A Weekend, nay One Day, Trip to the Coromandel

This past weekend was Labour (where'd that 'u' come from?!) Day weekend here in New Zealand. There's actually some interesting history related to it, but essentially it's a free day to commemorate the NZ struggle for an 8-hour work day back in the 1890s. It's celebrated on the fourth Monday in October every year. That kind of makes it like (USA) Thanksgiving - suddenly you're at the end of the month and you get a day off work. Since we are in high spring here, that means this is a holiday weekend as well (like Memorial Day). 

After loading up on junk food and coffee, Rhiannon and I set off early on a Friday morning to beat the traffic induced by Auckland's holiday diaspora. Our destination was a 3 hour drive down and around the Firth of Thames (just a great name, apparently firth = bay) to get to the beautiful Coromandel Peninsula. The Coromandel is known for good hiking (both in the mountains and along the sea), gorgeous beaches, and numerous seaside towns dotted along the coast. 

Winding up and over a lush and low mountain range brought us to Tairua, a small coastal town with a nice brewery, a small art gallery, and a wicked public playground. It also has a sandy and extremely level (can something be extremely level?) tidal flat that you can walk several hundred meters onto when the tide is low:

Sandy island that quickly disappeared as we were shooed away by the climbing tide.

When you're on a shell-infested tidal mud flat, you do hand stands. It is known.

We then continued on to our destination for the weekend, Whitianga (FIT-ee-ayn-gah), stopping along the way for a quick hour long walk at Cathedral Cove. At the time I had no idea, but Wikipedia now tells me this is both where some recent filming occurred:  a scene in The Chronicles of Narnia:  Prince Caspian (that's the only reference to that you'll ever see in my blog) and a portion of a Macklemore video. Anyway, it was a lovely little walk filled with some cows, quails, and nice vistas, ending on a secluded beach:

Get off my beach I live here now.

"Wow this is where Macklemore once stood." 

And when we got back to the parking lot there was this very sad one-footed winged rat atop my car:

Had a real taste for dried cranberries and being pathetic.

And then a few excellent beers at a local brew pub to cap off the day:

Really the best APA I've had so far in NZ. I'm a beer snob apparently

And...that's it. I would love to show you more pictures and regale you with loads of other interesting and fun things we did over the weekend on the Coromandel, but I can't.

Ya see, that night we ate some grilled chicken. I woke up a few hours later feeling like death had crawled deep inside me and was clawing its way out, and I was inconsolably (and often violently) ill for the whole evening. I didn't sleep a bit, and we decided to drive back to Auckland the next day. I spent the rest of my Labour Day weekend convalescing and eating toast and apples. I tell myself it wasn't a total loss because the weather was crap all weekend. Now I'm just steeled to try to visit it again, naturally avoiding grilling chicken at a campsite..

Cheers!

Bonus:

During my recovery, Rhiannon and I made some Halloween-themed decorated cinnamon-ginger sugar cookies. Some of them are really scary, so it's okay to look away now before it's too late. Happy Halloween!

We only had black food coloring, so our palette was white, grey, and black.

Climb for your Life!

I've rock climbed before, which is to say I've gone into an indoor climbing gym and pulled myself up (huffing and puffing - the technique and finger/hand/forearm strength and fancy footwork elude me) a simulated rock wall. It can be intimidating, and takes a little getting used to the heights to which you climb and the belayer in which you put your trust. Otherwise indoor rock climbing is a very safe activity (especially when compared to playing a physical contact sport or even just running on rough terrain). The only injury I've ever suffered occurred when I first stepped onto the gym flooring my first time at the Madison climbing gym, evidently not knowing of its extra squishy consistency. I rolled my ankle. The safety is due mainly to the double and triple checking of ropes, the soft floor you'd fall onto and the relatively low height from which one would fall. Difficulty in climbing a gym rock wall really depends on which holds are on the route, and where they've been bolted.

A few weeks ago, mainly on a Thursday afternoon whim, I agreed to partake in a weekend climbing adventure at Froggat Edge. This free-climb paradise is located a few hours south of Auckland, just as you approach the ethereal world of Sir Peter Jackson's take on J.R.R. Tolkien's Hobbiton. We weren't far from the theatrical version of The Shire, and the landscape helps you understand why Sir Peter chose the locale. Hint:  one of the following images is not from Froggat Edge. Can you pick it out?

