A Summer Holiday Season!

Christmas has come and gone on the farm, with minor fuss. We had a small group for our usual Polish Christmas Eve celebration, almost not enough for our bottle of vodka (which I insisted on us finishing; not the smartest move). The weather was lovely all week, and stayed sunny through the entire Christmas weekend, so on Christmas Day we got up, had raspberry scones and jam, then abandoned our presents to go hike on Mt. Arthur, picnic, and go to the beach. I'm never quite sure about Christmas in summer, but when its like this, I'm certainly not going to complain. Can you spot the santa hat?

Note: I didn't want to drown this poor website with photos, but I've added more Christmas photos here just in case you want to see more!

Life has been busy since I got back. I've dug up a bucket of potatoes, wrangled the cube of raspberries into submission (there are paths! They are now accessible!), set down paths, built trellises from bamboo, weeded quite extensively. Its amazing, though, no matter how many hours I spend in the garden there is always more to do. Part of that, I suppose, is living on a farm so there's always weeds from the pasture just waiting to get in. Its also fairly young soil. But really, that's also what gardens are like. Nature tends towards entropy, so there's always maintenance to be done. Not that I'm complaining; I love being outside, and the work is incredibly satisfying. I just feel like the days are slipping away into the soil, and somehow certain things never get done - like grad school applications. Hmm.

Probably the most satisfying part of the garden currently is finally harvesting and eating what we planted, like the crazy black radishes., or the stunning rhubarb pictured. There's something incredibly elegant about rhubarb in its stalk form, so sleek and shiny that almost no dirt dares cling to it. Of course, then I had to chop it up to make a rhubarb and honey compote (totally delicious and worth it), but that's the life of a vegetable. Its also amazing how abundant things can be; like the raspberries that have suddenly exploded into life with the addition of sun (in the lovely weather we've been having) and air from the paths I've dug. Summer, my friends, is a glorious time to be alive with a garden. And now its time to sleep, so that I can get up and do it again in the morning. My best Christmas and New Years wishes to all, and to all a good night.

Farm Doings; Wellington Report

I came back after ten days away to find a nearly unrecognizable garden. Apparently, while I was gone it rained - sometimes torrentially - almost every day. In fact, in nearby Takaka they recorded 42 cm (16 in) or rain in twenty four hours. There's been flooding, evacuations, mudslips, and road closures in the Nelson region (although no serious accidents). In fact, the day that I flew back flights were cancelled in the late afternoon. Of course, since my parents live on the top of a hill, the rain has mainly translated into huge amounts of growth in the garden. The radishes are huge! The beans are climbing vigorously up their supports! We have masses of zucchini coming, and generally signs that we will have far more food than we can eat. Which is a nice problem to have.

Despite rain, I managed to start work yesterday, including harvesting three different red fruits from the garden. They looked so pretty all together! I also harvested some absolutely huge radishes; actually, the greens are also tasty, sort of like spinach. Then today I harvested a bucket of potatoes in an abandoned bed while attempting to free some raspberry plants. It was a nice surprise.

Its incredibly refreshing to be back to eating from a garden right outside. I didn't realize how much I missed it, but it is simply so much more satisfying than shopping at a supermarket. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to live without a garden again. If you need more garden pictures, you can look here.

Anyway, back to the trip before I never go back to talking about it.
I think that perhaps I don't need to point out that I had, in fact, survived getting to Wellington since I am now at home back in Nelson. The ferry ride was grey and rainy, which was beautiful in its own way but didn't encourage spending much time outside (which is how I usually spend ferry rides). Instead, I huddled under my jacket, read, listened to music and finally took a nap. That last one was a popular choice. Finally, when we were approaching Wellington and rounding the bays, I went out on the deck. I could vaguely recognize the different suburbs as they passed; Lyall Bay with the airport, Seatoun, Miramar, Oriental Parade and finally the main harbor itself, with all the capitol city's buildings jostling next to each other at the base of the surrounding hills. It was familiar, and almost like coming home.

