Northland Bound

Posted on April 1, 2012 by casey

One of the unforeseen benefits of travel in a vintage car – or at least in OUR vintage car – is the slower pace of speed. Perhaps, also, it is just that everyone around us, in their Japanese import, is whizzing along a few (or twenty) km per hour over the limit, causing them to pass us in droves.

By the time we found ourselves on North Island roads headed towards the Waitomo Caves area, we were fully comfortable in the Sunday cruising mode. It allowed a little more time to gaze at the horizon, flora and expansive paddocks. Speaking of which were every bit as gorgeous, calm and colorful as those of the South Island. Countless mention was made to spend more time in the South Island, as it has more to offer and is more beautiful. We are not convinced of this, necessarily. Perhaps there are more specific viewpoints and vast landscapes and mountains, but there is a whole other world of worthwhile landscape on the North Island routes as well.

In Waitomo Caves we had a much needed and incredible stay in a friend’s sister’s gorgeous home, view pictured above. Time cooking meals in the kitchen, reading while it poured for a day and an afternoon finding our way through the pitch-black of the caves the town is named after with a bunch of other adventurous folks. Picture, if you will, us at 9am, wrangling our way into some cold wetsuits, booties and helmets with headlamps, jumping in a river butt-first to test the chill of the water and clambering down into darkness to be greeted by the sparkling ceiling lit by glowworms. As our lovely guide explained, the glow which inspires such dreamy awe and wonder is really just the last ditch effort of the maggot attached to the cave ceiling, it’s bum alight to attract insects for feeding; then they mate and die. Magical, really.

Really, though, it was loads of fun. Next we headed up to Northland for our final work-stay at a permaculture residence in an eco-village in Kaiwaka. Bring on the vegetables and compost!

Masterton

Posted on March 29, 2012 by eli

In a country like New Zealand, where the population sits at somewhere in the neighborhood of 8-10 times as many sheep as people, it’s reasonable that there would be sheep shearers around every corner. Combine that with the natural human tendency to compete and it just makes sense that you’d also find sheep shearing competitions, which is exactly what Casey did in the Hokitika public library. Randomly perusing a book, Shear Hard Work by Hazel Riseborough, she noticed continuous mention of Golden Shears and the competition in Masterton. A little bit of research further let us in on the little secret that not only was the competition happening during the time we’d be passing north from Wellington, but the day we were reading about it was also the last day to write or fax (yes, fax) in for tickets. So we did.

What made it a double win was that this year the Golden Shears competition (annual) was also hosting the World Championships – next to occur in Ireland in 2014. Excellent. Think World Cup. Think Olympics. Think athletes from 25 different countries descending on New Zealand to prove their abilities on the world stage. Then tone it down a bit (a lot) to a community gymnasium in a little town with not a whole lot else going on.

The morning half of the competition included several NZ-centric rounds, all part of the Golden Shears part of the event, though no less exciting than what was to come later. We got our feet wet watching some machine shearing heats (listen above) followed by the surprisingly tense and exciting (seriously) wool pressing championships, first team, then solo men’s. In the team event, the local Goodyear brothers, Jeremy and Vinny, went against two guys from the South Island and won by a mile. In the solo event, it was 7x Champion Jeremy vs. the younger Vinny. What is a wool pressing event? It’s readying the baler, piling in 160kg of raw wool by hand, cinching it down, properly securing the bale and removing it. Typing that just now doesn’t begin to illustrate it, but watching them actually do it, there’s no question they’re every bit athletes.

Listen in to that event here:

And the results:

The afternoon was perhaps slightly slower paced, with only one event at a time and all eyes on the main stage, but the stakes were raised. World Championship Round One for Woolhandling (another ridiculously athletic event aimed at high speed gathering and separating of different wools), Blade shearing (the old school scissors), and Machine Shearing. We learned the ropes of the scoring and judging (speed, a judge on stage tracking mistakes made while shearing, and then another judge behind the stage to grade the end result of the sheep) from some of our neighbors in the audience who, totally by chance, happened to be the American team, including the only female blade shearer in the competition as well as an older blade shearer hailing from Boston.

Finding events like this is like stepping into a whole alternate universe sometimes. It’s easy to think of a wool sweater that itched when you were a kid, but seeing an entire culture immersed in the art and science of raising, shearing, handling, and processing wool from sheep is something that, I would venture to guess, never even crosses most of our minds, despite the fact that it’s important and worthwhile and, in places like this, entirely entertaining.

