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At long last we are finally home in Metro DC. More than a vacation, we made our home in New Zealand, at least, temporarily. Four months later, Ivy says she hays two homes: "This one and one in Zeeland."

Ancient Kauri Trees and Hot Pink Sheep

Saturday morning we headed west to the Waipoua Forest on Northland’s west coast, home to the ancient kauri trees. We took the brief hike from SH 12 to see Tane Mahuta (“Lord of the Forest” in Maori), the tallest living kauri tree. At 168 feet tall and 45 feet around, its name fits. Ironically, kauris don’t create a dense, dark forest. The canopy, which supports more than 30 plant species, is high and sparse, letting plenty of light reach the forest floor.

Kauris once dominated Northland, but logging and fires drastically reduced the forest to a vestige of its original size. Another environmental tragedy, the wood from the trees, which took thousands of years to grow, was consumed on the cheap—logs went for as little as 2 pounds a piece—and quickly forgotten about. The ships it built are sunk and the bridges it built have been replaced with steel and concrete. An estimated 4 percent of the kauri trees that existed prior to European colonization remain.

After a snack at the Waipoua Forest Visitor’s Centre, we began the long drive back to Wellington. Lambing season was in full swing. We kept our eyes peeled for new lambs. These hot pink ones outside SheepWorld were a giveaway. We don’t usually approve of spray painting animals, but these seemed none the worse for wear. I suppose white and black gets boring.

Quiet Day at Bay of Islands

Friday our fine weather gave out. Storm clouds approached and we took a break from touring.

After breakfast at Sally’s, Hillery took the kids back to the bach while I toured the Russell Museum and learned about the town’s rich history: the Maori, Captain Cook the English explorer, whalers, Zane Grey the writer and sportsman, and then tourists.

The museum attributes Grey, an early 20th Century American adventure writer, with popularizing the Bay of Islands with his book The Anglers El Dorado. Grey was an active member of the Bay of Islands Swordfish Club, which holds the record for the largest striped marlin ever caught: 536 pounds! The club is next door to Sally’s.

We walked the paved track to the Long Beach on the opposite side of the Kororareka Peninsula—the side that faces the Pacific. Wind and waves sprayed our faces with salt. The kids had fun playing in the sand and looking for shells on the beach.

After lunch, Ivy took a nap, Hillery did laundry, and Sawyer worked on Mathletics. It was a school week after all! That night we ordered very average Thai (we should have gone back to Sally’s) and watched Kung Fu Panda, which was preceded by the Madagascar 2 preview. “I like to move it move it!” sang Ivy halfway through our feature presentation.

Ninety Mile Beach

Wednesday we drove north to Ninety Mile Beach, which is actually only 60 miles long. Don’t let that fact diminish this wide, hard-packed beach that stretches almost a hundred kilometers.



We didn’t venture much past the town of Ahipara, “Gateway to Ninety Mile Beach.”
Dune tobogganing is big here. Sawyer and I rented a quad bike and a boogie board from a local shop and set out north along the beach to find a dune to ride. What fun! Black diamond dunes lurked nearby, but we saved them for another day.



The breeze was something. “If we can’t fly a kite here, we can’t fly a kite anywhere,” said Hillery. Seems we keep buying kites that somehow or other can’t take off. As you can see in the video, this Warehouse parrot model flew like a barnstormer.







Exfoliated from the wind, sand, and sun, we headed to the world famous Mangonui Fish Shop to restore our lipids. The best part about New Zealand fish ‘n’ chips is that it’s all caught and fried locally. The same laminated poster summarizing New Zealand fish graces every fish shop. The days’ catch is circled with wax pencil. We had firm, white blue cod, which they rolled up hot with the chips in paper. With all that salt and fat, you can be sure we ordered the large size beer.

