a glacier runs through it

[brace yourselves. this is a long one]

i have recently undergone several exercises in what i like to call "character building." not purposefully initiated or executed by any person in particular, but rather spontaneously forced upon me by the inopportune weather patterns (that have, so far, dreadfully mirrored the pesky 180 degree changes that are so loved by the Cornell and Ithaca communities). yes, and by that i mean torrential downpours. and then beautiful sunshine and crystal-clear, sky blue skies. it wouldn't be nearly such a problem if i were like the rest of the travelers here and taking a tour bus or car, but alas, my two-wheeled companion offers quite little in protection from the elements.

alright, let me rewind a little. what's it been now, two weeks or so since you've last heard from me? i really do lose track of all time and date boundaries when im on the road. the only reason that i know its monday, february 2nd is because the superbowl is today. and the only reason i know that the superbowl is today is because i was told so. on a glacier trek i met an american guy who asked if i planned on "watching the superbowl monday?? the steelers are playing!!" "superbowl? oh right. i forgot we americans are supposed to be into that. huh. nope, probably not."

sorry, rewinding...

so when i left you last i was just on my way to motueka, a small village west of nelson along the northwest coast of the south island, a bay called the abel tasman. the coastline really varies depending on where you are, some of it covered in dark sand and occupied by countless barnacles, oysters, and other mussels; some beaches, however, are brilliant white and gold sand luxeries, bathed in clear blue water, jagged rocky cliffs emerging just off the shore, brightly contrast against the faint purplish-blue mountain ranges in the distance. its beautiful.

the ecovillage (or, perpetual ecovillage, i should say. they havent started clearing land for development yet) was nestled in the foothills just outside of motueka, providing views beyond neighboring farmlands all the way to the ocean. although there is but one large house on the property so far, an awkwardly shaped triangular "work of art" from the 80's, the group's agricultural development in the last year is really quite impressive. funded by a canadian couple and headed by a french agricultural mastermind, the atamai sustainable community already has rows of terraced gardens, a long crescent garden, a pretty enormous nursery, and about a hundred yard-long crescent herb garden, not to mention numerous pond systems for irrigation, an orchard, and the planting of over 2000 native tree species for wind breaks. quite a lot of work in a year, eh? quite diligent, they are.

so for the week i was there, i woke with a breath of fresh air, peered out my window to the orange and apple orchards below and across to the sea. then walked down to the gardens and worked from 8 to noon. we started on the first day by digging over 50 furrows for a couple hundred asparagus plants that got transplanted over the following few days, watered plants for what seemed to be an endless period of time, and transplanted more herbs and trees than you could shake a stick at (special thanks to ma and pa for this classic, ever so illustrative phrase).

in the afternoons i spent a lot of time by myself, riding to the gorgeous local beaches, taking photos, talking permaculture, education, and philosophy with my hosts, and even admittedly spending some time in the shade, running through old episodes of the office.

the week flashed by in a blink, taking me next to the tiny township of karamea, which is the last village on the north end of the west coast highway. outside of westport, a bland, conservative, coal-mining town (in which i actually was confronted with a bumper sticker that read "New Zealanders against Greenies!" and a logo reading "AAA: Activists Against Activists." ridiculous.), i rode for about 30 mintues along wind-swept sandy beaches and watched as palm trees bent over backwards, making an arch as the strong breeze pushed them over. the waves crashed uncontrollably against the jagged rocks protecting the beach, and sent refreshing sprays of saltwater over 100 meters to the road. further on i turned inland, winding along cliffside mountain roads until they nestled my down gently, returning me once again to flat farmland.

the village of karamea boasts a supermarket, a couple hotel/motels, and, well, not much else. oh yes, i forgot about the church. rongo backpackers stands out as the only building in the vicinity with enough charisma and audacity to paint the walls anything but a boring shade of brown. instead, the small backpakcers hostel has received love and appreciation over the last 15 years in the form of beautiful artistic contributions to the premises. the exterior is painted a lovely rainbow from roof-to-floor and a large peace sign/heart made of rocks adorns the front yard. id found a little slice of home again. the inside of the building is covered with artwork from the many people that have visited over the last decade. in the back, the garage has been turned into a pirate radio station/movie cinema and the somewhat haphazardly-assembled herb garden adds a nice touch to the backyard and firepit.

i was welcomed with open arms, given a quick tour, and settled in quickly before i started preparing a dish for the potluck with the other 20 travelers from around the world. it was amazing - my plate was a splash of fantastic colors and varieties of worldly foods that sent my tastebuds over the top.

