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The Art of AdventureOf course, as is the nature of travel, you usually find some of what you expect, and a lot of what you don't. (Or else what would be the point?) So there I arrived the day before Hogmanay greatly anticipating re-connecting with old friends but not fully understanding the extent to which the homes and hearts of those I had not yet met would be opened to me. This first lesson was quickly learnt when, within a day of being in the country, I had been invited to spend New Year in someone's expensive, beach-front home with people I had never met.
There, on the eastern coast of New Zealand's North Island, in the town of Gisborne, away from the customary tourist route, we were amongst some of the first people to witness the sunrise of the new year. And we discovered some of New Zealand's most precious delicacies there. The crayfish we ate were caught that morning - local people go out in small boats, sometimes with snorkels, and yank them off the rocks underwater. You used to be able to take as many as you wanted, but these days conservation is the key word and each boat is restricted to 12. Gisborne is lucky in this respect. The cultural ritual of this past-time has grown important there. For weeks in the summer, the beach is lined with rows of tents, families and friends staying to swim and play, all centered round the crayfish.
In restaurants just the tail of crayfish smaller than the ones we ate that New Years Eve would sell for $100. But this was a party. Few cultures celebrate Hogmanay like the Scots, but, perhaps because of their position in the Pacific, the Kiwis give it a damn good try.
I would return to Gisborne later on my trip (I had 4 months) and I would have more fun and experiences there, but for now it was time to move on and see something new. A couple of friends, returning to college further south, invited me to go along and stay in Napier with them for a time.
Driving through one of the most aesthetically pleasing valleys I have ever seen, we arrived in 'New Zealand's Newest City'. Flatted by an earthquake in 1931, (common place in the country - even the capital Wellington is built on a fault, which just happens to run straight underneath the main motorway), and then totally wiped out by the ensuing fire, Napier was re-built in the Art Deco style which was fashionable at the time. Consequently, it is now one of the world's most concentrated areas of Art Deco buildings, and it stands out architecturally from every other city in the country.
The Art Deco there is unique. It features Maori motifs as well as the classical Deco symbols of sunbursts and chevrons. The reconstruction committee of the time borrowed from other places too. Santa Barbara in California (similar in its long stretch of tree-lined foreshore) had suffered a severe earthquake a few years earlier, and the Spanish Mission style used in rebuilding there was also adopted when the same thing happened in Napier.
So the work began. Streets were first widened, their corners splayed, power and phone lines were buried beneath them. Then the buildings appeared with their geometric surfaces, carved with the abstract motifs.
Buildings such as that of the Daily Telegraph or the jewel is Napier's Art Deco crown, the National Tobacco Co. building, have the classic features. The Masonic Hotel is a simple symmetrical concrete structure and was probably the most modern Deco style building when completed in 1933. The word 'Masonic' shouts to us in red deco capitals. Now, although the foyer of the hotel is largely unchanged, a seafood restaurant and caf bar have moved in on the ground floor. This is one testament to a city now vibrant with life. Students who sit at the tables outside may not especially notice the conspicuously deco features as they chat below, but the whole city has a clean sparkling air - a great example of a place shaking off its colonial past and embracing something new - something that's worked for it.
There are, in the spirit of tourism, guides to show you the best of these Deco and Spanish Mission buildings, but also worth a look is the suburb of Marewa. The earthquake created 3,200 hectares of dry land on what had been a marshy lagoon just outside of the town. Meaning 'gift of the sea', Marewa became the newest residential area, but their houses are moderne deco.
It's guessed that only about 300,000 people of New Zealand's 4 million total population are native Maori, and most have mixed heritage. (Interestingly, people are out-numbered 14 to 1 by the 49 million sheep!) In Napier I met quite a few (Maori), and all were kind, genuine and interesting. It was time to catch the bus, and start to head south. An offer of a jacket from a new Maori friend for the trip into cooler climes was politely rejected, but he gave me the jacket anyway. (It never gets as cold as in the UK, even in winter.)
Out in the sticks of New Zealand, there are so many places to go, all with something to offer, and for immediate purposes I will pick a few of my favourite. Culturally and geologically, Rotorua is perhaps most significant. The Maori name of the Government Gardens there describes Rotorua best for those who have not been. Whangapipiro means 'evil smelling place'. As is common with many other places on earth, the high levels of thermal activity create hot sulphur springs - lovely to bathe in when the temperature is regulated but hard on the nose. In the gardens which the Maori describe, I wandered, watching the mud bubble in pools, fenced off just in case you want to test the theory, and paused for a while to soak my feet in the shallow pools within pavilions. When the bus of Japanese tourists arrived, I fled.
In the very same park just a few years earlier, one group narrowly avoided being thrust 100ft in the air when a fresh geyser erupted through the grass, spewing out rocks and boiling liquid. These days, Rotorua is geared for the tourist. Souvenir shops selling all grades of jade and bone carved jewellery are everywhere. It's also the place where you can watch traditional Maori shows at the pre-European village of Tamaki where many Maori families still live and work. Visitors flock to witness the traditional dances and eat a Hangi feast (food steamed for hours in an earthen oven). Unfortunately, I fear it is purely a gimmick and not culturally enlivening at all unless the hapless visitor engages in conversation with the New Zealand native.
Just a short trip south of The Sulphur City, you will find Taupo. One of my favourite places in the North Island, the town is built round a lake which some believe was formed around 186 AD amidst massive volcanic explosions. Ancient Chinese and Romans recorded dark red skies at the time and noted significant climatic changes. Lake Taupo is pretty big - big enough to fit the island of Singapore and still have room to paddle round it.
The schizophrenic nature of the place is split between its relaxed feel and being the self-proclaimed adventure capital of the north. You can skydive (it's thought to be the cheapest place in the world for that pleasure), bungy jump, or just soak in the thermal pools or fish for trout on the lake.
Head south and cross the Cook Strait, spotting whales and dolphins (I hearby rename this species 'Happy Fins' as there is certainly nothing dull about them!). Nelson is on the tip of the South Island on the western side and, like Taupo, has a pleasantly relaxed air. The main reason people come is to take a trip into the Abel Tasman National Park. Named after the Dutch explorer, it is the ultimate for isolated adventure. There are three options. Since there are no roads through this coastal oasis, you can follow the Coastal Track on foot, spending 2-3 days on relatively easy paths and spending nights in various lodges or more basic huts along the way. Secondly, if you want to spend a day exploring without expending any energy, you might want to hop on board a water taxi - cheap and to the point, but the rest of us will think you're lazy.
My companion and I opted for the third option. It is possible to hire sea kayaks for anything from an hour to five days. For the very reasonable fee of about $250 we were given our watery stead, camping gear and the latest in safety equipment (including GPS beacon, just in case), and set off merrily to explore the beaches, lagoons and estuaries along the way. All were pristine, unspoiled and the most idyllic scenes I have ever seen. Our four days and five nights saw us paddling through seal colonies, the animals swimming and playing under the kayak. We pitched the tent in the evening on empty beaches and cooked on a campfire. The rest would take too long to tell.
How does one top an experience such as I had on the Abel Tasman - even in a country like New Zealand? The kayak trip remains with me as the experience by which every other adventure in my life will be graded. During four months in New Zealand, I had ridden horses, jumped from a plane, rafted underground watching glow-worms on a cave roof, bathed in hot pools, mountain biked alongside monstrous waterfalls, and gasped with pleasure as groups of Dusky Dolphins brushed past me underwater. I learnt about history, culture, architecture and most of all people. But I had only just scratched the surface.