Bay of Islands

Tuesday we toured the bay with Captain Richard aboard Honfleur, a 40-foot Beneteau. Beneteaus are prized for their comfortable cabins and easy-to-rig sailing plans—a vast departure from Bexhill’s stinking bilge. With a self-furling headsail and lazy jacks on the main, Captain Richard sailed Honfleur all by himself, tasking the crew only with getting out of the way.




With the mainsail up, we motored to Moturua Island where Captain Richard dropped anchor, buzzed us ashore in his runabout, and then returned to Honfleur to fix tuna sandwiches while we took a hike. The kids had a great time mucking around on the beach. “Don’t get your pants wet!” Of course they got their pants wet.



After lunch, Ivy settled in the v-berth for her afternoon nap, leaving us nothing to do but sit on the foredeck, soak up the sunshine, and admire the crystal blue water and green hills. The wind picked up and was quite fresh when the sun went behind the clouds. If the Bay of Islands is this nice in winter, I thought, I’ve got to come back in summer.



Ivy awoke with a whale of an appetite for more fish and chips. What else?
We said goodbye to Captain Richard and stumbled up the pier to the legendary Duke of Marlborough Hotel, which has burned to the ground at least once in its long history. They seated us right away and treated us as their guests of honor—seeing how there was no one else to assume the role. They had plenty of beer on tap and fresh green-lipped mussels. Oh, and plenty of “fush ‘n’chups.”

City of Sails

From Waitomo Caves we headed north to Auckland, by far New Zealand’s largest city. About a third of New Zealanders live in Auckland.

Auckland is the City of Sails. Water is everywhere. To the east is the Hauraki Gulf, closed in by the Great Barrier Island and the Coromandel Peninsula. Beyond the Gulf is a lot of Pacific Ocean.

We stayed at the Sky City Hotel next door to the Sky City Tower, which looks similar to Seattle’s Space Needle except you can, of course, jump off it. It’s New Zealand after all.
Crossing the street in front of the hotel we saw a man swiftly descend on a cable strung from the observation deck. Passerby hardly noticed his ecstatic screams. “Shush!” said an old woman ordering a hot dog from a street vendor.

From our tenth story room, we ordered room service and turned up the heat—which felt great after weeks wearing my scarf in our drafty Wellington flat—enjoyed the city views, and turned in early.

The next morning after breakfast at Denny’s, we took a ferry to Rangitoto Island, a retired volcano that is part of the Hauraki Gulf Marine Park. Did you know New Zealand Denny’s restaurants serve beer? “I’ll have Two Moons over My Hammy and a pint of Speight’s Distinction, please!”

Rangitoto rose from the sea about 600 years ago and ceased spewing lava soon thereafter. From the summit we looked down the hole, which is now full of trees. I’d never looked down a volcano before. Have you?

We lunched and lounged in the sun shining on expansive viewing platform, which provides awesome views of the Auckland skyline and surrounding islands. We watched yachts, work boats, and freighters traverse crystal blue waters bordered by jade hills. How could anyone live in Auckland and not sail!




After a wiener on the wharf, we slipped through Auckland rush hour and steered north to the Bay of Islands.

Russell is a quaint little seaside village on the Bay of Islands. But in the mid 19th Century it was known as the Hellhole of the Pacific. Back then it was a port of call for whaling fleets. It was also New Zealand’s capital for about a year. The Treaty of Waitangi was signed across the Bay from Russell, effectively giving birth to modern day New Zealand.



We stayed in a bach at the nearly deserted Russell Top Ten Holiday Park. We had a great view of the roofs below, the bay, and the hills beyond. To Sawyer’s disappointment, kids were absent from the brightly painted playground, complete with two trampolines.

The shops and restaurants along Russell’s shady waterfront were also nearly deserted. Many of the restaurants were closed for the season or abbreviating their hours. Sally’s Restaurant—highly recommended by Granddad and Mia—was open. On the patio outside, we had banana pancakes with bacon and cream and watched the sailboats quietly swing on their moorings.

We returned to Sally’s for dinner when day retreated into a beautiful sunset. Sally seemed pleased to serve screaming children. (I spied a photograph of her six toe-headed grandchildren on a shelf next to the chalkboard listing the day’s specials.) Sawyer had fish and chips for the 3rd day in a row. Ivy switched to macaroni and cheese. After the most amazing berry crumble, we waddled back to our bach under a star-studded Milky Way.

North Island Adventure Part 2

With only a month left in New Zealand and Hillery's report submitted, we decided it was time to go and have a look at the northern part of the north island: Ninety Mile Beach, Bay of Islands, Auckland.

But before the rubber hit the road, we of course went to PAK’n SAVE.



Day one of our north of the North Island tour. After Sawyer’s hockey game we drove to Bulls, where we met up with Aunt Julia and had lunch at the Mothered Goose café.





Bulls sits on flat land. If it weren’t for the occasional palm or lemon tree, you’d swear you somewhere in the U.S. Midwest. After a delicious meal followed by “the best custard squares in New Zealand” we headed on to Woodlyn Park near the Waitomo caves.

“Sleep like a hobbit! Sleep in a plane! Sleep in a train! Sleep in the Waitanic!” barks Billy Black, founder of Woodlyn Park. And he delivers. But how do you choose? We slept in a plane on our way to New Zealand—sort of. So we thought we’d give the train a shot.





Here's the Waitanic, a Fairmile WWII Patrol Boat:



Here's the plane motel, a 1950's Bristol cargo plane:



Waitomo is in farm country in the central part of the North Island. Below this pastoral landscape is an elaborate network of glow worm caves. Glow worms, you’ll remember from our South Island posts, are fungus fly larva. They spin weblike structures on damp canyon walls and cave ceilings, which is impressive but not a major draw for tourists.

So, these crazy Kiwis taught the larva to glow in the dark and look like stars. Shazam! Folks by the busload magically appear with fistfuls of cash just to climb down into caves to see what they can see any clear night. Nevermind the caves sit on the geologically volatile and unstable Ring of Fire.



The glow worms really made an impression on Ivy. The Glow Worm Cave tour concludes with a boat ride out of the cave. The water’s surface reflects the glow worms. Stars all around!



Here is Hillery at the Waitomo Caves Discovery Center checking out the cave simulator.



So, in Waitomo we slept in a train and saw fungus fly larva in a cave. Try doing that at Disneyland!



Black water rafting is also available in the Waitomo Caves, if donning a wetsuit and coal miner’s helmet and floating on an inner tube for three to five hours through a cave in complete darkness is your sort of thing. Well, it’s not completely dark. Don’t forget about the glow worms.

We decided the Kiwi Culture Show at Woodlyn Park was more our speed.

Bucky Black, Billy Black’s associate, put on a dusty, burlap-curtain performance for us, some Japanese tourists, and a small crowd of university students. Part New Zealand history lesson; part animal act, the Kiwi Culture Show leverages its close proximity to Waitomo Caves for all its worth. You couldn’t contrive a more bizarre business model: Let’s offer glow worm tourists plane, train, ship, or hobbit house accommodation and moonwalking pigs.

You really have to see it to believe it.



On our way to find a pot of gold:

Makara Beach

Sawyer woke up early and asked if I could make pancakes for breakfast. “Of course,” I said and gleefully sprang from my bed and ran to the kitchen. Well, not exactly. But I did make him some Vogel’s fruit and spice toast before we borrowed the neighbors’ car and went to Wellington Indoor Sports for his weekly field hockey game. His team, the Keas, crushed the Indians 11 to 1. Sawyer is a great goalie.

After the game we drove to the coast west of Wellington at Makara Headland. Wellington feels like home, but without a car, the surrounding countryside has remained a bit mysterious.



Today was our last opportunity to hike the Makara Walkway before it closes until October for the lambing season. On the way, we stopped at The Original German Bakery at Kelburn Shops to round out our picnic lunch with a rosemary foccacia. Past the Wellington suburb of Karori, city abruptly gives way to sheep country: brush and pasture. On Makara Road, we threaded steep hills and valleys to Makara Beach at Ohariu Bay.

Makara Beach is an old fishing village consisting of a couple dozen weather-beaten homes and a café. “Do you suppose that still gets good signal?” Hillery asked pointing to the house closest to the beach, atop of which sat a severely rusted satellite dish.

After a brief jaunt along the stony beach, the track headed south and up a steep, grassy hill. To the east, white sheep dotted green hills that seemed to go on forever. As we climbed, the blades of a wind generator came swinging over the hilltop.



Makara Beach is normally quite windy and today was no exception. It is an apt location for Wellington’s Project West Wind, a wind farm completed in 2009 and consisting of 62 turbines. The farm produces enough electricity to power every home in Wellington.

If you’ve never been close to a wind generator, they look like mounted 747’s with caricature-sized propellers. They are impossibly huge. I’ve seen buildings this tall, but they didn’t move. Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh. The tips of the aerofoils must have moved at more than a hundred miles an hour. Some people find their sound eerie, but to me it’s the sound coal, oil, and uranium make when they stay in the ground.



The track followed a narrow strip of land between the pasture fence and a precipice a hundred yards above the rocky shore. The view was terrific but intimidating with the wind gusting our feet sideways. At the top of the hill were several crumbling World War II artillery emplacements pointing west toward the Tasman Sea.

At the artillery emplacements, the track turned inland through the wind farm and sheep pasture. We saw no lambs, but the ewes looked awfully full. Dozens of white wind turbines receded into the eastern horizon, all at the wind’s attention and spinning in time. A quick descent down a service road turned us back toward the sea.

The smooth grey stone beach was strewn with drift wood. We found a rocky recess out of the wind to have our picnic: carrot chips with horseradish cream, grapes, nectarines, tasty cheese, the foccacia from the bakery, and mint slices for dessert.



We took our time walking back to the car, the kids combing the beach for paua shells, an old rope, pumice stones, which Sawyer later floated in the bathtub and used to scrub his feet, a very stiff-bristled paint brush, and a very gnarled stick.





Our legs tired, our cheeks rosy, we headed back to Wellington. John and Laura, our neighbors who’d lent us their car, treated us to pizza and beer.

“What are we doing tomorrow?” asked Sawyer. Let’s hope all that fresh air makes us sleep like babies.

A Fine Day in Wellington

Spent the day puttering around the Botanic Gardens with Ivy. Here's a view from the lookout atop the cable car tracks.

Ivy Walks Home from School

Ivy's preeschool is only two blocks away, but it's in the next valley: 239 vertical steps away. A stroller is out of the question. When we first arrived, I could carry her. But she's too big now. As you can see she's now standing, and more importantly walking, on her own two feet.

Hillery Finishes Project Report

Hillery turned in her 108-page project report, titled “Building Bridges to Protect Health: Enhanced Partnerships among Animal, Human, and Ecosystem Health Sectors in New Zealand.” Phew! Just reading the title wears me out. We celebrated with a couple bottles of wine, courtesy of Hillery’s mentor Doug Lush, at Liquidate and then with another at Maria Pia’s Trattoria.

Sawyer's First Tooth - Part 2

Sawyer loses his first tooth, which happens to be the first tooth he got. Easy come, easy go. This video documents the whole affair. It’s a bit long but comical, showing both Ivy’s and Sawyer’s humors. Would you let your little sister swing a door tied to your tooth?

Dustin turns 40

I turn 40. Not young. Not old. After a trip to the dentist, a haircut, and a massage, I felt like I was 39 again. The kids and Hillery baked me two cakes: a coffee cake for breakfast and a carrot cake for holding 40 candles. We had a nice dinner at the Shepherd’s Arms Ale House, after which we took a moonlit stroll through the Botanic Gardens.