A Ferry, Hokitika and New Friends

Sunrise over Castlepoint Lighthouse

After one last morning surfing the bay, I was reluctant to leave Castlepoint. I'd spent two days and two nights there and enjoyed every minute of it (even realizing that I left my wetsuit on the roof of my car in Waimarama and having to drive for two hours to find the nearest surf shop).

Only a few days in and I already felt the time slipping through my fingers. It was as I left sleepy Castlepoint that it dawned on me that I had been very mistaken about the seemingly small country of New Zealand. There was more to see and do in this compact little island country than could fill every day for years. Perhaps even a life time.

A wider angle view of "The Gap"

The drive to Wellington was uneventful. Rolling, golden terraces and green hills kept my neck constantly swiveling as I strained to see each new vista with out running my too-wide camper off the too-narrow road. It was challenging to say the least.

Wellington was a clean and lively port city, and had I not been bent on getting as much fresh mountain air as possible in two weeks, I would have liked to see a bit more of it. As it was, I made my way to a grocery store and restocked my supply of trail mix, cheese, fresh bread, sandwich meat, and organic yogurt. I then made my way to the ferry, checked in and and followed the line of cars already making their way up the ramp and onto the ferry.

I settled in with my bag of trail mix and my kindle for the 4 hour crossing to Picton on the south island. I had intentionally scheduled the latest ferry that would still arrive in daylight on the South Island. That gave me more time to surf in the morning but not miss the supposedly beautiful views while crossing the sound to the south.

After reading for a while I got up to snap some pictures through the grimy, salt crusted windows outside. Of course, nothing really turned out so I struck up a conversation with one of my fellow passengers who was doing the same. Deanna was in the process of moving her entire life via her car from her home on the North Island to the small town of Wanaka on the South Island. She'd gotten a great job offer in a good location and had decided to take advantage of the opportunity. She spoke of missing her family already, but was determined to make the best of it. She had a kayak on one side of her roof, a mountain bike on the other, and just enough room in the hatchback's interior to fit herself. As it turned out, she was an outdoors enthusiast and had a few days to kill before she had to be at her first day of work. I was headed down the scenic and mountainous west coast, and though it wasn't the most direct route to Wanaka, she decided to follow me in her overstuffed car for some hiking and exploration.

The going was slow to ensure nothing blew off the top of her car, but we made our way to Hokitika, a small town nestled about halfway down the coast. It was a smallish town consisting mostly of one main street, on which rested several art and craft shop as well as a few pubs and restaurants. We grabbed dinner and I jumped into my wetsuit while Deanna took pictures from the beach with my camera.

Photo Credits to Deanna

After sunset, we headed to the outskirts of town to check out a trail lit by glow worms down a damp crevasse. It was pitch black except for the green glow running up the damp cliff faces on either side of us. We tried hard to get a decent exposure of the scene, but it was just too dark and my impatience with the whole affair outweighed my desire to photograph the experience. Deanna insisted that I try several times, but even a 15 minute exposure wasn't enough to get more than a speckling of green on a field of pitch black.

The next morning after exploring some of the jade engraving shops in town and watching a glass blowing presentation, Deanna hit the road towards Wanaka and I headed inland, towards Arthur's Pass. It would be the toughest trail I had done (little did I know at the time).

Castlepoint: a Hidden Beauty

Castlepoint. A place I would have happily stayed for many days. Beautiful bays surrounded by sun-warmed hills covered in soft grass. Sea cliffs. Winding trails through the country side leading to breath taking overlooks and hidden waves without a soul in the line up. I was enchanted. I spent equal time in the water, mostly alone, and in the hills with my camera.

The people I did meet were, as always, friendly and one young ferry worker in for the weekend from Wellington led me to a hidden break he called Christmas Bay. We climbed barefoot, surfboards in hand up a steep ridge before breaking from the trail and hiking through prickly heather and thistles down a steep embankment. At the bottom, a pod of seals sat fat in the sun, idly watching our descent. I was baking in my thick neoprene wetsuit. The conditions were perfect and we surfed in the sun all day. I was fairly certain that I would die of dehydration on the climb back up, but it was impossible to leave the water. Set after set of turquoise waves rolled past us in an unbroken chain of perfection.

On my second day, I surfed other breaks, including the main beach break in front of the village and "The Gap" pictured above. The seals joined in on my session there, and I would have given anything for a waterproof housing for my camera on more than one occasion. The backdrop was breath taking and I don't think the smile ever left my face. Conditions slowly became wild, but the sea cliffs protecting the entrance to the bay (how the gap got its name), kept most of the wind and chop outside their walls. I wished for more board under my feet at one point (or less exhausted shoulders).

