I arrived last evening in Kuratau as small village on Lake Taupo, a large fresh water lake about 50km long and very deep. I am staying at Tongariro Adventures on the shore of the lake. My hosts Barb and Mike are lovely people. They listen well to my endless stories. I ate dinner at a high quality restaurant overlooking the lake. I had to take my motorbike to get there which curtailed my consumption of wine.
This morning I awoke to blue skies, cool temperatures which warmed up during the day. Mike advised me to ride up to Whakapapa Village ( that really is its name) and then up to the ski resort on Mt. Ruapehu. It was a wonderful ride up windy roads to the base of the mountain. The scenery begins with rolling hills and sheep and eventually breath taking views of the mountain. The mountain is covered in snow half way up, but the season was ending and I didn’t see any skiers.
Half way up the mountain, I became aware of the idiot blinking light (for idiots) warning me that I was almost out of gas. I continued up the mountain anyway as I figuered that I could always just roll back the mountain in neutral. I have been riding motorcycles for over 50 years so it is amazing that I didn’t check the reservoir before starting out. At the base of the mountain I struck up a conversation with Ben, one of the mountain employees. It is really easy to meet people when you are alone on a bike. Everyone wants to know where you are from, how long you have been in New Zealand and what are your plans for riding. I told Ben that I was out of gas. The next gas station was 10km away, a bit risky on an almost empty tank. ‘No worries.’ While I sipped a cappuccino at the cafe, he called over his friend Grace who drummed up a canister of gas for me. She was a world traveller and had worked in a ski resort in Prince George, Northern B.C.
We filled up my tank and I was on my way back to my hotel. A group of motorcycles passed me at breakneck speed. I can’t and don’t ever want to go that fast.
Love,
Brian
Photos taken on the road from Kuratau to Whakapapa
It’a amazing, that when you are travelling, you can have good days, better days and fabulous days with only the occasion blip. Today, after breakfast, I elected to do a walking day to give my 9 hour, motorcycle bum a rest. I walked down from my hotel to the waterfront, passing through the town. Tauranga is a lovely town, doubling as a beach resort and a large industrial port. The downtown area has the usual amount of shops with a number of them specializing in hiking and sporting equipment. I did a lot of browsing but no purchasing, responding to the sales people that I was only a tourist vacationing.
I found myself at the waterfront overlooking an old railway bridge which took me across the bay. The bridge had a walking lane used by hikers, runners and bicyclists. It was 800 meters long. I walked across and found myself on a road that followed the beach on the other side. I walked for an hour and eventually a car stopped to ask me if I was lost and could she give me a lift. Her mother was in the back seat and was probably about my age. I told her that I was from Canada and that I had just completed a triathlon as she had notice the number tatoued on my arm. She drove me a few kms to the local bus station. She explained to me that she was of Mauri origin. The Mauris are the original settlers here, arriving from Polynesia several hundred years before the white man. Mauri culture is very evident here as many of the villages and mountains are in Mauri language and are unpronounceable and difficult for me to memorize. There are only 5 million people in all of NZ, many of whom are Mauri. On the bus, the stations are announced in Mauri and English. We could take a lesson from them in Quebec. Our native Indian culture is visibly lost in our everyday lives.
The bus took me to Mount Maunganui and the bus driver asked me politely if I was going to hike up the mountain. When I acknowledged that was what I was here to do, he responded ‘that is what I figured.’ I took that as a compliment as I guess that he also had seen my tatous. I had a cappuccino and muffin for lunch and spoke with a young couple from Italy, travelling around and working as cooks. I suggested to the young lady, Noel that they might find work in Whistler as they were quite interested in the fact that I was from Canada.
I asked the waitress about how long it would take me to climb the 300m mountain. She looked at me and suggested that I try the climb tomorrow as I had just consumed 1 muffin and 2 cappuchinos. I started up the mountain and asked a few young people if I could climb up the mountain in 1 hour or so. They politely smiled. There were several paths to take, longer with a gentle slope or shorter but steeper. I took the latter to go up and the former to walk down. On my way back I spoke to a young fellow who lived here and then with an Estonian waiter who is a sea captain. You meet so many people when you travel alone.
