Escape to Waiheke

We’ve lived with many people since coming to New Zealand. They have ranged from the polite, clean, and considerate to the loud, obnoxious, and insane. There are only a few we’ve stayed in touch with, and probably even less we’d live with again. Two people that fall into both those positive categories are an American couple we lived with for around 6 months.

Our early summer was still reigning unchallenged and called out for weekend exploration. We joined up with our old flat mates, Erik and Minerva and set out on a morning ferry ride out into the Hauraki Gulf. Waiheke Island had escaped our presence last summer thanks to the fact good weather seemed to bypass every weekend we planned to go there, but there would be no reprieve from us this year.

We stepped off the ferry and breathed in the relaxation. 30 minutes away by sea, and half the world away in feel. We were just starting to let the atmosphere truly take over our senses when a local tour guide approached us and started the hard sell. While I looked at our surroundings I caught the eye of a café worker who had clearly seen the speech before. She looked at me with complete sincerity and mouthed the word “RUN”. Once my laughter subsided I joined the girls in reiterating the fact we wanted to do our own thing and were not interested in a tour. He muttered his rejected annoyance and walked out towards a mini-van full of Japanese tourists. They stared out like sheep from a trailer, and I felt a pang of sorrow for them as they were carted away.

We on the other hand, picked up a hire car and set out on roads curvier than a Playboy party. The island is only 20 km long, so we didn’t expect the long journeys between stops, but then it didn’t worry us either; we were in no hurry.

We stopped at beaches, cut foot prints in sand, and climbed rocks. When hunger called, we made our choice from the 13 vineyards on the island and prepared to sample the culinary delights. Our first course was an obvious choice for such a venue - a selection of wines were brought out on a tray for us to sample, mull over, and enjoy. By the time those glasses were empty, food was definitely required to bring me back to road legal. Thankfully the food here was as good as the wine, and we made every mouthful last. It was obvious to see why ‘Stonyridge Vineyard” was so well regarded.

In the afternoon we continued our drive around the island and went for a short walk across a headland to a seemingly secluded beach. The sky was beginning to darken by the time we arrived so we didn’t hang around long, and began our journey back to the ferry terminal.

Back in Auckland, the colours surrounding us had paled again, while those of our new memories were still fresh from the brush. We'd had a great escape from the city, and would definitely return to Waiheke again.

Park 'Live'

I would rank them as one of my favourite bands. When they released their first album, it captured emotions I was feeling and became a soundtrack to many moments of those times. There is a raw passion and emotion to their songs that is hard to ignore. Their blend of almost classical melodies mixed with screaming choruses not seen in such brilliance since Axel Rose graced the stage, rings out in perfect balance. I’d thought about what it would be to see them perform ‘live’ for many years and always said it would not be an event I’d miss.

At around seven o’clock we left our apartment and headed out into the night. A few drinks mixed with a few songs at home, got our hearts beating to the evenings pace. The closer we got to the Vector arena, the more people streamed onto the road we followed, and we became lost in a single mass of people, carried along by snippets of songs sang proudly by the crowd.
The support act for any gig is usually a good indication of the quality of the main event. In this instance, the support was probably worthy of the ticket alone. Chris Cornell played a great mix of his solo work, Audioslave greats, and took us on a memorable trip down ‘Soundgarden’ lane.

A short intermission and a quick beer later and we were back in the thick of the crowd counting down to the main event. Bright lights lit up a huge thin curtain covering the stage and the start of a song began. As soon as one scream rang out from the crowd, it set off a sequence and the whole place erupted. Link Park had arrived in New Zealand.

They played an incredible set. If you could pick a top selection of their tunes, then I’m sure that every one of them was played with passion. When they reached the end of the night, and I said to Lucie that they hadn’t played ‘Faint’… well, you can guess what the first encore was. We sang along throughout the night like everyone else, and emerged outside afterwards slightly deaf and unable to speak. It was an incredible show and I’ll definitely be first in line to buy tickets when they next head this way.

Moving On

An amazing example of how you should never tempt fate and just keep your mouth shut occurred sometime in August. On one of those rare occasions when everyone in the flat was together, in this instance, playing Texas Holdem Poker, someone asked if the rent has been increased at any time during the 13 months Lucie and I had been there. We looked at each other and replied “not once” with joyful realisation. The next day we received a letter from our agency notifying that the rent would be increased by an astronomical $80 / week in 2 months.

I sent a half-hearted letter to the agency requesting that the landlord reconsider, but in truth, we had been looking for a good reason to move out. The problem had always been that it was just too good staying where we were. The apartment was a spacious, top floor, luxurious apartment in the city centre, and living with 4 other people meant the bills were cheap and so was the rent. But, on the flip side of that, it was hard to relax, we were living in other people’s mess, and it was rarely quiet. We needed our own space, and as we’d no longer be able to think about the money we’d be saving, we knew it was time to move on. This represented a significant development in our settling into New Zealand. The shared accommodation served a clear purpose. It allowed us to save lots of money for further travel, but with flatmates constantly coming and going, and having no time or space to properly relax, we had remained in a state of being where our backpacks were always mentally half packed.

What Lies Beneath

It feels strange to be writing this now; I’m not overly late by my standards – not even two months have passed since my last trip, and yet the change in the world around me suggests far longer. Strangely, there hasn’t been a gradual transformation of the seasons over that period. It was a change as sudden as a turning a light on, causing everyone to do a double-take at the world, and wonder how long we’d all slept one night. There was no spring - summer just arrived one week, unadulterated and unrestricted. Tens of centimeters of the precious snow base I had watched build up on the mountains were destroyed without mercy. Then, as if mother-nature knew a mistake had been made, the sun made a hasty retreat and the clouds dumped snow on the mountains in an extremely apologetic display. Another view could be that we were witnessing the winter’s death dance – a last burst of life energy before giving in to its fate, and then the following week it was as if it had never happened.