Shipping Up To Wellington

Posted on March 28, 2012 by eli

The ferry from Picton across the Cook Strait takes about three hours. That’s ample time, on a day as fine as the one we had, to stroll the multiple open decks, do some reading or snoozing, and in general contemplate what it must’ve been like back in the day (as they say) when ships were made of wood, food was rations instead of a la carte buffet bars, and the distance to the next island/continent, if there was one, was completely unknown. Staring at the shadow of land in the distance, with nothing but ocean in the other direction will put these kinds of thoughts in your head. Departing the South Island also left me with the distinct – and sad – feeling that we were departing for another country already, though with Wellington waiting on the other side, that feeling was soon quelled.

To cram an entire city into three days is just not possible, and with as much as Wellington seems to have on offer, I’m not sure three weeks would’ve done justice. With time not on our side, though, we made the most of what we could and, as is our habit, hit the streets on foot just about as soon as we could. Boston trained us well in the dense, urban-walking ways and Wellington took over the reins with aplomb, offering its overwhelming amount of cafes and trendy shops for our window-shopping pleasure. We also unknowingly landed in town during the New Zealand International Arts Festival which brought out the spirit of the place, but with ticket prices just out of reach and the main attractions being a day or two late, we settled, instead, for the City Gallery (free! – including a magnificently fantastic interactive piece called “Lean” that you can see a bit more of HERE) and a never-ending supply of street art. Seriously: So. Much. Street art. That’s including, but certainly not limited to, commissioned murals, graffiti collages and a beautifully kept pop-up/pick-your-own garden located smack in the middle of the civic center plaza.

I mentioned it before, but New Zealand just seems to really understand the value of a good city center. Wellington proved not only to uphold this standard, but showed us a city that is above and beyond when it comes to really, truly utilizing the space it has. Sculptures, walkways, museums (Te Papa, pictured below. Huge and impressive and worth three days all on its own), and landscaping all come together connecting the city and civic center area with the waterfront and beyond. Seeing it in action looked like something out of a movie with all of the background actors hitting their cues right on target: business people walking by, a couple strolling along the water bridge, skateboarders in the distance on the half pipe and a couple dragon boat rowing teams practicing by the boat shed. It’s clear that a great deal of thought and care was put into the design and development of this beautiful and welcoming space. It may also be clear, from my somewhat vague descriptions above, that Wellington, for all of its wonderfulness, is not a particularly budget friendly place. Alas, we’ll just have to start saving for a return visit. How disappointing!

(Hand)Made In Nelson: Part Two

Posted on March 22, 2012 by casey

Along the way this year, we have sought out makers of all kinds – observing, discussing, listening to and absorbing different styles of practice, aesthetic, approach, and creation from vegetables to prints to ad campaigns to, now, jewelry. Each place and person/maker resonates with us in some way, be it process, product or, often, both. In this case, our threads of thoughts and conversations from the past were brought full circle, spanning ethical sourcing, community dynamics, process, time, and healthy capacity.

Ash Hilton came to be a jeweler in one of the less traditional ways than years of formal training and schooling – by way of instinct and, later, apprenticeship as well as consistent individual practice. Formerly a chef (once found on mega-yachts in the Mediterranean) he settled in Nelson some years back having decided on a shift in focus. Being near his hometown on the northwest coast of the South Island, it was familiar ground with the unfamiliar territory of working with fine metals. Ash returned to the landscape, figuratively, through the work he was making and from that has evolved a definitive style. There is strength in subtlety – a crisp cabbage tree (meaningful and often spied in New Zealand) or row of pines (non-native but commonly used as windbreaks on the paddocks).

What I enjoy most is the imagery of flora that could so easily be the emblem of one country becomes pared down and melds into a border (or ocean, in this matter) crossing visual. Considering my related interest in collaboration and community-based anythings, this isn’t surprising – but it is what originally interested me in his work, long before we started this trip. Being able to visit a working studio space, home-based no less, half way around the world and find it is true to that gut reaction is at the very least encouraging and inspiring.

Now that the business has grown – as well as the family, with the addition of two wee and adorable boys (a two year old and a fresh baby) – Laurel, Ash’s partner, has become an official part of operations. She is the client communications/orders/website/manager person extraordinaire – and this way Ash can focus on making things. At one time, a shared studio space was good, as it cultivated the strong community that is essential for skill sharing, idea swapping and the like. However, Ash realized that he enjoys a more private space – and gets more work done – so a basement room became the studio as it is.

Both he and Laurel also decided to set some official working hours for their business – this after going the other route and finding that they were working far beyond a reasonable amount, whenever/wherever. The concept (and reality) of capacity is about personal limits, as well as intentionally deciding what kind of business/artist/craftsperson/farmer you want to be. By maintaining a certain size, and becoming a family business, Ash and Laurel are able to maintain the personal element – which is part of why we got to sit in their living room on a beautiful Saturday and meander through these conversations. These are elemental lessons that seem only to come by way of exploring and experimenting with one’s own process, but still so refreshing to hear about. The baseline being to pay attention to what is working, feed it where it is lacking, trim it where it has gotten unruly. All of this, of course, helps ensure that people get to keep doing what they love – continuously improving, sharing, and creating a balanced livelihood from it.

Ash and Laurel welcomed us so warmly into their beautiful cottage, openly shared their experiences and even sent us on our way with a bag full of plums and peaches from their backyard. We left feeling as if we had met them before that day and are thrilled to have had the chance to peek behind the curtain of their business and life.

For more, including a bit about their ethical sourcing, and to view more work, visit:

www.ashhilton.com or Etsy

(Hand)Made In Nelson: Part One

Posted on March 16, 2012 by casey

In different ways, the classifier “Made in Nelson” cropped up long before we made it anywhere near the small city, never mind knew where it was specifically. From a fortuitous internet-based discovery of a local jeweler, to various and delicious beverages investigated while in Rangiora and on our South Island road trip, to ever growing mentions of a well stocked weekend market, Nelson had quietly carved out it’s notch in our landscape as a place not to be missed.

Days of rain cleared from our heads and rear window as we drove along the road between town and the bay; we felt ready for whatever Nelson might bring to us – or perhaps ‘bring us to’ is more appropriate.

A picnic near the beach, a quick dip of our toes in the icy, milky-aqua waters and we headed for the hills to peruse (or pursue?) the local orchards and vineyards west of town. We set our furthest point as Upper Moutere, originally a small German settlement, and let the roads and weather guide our way. After heaps of cellar door/tasting/vineyard announcements, the simple sign guiding us to Himmelsfeld seemed right somehow. Pulling up the drive, what stood out first was the distinct lack of grapevines. Instead it was lined with beautiful old apple trees and roaming, freshly shorn sheep.

Not only did we end up enjoying small glasses of some the better aged Chardonnay and Sauvignon Blanc that either of our taste buds have experienced maybe ever, but the hour or so of conversation that accompanied was equally important. Beth Eggers, nurse turned vintner, has followed her passion and established one of the smaller, very successful boutique vineyards in New Zealand. Officially starting in 1991, she specializes in aged wines – primarily whites – and has done so with a deep commitment to knowing the land, soil, and plants. We spoke about the process of production and what really struck me was her comment that “people do not make wine, it is made in the vineyard.” By knowing precisely what the plant or soil needs and when to harvest, will yield a grape at its peak and, thus, the best wine. Another important part is knowing ones limits and to avoid a jettison beyond capacity – maintaining a smaller vineyard, and smaller output, is what makes sense for both her and her land. To expand purely because of the success would taint the essential elements that make it what it is. The apple trees are leftover from a foray into an orchard operation, the sheep the original impetus for it all. She wanted to give them a happy life and bought the land to establish it as such for them; the vineyard itself came after. As they graze through the fallen fruit and soak up the sun, it seems they couldn’t be more content. The grapes, like the sheep, cared for with sharp eye and wit, sit soaking the same sun just meters away. We bid Beth and Himmelsfeld farewell with a bottle of magnificent 2007 Sauvignon Blanc in the trunk, squinting at the road, lost in the haze of feeling pretty damned lucky.

Saturday was reserved for Nelson Market wanderings and an afternoon studio visit. Both cross paths by way of artisanal foundations, and the gastronomic/aesthetic extravaganza that followed was the equivalent of soft focus dreaminess.

Not solely for food, the Nelson Market is held every Saturday and features local producers of everything from pastries to chutneys to whiskey, as well artists and craftsmen. However, food was (unsurprisingly) our focus here. Sage infused creamed honey, nasturtium capers (more subtle than regular ones), olive oil with lime essence, homemade dukkah blends, German sausages, and (as Eli discovered) a most wonderful apricot strudel with vanilla cream sauce from the Austrian bakery stand kept us fairly busy. While we managed to restrain ourselves from too many purchases, flavor combinations new to our considerations were noted for future experimentation.

Witnessing the diversity in represented goods as well as the mass attendance was inspiring in regards to local economies, community culture and interwoven support systems. With farmers and flea-style markets held at other times in the week, Nelson raises the bar for high-value convenings for locals and visitors alike – plus it’s super tasty.

Notes From A South Island

Posted on March 1, 2012 by eli

New Zealand’s South Island. Where to begin? It’s home to the hip college town of Dunedin, the mighty and mysterious fjordland, a (probably) magical rain forest up the west cost, and more Lord of the Rings filming locations than you can shake a stick at. We’ve long heard and read of the overwhelming beauty of the south island. What jumped out to me, though, was not just the ridiculously gorgeous landscapes (which they are) but how much diversity there is in them. Then to take it up a notch, they’re all smashed into such a tiny place that you can actually get a pretty good feel for the place in a week…on a road trip in a 38 year old car armed with a new tent, a bag of picnic food and snacks, and not a cloud in the sky.

It’s hard to sum up something like this without either going completely overboard (I make no promises) or using bullet points, so in the spirit of tidiness I’ll be using the latter. To the south!

Day 1 – Destination: Trotter’s Gorge Campground
• Blue skies all day. Fear of trucker’s tan (burn) on my arm. The Pacific Ocean to our left.
• Passed the 45° South latitude line.
• Stopped an hour North of Dunedin for the night, allowing a little time on Day 2 to explore the city.
• First night in the tent without a hitch. We splurged a little on this with the idea that by not buying too cheap of a tent we’d be able to bring it back to the States with us for future use.

Day 2 – Destination: Queen’s Reach Campground, Te Anau
• Woke to rain and quickly took packed up. Breakfast of hardboiled eggs and PB+J in the car and on to Dunedin. Pouring rain, mind you.
• Picked up a new (old) cassette tape from the library sale to fill in the (very broad) gaps between radio reception in the car. A 90′s mix of British bands (Just OK. Definitely not the best of 90′s Brit rock, it turns out).
• Bagpipe band parade through downtown means extra traffic, also extra fun. Pouring rain, still. Between the kilts and the weather it almost felt like being in Portree.
• Rain and grey across the island as we headed west through Gore (World Capital of Brown Trout Fishing! Also New Zealand’s Country Music Capital! Not just an American phenomenon, this pairing.), Lumsden, and on to Te Anau – the jump off point for much of the Fjordland trekking/camping/boat touring.
• Got the tent sent up in the rain only to find two tears in the rain fly, shoddy seam taping all over, and a leak straight into the tent from the middle of one of the fly panels. Avoided leak drips while cooking and eating dinner (and cursing our “quality” tent) before packing everything away again. Sleeping in vintage cars has its advantages – namely that the seats almost fully recline, making for a nearly horizontal and only sort of bumpy surface. Also, it’s dry.

Day 3 – Destination: Milford Sound and back to Queen’s Reach Campground
• Light rain and cloudy skies welcomed us with a cold hug.
• Stopped in Te Anau for a coffee, which powered us onward through some of the aforementioned scenery and steadily improving weather.
• First in line (there are traffic lights) for the Homer Tunnel, formerly the world’s longest gravel-surfaced tunnel in the world, and still – by far – the creepiest tunnel I’ve ever been in. Steep, straight, and about a lane and a half wide.
• Lunch and a little walking around the beginning of the Sound, debating an overpriced though guaranteed to be beautiful cruise. Opting to spend our last bits of tourism cash on the Waitomo Caves. Back the way we came, again first in for the tunnel. We shared the spot with a bicyclist, who soon was dubbed our personal hero. Our car doesn’t have any problem coasting downhill, but she gives out a little on steep ascents, this one being no different, but also a lot easier than peddling ourselves through the dark.
• Walked the short hike to Devil’s Chasm – a spectacular gorge cut in the middle of the forest by waterfalls. The rocks have been smoothed down and drilled out yet the chasm remains so narrow you can barely see it exists in some places. Not something that can be captured too easily, if at all, on camera.
• Sunshine! Dried out and repacked the tent for returning to the store, after it enjoyed a final dry out on top of the Triumph – at Queen’s Reach, the mountains showing off in the distance.

Day 4 – Destination: Boundary Creek Campground via Queenstown and Wanaka
• Morning sun while we made a cup of coffee and brushed our teeth near the entrance of the campground so as not to disturb too many other campers letting the engine warm up to the day.
• Multiple viewpoint stops on the way to Queenstown through more spectacular scenery: rolling hillsides covered in sheep, tree breaks bent with the wind, jagged rocky peaks reflecting the dew and rain leftover, and a mighty river as deep blue as any I’ve seen.
• Lunch at Fergburger in Queenstown on recommendation from our workstay friends from Germany. Absolutely worth the $20 for the deliciousness of the food as well as for the break from car picnics.
• Explored the outdoor mall atmosphere of Queenstown and then Wanaka for the afternoon. Most of it, while really nice, feels a bit too nice. For those familiar with the reference, it felt a bit like Vail, Aspen, or Park City…a little too clean, a little too expensive, a little too put on, but also surrounded by intense natural beauty.
• Up and over the Crown Range mountains (our Triumph triumphant) to the Boundary Creek campsite for the night; wind coming out of the gathering clouds, down off the mountains and across lake Wanaka to the stone and driftwood beach where we tried to hide the camp stove flames that heated our beans.

Day 5 – Destination: Gillespie’s Beach, Fox Glacier
• Rain in the morning, downpour all afternoon, rain in the evening.
• Drove the people free roads to Haast in the west, greeting the Tasman Sea coast before noon.
• Arrived in Fox Glacier with bad weather and worse forecasts, but decided to stay the night at Gillespie’s Beach on the off chance that there’d be a break by morning. Lucked out with long enough in the afternoon to walk from the campsite to the beach for a little marveling at the gigantic waves of aquamarine water rolling in and hone our stone skipping abilities. Also were able to take a short walk to the gold dredging site just up from the campsite. Much of this central west coast area was once covered in gold and jade mining operations.
• Amazing dense foliage of rainforest: ferns, tree ferns, cabbage trees, evergreens; all of it lush green and dripping with moss.

Day 6 – Destination: Greensborough Campground, Hokitika
• WIN! Woke up to a spectacular sunrise over Mt. Tasman and Mt. Cook (where Sir Edmund Hilary fine tuned his skills before summiting Everest), took that as a sign and hightailed it to Franz Josef Glacier. For those paying attention, that’s a second glacier about 30km up the road, both of them just minutes from the coast.
• Hiked through the rainforest, across the glacial flood plane, to the face of the glacier, then back again via a few waterfalls. …All before the rain started up again.
• To the quaint welcome of Hokitika, home to jade cutting studios and workshops, the sock museum, a nice little library, and our “food research” tasting of a (the local specialty) Whitebait patty sandwich. Not bad, despite being a bit plain and boasting a rather unappetizing name.
• New Zealand, despite (or probably because of) being a younger country, has shown me more than just about any place else, the real actual firsthand benefits of vibrant city centers. While chains certainly exist (mostly of the grocery, gas, and financial variety), the local shops seem to still dominate, people frequent the area, and because of it, there seems to be a pretty tangible community and community personality. Growing up in small town America you hear a lot about “Main Street” but my personal experience has made that seem slightly more a nostalgic reminiscence than a current reality.

Day 7 – Destination: Kawatiri Campground, Murchison
• Passed through Greymouth with a short stop at the library, the rain again preventing a bit of extra foot exploration that might have happened otherwise.
• Pancake Rocks, Punakaiki. Arrived in time to catch high tide as well as a break in the rain (again!). Scientists don’t really know why the rocks have formed the way they have. However, it’s fairly obvious, when you see the way the waves pound the cliffs, why holes have been carved underground. When the force of those same waves needs an exit, it’s also pretty amazing to see and hear the blowholes in action, releasing puffs of ocean into a fine mist.
• Cape Foulwind, outside of Westport: This is the home of a seal colony, where, during our third lucky break in the rain for the day, we managed to catch the seal pups still testing out their swimming skills amongst the rocks and crashing waves while the elders watched. Actually I’m lying – the older seals were just sleeping.
• Eastbound! Leaving the coast and the rainforest and entering another new, somewhat more familiar seeming climate and foliage while winding back and forth around and over hills and valleys.
• INSANE SAND FLIES at Kawatiri Campsite – do not leave the vehicle. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200.

Day 8 – Destination: Nelson
• Woke up and drove immediately so as to escape the sand flies before opening the doors to brush teeth, eat, or rearrange the car. Ten kilometers up the road? A nice hilltop campground windy enough to keep the flies at bay with two cars still sleeping peacefully. *sigh.
• More winding roads, beautiful views, and sheep as we covered the last kilometers in to Nelson’s nearly Mediterranean sun and coastline.

Gillespie’s Beach

Posted on February 27, 2012 by eli