All of the pictures below were taken in Tauranga and on Mount Maunganui.
Today is an absolutely gorgeous spring day, sunny, blue skies, 20C. I started off the day with a cappuccino and a muffin at Starbucks, very original for my trip in N-Z. It was wash day and miraculously, my hotel has a laundromat in the hotel. If you have read my previous blogs, you will know how much I love laundromats. This one was a little different, consisting of a cupboard and 2 small machines, one on top of the other. I filled the machine with my laundry and returned to my room to catch up on emails.
Pamela, the lady who offered me champagne on the plane here, had advised me to take a day trip to Waiheke Island by ferry boat. I picked up the ferry in Auckland Harbour and floated over to the Island. There were 1 foot waves and the wind was blowing at 15-20 kts with white caps. The view was splendid. There are a few sailboats out and 1 fellow was windsurfing. How I wished that I could be out there, on a sailboat. ‘You can’t always get what you want so be happy with what you got.’
I took a seat on the back of the ferry boat and got a great view of Auckland Harbour. My spirits were high and I was taken back to a time 55 years ago. I was travelling for 1 year and had just finished 2 months of skiing in Austria, Switzerland and Italy. I had dropped off my skies in Germany and was hitchhiking to Greece. I stopped off in Zurich and bought a pair of white Adidas with 3 black stripes. In retrospect they were good walking shoes but not the type that one should have in Israel with 35C to 40C weather. The weather was about the same as today and I had only 7lbs of luggage in my back pack. My pill box weighs more than that now. I was bouncing along in my new shoes without a care in the world. I was eventually planning to go to Israel to work on a kibbutz. For what ever reason, the song ‘my sweet lord’ was in my mind and I was singing the song to myself. That moment in time was a moment that I was the most free in my life. I was never that free before, and I was never as free afterwards and probably will never be that free again. I had no responsibilities except to myself. I had very little money, just enough to get along. Everyday was a new adventure to experience. I wonder if anyone else reading my blog has ever had a similar experience.
Waiheke Island has a similar atmosphere that you find in Jersey, one of the Channel Islands, Martha’s Vineyard or the island Brehat in France. Everyone seems to be relaxed and taking it easy. The tourist season has not started and the cafes and bars have only the locals in them. I am sitting in a cafe overlooking the ocean in a small village on the island. The island is famous for its wineries and if I am lucky I will find one open to sample the wine. If not, I will order some wine for supper here.
I got on a public bus and travelled up the island. The island is surprisingly hilly, with windy narrow roads. It would be a great place to ride a motorcycle but probably very difficult to ride a bike unless you are in really good condition. I got off the bus, half way up the island and walked down to the beach. The waves were rolling in onto the beach and the water looked inviting with many sailboats moored in the distance. 2 ladies were coming out of the water so I asked them about the water temperature. They said it was cold but when I tested it, it was much warmer than Laurentian lake water in June. They informed me that there were no jelly fish or sharks here as the water is too cold.
I took the bus back to the little town and am once again enjoying the view from the terrace of my Italian restaurant. I will take the 930 ferry back to Auckland after dinner. I will pick up my motorcycle tomorrow and head off on the motorcycle part of my journey.
All of the photos below are either taken from aboard the ferry boat from Auckland to Waiheke Island or on the island itself.
We got back to Tel Aviv at around 4:00 pm. Most of the volunteers took a taxi to the hotel. I elected to take a bus as I have a pass and wanted to do some shopping in Dizengoff Square which is a circle. I purchased a few necessities and then walked back to Maxim, a distance of 10 minutes. I was glad to get back to the hotel and get my old room back. At 6:00 we had the usual wine and soup and then 3 of us went down to the beach for supper. As usual in the evening there was a cool breeze and we could hear the waves lapping up on the shore.
