All rivers desire the ocean and toil to achieve their final resting place, where fresh water and salt blend. And so it is possible that one day my Canon A85 Camera will wash out to ocean and witness the sigh of the Dart River.
...But really i like to believe that 1,002 years from now, in the year 3007, that some lone archaeologist or hiker will one day stumble on this ancient piece of the past, frozen in the mountainous regions surrounding the Dart, and with future technologies will be able to uncover the images from our journey-- we will be like ambassodors for the present!
Anyhow. I was walking across a foot bridge on the second day of our 5 day trek when suddenly my camera (including my credit card, pocket knife, and all my cash) was plucked from my waist (by a covetous swinging bridge rail) and flung into the raging Dart river, immediately disappearing over multiple waterfalls and level 6 rapids. It was a big loss, but there was really nothing to do but laugh and carry on. It is just so remarkable that one step could have such a large impact. And when one is so far from cities, ATM machines, etc... none of it even seemed important. Needless to say, I am not sure we will have anymore pictures to post and we are going to be extending our stay in NZ in order to wait on my credit card replacement.
The hike was incredible. Snow berries to munch on and fresh glacial water that didn't even require a filter. Mossy forests, waterfalls, mountain passes. The pictures wouldn't even have done it justice.
New Zealand
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After hitchiking, busing, and even coming across a free rental car (thinking left, left, left side of the road) we have made it down to Queenstown on the south island and are heading out for a 4 day trek on the Dart-Rees trail-- through waist deep rivers, past a glacier, and over mountainous country that is very similar to Colorado (check-out pics). We have encountered some lovely individuals who have helped us out along the way (whether with rides or lost luggage, many thanks to all the friendly Israeli "families" and helpful Kiwis) and have enjoyed camping in gypsy-traveler campgrounds, sulphur cities, and overcrowded international bunks.
Valentine's Day
From Jenny's journal:
Fate, fortune and chance intertwine once again to form an unpredictable, unforgettable present.
PRESENT:
6:00 am
Bluebridge Ferry Terminal
Picton, NZ
Bagless, carless (where did our friends go?)...
It starts with a terrifying drive provided by Rod, the Canadian, as we whizz (all too closely) by cyclists and sheep on the road from Rotorua to Turangi. Then, a delicious bottle of juice, make that 2, and a hiking warning lead to an adventure on the side of the road, thumbs out and ready to go. Sweet Alan, a young Toyota mechanic, offers a ride in his company car and off we go.
Dropped off in Palmerston North, a fatal? wreck stalls the bus, which allows us to catch it a few minutes late and thus meet Heather, a young Kiwi traveller herself, on her way to a Tsunami Benefit Concert in the "wicked" city of Wellington.
Despues de un not-so-wicked concert, an e-mail tells of friends in close places, and 15 minutes later we meet our Canadian boys and Englishman. Watch a shoe flicking contest, play with a fountain and head off to catch the SAME 3:00 am ferry only to find we've locked our bags in a very secure, isolated train station locker.
"Help. Isn't there anyone here," we call into the dark...
When a bobby pin doesn't work, we head to the ferry to explain our mishap. Nice (we love you Kiwis!!!) ferry operator sends us right along on the ferry with promises of bags soon to follow. Yeah!! We can keep up with our friends. But wait, where did they go?
So, here we are, the present: Carless, bagless, watching the sunrise over the South Island. A fresh start? Maybe not. But, a rainbow across the sky, symbol of covenant, seems to promise more to come...some completely new combination of fate, fortune and chance that will design an unpredictable, unforgettable present.
From Laura's journal:
From pasty, dry peanutbutter sandwiches, to a warm rainbow greeting on the S. Island and a mistakenly simple arrival, sans-luggage. Odd how one moment spills into another, bleeding like chemicals on litmus paper with a rainbow of understanding in retrospect. Brief encounters with friends leave us laughing curiously at events and somehow all the wiser, having connected with some outside motion, divergent of our own, but strangely intersecting.
Now, outside cafe, sweet coffee, and a Valentine with calico eyes (Jenny). American Music.
Jenny and I laughing deliriously, at Jenny's shoe on my head last night, under the static of cicadas. The rose gardener hollers, "I want some of what you're having!" with a large friendly grin and Jenny says, "This is what its like to be homeless." Sitting under a tree in the park with no luggage.
CRACKLING,
POPPING,
FIZZING,
Cicadas.
Fate, fortune and chance intertwine once again to form an unpredictable, unforgettable present.
PRESENT:
6:00 am
Bluebridge Ferry Terminal
Picton, NZ
Bagless, carless (where did our friends go?)...
It starts with a terrifying drive provided by Rod, the Canadian, as we whizz (all too closely) by cyclists and sheep on the road from Rotorua to Turangi. Then, a delicious bottle of juice, make that 2, and a hiking warning lead to an adventure on the side of the road, thumbs out and ready to go. Sweet Alan, a young Toyota mechanic, offers a ride in his company car and off we go.
Dropped off in Palmerston North, a fatal? wreck stalls the bus, which allows us to catch it a few minutes late and thus meet Heather, a young Kiwi traveller herself, on her way to a Tsunami Benefit Concert in the "wicked" city of Wellington.