i awoke in the morning to find the skies clouded, a gentle rain falling, and a good portion of my baggage soaked. so much for the 8 am departure. i ended up sticking around until just after 3, prolonging my indecisiveness with frequent trips to the clothes line to check my bags, sleeping bag, tent, and clothes.

dry or not, i packed up and hit the road, met by 20 mile an hour winds along the coastal highway. a car driver may not even think twice about these conditions, but it had my bike and me blowing all over the road. my bike's strong enough to deal with heavy headwinds, but when they're coming from the sides (both sides, randomly, and at the same time) i was litterly being dragged all over the highway, sometimes leaning to one side just to keep heading straight. the winds luckily died down once i followed a mountainous gorge road inland, snaking along the riverbed out to the foothills of the southern alps. i was met by the familiar sight of beautiful green valleys, roadside grazing cows, and the sweet smell of wheat and summer grass blowing through the rich evening air.

i made it to the almost invisibly tiny village of ahaura just before sunset, trying to remember the directions that erin, my next WWOOF host had emailed me. i was too cheap to print them out at the Rongo and thought my memory would suffice. i took the ahaura-kopara road out of the village as instructed and followed until the end, where a dirt and gravel road continued on, winding its way into the darkening forest at the base of the mountains. i apprehensively followed along as planned - for 15 miles. 15 miles into nothing. absolutely no signs of human life or development save for the road beneath my tires. erin's email had let me know that i would "go until i thought id gone too far, then keep on going." it also said id pass by a few decrepit barns along the side of the road, but alas, there were none to be found. so i ignored the instructions to keep on down the road and headed back. i tried another dirt road at the end of the highway and was confronted by a gate and a Private Property sign. nope, not that one either. turning around, almost putting my bike in the ditch, and heading back to the main road, i called erin, exasperated, tired, and weary that the sun would set before id reach their home or find a flat site to pitch my tent. she assured me, however, that i was right the first time. and sure enough, the woods opened up to reveal cows, fields, decrepit barns, and the setting sun, just 100 yards passed the spot where i first lost hope.

arriving on pav and erin's land i was immediately surprised. if the remote nature of the farm hadn't done it, it may have been the intimidating mountains rising up in front of me, or perhaps their one-room home. and incredibly interesting couple (pav a kiwi, erin from ohio), they had made their home in a bumper boat hutt that pav transported from christchurch, a city all the way across the country. no room on the floor for all the possessions of the recently growing 4-person family, they'd taken to suspending all sorts of things from the walls and ceiling - clothes, food, a swing, children's toys, you name it. 'wow. where am i going to sleep,' was probably the first thing that popped into my bewildered mind.

i only spent three days and two nights there but it was an absolutely amazing experience. they are truly some of the most interesting people ive ever had the opportunity to meet. isolated so far from other civilization, they were obviously living off the grid. all the water the used, drank, and washed with came directly from the ice-cold mountain stream, pumped to the house and various other places on the property for irrigation and for the sake of pav's 300 sheep in some simple manner created by pav. he'd also managed to supply their small home with enough power to supply a few lights, their computer, battery charging stations, and the occasional use of the dishwasher with a pretty ingenious invention. using the natural flow of the mountain river, he'd created a generator with the inside buckets of two washing machines, one fitting over the other, a wheel, and a bunch of magnets. the stream water was pushed through a smaller hose to pressurize it, spinning a wheel of negatively-charged magnets, which in turn creates electricity which is sent over 100 yards to the house and stored in a battery system he's made outside. its amazing.

over my few days there i helped him carry logs up to a higher spot on their 100 acre property where he's making a teepee for erin. we also rebuilt a shade and rain covering up in the trees that houses his tractor. and took lots of walks. he showed me all around their land, pointing out interesting plants special to New Zealand and the area, the best views from their property, and an ice-cold swimming hole in the mountain stream, a 30-minute hike through the rainforest. i also occupied myself by taking photos of (and intimidating) sheep, and playing with the charming and charismatic miro, now almost two years old (there are pictures of the little devil on my site).

it was sad to leave my homely tent, wild accomodation, and the lovely, inspiring family behind, but i left on friday morning for arthur's pass (check out the photo of their bathroom on my picasa). the two-hour ride to arthur's pass, where i had planned to do the avalanche peak trek, was anything but comfortable. windy, cold, and overcast, i huddled in close to my bike up the winding rocky cliffs until i reached the summit pass.