Friday morning I usually go to the laundromat to wash my week’s laundry. Friday was no exception. It’s silly I suppose, but I love laundromats. They are always the same, buy the powdered soap, choose a washing machine, and pay for 30 minutes. Usually I go for a cappuccino at the cafe next door. I was disappointed to find that the cafe had closed so I just sat outside on a chair and read my emails. The dryer lasted for another30 minutes and I then I was on my way back to the hotel with a fresh batch of clean clothes.
I skipped lunch and went off to the beach which is just across the street. They were not renting chairs yet so I just found a place on the sand. The beach was crowded but you can always find a 10 ft private space for yourself. I lathered up with lotion and lay down to get my first suntan. When I was hot enough, I went for a swim. It was 30C with no breeze and the water was dead calm. The beach was black flagged, meaning no swimming, or swim at your own risk as there were no life guards. There were no swimming signs everywhere. Every hour or so, there was a taped announcement that swimming was dangerous and prohibited. That did not prevent the Israelis from going into the water and swimming. I swam out to the breakwater twice, a distance of 250m, 1 km in total, not bad for a first swim since October.
The Tel Aviv beach is fabulous. The boardwalk extends for miles with restaurants, cafes and bars all along the way. The Israelis are incredibly fit. I did not see 1 overweight person on the beach. The men are 6ft tall, dark skinned, muscled, and very good looking. The typical Ashkenazie Jew that we think of is long gone. There has been 3 generations of intermarriage between the Ashkenazi Jews from Europe, the Sephardic Jews from North Africa and the Mizrahi Jews from the Middle East. Add to that the new arrival of Russian Jews, Yemenites and Ethiopians and you get an incredible mix of genes and cultures. When you see a French person, you usually know by their look that they are French. The same is true for Italians and Greeks. Now, with the intermarriage there is a typical Israeli look both with the men and the women. The women are relatively tall and absolutely gorgeous. They are usually dark skinned with dark hair. Once again they all appear to be in good shape. The men wear shorts for bathing suits. The women wear strings, front, back and top. Everyone is playing soccer, keep the soccer ball in the air with everyone in a circle, volleyball, paddle ball and frisbee. You have to dodge the balls if you are walking on the beach. I had a Magnum ice cream for lunch at 4:00.
I was invited for Shabat dinner at Vickie’s. As usual she had other invited guests. Her brother and sister-in-law were there. Her sister-in-law is from New York and made Alliah in 1970 about the same time that I came to Israel for the first time. I was close to making a similar decision at the time but in the end elected to go to France to study medicine. A Swiss-American doctor was also invited and is working as a paramedic on an ambulance like me. We had a splendid evening together.
Today was more of the same. I had some business to catch up with with the College des Medecins de Quebec that took several hours. I then headed off to the beach. It was slightly cooler today with a 20 knot breeze on the water. There were many sailboats out and I envied them. There were 3 foot waves and the usual no swimming signs and announcements. There were a fair number of surfers out taking advantage of the waves. I swam out to the breakwater. I had to do a breast stroke to see the waves coming and to get past them. Every time I saw a wave, I dove down and let it go ever my head. Eventually, I reached the breakwater. I was the only swimmer out there and the surfers looked like they were wondering what I was doing there. I will admit that it was a little crazy on my part and perhaps somewhat dangerous, but I felt really good and I was swimming well. After my swim, I rested for half an hour and then ran 10 km along the beach in 1:10. Overall it is not a great time but for me it is not bad. Richard asked me to run a 10 km with him next Friday so I must practice a bit this week.
We sat around the table for for our usual wine and soup. A young German girl told us that she was supposed to go to the Nova Festival but some how ended up giving her ticket to her best friend. Her friend was one of the persons killed at the concert. She is in the process of converting and making Aliah. Her husband who is Israeli and in the army was killed several weeks later. Several persons at the table did their best to comfort her and a few of them were crying with her. What a tragedy. How do you get past an experience like that and continue with your life.
gobriantravel 