Despues de un not-so-wicked concert, an e-mail tells of friends in close places, and 15 minutes later we meet our Canadian boys and Englishman. Watch a shoe flicking contest, play with a fountain and head off to catch the SAME 3:00 am ferry only to find we've locked our bags in a very secure, isolated train station locker.
"Help. Isn't there anyone here," we call into the dark...
When a bobby pin doesn't work, we head to the ferry to explain our mishap. Nice (we love you Kiwis!!!) ferry operator sends us right along on the ferry with promises of bags soon to follow. Yeah!! We can keep up with our friends. But wait, where did they go?
So, here we are, the present: Carless, bagless, watching the sunrise over the South Island. A fresh start? Maybe not. But, a rainbow across the sky, symbol of covenant, seems to promise more to come...some completely new combination of fate, fortune and chance that will design an unpredictable, unforgettable present.
From Laura's journal:
From pasty, dry peanutbutter sandwiches, to a warm rainbow greeting on the S. Island and a mistakenly simple arrival, sans-luggage. Odd how one moment spills into another, bleeding like chemicals on litmus paper with a rainbow of understanding in retrospect. Brief encounters with friends leave us laughing curiously at events and somehow all the wiser, having connected with some outside motion, divergent of our own, but strangely intersecting.
Now, outside cafe, sweet coffee, and a Valentine with calico eyes (Jenny). American Music.
Jenny and I laughing deliriously, at Jenny's shoe on my head last night, under the static of cicadas. The rose gardener hollers, "I want some of what you're having!" with a large friendly grin and Jenny says, "This is what its like to be homeless." Sitting under a tree in the park with no luggage.
CRACKLING,
POPPING,
FIZZING,
Cicadas.
Fijian Highlands-- After a night at "Heaven's Edge," appropriately named, we hiked through jungle and open green fields to a secluded waterfall.
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Our friends. Etha and her cousin.
We were fortunate enough to get to visit the school on the island of Mana. During recess we taught the younger ones how to play "duck, duck, goose!" and "red light, green light" or "wawa, lago" (in Fijian).
Afterwards, of course, soccer on the schoolhouse pitch and then fresh mangos under the mango tree.
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Fiji, again. That Island that the sun is coming up over is the main Island, Viti Levu.
The Unforgettable "It"
Two days ago we had breakfast over the Pacific Ocean and landed in Auckland, Zew Zealand. In the afternoon, hungry, and more tolerant than usual, we settled for a foodcourt meal that I will never forget. Honestly, I blame my parents strict dinner rules that have sedated my ability to distinguish between good & spoiled food. (If we said we didn't like anything served we would have to eat that serving plus another). So I ate a salad roll that I have only recently allowed Jenny to discontinue the use of indirect pronouns when referencing "It".
yup, pretty sick for a solid 30 hours, but all is well now.
yup, pretty sick for a solid 30 hours, but all is well now.
Fiji
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Jenny and I were welcomed into the country with 4 nights on the Island of Mana (just west of Nadi), where all of our Fijian mamas, Mama Rachel, Mama Annie, and Mama Martha made sure we were well taken care of... hugs, kisses, blessings, etc. Most of Fiji presented the same sort of hospitality and welcomed visitors. As Skelley (spelling?), one Fijian gentleman, explained with pride, Fiji offers a new perspective and alternative lifestyle to the "woosh, woosh of your country." We were constantly reminded that when in Fiji, you are on "Fiji time."
Mama Annie
Here is a bit of history about one of our Fijian Mamas (as transcribed by Jenny):
Mama Annie is a mother of 4 children and a widow since March 17, 1997. Her youngest daughter married after her first suitor came to ask for her hand in marriage. Although at first hesistant, as she would have liked to have continued working to support her mother and younger brothers, Annie reminded her daughter of the Fijian custom that women should accept the first suitor "to come into the house." Annie also asked her what her deceased father would have wished. Remembering a conversation on March 12th, only 5 days before his death, Annie's daughter remembered his reiteration of the Fijian custom and that she should respect the wishes of her mother. Mama Annie, honoring the tradition, agreed to the marriage. Annie now lives with her daughter, son-in-law, their first born child and the unborn baby on-the-way. Annie works 3 weeks on Mana Island and then returns to the mainland for 3 days to be with her family. She sees her grandchildren, whom she loves very much, quite often. She makes 5o Fijian dollars per week.
Mama Annie is a mother of 4 children and a widow since March 17, 1997. Her youngest daughter married after her first suitor came to ask for her hand in marriage. Although at first hesistant, as she would have liked to have continued working to support her mother and younger brothers, Annie reminded her daughter of the Fijian custom that women should accept the first suitor "to come into the house." Annie also asked her what her deceased father would have wished. Remembering a conversation on March 12th, only 5 days before his death, Annie's daughter remembered his reiteration of the Fijian custom and that she should respect the wishes of her mother. Mama Annie, honoring the tradition, agreed to the marriage. Annie now lives with her daughter, son-in-law, their first born child and the unborn baby on-the-way. Annie works 3 weeks on Mana Island and then returns to the mainland for 3 days to be with her family. She sees her grandchildren, whom she loves very much, quite often. She makes 5o Fijian dollars per week.
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