I want to see mountains again, mountains Gandalf!

Even the name 'Froggat Edge' has a token Tolkien ring to it.

If you picked this one, congratulations, you are not a robot!

This was my first outdoor climbing experience, ya know, scampering up a sheer rock face attached to some rope threaded through bolts some crazy guys installed at some point. I have to admit I was a little nervy going in. But while camping the night before with a group of very experienced climbers, my anxieties were put to rest. For the safety of everyone involved, they would keep a close eye on me and make sure I didn't do anything with which I wasn't comfortable. It was strange and captivating to see such vertiginous volcanic rock formations jutting up out of a soothingly rolling and verdant landscape.

Ungh. I think I might move here and become a shepherd.

I got my 'climbing' gear on, which consisted of an Under Armour®‎ long sleeved tee, some running pants, and borrowed harness and climbing shoes. I own no climbing gear.

Let's do this? Confidence.

And the climbing began! The rocks were porous, kind of like a pumice stone, but angrier. At one point when reaching for my next hold I felt a painful bite into the tips of my fingers. Just the sharp and brittle rocks defending themselves? I yelled down to my belayer, "I feel like I just grabbed a rusty knife!" I clearly didn't have the tough hands (or mental fortitude) that my companions did. It was an exhausting five hours, and watching others take on the big 'classic' climbs was a treat - some were close to 30 meters (~100 feet) high:

Center:  Renee the Spider comfortably resting halfway through her lead climb, so cool and relaxed. Other adventurous humans pictured for scale.

And Marco, from whom all these pictures come, cleaning the same route.

Because of the local topography, there were actually pretty easy routes walking up the back sides of these formations, so that I could enjoy the view as if I had traversed the difficult climbs myself (though in fact I did successfully climb 3 or 4 of them).

Everything the light touches...

Photo of a guy taking a photo of other guys climbing rocks.

So maybe I didn't partake in all of the difficult and harrowing climbs, nor did I (or do I) have the expertise to go out there and do this on my own. But I did learn how to tie myself in and how to belay, gained some massive forearm muscles, carried gear like a champ,

Actually slipped and fell in front of everyone at some point.

and generally really enjoyed the company, climbing, and landscape. Maybe I'll stab my hands with steak knives every few days to toughen them up before next time.

Cheers!

Endless Sands and Lofty Heights

I've been doing a lot of hiking recently. Perhaps it's in place of other hobbies that have been put on the back burner (mostly soccer; I miss you soccer, we shall be reunited soon). But main reason for the plethora of hikes has to do with two things:  feeling like it is obligatory in this very beautiful country and the unique feelings a hiker experiences during tramps (uh oh, Eric is going to talk about feelings again..). Hiking feels very natural. Yes it involves natural settings, but that's not really what I mean. It's human nature to always be nomadic - running from a predator and chasing prey, finding new and better shelter, or just reaching for some unknown new height or discovery. There's a certain serenity I get when I know my feet are moving underneath me, carrying me up a hill or along a seemingly eternal black sand beach. 

Hiking also provides a sense of accomplishment:

• from a physical perspective. Walking for several hours up and down graded terrain is not just good for development of some huge calf muscles (sick legs, bro), it also is a pretty good cardio workout. I often eat the junkiest food during and after hiking, like the two gas-station donuts during a recent foray to Hunua Falls.
• from a social perspective. Perhaps no better way to bond with others than to plan and execute a long hike in a foreign landscape. Team building!

The hiking crew at Karekare beach - two Americans and two Canadians. Team North America?

And the next weekend at Hunua Falls. Having company for a hike is extremely valuable. Upper right: when did I become so serious? Probably has something to do with being 28 now, ugh.

• and of course in pursuit of that next great view. Pretty self-explanatory, so I'll let the pictures do the talking:

Eden? Maybe not, but Marco claimed it was his 'paradise.' Certainly a good spot for a picnic.

Atop a ridge overlooking a secluded black sand beach. My paradise.

Sometimes these views can inspire creativity. Here is a driftwood beach sculpture I call "Driftwood Beach Sculpture." This is art, get it?

Once more, the endless Karekare beach. 

