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. 






 

Faded Memory

Faded Memory, originally uploaded by Childe Roland.

Just a shot from home.

Tierra del Fuego (Plains of Fire)

Glacier at Puerto Moreno.

The next morning we woke early, excited for our journey to begin. We had arranged for a rental car the night before, and while we waited for it to arrive, we invited anyone who was awake to come along. A Canadian, Khalil Rihane, who we had not really gotten to know yet, decided he had nothing else better to do and packed his belongings just as the rental car showed up to the hostel. Little did he know, he was in for a wild ride.

Soon enough, we were on the road and headed south. A note that will become important later in the story is that Felix had no license and didn't really know how to drive. On any account, I took first turn at the wheel and soon we were surrounded by the foothills of the Andes.

Our plan was to drive south, see the glaciers (largest in South America) at Puerto Moreno, and then drive into Chile. From there, we would have to take a ferry to Tierra del Fuego, and pass back into Argentina.

The weather quickly turned frigid as we continued south, and soon it was painful to get out of the car. I did not take too many photographs during the trip, and the ones that I did take were rushed in order to get out of the cold.

That night, we did not stop, because there were no places to stay before we reached the desert. Oil had recently been struck and men had flocked from all over Argentina in the hope of finding work. We back tracked over 100 miles in search of a town with a single vacancy. We were unsuccssful, so drove to the end of the tundra, filled our car with gas and hoped for the best. Civilization ended for the next 450-500 miles. We didn't know if we would be able to make it on a single tank of gas, but we decided to chance it.

All of us were exhausted, and after we had all taken a turn at the wheel, we decided to risk letting Felix drive. We were awoken to the sensation of spinning not much later. As I looked out of the window, I saw the world rushing past, spinning out of control. The road had turned to ice in the night, and Felix, having little experience driving, had continued to travel well over 90 mph regardless of the ice. I thought, rightfully so, that we were about to die. Miraculously, the car remained on all four wheels and we found ourselves in a shallow ditch on the left side of the road. 5th gear was no longer fully operable, but we were able to continue on.

I am going to keep this post brief for now, as I didn't write much in my journal during that time. The details are fuzzy as to what places we saw in what order. I will repost when my fellower travelers fill in some of the blanks for me. For now, I will leave you with this picture of Broos, right before we were arested by the National Park rangers for jumping the fence to explore around the glacier:

Back in Bariloche

When we arrived back in Bariloche (after a night of heavy drinking), we started researching our Epic Journey to Chile. Our first stop was to check out the Club Andino Bariloche (Andean Mountain Club). The guide there was quick to squelch our dreams. He pointed out the obvious to us: We were at the southern end of the world in the winter with little to no experience. We weren't convinced and kept prodding for more information. Finally, he told us we could do it, but we would need a guide and would have to rent or buy a lot of extra equipment. The total price was around 5000 pesos for the journey, which would take about two weeks. That bit of information was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Our next thought was to check out one of the more local trails that would take us closer to 3 days. We found the perfect trail head about 20 miles outside of town. The Frey trail would take us on a circuit that would last about two and a half days at a minimum, and with me always trailing back to take pictures, closer to three. We bought a map from the park ranger building in town, bought the food and gear we would need and sprinted after the bus headed for the trail head just as it was getting ready to take off.

Fortunately for us, a snow storm was creeping over the horizon, promising an exciting ascent. The first flakes started to fall as we unloaded from the bus at the ski resort adjacent to the trail head. The storm became heavy about an hour in and we were soon wading in knee to waist high snow. Luckily, a group of five more experienced climbers passed us right away, so we had a trail to follow. We would have been hopelessly lost other wise.

Keeping up with 6'5" and 6'8 hikers is a challenge, even in the best of states. It was not long before I was regretting the previous night's drinking, and lagging behind. Regardless, we made it to the top of the trail in 3 hours and 45 minutes, which was a full hour faster than the advertised time required. We were quite proud of ourselves.

When we arrived at the shelter it was really snowing hard, and we were hoping for a blazing fireplace or at least a decent wood stove to warm us up and dry out our soaking wet clothes. We weren't prepared to find a small cabin devoid of any heat. there was a wood stove about the size of two shoe boxes stacked one atop the other. It gave off heat in less than 2 foot radius and was absolutely useless for anything but drying socks.


The caretaker of the refuge was a member of the Andean Club, where we had earlier done our research for the trek. He was very kind, and for a small fee cooked us dinner and made us cups of hot chocolate. I think his name was David, but I can't remember for sure. He assured us that this was the end of the road for us. Without better gear and a proper guide, we would not survive the attempt to finish the 3 day hike. Despite his advice, Broos was determined that we weren't men if we didn't continue the next morning. It took a lot of convincing to get him down the mountain the next day.

When we woke up the next morning, I cooked up some pasta and what was left of our dried sausage for our breakfast. A warm meal was welcome after passing the night in a cold floor with only a thin mat between us and the ground.

