Sailing for Snapper

One in three people in Auckland own a boat. That’s an amazing amount. OK, the figure is slightly distorted by the distinctly rich who own more than one, but it’s still an amazing proportion, and one of the reasons why Auckland is know as the ‘City of Sails'.

Our flat-mate, Phil had previously asked us if we’d like to come out on his parent’s boat with him and his girlfriend sometime. Then Sunday came, the sun peeked out from behind a veil of grey, the water appeared calm, and the day was decided. For Lucie & I, it was a chance to do as the locals do, see a little more of the area, and try to catch our own dinner again. For everyone else, it was just another Sunday.

Upon boarding our vessel for the day, Phil’s dad pointed out proudly that the boat’s designer was an Englishman named ‘Fred Parker’ from Southampton. Should we have been in America, I would have immediately followed this comment with the declamation of being related to ‘Fred’, but I resisted here.

Sailing (do you still call it sailing when using an engine?) out from East Auckland we slowly made our way over to ‘Waiheke Island’. Our first destination was a spot marked promisingly on the map with a large fish. Confidence was running high as we baited up and cast out into the depths, and before long, the first catch of the day was reeled in – a monster 20 cm long 'Yellowtail'. On the west coast of Australia, Lucie and I would have had this thing killed, gutted, and on it’s way to digestion within minutes, but thankfully for us (and the fish), we were in the company of people that knew better. One, this was too small to legally kill, two, yellowtail are only good for the cat to eat, and 3, they’re generally full of lice. Education is a wonderful thing sometimes.

Unfortunately for us, despite horribly wounding numerous fish, and one small shark, nothing was actually worth killing and taking home. The ‘Red Snapper’ we’d managed to lure into our hands were too young, and the only fish of a decent size, our hosts couldn’t identify. As I said before, this wouldn’t have ordinarily dissuaded us from throwing him onto the grill pan, but it seems you shouldn’t eat what you don’t know. Not letting a little thing like an unsuccessful fishing trip get in the way of dinner, we stopped off at the supermarket on the way home, and picked up a feast of king prawns and red snapper. Sure, it would’ve been nice to eat something we’d caught (and cheaper), but the meal was too damn good to worry about the minor details.

Snowboarding Doom

We arrived at the town of ‘Ohakune’ with just about enough time to unpack, sink a drink, and fall asleep before midnight arrived. The post-work 4 hour drive from Auckland had been made incredibly easy by Phil taking the reins & Heidi navigating the whole way. Lucie and I had long since been recognized for our elderly sleeping patterns, so it didn’t come as a surprise when silence was our prevailing contribution to the journey. In the few moments that I actually managed to overcome the sounds of the Sandman, and tried steal a glimpse of the mountains, my efforts were thwarted by low cloud and the colour of night. The next morning would be an enlightening occasion.

Over 2 months ago, we enjoyed an introduction to New Zealand snowboarding with a short holiday in Queenstown before starting work. It had awakened my addiction, and made Lucie a new member to the dependency club. When we returned to Auckland, we promised ourselves a couple of trips to the north island resorts before the season closed, but when work started, time sped up. Luckily, the particularly harsh winter that had engulfed the country, had left behind a legacy that was still over 2 metres deep on the upper sections of mountain. Added to this, we'd discovered that our new flat mates suffered a similar love of the white stuff and were equally keen to get one more hit in this year.

Tongariro National Park is governed by three prestigious, ever present, and often violent mountains: Mt. Ruapehu, Mt. Tongariro, and Mt. Ngauruhoe. Various aspects of each of these giants were used recently in Peter Jackson’s vision of Tolkien’s “Mt. Doom.” This attention has increased the international interest, but the locals have a long established fear and respect for the area. Formed only 120 thousand years ago, they are geological infants, and are often known for throwing attention-grabbing tantrums. The most destructive of recent times occurred in 1953. Prior eruptions in 1945 & 1947 had blocked the overflow of the acidic crater-lake near the summit, and the water level rose dramatically. When the eruption of 1953 shook the blockage loose, a volcanic mudflow called a ‘lahar’ swept down the mountain and took out a railway bridge seconds before a crowded express train was due to cross it. 153 people lost their lives in the resulting collision.

Eruptions in 1995 & 1996 caused another blockage and experts predicted that the next ‘lahar’ would occur sometime between 2002 & 2006. On the 4th October 2006, 10 days before we arrived at the mountain’s base, it looked like the time had come. An eruption had triggered ‘lahar warning system’ but it turned out that the eruption had simply damaged a sensor. There was no break in the crater wall, but the volcano was definitely waking up. Between 24th September and October 4th, the lake level increased by 1.3 metres, and the temperature increased from 7.5 degrees C to 22.5C. However, on the morning of the 14th October, the only thing that concerned us was the weather. An addiction like this tends to have a blinding effect. High winds had forced closure to the ‘Whakapapa’ resort for the day, but the good news was ‘Turoa’ was definitely open.