When exhaustion finally set in, I paddled back to shore and decided to put my legs to use. Sunset wasn't too far from the horizon so I hurredly stripped out of my rubber, grabbed my tripod and set into the hills.

Watching waves filter in through "The Gap"

I spent the last hours before sunset ascending a wooded hill that leveled out and opened to a view of the bay I had spent the day surfing in. It was a fantastic evening. The wind was brisk, but the lingering sun kept a warm kiss on my skin as I walked through the tall grass. All in all, it was a good day and I would be sad to see it end. The following morning I was to drive to Wellington to catch a ferry to begin my adventure on the South Island.

Surfing New Zealand's North Island, Day 1

New Zealand is divided into the north and south islands, with the Tasman Sea to the west and the Pacific Ocean to the east. Both islands and both costs have distinctive characteristics and personalities when it comes to the surf. The Tasman side of both islands tend to receive sizable swell year round from the Antarctic storms pushing up the coast. Accompanying this year-round swell are often strong onshore trade-winds. One classic break that receives the benefit of these storms and also happens to be quite sheltered from the wind is Raglan. The breaks that make up Raglan are Indicators, Whale Bay and Manu Bay. When the size and direction of the swell is right, locals claim that all three breaks line up for one 800 meter ride. This is where I made my first stop in New Zealand.

I wasn't the first one in the water, but I was close. I slept in my camper van above the surf and woke 30 minutes before first light. I began my morning listening to the waves and straining my eyes in the pre-dawn darkness, imagining that I could see the sets roll in. As the sky lightened on the horizon, I continued to observe the breaking waves as traffic started to trickle into the lot, and eager surfers got out of their cars to check the morning conditions. I let a few of them get into wet-suits and watched them paddle out. Waves with out surfers on them are hard to judge and paddling out at a new break can be daunting. Submerged obstacles and sharp wrocks can draw blood and broken boards from over-eager and under-educated surfers. I watched the first surfer, on a longboard, catch a beautiful, clean chest high wave and ride it elegantly for 50 or 60 meters and immediately scrambled into my beat up Quicksilver 3/2.

The current was swift and I struggled against it as I paddeled to the top of the point. I joined the three other surfers already in the line up, nervous about my first time in the water. Would surfing after 9 months land locked in a Middle Eastern country prove difficult? Or would it be like riding a bike? I let the others take their turns and finally had a wave to myself. I paddled in, felt the wave accelerate under my pushed myself up... and promptly fell off my board. Apparently not like riding a bike. I spent much of the morning this way, but found that the less I thought about the motions, the more they began to feel familiar. It wasn't long until I felt as though I'd never stopped surfing.

Unfortunately, just about the time I was feeling comfortable in the water again, New Zealands most popular surf break began to get crowded, and with the crowd my opportunity to catch waves significantly diminished. I enjoyed another hour in the water, chatting with a gentlemen from Colorado who now lived in Sydney, Australia. I caught a wave or two and decided to get on the road. I originally intended to stay for two full days in Raglan, but due to my airport fiasco I was forced to settle for a morning session before crossing to the East Coast and meeting a promising new swell in Hawke's Bay.

With no real information other than break names and general information garnered from Magicseaweed and Surfline's websites, I headed towards the East Coast town of Napier. The drive was long and extremely beautiful. Terraced farmland rose on either side of me and scenic views awaited at every turn. Waterfalls, mountain tops and golden farmland surrounded me. It was my first indication that I was in paradise. I wasn't in love yet, but I felt the first pull at my heart when I pulled off on a gravel road to discover this site below me:

Scenic view on the road to Napier. North Island, New Zealand

I arrived to the small but busy coastal town of Napier in the late afternoon and found the first beach access I could. As I pulled into a cul-de-sac, clean lines of swell were filtering in, rising and peaking and falling back down again before finally crashing feet from the rocky beach. The swell had arrived, but I was in the wrong place. The beach head was too steep and there were no sandbars anywhere in site. I suppose I could have paddled out, and even caught a wave. One wave. Before I was slammed forcefully into the rocks, facing serious pain and a broken board on my first day. I later discovered that surfing and swimming in Napier is not allowed or recommended due to very strong rip currents.

With out a clear plan and no where to surf, I decided to find dinner and catch a movie at the local cinema. I would do some research while I was at it and have a clear destination for the next morning. The locals proved very friendly and I was soon directed to check out Ocean Beach and Waimarama Beach, a short hour's drive down the coast.  I'd head there the following morning.