Hikes are called walks here, so I believe any type of longer walk should be included. Here Rhiannon peers from a pier at the Auckland City wharf on a beautiful birthday Sunday.

These still frames, no matter the technological capability of the camera taking them or the skill of the photographer (sorry Marco), cannot fully capture the moment. Which I guess is why you have to go out, do the hiking, and soak in the views and company for yourself.

Cheers!

Between Two Minds

In a dense morning fog, causing nearby skyscrapers to seemingly puncture through the low-hanging clouds, I boarded. "So early for a Saturday," I thought as my exhaled breath quickly condensed and appropriately matched the haziness in my head. Yet I knew the fresh air, an amalgam of salty sea breeze and dewy mist, would quickly sweep out my drowsy cobwebs. The ferry pushed away from the wharf, sputtering and rumbling at first, yet nearly motionless while water churned beneath, unseen. Imperceptible and continual acceleration finally brought the boat up to cruising speed. Astern, the city center receded while its sprawl became apparent:  bridges teemed with the low thrum of traffic, cliffs crammed with million dollar homes rose along the shore, and volcanoes reached their green fists into the air, searching for the few patches of rising sunlight the fog would allow. Away from the hubbub, the journey soon became soothing as the boat dandled in mild harbor waves. The island called Rangitoto rose before me, dark and immense. Its thick tropical forest concealed the lava rock fields I knew covered the island, half a millennium old remnants of an eruption. The intrigue of exploring this deposed and desolate force of nature stirred my impatience. Moments later as the ferry approached its destination, dichotomous thoughts bounced around my now clearing mind. 

* * *

Man seems driven by inherent contradictions:  1) progress, the pursuit of a greater self brought on by conscious thought; and 2) instinct, a deeply woven base layer of human fabric. 

Progress is long term. On a personal level, it's careers, shiny new things signifying status (level up!), and striving toward leaving a mark on history. For humankind, it's improving life, building structures that touch the heavens and machines that can bend nature to our will; it's creating the best humankind there can be. 

Progress is thinking then doing. 

Instinct is short term. It's the next meal, best shelter, and survival. It's not about making history, it's about never being history. It's also a oneness with nature, hearkening back to when human settings were not something created, but merely dwelt in. 
Instinct is feeling then doing.

Progress gives us this,

Pluto from NASA's New Horizons mission. Note: this is not Auckland, could you tell? 

and this, 

Countless places to live and eat and be in comfort.

and these, 

#2 wins out in my personal beer-snob opinion.

and I guess even this?

I love this sign. You'd think common sense human brain developmental progress would prevent the need for this, but no.

But instinct draws me to the types of places/views that Rangitoto offers:

Green and looming clouds and heights.

Lava fields. A desolate reminder of the destructive force of nature.

Lava caves, cool and damp and only slightly treacherous. Cheers to Maggie for the great photos!

To sum, these two propulsive forces are contradictory, but also complement each other. The changes we humans have made to our surroundings are constantly taken for granted (look how I'm communicating with people everywhere just by clacking my fingers against some plastic, incredible!). Perhaps, then, progress is best appreciated from afar, or within the context of the nature that has molded and still stimulates our instincts.

Bustling and lost up close, beautiful at a distance.

Cheers!

This Flora seems different...

Finding inspiration to write about a place you live and work in can be somewhat difficult. Especially, as I've detailed, when you work and workout within 200 meters (218.7 yards) of where you live. Outrageously convenient, but not a lot to see and do in my triangle of everyday life. You can't squeeze water out of a brick. It's dry and inflexible, and while good for setting up foundations, it's just not very mobile or tractable. A sponge, on the other hand, seeks and soaks up liquid that surrounds it. Moist (some people really hate that word, though I quite enjoy its uniqueness). All I had to do, then, was be sponge worthy. Fortunately for me, I live in a country renowned for its grandeur and beauty, and for their relative ease of access. And from there I don't have to write much at all, just show you some pictures.

A few weekends ago I ventured out of Auckland, once again west, to an area called Huia (sharing a name with a now extinct bird). Rising and winding cliff-hugging roads brought me to a short walk, and what a path it was:

Amongst this thicket I was only slightly concerned that raptors would outsmart me at any moment.

The summit was easily scaled, providing some wonderful views:

Looking SE. 

And West to Northwest (the direction, not Kanye and Kim's child).