After breakfast, we headed outside to find a dazzling blue sky. We all took pictures for a while and then said our goodbyes. The group that had passed us earlier the previous day struck out first, thankfully. Any trace of the trail had been obliterated by the storm the night before and we would never have found it.

We practically sprinted down the mountain, and after a while grew tired of following the trail. We were overlooking the valley, on the other side of which was the town we were headed for. A river meandered in the general direction we wanted to to, so we made or way away from the trail down the slope. Eventually we made it to the stream and started following it. The banks were at first low and the water shallow. Soon we found ourselves stuck in waist deep water with steep banks on either side. The water, while freezing, was refreshing. I was wearing way too many layers and steaming from the head every time I removed my cap and hood.

Shortly we arrived back at the ski resort and caught the first bus back to Bariloche. We were soaked to the bone, tired and happy. And we had a plan to make up the lost Chile adventure. We would take a road trip to Ushuaia, the southern most city in the world.

A Little Trekking

As the group at the hostel got to know each other, groups formed and plans were made. I came and went with different groups on different excursions. You didn't have to travel far outside of town to see amazing beauty. Renting a car for a day, I traveled with a British Pakistani girl (who's boyfriend is an amazing photographer) and traveled scenic route 247. The road winds through the rocky foothills of the Andes mountains, over rivers and past waterfalls.

The next day, I hired a guide to to take me up into the mountains on horse back. It was very cheap, and I met a nice couple from Australia. The woman had a hard time keeping up with the group, and her husband fell off once himself. It rained for a lot of the ride, and the sky was overcast, putting a damper on my picture taking. Nonetheless it was a good time, and I had my guide snap a shot of me on horseback.

Next I met Broos and Felix, who remained my traveling companions for the rest of my time in Patagonia. These two Dutchmen were med school students who saved their money for two years in order to travel South America for a whole year. Argentina was their last stop and I was lucky to meet them. They were crazy in every sense of the word, more vulgar than any sailor I'd ever met, yet kind and polite to everyone they met. They were, all around, great people to go on an adventure with, and that is what we did.

Felix	Broos

Our first trip took us Southwest towards Chile. The group took up two rental cars of people, but we lost the other car before we even left the city. Our plan was to visit the Black Glacier, to the west. Our group got lost and ended up instead in Rio Manso on the border of Chile. It was a tiny place inhabited only by farmers and herders living miles apart. It was absolutely the most scenic place that I have yet to see in my travels. We liked it so much, we decided not to go back that night. Instead we followed signs to a tiny farmhouse advertising cabins for rent. There we met a man and his wife who I don't think see other people often. They rented us their spare cabin, which sat right next to an icy mountain stream that spanned maybe 35 feet. Before dinner we started the fire blazing, striped and jumped in. Someone has pictures, but not me. Hopefully they never surface.

Road to Rio Manso

While dinner was cooking, the farmer took me on a tour of his farm. He took special pride in his dog, who responded to whistles of different pitches in different ways. The dog himself was ever so happy to oblige and took to chasing sheep all over the place, until the farmer decided it was time to stop harassing the sheep and feed them.

Later that night, as we ate our dinner, the farmer's wife brought us fresh milk from their cow, and hot water for tea. As we sat eating, we started to hatch a plan for the ultimate trek. We would begin the next day, hike across the Andes mountains and into Chile. It would be cold and hard and it would prove our manhood. We didn't know how we were going to do it, but we would buy supplies the next morning and start that very afternoon. I went outside to take some long exposure shots, and then we went to bed with dreams of conquering mountains the next day.

Bus to Patagonia

From Buenos Aires, I caught a bus to the southern end of the world. Patagonia is a wild and varied land that encompasses many different geographies. The bus ride was 24 hours long and I was able to see a lot of beauty as I looked out the big bus windows. Unfortunately, I have not mastered the art of taking photos from a moving vehicle, so I only have one lousy shot. But take my word for it, it was beautiful.

The bus ride was long, but not unbearable. We stopped twice for food at restaurants where they had the food waiting for us when we arrived. No one on the bus spoke English, so conversation was minimal. When the bus arrived in Bariloche, I was well rested. I had slept a good portion of the trip. I unloaded my gear and caught a taxi into town. I don't remember if I had a hostel in mind, or whether I went hunting one that night. Either way, I ended up at the Marco Polo Inn, which ended up being a great place.


I spent the next couple of days exploring the town and meeting other travelers at the hostel. I was the only American in town, but their was a Canadian and a few younger guys from England and Australia. I also met Felix and Broos, two crazy Dutch guys who I ended up traveling with for most of the rest of my time in Argentina.

