"Hurry up and get in brah, I'm not supposed to be stopping along here," he said to me as I contemplated how to fit myself and my backpack into the front seat of his tiny 2-door hatchback. "And watch out for the feathers." Great.
I'd only really hitchhiked once before. I was at a music festival in upstate new york a few years ago and discovered during the second day that I had misplaced my car. The festival "staff" were as puzzled as I was, and suggested that maybe it had been parked incorrectly and towed somewhere. As I walked along the road I got a ride from an older hippie guy who had misplaced the music festival, so working together we drank beer and tracked down what the other was seeking.
Turns out my second ride was also from an older hippie guy on his way to a gypsy festival, although between his heavy accent and the roar of his overworked Japanese engine I could hardly understand anything he was saying. Thinking he was asking where I was from, I confidently replied Oregon, which puzzled him. After explaining where Oregon was he stared at me blankly and pointed to his left hip. "Oh" I said, and buckled my seatbelt.
He went on to tell me how everything in the world is contaminated (or that he had a dog), and gave me a small card with a Buddhist Deity on it. 10 minutes later we had arrived at the festival, and while he graciously offered to allow me to leave my backpack in his car while I went to check it out...I elected to move on. I wandered a bit further down the road, this time making sure there was enough space for a car to pull over safely, and tried my luck again.
People do curious things when they see hitchhikers. Some wave and smile, some pretend they don't see you, some say things (or at least move their lips), and still others make rather curious hand signals. But the nice ones pull over and give you a lift.
My next ride came from an middle-aged guy who had come down for the weekend from Auckland to see his kids in Motueka (a town about 15km from Marahau, where I was headed). After we had covered the usual where from and doing what, the conversation turned to music and beer (funny that). As it turns out he was an avid Radiohead fan (he had even taken up guitar so he could play their songs at local open mic events) and also a homebrewer. We talked hops through Motueka, and before I knew it he was dropping me in Marahau!
I elected to camp that night to ensure my gear was in good working order, and stayed on the lawn of a local backpackers called "The Barn". Tent pitched, I strolled down to the ocean for a swim and to check out the local surroundings and try to find some dinner. Marahau is beautiful but isn't really a town, just a few buildings and shops at the gateway to the Abel Tasmin National Park. Most of these shops either rent kayaks or water taxis, and the whole area is very touristy. Thankfully I had bought most of my food earlier in the day at a supermarket in Nelson, provisions at the local Marahau grocery displayed gourmet prices for such delicacies as white bread and cheddar cheese. I headed back to the campsite and cooked up some noodles for dinner, and retired to my tent as the sun went down. For a spell I was lullabied by the sounds of native bird calls, until an American blues cover band took the stage at a bar down the street. At least the stars were out...
Over breakfast the next morning I struck up a conversation with a young Canadian guy that had come to Marahau as a kayak guide, but quickly found out that this industry was anything but recession proof. As bad as it was being largely unemployed, he didn't seem too phased by it. I suppose there are worse places in the world to get stuck. He was full of great tips, including that the local library in Motueka allowed you to use the internet for free. Being closed on Sundays, we decided we would both hitch there tomorrow, and in the meantime I decided to take the day and hike around the Abel Tasmin National Park.
The park is a large 80km loop, partly along the coast and up through the mountains. I was backpacking north one way along the coast, so I decided to head up into the mountains and see what I would have been missing. The day couldn't have been more perfect: brilliant blue sky over turquoise waters with clouds rippling overhead, just warm enough to hike without a shirt (and plenty of sunscreen) but not uncomfortable. I hiked up to a vista for lunch, and along the way amused myself trying to audibly track down cicadas (nature's version of Where's Waldo). The view from the top was incredible, although it was clear where the national park ended and the national forest began (native vegetation gave way to scab-like blocks of coniferous replants).
I was back down with enough time to grab a powernap and do a bit of laundry before dinner, and decided to spend my last night in civilization in the pod-like dorm room of the backpackers. After dinner I wandered over to a little artist colony, complete with a hand carved waka (Maori canoe) and lots of wood sculptures. Their gift shop was heartbreaking...I could only afford the zucchini.
I'd only really hitchhiked once before. I was at a music festival in upstate new york a few years ago and discovered during the second day that I had misplaced my car. The festival "staff" were as puzzled as I was, and suggested that maybe it had been parked incorrectly and towed somewhere. As I walked along the road I got a ride from an older hippie guy who had misplaced the music festival, so working together we drank beer and tracked down what the other was seeking.
Turns out my second ride was also from an older hippie guy on his way to a gypsy festival, although between his heavy accent and the roar of his overworked Japanese engine I could hardly understand anything he was saying. Thinking he was asking where I was from, I confidently replied Oregon, which puzzled him. After explaining where Oregon was he stared at me blankly and pointed to his left hip. "Oh" I said, and buckled my seatbelt.
He went on to tell me how everything in the world is contaminated (or that he had a dog), and gave me a small card with a Buddhist Deity on it. 10 minutes later we had arrived at the festival, and while he graciously offered to allow me to leave my backpack in his car while I went to check it out...I elected to move on. I wandered a bit further down the road, this time making sure there was enough space for a car to pull over safely, and tried my luck again.
People do curious things when they see hitchhikers. Some wave and smile, some pretend they don't see you, some say things (or at least move their lips), and still others make rather curious hand signals. But the nice ones pull over and give you a lift.
My next ride came from an middle-aged guy who had come down for the weekend from Auckland to see his kids in Motueka (a town about 15km from Marahau, where I was headed). After we had covered the usual where from and doing what, the conversation turned to music and beer (funny that). As it turns out he was an avid Radiohead fan (he had even taken up guitar so he could play their songs at local open mic events) and also a homebrewer. We talked hops through Motueka, and before I knew it he was dropping me in Marahau!
I elected to camp that night to ensure my gear was in good working order, and stayed on the lawn of a local backpackers called "The Barn". Tent pitched, I strolled down to the ocean for a swim and to check out the local surroundings and try to find some dinner. Marahau is beautiful but isn't really a town, just a few buildings and shops at the gateway to the Abel Tasmin National Park. Most of these shops either rent kayaks or water taxis, and the whole area is very touristy. Thankfully I had bought most of my food earlier in the day at a supermarket in Nelson, provisions at the local Marahau grocery displayed gourmet prices for such delicacies as white bread and cheddar cheese. I headed back to the campsite and cooked up some noodles for dinner, and retired to my tent as the sun went down. For a spell I was lullabied by the sounds of native bird calls, until an American blues cover band took the stage at a bar down the street. At least the stars were out...
Over breakfast the next morning I struck up a conversation with a young Canadian guy that had come to Marahau as a kayak guide, but quickly found out that this industry was anything but recession proof. As bad as it was being largely unemployed, he didn't seem too phased by it. I suppose there are worse places in the world to get stuck. He was full of great tips, including that the local library in Motueka allowed you to use the internet for free. Being closed on Sundays, we decided we would both hitch there tomorrow, and in the meantime I decided to take the day and hike around the Abel Tasmin National Park.
The park is a large 80km loop, partly along the coast and up through the mountains. I was backpacking north one way along the coast, so I decided to head up into the mountains and see what I would have been missing. The day couldn't have been more perfect: brilliant blue sky over turquoise waters with clouds rippling overhead, just warm enough to hike without a shirt (and plenty of sunscreen) but not uncomfortable. I hiked up to a vista for lunch, and along the way amused myself trying to audibly track down cicadas (nature's version of Where's Waldo). The view from the top was incredible, although it was clear where the national park ended and the national forest began (native vegetation gave way to scab-like blocks of coniferous replants).
I was back down with enough time to grab a powernap and do a bit of laundry before dinner, and decided to spend my last night in civilization in the pod-like dorm room of the backpackers. After dinner I wandered over to a little artist colony, complete with a hand carved waka (Maori canoe) and lots of wood sculptures. Their gift shop was heartbreaking...I could only afford the zucchini.
Be on the lookout for something from the states to arrive soon....
ReplyDelete