Pretty sure George R.R. Martin did not describe any place like this in ASoIaF.

And this past weekend I did a quick day trip to Piha with my friend Rhiannon, which is as delightfully sunny and beach-y as it sounds. First a short half hour walk to Kitekite Falls (pronounced Kee-tay-kee-tay, not kite kite):

The occasional sun rays shooting through gave this stream a milky hue.

Sun-kissed hair and  garbed in green amid the green, the perfect camouflage.

Photos are great, but they are also stagnant. A waterfall is best perceived with splashing sounds and the light tingle of its mist on your skin.

Then down to Piha beach, which is known for its black sand, a TV show detailing necessary rescues from the frothy and swirling ocean eddies, and this very large rock:

Called Lion Rock, and somehow I accidentally captured the one angle from which you might be able to convince yourself of its resemblance to a lion.

A short climb up Lion Rock and the beach in all its low-tide glory.

So don't be a brick, be a sponge.

Cheers!

Rumblings in the Deep and the Psychology of Risk

(In old-timey radio announcer voice, or this kid on a busy 1920s New York corner):

Extra! Extra! Read all about it - AUCKLAND IS A TICKING TIME-BOMB

That's right, Auckland is neatly situated upon a monogenetic volcanic field comprised of 53 volcanoes. 

I'm no cartographer, but red probably isn't a good thing.

Until reading that Wikipedia page, I had thought all of these volcanoes were extinct, like the terrifying moa, 

Moas could grow over 12 feet, 500 lbs, and had no wings! This type of chart is how all sizes should be compared.

or the Haast's eagle.

The eagles are coming! Someone invent a time machine and film "Planet Earth" a million years ago, thanks. Yeah that's the only use of a time machine I would have.

Instead, I have found (more terrifyingly) that these volcanoes are still capable of erupting and are likely to erupt within the next "hundreds to thousands of years." A random certainty? An uncertain definitive? I say a time-bomb indeed. 

As seen in many other parts of the world, the threat of natural disaster does not really dissuade anyone from moving to Auckland. In fact, Auckland is expected to grow by about a million people in the next thirty years. This isn't a surprising number, as population within cities worldwide is increasing rapidly. But it does bring up the question of coping with living in an inevitable natural disaster zone. I've been thinking about this a lot since a recent trip to Portland, OR, just days after this New Yorker article scared the bejeezus out of everyone there.

Being from the Midwest, where the worst natural disasters are school closing (hurray!) / flight delaying (not hurray) heavy snows, it's a bit difficult to wrap my head around. The same question just keeps popping into my head, "Why would someone choose to live somewhere in such potentially imminent peril?" Moreover, the solution is distinctly simple - just leave. Of course there are a plethora of answers to my question:  family, familiarity and careers being most prominent.

I suppose some aspects of natural disaster risk, as with many other things in life, are relative. It's much easier to rationalize moving to a city with an inherent risk of natural disaster by comparing it to place with an even higher risk. "At least we aren't moving to the Pacific Northwest, or Santiago, or most places in Japan." And that's fair, because a lot of places are at a much higher risk than New Zealand Kiwis, which have little else to worry about (except housing prices and sandfly bites, I guess). The relative safety argument is mostly just hiding behind a false veil. Risk rationalization ultimately comes from peoples' comfortableness and terrors regarding change. 

But this is all rather dour of me. "Where are the pictures of cool things, Eric?" I'm getting there...

Perhaps the place in which these delusional people live have so much to offer that the immediate benefits outweigh the 'sometime-in-the-future-but-an-inevitability' risks. Auckland's volcanoes supply a physical example of this dichotomy of thought. Yes they will erupt again someday, but now they provide beautiful hikable and climbable green space locales with wonderful city vistas. I've taken it upon myself to showcase a few here:

Mt. Hobson looking north as dusk and a storm roll in.

Mt. Eden - a mere ten minute run from my flat, providing towering views of nearby volcanoes...

...and the occasional double rainbow.

From atop One Tree Hill looking north, which in addition to being a U2 song and teen drama, has a pretty interesting history. Mt. St. John middle and Mt. Eden right.

One Tree Hill north-northeast.

Looking up at the One Tree Hill obelisk. Sheep in their native habitat. So. Much. Green

So. Much. Cute.

Cheers!