Bariloche sits on a huge lake called Lago Nahuel Huapi. It was on the shores of that lake I took some my favorite pictures of the whole trip. Every night when I went down to the lake, there was a fisherman packing up his RV as the sun set. On the night that I photographed this picture, I met Liam, a British guy who was also into photography. We shot some pictures of the sunset which was amazing that night. Unfortunately I later found out he was also into cocaine. I also met an older couple there who obliged me for some pictures of them. The light was perfect.



Each night the hostel tenants would gather for dinner, which was complimentary. It was a good chance to meet other travelers and plan activities. After dinner, people would linger and talk. Eventually people would take to the pool table or to drinking games. This could last all night, or only a little while if the group decided to out to one of the local bars.

Tango City

Tango City is yet another nickname given to Buenos Aires. It was there that the famous Tango dance was born in 1850s, and has continued to grow in international popularity ever since. It is a very sensual dance, and often the performers dress in flashy suits for the men and near scandalous outfits for the women. Many children learn the dance from a very young age and perform in the street for donations.

While the street dancers are fun to watch, the best thing to do is shell out the money to go see a show. This usually includes a dinner before the show, and by comparison to other attractions, can be quite pricey. It is entirely worth it. All told, it is something that you should definitely include in your budget if you plan on visiting BA.

Out of everything I did during my stay in Tango City, nothing beats watching a soccer match crammed in with fifteen thousand crazy La Boca fans. Tickets were sold out for the game I wanted to see, but Pedro came through. My new metal head Argentinian friend somehow rustled up a general admissions ticket for me. I arrived at the stadium after it was already packed to the brim. I squeezed my way up to the nose bleed section through an already electric crowd. The stadium was built on a suspension cable system, and as the game began, the chanting of thousands of local people was so powerful that the top sections were swaying with the song. The visiting team was from Brazil, and I actually ended up sitting in the visitors section. Unfortunately for us, the game was a tie and the Boca fans rioted in the streets waiting for a fight for over an hour. The security team kept us up in the stands until they could clear out the locals and ensure us safe passage out of the neighborhood.


That about sums up my time in Buenos Aires. It was a fun place to stay for a while, but it quickly became just another big city. I was ready to see some more of the culture and scenery Argentina had to offer. My next stop: Patagonia.

Adventures in Argentina

So, Mr. Miyake, you want updates. Updates you shall have.

May 24, 2008: Buenos Aires

I ended up staying in Buenos Aires for 5 days. They call it the Paris of South America, and that is an apt name for some neighborhoods. It is a city much like other large cities. It has its slum neighborhoods and its beautiful park walks. It has it's fair share of good restaurants and pretty women, but then again, so does every other city of it's size in this world.

Two of the things that impressed me most about the city was it's steak and it's soccer. The first thing I did when unloaded my gear at La Menesunda Hostel was to test out the legendary Argentinian steak. Make no mistake, you will never be impressed with another steak once you try it there. And the kicker: 40 pesos (13 USD) for an entire steak dinner.


I loved the people I met there. Ingrid, the Brazilian university student, Pablo the local photographer, and Pedro. Pedro spoke about 5 and a half words of English, and I about 4 of Spanish, but somehow we figured out that we both played guitar, liked soccer and heavy metal music. He showed me some of the local hang outs, and we watched soccer on a little tiny barely functioning TV.



I spent a few hours one morning shooting around BA's central rail station. I was able to capture this homeless man. I gave him a few pesos for it. It is hard for me to resist giving money to the homeless. Sometimes I can tell they are just bums and need a job, but this man was crippled and asked nothing for the pictures. I wish that I could have done more for him.

One morning I visited an outdoor market where I met a photographer selling his shots of the city. They were all very good and he was selling them for to little. Unfortunately, Argentina is barely above third world economically. I offered to set him up a website to sell his photos for more, and he said he would consider it. I ended up buying to photos from him. I plan on framing one of them and putting it up in my first house. I hope he has good luck with his photography. It's hard to make a living in photography, let alone with an economy like theirs.


I saw and did much else in BA, but attention spans are short and readers are few so I'll update again tomorrow.

An Introduction

My name is Wesley Neill, and if you are reading this, I am probably dead.

Ok, maybe not. This is my blog. My mother once gave me a leather bound travel journal to take with me during my constant (insofar as time and money allowed) globe trotting. I was sometimes faithful in recording the events of my day, and sometimes not. Sometimes, I just didn't want my mother to know how much drinking (a very cultural activity) I'd been doing, if she ever happened on my journal and got curious. Don't worry, I'm on the wagon now, mom!

Well, this is to be the digital version of that travel journal, from here on out. I soon embark on my career as a U.S. Naval Officer. Here you will find my experiences , photographs of my travels, and really anything else that I find interesting or useful. I hope to keep my family and friends up to date, and perhaps to provide a resource for other travellers and fellow sailors to get ideas about places to live, places to visit and what to expect as a junior officer in the navy in general.

If you are reading this, you are probably family or friend. Hi mom! If not, there is a link to my profile somewhere on the right. Check it out!