The next couple of hours went by in a bit of a blur - getting dressed, eating breakfast, hiring equipment, getting to the resort, and buying lift-passes - but I clearly remember those first few seconds on snow again. It’s a feeling like no other, and I am eternally thankful for finding my religion. I’ve also discovered that I have the same ecstatic feeling when watching Lucie progress. Seeing her cut some confident turns in and negotiate her way down the mountain was equally as elating as when I first did it.

The last run of the day was a beginner snowboarder’s nightmare; busy, narrow, flat in places, and littered with exposed rocks. All of these factors are the novice’s nemesis as they force you to turn the board when you may not necessarily be ready or comfortable – the threat of a painful drop or a sudden stop will do this to you. For this reason, it was an awesome sight when Lucie arrived at the base just a few minutes after me. To toast our victorious day, we bought some beers and sat replaying the day while waiting for Heidi & Phil to join us. Perfick!

The next day started as a blow-out but ended up being a sightseeing success. The wind had increased and both resorts were now closed, but rather than head back to Auckland straight away, we decided to take the long way home, and stop at a few places along the way. We stopped for lunch at Lake Taupo, went for a stroll around ‘Huka Falls’, and explored the ‘Craters of the Moon’ geothermal area. Named for its otherworldly atmosphere, this area offers a walk among steam vents, mud pools, and craters left from minor eruptions. The cold air made the steam appear as smoke, which when combined with the numerous craters, across the area, made it seem like we walking through a battleground at the dusk of a war.

It occured to me later, that this is the weekend when I should have been making an entirely different journey. According to my original plan, and flight tickets, I should have been on a flight from New York to Heathrow, and my travelling route would now be complete. Instead, I am living and working in New Zealand with the girl I love... who met me in the UK ... but originally came from the Czech Republic. It's a funny old world.

Nea Zooland

Our reconnaissance tour of the city wouldn’t be complete without a visit to the zoo. It has become almost a tradition of my travels, which was born in Bangkok, and has never again seen such terrible conditions.

The Auckland Zoo is a quintessential example of quality over quantity. Great care and thought has gone into every aspect of its design, from the enclosures, the viewing areas, and the overall layout. The most striking example of this was the African animals’ enclosure, ‘Pride-lands.’ The platforms around this area were at different elevations and proximity to the animals, allowing visitors a variety of viewing angles.

As per usual, most animals were reluctant to put on any kind of show for the camera wielding enthusiasts, but some were coaxed into action with a subtle hint of offered food. When we arrived at the Orangutan enclosure, the stars of the show were being less active than a bunch of inebriated snails, and were sitting about 40ft from the nearest lens. Considering the fact they weren’t even looking in my direction, I was amazed how fast they moved towards me, when I subtly revealed the banana from my pocket. Perhaps it was because it answered a question regarding the bulge in the pocket that they’d been contemplating. Whatever the reason, they were over in seconds and eyeing me up like a group of post-club students at a kebab house. The people behind us hadn’t seen the revelation take place and were amazed at my animal magnetism. OK, I’m not proud of it; I know it’s extremely cruel to taunt animals and that’s why I couldn’t just walk away without sharing the nutritious snack with them. And yes, I realize that they are on a carefully maintained diet, but there was no way I could just walk away after the looks they’d given me. I mean out of sympathy for them, not shared adulation.

The next weekend, our new flat mates offered to lend us their car so we could explore a little further a field than local bus routes. The car hadn’t been used in a while, so before we headed back to the flat to pick up supplies, we took a long detour around the bays of east Auckland. Each bay has a village growing on it that is so similar to the small towns we’d encountered on the coasts of Australia. The only difference was that these are separated by a 2 minute drive, not 4 hours, and are located a maximum of 10 minutes drive from the centre of the nearest city.

With a car full of petrol, and our bags full of food, we headed west and arrived at the Waitakere Ranges after a whopping 20 minutes of driving. We hadn’t planned to stop here, but I’m not the sort of chap who ignores the calls of hunger, and the cries were undeniable when we were approaching this point. It was only when we were sitting there, taking in our surroundings (and lunch) high up in the hills, and looking down towards the blue sea, that we thought about how far away this seemed, and how close it actually is. I apologise now if this line of thought becomes a cliché in my descriptions of New Zealand, but I’m constantly amazed at its truth. There is so much diversity to the country within such short distances.

