| No adventure can be complete without a brush with the local constabulary |
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The new year dawns first in New Zealand for a reason. As the Garden Sessions team saw in 2009 in traditional folkie style in a Bothy in the Highlands, the Odyssey swept me up to the North Island for the first time, for two weeks of exploration, fishing and hiking down the rabbit hole of natural wonders that the land of the long white cloud has to offer. Back in Christchurch now the past 14 days seems to have taken on a dream-like quality as we explored a garden of eden of crystal blue waters, sunshine, abundant wildlife and fish, lush sub-tropical rainforest, made all the more enjoyable by the knowledge and evidence of the island's (and human kind's) transcience: everywhere the mark of volcanic action is near or on the surface of the land. We started with a fishing trip on board the boat of a mate from Christchurch, who is lucky enough to have a "batch" (bothy) by the Bay of Plenty. Perhaps the fact that one of NZ's most active volcanoes - White Island - steams out of the water's of the Bay accounts for the super-abundance of Snapper, Kawai and Trevali, all of which are delicious from the BBQ. The awesome power of the ocean was evidenced in the first fish I caught. I say "fish", but it was more just a head with a trail of guts after it had been unfortunate enough to encounter a 3 metre shark on the way up to the boat. More amazing still, was that the fish head managed to "swim" out of sight when returned to to ocean after showering me with blood. Hardy fish indeed. Onwards to Taupo and what must be the best location for a folk festival that, as of yet, does not unfortunately boast such a thing. The crystal clear waters of the Waikato river flow out of the magnificent lake, through a deep cleft in the land hung with lush green vegetation, until they reach the chasm of roaring water that is Huuka falls. A FREE campsite called Reid's Farm lines the banks of the river - beautiful and full of entirley uncatchable and insanely large rainbow and brown trout. The only thing that was missing was a collection of folkies playing on the banks. I will make it my aim to start such a festival, on my return to NZ one day. Delicate negotiations with Taupo District Council would be required however, at new year a group of inebriated kiwi youths had a battle with the Fire Brigade and local police after lighting an illegal bonfire on the land. North of Taupo is an area of land aptly named "Thermal Wonderland". Round every corner of suphur reeking, bubbling, steming and sun bleached rock craters lies another multi-coloured natural pool of hissing, melted minerals which look like the artist's palette of a demonic giant. Impossibly bright lime green in the "Devil's Bathtub" pool merges with reds, turquoise blues, yellows and ochres. Frozen mineral waterfalls and menacing geysers are a constant reminder that the face of the land could be remade in one devastating instant, and put me in mind of a Dougie Mclean lyric: "you cannot own the land, the land owns you". We saved the best part of the North Island adventure for last. A charming seaside village in the northerly Bay of Islands provides the mooring for The Rock, a house boat run by a Kiwi/English couple offering overnight cruises around the Bay. The boat features a bar, pool table, comfortable wooden cabins and a full compliment of sea kayaks. I was even able to release my inner pirate on the "poop deck" by spotting the long line for Marlin pulled behind the boat when in transit and alerting the crew to the presence of a fish with many a resounding "Aaarg!". Several rums from the bar enhanced the experience of night swimming in phosphorescent alagae and kayaking around the calm, moonlit waters. Late at night infront of the boat's fire place, under an endless sky of stars, I wished I had the company of the Bothy Collective as I played on the nylon stringed house instrument. No adventure can be complete without a brush with the local constabulary and this was duly provided on the drive home in Taupo. After a 12 hour drive through rain lashed roads at night my eyes were red and bleary. Coupled with the after-effects of 24 hours on a boat I was staggering around with the strange delayed "sea-legs" when returning to my car after a trip to the local subway. What is known in NZ as a "mufty cop" (an uncover police officer in a unmarked car) was spotted by my partner as I perambulted, apparently drunkenly, back towards my vehicle. As soon as I started the ignition she drove towards me and we met at an intersection offering equal right of way. What ensued was an entertaining game of cat and mouse as I gallantly attempted offer the mufty right of way. She beligerantly stood her ground and forced me, through impatience, to take the turn whereon I was promptly discoed and pulled over. She looked so disappointed when the brethaliser registered no alocohol that I did not know whether to laugh or cry. Catch you later down the folkie trail, Tom |