and I was ready for a tough track.
I took the boat back to Picton and returned to Juggler’s
Rest. I
had a pleasant evening of watching everyone juggle and sitting around
with the other travelers. I met a guy who had tramped the
Dusky
Track and wanted to do the George Sound Track, so we talked of
Fiordlands. I stayed up long past the time that everyone else
had
gone to bed, enjoying the quiet. I often stay up late or get
up
early for this reason. I really came to like Juggler’s Rest.
November 24-26
I
would be heading south in the morning and see where I would end
up. It took me over an hour to get a ride out of
Picton. I
was picked up by a father and daughter in a beat up yellow
car.
It’s the sort of car that you see coming down the road and you know
that regardless of how long you’ve been waiting, this is the car that
will pick you up. They gave me a ride to Bleinheim.
I
walked 6-10 km. out of Bleinheim before I got a ride. Some
days
hitching are harder than others. Dean, a flooring
contractor who lived near Christchurch, picked me up. I was
surprised to get a ride from him as he was driving a large work
truck. These trucks usually don’t stop (due to insurance
regulations) and he told me that he didn’t usually pick up hitchers,
but today he made an exception in that he thought I would “have an
interesting story.” So we drove for a few hours telling each
other interesting stories. He drove me south of Christchurch
to a
good hitching spot and we said goodbye. It only took me a few
minutes to get a ride from a Scotsman who came for a visit many years
ago and decided to stay. He told me that he could only give
me a
ride for 30 km., but he didn’t like passing up a hitcher. So
he
gave
me a ride to Dunsadel. It was only a brief wait to get a ride
from a very tough looking sheep shearer who was covered in
tattoos. He looked a bit intimidating, but was friendly as
could
be. He drove me to Ashburton, but couldn’t drive me into town
as
his license had been revoked. The local police knew him by
sight,
so he dropped me off just north of town.
A few minutes later, Ray picked me up. He was only going to
Timaru, about 75 km away. I mentioned that I might stop there
for
the evening, or try to hitch to Oamaru. He said, “You’ll
make
it to Oamaru tonight.”
When we got close to Oamaru, I mentioned that I might try to get to
Palmerston and he said, “I think you’ll make it there
tonight.”
He did this a number of times and I finally asked, “Why do you keep
changing your how far you’re going?” He said, “You seem
pretty
cool. I don’t tell a hitcher how far I’m going, I only tell
them
I’m going to the next town so that it is easier to get rid of them if I
have to. One time I was going to be driving all day and I
picked
up a guy who was going to the same city. This guy turned out
to
be a complete nutter who thought he was a dog. He barked and
said
he needed to go the veterinarian to get his fleas treated.
Now
that was a long
ride.
Now I tell people I’m not going far and see how it goes.” He
liked me and he was going quite far south that night. We
drove on
through the night and had good time talking and stopped at his
brother’s house. He offered to put me up at his house for the
night and we didn’t arrive until 2 a.m. It was nice to stay
in a
house for the night.
In the morning I realized that I was in the town of
Kaitangata. I
had covered a lot of ground yesterday, about 850 km. Ray
offered
to let me sleep late and have his wife bring me back to the main
highway, but I didn’t want to impose on her, so I got up at 5 a.m. and
went with Ray on his way to work. He dropped me off on the
road
to Te Anau. Seeing signs for the town of Owaka brought
butterflies to my stomach as it brought back so many
memories of the time that I spent in the Catlins with Valerie two years before. We had some really special times there and I wanted to
go
back, but without her, it wouldn’t have been the same.
It took me over three hours to get a ride as I was hitching at sunrise
and there wasn’t much traffic, but still, the hitching really stunk
that morning. I was eventually picked up by Grant.
He asked
me if I could drive as he was quite hung over, which was the primary
reason he stopped. Hey, whatever it takes to get a
ride. He
was on his way to Invercargill where there was a conference on, of all
things, a change in the liquor laws. He dropped me off in
Clinton
where I got a ride from Bernadette, a school caretaker from
Gore.
She said that she picks up hitchers even though sometimes “my heart is
in my throat.” I told her not to worry about me as I was
“relatively harmless.”
After she dropped me off, I stood by the road hitching in Mossburn near
a field, in which were many newborn lambs. They jumped around
and
played with each other and enjoyed the start of their lives.
Absolutely adorable. A short wait later I was picked up by a
woman who worked at one of the lodges on the Milford Track.
The
accommodations sounded positively decadent, nothing like what I was
expecting on the George Sound Track. I think I’ll stick with
the
way I am on the tracks. She gave me a ride all the way into
Te
Anau.
I had spent a fair amount of time in Te Anau and the people who ran the
Te Anau Backpackers remembered me from a few years back. I
met
Les and Donna at that time and got to know Dawn who worked at the
desk. They said it was nice to see people
returning. I had
to say I felt the same way. I like it there and it’s a
comfortable place to pass the time.
The following day went by quickly as I prepared for George Sound,
arranging a boat, an emergency beacon, and so on. The last few weeks
had seen severe flooding in southern NZ, a place that gets more rain
than almost anywhere else in the world. The Department of
Conservation warned me, "No one has been on that track for
weeks.
It could be completely flooded or washed out. You might be
stopped by slips (landslides), or you might have to sit in the first
hut the entire time if the track proves unpassable. Do you
understand this?" I said, "I've been looking forward to this
for
years--nothing can stop me." And so I went.