Our mission for the day was to see some of the fabled black beaches of the west coast, and we’d picked ‘Piha’ as the place to start. ‘Piha’ was the birthplace of board riding in New Zealand and has since been the location for numerous national advances in life saving equipment and methodology. These are probably attributable to the necessity of invention, as the rips and currents are notoriously unforgiving. And if the sea doesn’t get you, the rocks probably will. The Australian surf team vowed never to compete here again after facing the NZ team in the 1950s (and never have). When the Iron Man contest was held here in 1997, canoes were snapped in two. We would definitely not be resuming our surfing lessons today.

The most striking aspect of ‘Piha’ is ‘Lion Rock’, which stands near the middle of the beach, defiantly facing the constant attack of the sea. You can climb this if desired, but we were nursing a couple of hangovers, so never left the safety of the sand.

It is a beautiful section of coast, that I’m sure will be revisited many times during the summer months, but I have to say, we felt a little let down. When told of black sand beaches, we expected sand that was darker than a witch’s soot-covered cauldron, not a dirty iron colour. Was this another case of the exercise of creative license in the advertising campaigns or simply our imaginations running a little over-actively? It turns out, that we just picked the wrong beach. Apparently, the really black beaches are further south. Whether that is true or not, will be revealed as our explorations continue.

A New Perception

Our typical modus operandi upon arriving at a new destination has always remained pretty typical. Set up a temporary base, find out the main sites of interest, and blitz through as many of them as possible using whatever time and effort was available. However, when we got to Auckland, our mission statement was slightly different. We were looking to stay here long-term & our savings balance was looking smaller than Daniella Westbrook’s septum, and similarly, was in serious need of rejuvenation. We’d allowed ourselves to get into this economic depression because our intention had always been to establish a more permanent base in Auckland, and quite simply, we had a kick-ass time in Australia.

What this meant, is like most people in their home towns, we missed out on all the usual sight-seeing getting-to-know-your-city things. In fact, we did very little exploring at all - venturing no further than just outside the city centre in all directions. This, I now realise, is one problem with living in the centre of the city – it's easy to believe that what you see, is everything there is. We’d built up a rather dim view of Auckland because of this, and as such, have spent the last month trying to see beyond our previous myopic understanding.

On the last Sunday of August, we took a ferry across the harbour to "historic Devonport", as it's affectionately known in the guide books and tourism posters. We’d previously put off this epic voyage in expectation of needing a full day to go there. It turned out to be a little nearer than we thought, but although it was only 10 minutes away on the ferry, it is a million miles away in terms of scenery and speed of life. Somehow, that ferry crossing had taken us back in time 30 years and across the world to the south east coast of England. It felt like home; familiar green hills rolling in waves gently down to play in the sea. A network of paths that divide scores of white painted houses tucked cosily into the lush green flanks.

With time on our side, and the sun on our backs, we walked away from the ferry building and the concerns of normality, around the waterfront, and gradually inland up the curves of Mt. Victoria. When we made it to the top, the view was unbelievable. Not in the usual sense where the sight itself is exceptionally striking, but unbelievable due to close proximity of such amazing contrasts in land and colour. There are the volcanic islands (including Rangitoto island) that stand out from the rich blue sea to the north & east, the rolling green hills of where we stood in Devonport, and just a short distance to the south is the city centre. This vantage point also illuminated our perception of what lay beyond the city centre to the south as the similar rich green hills of Auckland Domain, Mt. Eden, and One Tree Hill stood tall among the dull colours of buildings. It was like climbing the garden fence and seeing beyond it for the first time.

With the subtle dual-persuasion of gravity and curiosity, we wandered down the opposite side of Mt. Victoria from which we came, and made our way to the nearest beach. Now that the city was completely obscured from view, it was even easier to forget where we were. We reclined onto the sand, collected a careful selection of shells, climbed over the rocks, and gradually made our way back around the coastline to our starting point at the ferry terminal. It was during the last part of this walk that we spotted a traditional fish ‘n’ chip shop that would later become a favourite stopping point.



The following weekend, we turned our attention to the south and walked to one of the hills we’d spotted from Mt. Victoria. 15 minutes of walking from our apartment and we arrived at the edge of its boundaries. From there, it was a choice of paths differing in what sights they promised en-route and what name had been assigned to them. ‘Lovers Lane’ was a well kept path that wound its way alongside a stream, past a small waterfall, and arrived at a duck pond that was heard long before it was seen.

By no means, were the sights mentioned here some of the most amazing that I’d ever encountered, but the fact they reside so close to the city centre was something I hadn’t experienced before. I’d heard before coming to New Zealand that the country offered an amazing amount of variety for such a small place, but I hadn’t considered how close this would actually make the changes. The other point to consider is that the two places mentioned here, are just a snippet of what exists within a small distance from the centre. Countless islands are just a short ferry trip away, hilly ranges sit within sight to the west and an infinite supply of beaches are to the north. We’d sampled a taste of a greater feast and our appetites were now fully awakened from their slumber.