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.

Exploring New Zealand's East Coast

Does this count as a selfie?

It had rained as I slept. The sky was still overcast and threatened further downpour as I pulled out of the turnoff where I had spent the night. Ocean Beach was my first destination, as recommended by a local out of Napier the night before. Hopefully I would score.

Ocean Beach is hardly what I expected. It consists of approximately 5 permanent residential structures and two to three more trailers, all parked in front of a rather desolate stretch of beach, lined by green grassy hills from horizon to horizon. There were certainly waves. And current. Lots of it. The swell had arrived as predicted, but the wind was uncooperative. For those of you who don't surf, that means a near impossible paddle through heaving white water. There were no clear sets, just choppy white caps giving up their foam to the stormy skies. I decided to brave the paddle in hopes of finding that single drop in.

I didn't make it very far. The disorganized waves seemed to conspire to push me back to shore as my shoulders burned with futile effort. The current swept me down the beach several hundred yards in a matter of minutes. Exhausted and panting, I finally left the water and trudged back up the beach. And tried again.

This time, I waited and watched the waves first. I did what I should have done from the beginning: Observed the ocean before choosing how to attack. I found what looked like a patch of deep water that might provide a rip out past the breaking waves and waited for a lull in the sets. My patience paid off and I was soon past the white water, waiting for my first wave.

There were no clean lines, no curling lips. Only moving peaks that might provide a drop and a two or three second ride. But it was enough. I was in the water. Looking back at shore provided a beautiful if somewhat gloomy backdrop of ominous sky and mountain tops.

As I waited for a wave to come my way, I began to notice that the rip that had so conveniently taken me past the break was now dragging me even farther out to sea. Already tired from the exertion of making it this far, I became nervous about being taken out so far. I began to paddle back towards the beach and found it almost as difficult to make it back in as it was to get out. But an obliging wave came through and provided me with both my exit and a fun little ride back to the beach.

Surfing wasn't so successful, but this log provided a few good long exposures.

I decided to call it quits, based on the conditions and opted to use the morning for exploration and photography of the beach before driving on to Waimarama.

A 15 second exposure from Waimarama Beach towards Bare Island.

Waimarama was only slightly more surfable than Ocean Beach and it wasn't long before I was out of the water and taking pictures again. I was able to take the picture below using my new 10 stop neutral density filter from hitech. Unfortunately, there was a lot of light leak, something that the filter received mixed reviews about online. The corners of the image were covered in flares of bright vignetting. I was forced to crop a large bottom section out and spend a lot of time with a healing tool to fix the top corners. The end result was still quite satisfying for my first try at a daytime long exposure.

I spent a good portion of the afternoon walking up and down the beach, drawing curious looks from locals as I waded around in my wet suit with a heavy tripod and camera. As the afternoon grew to a close, I stripped out of my wetsuit, and prepared to head to Castlepoint 4 hours down the coast.

 

 

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.

Back to Patagonia, and other places.

As the title of my blog indicates, I have been for the past 11 years what, in this age of high speed internet, television and virtual reality, can only loosely called a "sailor". I have "sailed" the world's oceans and many of its seas as a part of the United States Navy. It sounds big when I write it like that, but I will have you know it is very, very small. It is not adventurous, nor is it glamorous. Most of what I have done has been of little import, and that which could have been remarked on never will be. I have spent most of my time in front of a desk, editing spreadsheets, creating power point presentations and managing to the best of my ability the people and assets that are assigned to me without support or appreciation from my employer (the U.S. Government and it's people).

But, I must first be thankful that I was provided with an opportunity that many were not: A steady paycheck that allowed me to live a comfortable life. While so many friends and loved ones have struggled to make ends meet, I have complained about a job that provides me with a home, with a car, with medical benefits and endless job security. But it is far from satisfying and far from rewarding on any grand sense. The old cliche applies here: "Just because you are alive doesn't mean you are living."

So, I have chosen to make a new life. Simpler in many ways, and grander in many more! I am leaving behind a steady paycheck, status, authority, and certainty for a big adventure.
 On January 6, 2015 I turn 30. That same day I am going to walk out the door of my mother's small farm in West Virginia with a backpack on my back, a pair of sturdy boots, a tent and a surfboard.

I'm going to South America, and I'm not coming back for a long time. I've saved some money (thank you again, steady pay check), I've paid off my debt and I am simplifying my life. I'm saying good bye to certainty. I'm going to be hungry, cold, wet and frankly quite often smelly. I'll probably run out of cash way faster than I thought and get stranded somewhere ridiculous. I'm going to hang out with vagabonds, and probably be subject to theft of valuable and important equipment.

I'm going to climb snow capped peaks, trek across glaciers, wade through icy rivers, surf untouched coastline on waves that are too big to be surfed alone. I'm going to go barefoot for weeks, learn Spanish and Portuguese. I'm going to witness the sun rise over vistas that stir the soul, and I will photograph them in the hopes that they inspire some one else to give up their day job.

Along the way, I'm going to be a friend to everyone I meet. I'll do my best to step out of my comfort zone to help those in need. I'll smile as much as I can, and stay positive so it is easier for those I meet to do the same.  It's not enough to live for my own enjoyment, so I should share the joy of my opportunity with others in whatever way, small or big. "...if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing." 

I sincerely hope that someone can derive some appreciation from my future entries here. I will start slow and begin detailing my plans and preparation, that may helpful to some if not interesting. I'll include my packing list, itineraries, routes  and thought processes. Writing it all down will help me keep it straight, and might provide a lesson to others.

I'm open to any and all thoughtful advice from those who have an experience to share. 






 

Into the Wild (with a happy ending)

I just returned from a week in Alaska, backpacking through-out Denali National Park. Unlike Alexander Supertramp, I am obviously still alive after the experience. And I brought a friend. The disgustingly tall (6'8'') freak on the left is Joe. The shorter, more handsome guy on the right is me. Ok, when I take off the glasses, we are about even.

We spent 5 days and 5 nights in and around the mountains of the Alaska Range which runs across central Alaska. Mt. McKinley stands there as North America's tallest mountain, and is also known as Denali, (the High One in native speak). The vertical relief is higher than Mt. Everest, though it is not as high above sea level.

I forgot my filters and a lens stopped functioning during the trip, so the photographic quality this time around is a bit disappointing. I still had a blast.

A single road penetrates the wilderness of Denali National park, like a thin blade through a vast green heart. Back country campers must catch this road into the wilderness, and hike from the road into the taiga forests and tundra of the park. We took the bus for 40 miles the first day, and exited near Sable pass, beginning our journey south. As we hiked around the back side of Sable Mountain, the snow began to fall. We let our packs fall and decided to try climbing one of the smaller scree peaks above us.

As we climbed our sweat soaked our clothes from the inside, and the heat from our bodies melted the snow from the outside. The scree trickled down the mountain side in our wake, providing little good footing. Eventually we made it to a point where it would become dangerous to go further and headed back down. The return trip was more like skiing than hiking. Using the loose rock, we skid and slid back down to our packs in about a quarter of the time it took us to climb up.

Continuing on our way south, the snow turned into a light rain, which remained for the rest of the day. Coming around the south side of the mountain, we turned back east and headed for the Teklanika river. Upon reaching it, we took our first break of the day before heading south.



After sitting in the rain for a bit we headed south for a few more miles. The wind was high, but the rain finally came to a stop, so we took advantage of the lull to set up camp. We stayed in that spot for two days, hiking around and taking in the scenery. The wind was ferocious for two days, and we eventually headed back west, deeper into the park in search of Mt. Eilson. Here are some pictures from the rest of the trip: