Adventures of a World Traveler

This weekend your truly got to drive on the left hand side of the road.  I was a pro.  If you can drive on the right, you can drive on the left.  The only tricky bit is remembering that the turn signals are on the right, not the left.  I can’t tell you how many times I flipped on the windshield wipers by mistake.  I made sure to slow down and take my time when it came to turning.  I drove up to 100km (63mph) on country roads and was even confident enough to overtake the slow poke trucks and tourists.

Nigel took the wheel when it got dark and we ended our first night 226km/142 miles away from Auckland in Paihia (Bay of Islands).  Needing to wake up early the next morning we went to bed early only to wake up at 5:15 am to leave by 6 for Kaitaia (100km/63 miles) away.

We arrived at Kaitaia about an hour earlier than expected, as we had been told it would take us longer to get there.  So we went for some good old fashioned breakfast, McDonald’s style.  Tone, Agnes, and I indulged in pancakes, while Nigel went for the Kiwi Big Breakfast.  I’m not even sure what made it Kiwi, but McD’s tries to make it’s customers happy.  They even have a Kiwi burger.

After breakfast off to the bus stop to go to Cape Reinga, which was another 70 miles away.  We couldn’t drive to the cape because of the 70 mile beach coast line known as *drum roll* 90 Mile Beach, named after the missionaries who could travel 30 miles in 1 day and needed 3 days to get north.  So on we went, picking up other passengers, taking silly pictures, pretending to be the stereotypical tourists as we made numerous beach pit stops.

Beaches are boring to describe so here are pictures.

Agnes, Martijn, Bas, Tone, Me, Nigel

A pit stop.  A beach with such fine sand.

Cape Reinga lighthouse on our foggy visit.

The waves in the back mark where the Pacific Ocean clashes with the Tasman Sea

Lighthouse

After our visit we went off to the sand dunes of 90 Mile Beach to do, whatelse, but SANDBOARD!  Imagine yourself sledding down the best hill, with the newest powdered snow, untouched, ready to be taken.  Take the snow out and add in a massive sand dune, and that is what sandboarding is!  Unlike proper sledding, however, climbing up the mountain of sand was not easy.  Me and the gang were the first ones to make our mark in the untouched sand and climbing up an additional 3 times was not any easier.  It was a workout and a half!

After our adventure on the dunes we were off for our ride down 90 Mile Beach and as the rain clouds appeared everyone slowly began to nod off.  I took a minimum of six 10-15 minute naps to make up for my waking up so early.  I was completely pooped.

Apart from the sandboarding and the 0 difficulty walk to the lighthouse, our day was not “action packed” but we did get to enjoy the scenic view of New Zealand.

When the bus returned we found a place to camp and set up on Maori Whenua (land).  The Maori were real friendly and I stole their dog for a while and had him chasing me around.  (Ah, I miss my Alice back home!)  Bas, Nigel, Tone, and I set up the 3 tents while Martijn and Agnes went out to the store to grab something ‘over the fire’ cookable as there was no barbeque grill or a proper fire ring.  Whatever we cooked would need to be done on a stick.

But problems stood there as well.  Due to the rain majority of the wood was wet.  Nigel ventured into the bush to find some logs and sticks and we came back with armfuls of dry stuff.  When everyone returned we argued about the best way to start a fire (because obviously a girl whose been camping for 21 years of her life doesn’t know how to start a fire, while hardly been camping boys do).  I left the boys to their fire, thinking that men are still… so primitive.  When it comes to fire they always have to be “the man”.  I imagine them in cave men voices, “fire. yes. I. I make. Ooo OOo Ahh ahh.  Fire. man! Me man!”

And from there fire (albeit a weak fire) was made.  We cooked hotdogs, ate chips, sang songs with Nigel’s guitar and had ourselves a proper time.  When it got late, another group of backpackers showed up, making a make shift tent with a few tarps.  These ‘never been campers’ saved our fire with their wood and before you knew it the dying flame was alive again.  Just three of us stayed up to chat with the traveling Europeans.

Smelling of campfire (which is a glorious smell, honestly), I crawled into the tent and for the next 7 hours froze to death on the hard ground.  I couldn’t wait for daylight.  I woke up possibly every 45 minutes to change my position (as my back killed) and to make sure the covers were in the best possible place to keep me warm.  I had a good dream, however, but the discomfort was still horrible.

Breakfast was yoghurt in muesli to hold us over until we made it to the next town.

Part 2 to come later.