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.

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.

 

 

New Zealand!

5 days. New Zealand. Two weeks of hiking my way around one of the most beautiful landscapes this world has on offer. I'll surf uncrowded waves against a backdrop of cliffs and snow capped mountains. I've already got my route planned, though I will be tracking the swell as the day gets closer. A cyclone is due out of the north and will make landfall early this weekend. Fortunately I will miss most of the flooding and wind, and arrive just in time for the offshores and well over-head waves. As the swell passes, I'll head south in my rented camper-van surfing various breaks around the north island, before I ferry across Cook Straight. The south island is majestic, and as some may already know is where the Lord of the Rings trilogy was filmed. Think big mountains, beautiful waterfalls, ever changing weather and relative isolation.

I'll be bringing my camping gear as sleeping in the comfort of a camper-van isn't really my style. When the waves die, I'll find myself a good trail head and head out for a few days with my pack.

This will also be the first iteration of my gear check for my year in South America. I'll get a feel for what it's like to backpack with a surfboard, which I expect to be a fair bit more challenging than what I'm used too. I'll also quickly discover gaps in my gear as it has been some time since I've hit the trail. All of this will be done from the relative safety of a first world country. Unfortanately, I lost a lot of my outdoors equipment during the move to Bahrain. It's been rather expensive stocking back up, but here's the list so far:

• Osprey Aether 70 pack
• Kelty rain cover
• Paha Que Solo tent
• Kelty Cosmic Down 20 degree bag
• Self inflating iso mat 
• Coleman mess kit
• Ultra-light camp stove
• Asolo boots 
• Various rain gear and clothing
• Quicksilver 4/3 wetsuit
• JBS custom surf board
• Wool socks x2
• Sunscreen (Zinka)
• Weatherproof matches
• Match case
• Magnesium striker
• Cuban cigars
• Xikar cutter
• Nikon D7000
• 50mm 1.4 nikkor
• Tokina 12-24mm
• Nikkor 70-300mm
• Manfrotto tripod
• various filters

Anything I'm missing? Suggestions? Leave a comment and save me some misery on my trip! 

 

And in the mean time...

...A few shots from my weekend in Oman last month.

Nizwa spice and dry goods market.

I spent a poorly planned long weekend in Musqat and some of the surrounding country side last month. Most of it was rest and relaxation and I definitely did not even scratch the surface of what this surprisingly verdant country has to offer. I did venture to the small town of Nizwa, where the old market still exists and the Bedouins come down out of the mountains to trade livestock, fire-arms and even swords. All in all the experience made me regret going off the cuff, because I feel that I missed out on a lot. Word to the wise: when dealing with a short trip, do your research in advance. I'm thankful for the valuable lesson on short trips. Next time I'll know before I go.

Mountains guarding the interior of Oman.

The symmetry of this hall caught my eye as I was passing. I was able to achieve a little more contrast by converting it to black and white.

This guy got paid to sit still, but of course did not earn his money. He immediately abandoned his cage of bunny rabbits as soon as my camera came out of the bag.

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.