This year was our first full season for snowboarding in New Zealand. I’d looked forward to it from the moment the mountains closed last year, and lived every moment of the season this year, by the mountain’s weekend weather forecast.


Our first outing had been wet and miserable provoking a cautious hesitancy that saw us watch every weekend for over a month pass by without strapping on another snowboard. When our set did arrive, and good weather was predicted for a full week, the whole of Auckland paid attention, and similarly heading to the mountains. Record numbers of 7000 and 4000 people were seen at the Whakkapappa and Turoa resorts. Still we didn’t care; we were on snow, in or out of a lift queue.



That week brought about the start of a few good weekends of weather and we took advantage whenever we could. I treated myself to a new snowboard jacket, and started braving the sorts of jumps I’d been comfortable on before busting my hand last season. Times were good. We saw more and more of the two resorts and got to know runs like they were our own back garden. I found a new appreciation for Whakkapappa. The plentiful natural bumps provided

an awesome playground of jumps or obstacles depending on adrenaline levels, and the view of Mt. Ngauruhoe on a clear day was spectacular.

Like all time spent having fun, it passed by twice as fast, and it wasn’t long before that first week of summer arrived. The perfect white veneer was stripped away and the true grotesque features of the mountain. As it turned out, we were no more ready to accept this than winter itself, so when that further dumping arrived, we packed our bags, and headed for the mountains once again. All the beginner runs were now nothing but rock, so 2 consecutive chair lifts were required before you could really board anywhere. On the plus side, the restricted runs meant Lucie tackled her first ‘Black Diamond’ run, and there was still plenty of snow on the upper mountain to ease the painful goodbye.

It was a strange season on one of the world’s most active volcanoes. Back in mid-May, before the first snowflake fell, the tephra damn holding back the crater lake burst spilling a lahar of 1.4 million cubic metres of mud, rock, and water smashing down the mountain. This was actually a good thing as another lahar was due, and it was far better to get it out the way now, than mid-snow season. Then on 25th September, after a perfect day on the slopes, a hydrothermal eruption occurred without warning accompanied by a small earthquake. Rocks and ash were thrown into the air destroying the Dome Shelter, and two lahars stained the glorious white slopes. Amazingly, as no further activity was detected over the next two days, the mountain saw one of the busiest weekends of the season as thousands of people flocked to the slopes to see the stark contrast now affecting the mountain. Unfortunately we were not able to join them, and when we did make it back there, new snow covered the scar tissue, thus hiding the evidence of the true power beneath.

Winter Distractions

Our first snowboarding trip of the season had dampened our enthusiasm for spontaneous jaunts to the mountain. Now, we checked the weather forecast every day from a week before, and made our decision to go or not by Thursday morning. This sensible approach, combined with dramatically changeable weather meant that we missed some glorious days on the mountain, but also prevented many wasted trips.

On those weekends when we’d stayed in Auckland and sunshine did prevail, we ventured out from home, and went wandering about the city. We’d keep an eye out for advertisements for anything of interest and then explore when the time came. The first of these outings was a trip to the museum to check out a collection of BMWs that had been given custom paint jobs courtesy of a number of the most renowned artists of the 20th century. Valued at over $30million, the complete collection includes 15 cars. Auckland museum had been lent 4 of them, painted by Andy Warhol, Roy Liechtenstein, Frank Stella, and Ken Done. We’d expected more than this, but the free admission should have been a clear indication of the true size of the display.

Never-the-less, we took our time, read the displays, and grabbed the digital moments. After that, we strolled aimlessly around the domain, letting random statues decide the route and gravity dictate the pace.

Sundays in the sun seem to have an amazing way of prompting a complete disregard for the movement of time, and thus an inspired patience to any activity. The flower garden was not on any of my lists for things to check out, but at this moment in time, there was no reason why not. Or, perhaps, there was just no better alternative nearby.

Another weekend, we decided to finally visit one of the oldest and most popular tourist attractions in Auckland. Kelly Tarlton’s Underwater World, opened in 1985, is the quintessential example of turning any old crap, with a little ingenuity, into a money spinner.

Sometime before the 1980s, a local marine archaeologist, Kelly, had the bright idea of heating and moulding acrylic sheets into shapes enabling him to construct a transparent tunnel. He then took a bunch of disused sewage tanks, and with the help of a few million gallons of water and his wonderful new tunnel, constructed the beginnings of an underwater world. Since it’s opening in 1985, it has been expanded to include a replica of the hut used by Captain Robert Scott on his tragic expedition to Antarctica, as well as a colony of penguins.
Our reasons for going here though were as much about the journey as the destination. The walk from our apartment is an easy hour or so, along a coastal road with beautiful views. The actual place was a sweet distraction, but was definitely in keeping with New Zealand’s size. Still, it was something we hadn’t done before and was a nice place to spend a few hours in a lazy weekend.

Mt. Eden was our next weekend target. This dormant volcano is the tallest natural feature in Auckland, and as such is a magnet for tourists. For us, it was as good a point as any to walk to, and due to it dominance on the horizon, it drew us towards it like wise men to a star.

Last winter in New Zealand, it felt pretty cold. Not quite cold enough to justify a jacket (most of the time), but when the wind kicked up and tore through your body, you definitely knew it wasn’t shorts weather. That was the country’s coldest winter in 36 years. This year, the wind might have caused the occasional shiver, but there’s probably been more times, when I’ve taken off a layer, rather than crave an additional one. The seasonal changes are far more subtle than the difference a gust of wind or a patch of shade makes on you, and a burst of unadulterated sunshine feels as warm as summer all year round.