it was still cold, windy, and cloudy when i arrived and the weather forecast for the next two days read the same. so i stayed just long enough for a coffee to warm my bones and then continued off down south for franz josef glacier. the weather only got worse from there on out as i was confronted with quite a stormfront for the two hour ride to franz josef. by the time i got to the hostel i was completely soaked, as well as most of my stuff. leather jacket, shoes, clothes, tent, sleeping bag, pillow, coat, sweater - nearly almost everything.

upon arriving at the hostel and hanging up everything to dry, i let my cold, shivering body soak for a while in the free hot tub, taking time to think of what to do in the proceeding days. i woke the following morning to find all of my belongings in the same soppy, dripping state that they had been in the night before. take note: apparently basement rooms in hostels without heat or airflow are not conducive to drying clothes. go figure. i threw what dry clothes i had on and hopped on the bike just as the clouds were finally breaking and the sun was peering happily through the mist. the hostel was only about a 5 minute ride from the glacier car park. i had intended on only doing a 30 minute hike to a viewing point but thankfully took a wrong turn, bumped into an american from pittsburgh - we did the five-hour mountain trek together, ending at a spectacular view of the franz josef glacier and the valley carved over the centuries by the mammoth piece of ice. although i wasnt able to get as up close and personal as my fellow travelers who spent a good chunk of change to throw on some crampons and head up the icy slopes to explore ice caves and crevices, im sure i was just as satisfied.

returning to the hostel, i spent a few hours ensuring that all of my belongings were dry and ready for the next day's journey. and guess what i awoke to groggily at 7 am? you guessed it - torrential downpour. it held up just long enough for me to pack up my bike, say goodbye to the people i had met and make plans to meet in queenstown. once on the road, it started coming down harder than ever. id planned on doing some hiking at fox glacier and the local lakes, which apparently offer superb views of the southern alps, but was drenched head to toe before i even made it the 10 miles to the next village. needless to say, i scratched my plans and hit the throttle, my goal being to make the 5 hour drive to queenstown as fast as possible in hopes that id get to the other side of the storm (and maybe if i drove fast enough, even if it were raining a little, my shoes, socks, and gloves would dry! nope, doesn't work). after spending three hours in hurricane-like rains all along the famous gorgeous west coase beach highway (i could only sometimes make out the white-capped salty pacific waves through the rain and fog), i was beaming when the clouds let the slightest piece of fat, yellow, sunshiny sunlight beam through. i know, in fact, that that instant is notably one of the happiest moments ive ever experienced. heading deeper into the alps, climbing the rocky cliffs that snaked along the winding river below, the clouds continued to spread apart, revealing awe-inspiring views of the mountains above, still shrouded in the morning's fog.

by the time i made it to the other side of the mountain range and headed into the southern area of the island, the clouds had retired and left an open, bright blue sky as far as i could see. i got to lake wanaka and some of my clothes that i was wearing had even started to dry from the sun's heat and whipping wind that challenged me as i roared along the mountains and lakeside. i stopped to refuel and recharge and laid my clothes and boots out on the road and sidewalk to dry.

and it worked, for the most part. the next hour ride to queenstown was warm and dry, a feeling really like no other. i got here three hours before my friends who were on a tour bus (which was a mystery to me - they left a good hour and a half before i did in the morning). after checking into the hostel i made my way up the steep slopes of the queenstown hill walkway to breathtaking views of the entire valley, lake, and nearby cities (an amazing panorama on picasa). i spent the rest of the night in good company with two israeli girls and a german guy that i met in franz josef, sharing drinks and stories around other traveling soles until the cold night air pushed us home to the warm comfort of our beds. and here i am today, after grocery shopping, ive sat here for way too much time, huddled indoors writing pages and pages to you, my dedicated readers. im truly sorry this is so long - i didnt intend for it to be, but i guess i had a lot more to say than i imagined.

tomorrow im going bungi jumping outside queenstown at this new jump called nevis point or something like that. its the tallest jump in the country, shivering above icy waters in a canyon at a spinetingling 134 meters high (440 ft). should be something. then im spending the next week out in the mountains on two long treks, you should hear from me afterwards.

i hope this has been at least a somewhat enjoyable read - its been great getting all of this out of my head and on paper. i could have elaborated so much more but i figure ten pages is probably quite enough already. ill be surprised to see how many people actually get through all of it. check out www.picasaweb.google.com/wrenar for photos to accompany most of the things ive written about. be well and keep in touch, my friends.

one.