Unfortunately, the weather anything but welcoming. I could see my breath as we waited for our luggage to be delivered, and the light rain was cold. Despite stiffness and a sense of slight bewilderment at all the cars and people (where did they all come from?), I made it safely to Janet's, a lovely warm fire and some great company. It was good to be back.

It was pretty much great to be back all six days I was there, actually. I biked around, gardened, drank more coffee than I do at home, read, hung out with people - some of whom were my own age - and even swam in the ocean. I took some time to reacquaint myself with the city, including taking long walks with Janet's dog Roxy (Roxie?). I sold my bike to a fellow (past) Californian whose British boyfriend had an Italian name that confused me, so the fix-up-a-bike-to-sell-in-Wellington-to-pay-for-trip plan was a success. I also got really, really excited about urban agriculture, because its awesome. And I just enjoyed being in Wellington, because it is an excellent and in many ways beautiful city. Six days was long enough to get back into being there, and short enough to make me reluctant to leave. But I did need to go to Auckland to take the GRE. So off I went; the train ride was quite lovely, passing through some of the more isolated countryside and over breathtaking rivers. Its funny how people become familiar on those sorts of trips, making small talk, bonded by spending so much time in close quarters. I plan to do more train travel while I'm here; its such a pleasant way to get around.

We arrived after our twelve hours on the train into a grey and drizzly Auckland. With some help I made my way by bus to my dad's friend's Tim's place, where I received a lovely welcome and a welcome cup of tea from him and his wife, Sanna. Walking from the bus stop, I could smell the difference in the air, that certain sub-tropical warmth and humidity that Auckland is known for. And although that evening and the next day were mostly taken up by the GRE, I did walk around quite a bit of Auckland (honestly, I got a bit lost), and saw just enough to want to go back. It helped that Tim and Sanna are really awesome, and have a very clever small child who was absolutely charming (since when did I start liking kids? Probably about when I stopped having to take care of them as my job). Until later, Auckland. It was time to go from New Zealand's biggest city back to the country; I was happy to return home.

Its funny, actually. I felt like during this trip I managed to fall in love with New Zealand on my own terms. I appreciated it in the past, but before October it was never my choice to live here. Now it is. Its a slow sort of seduction, but I think I can see myself staying.

I also survived getting to Wellington! (and other places)

So the last post I wrote ended in a sort of cliffhanger; how can she get to Wellington? Is it possible? Obviously I made it, and not only did I make it to Wellington, but I then made it by train to Auckland and by plane back to Nelson. But let's go back a bit.

The second day biking (between Havelock and Picton) was both easier and more difficult than the first. It was quite a bit shorter for a start, only around 35 km instead of 86. There wasn't too much wind, unlike when I first left Nelson, and the road that I went on had much less traffic, and no huge trucks (unlike highway 6 that I had been on previously). Unfortunately, the route that I chose - around Queen Charlotte Sound - is infamously curvy and hilly, with about a gazillion switchbacks as it goes around the coast. Its beautiful, but feels endless and slightly treacherous. Also, it started to rain when I still had a ways to go, and I got soaked by the time I reached Picton.

When I first set out in the morning it was drizzling out, with grey mist oozing through the Sounds around Havelock. By the time I had cleared the first hill, though, the rain had disappeared and I was in understandably high spirits. The area is beautiful, the water unbelievably aquamarine and native bush fills gullies and sometimes even swathes of land. Since it was still morning and I was fresh, I felt like I could easily take on this portion of the world. I biked on.
A few hills and valleys later, I was slightly less confident. Luckily, the route is rife with ridiculous mailboxes, which helped me maintain moral. I tried listening to This American Life, but it just didn't feel right. There was, however, a lot of humming.The next hour or so alternately dragged on or flew by, mainly according to whether I was going up or down. I was stiff from the day before, so my muscles were taking things slowly; or rather, taking me to Picton slowly. The main problem was that I really didn't know how far I was from my destination, and nor were there any signs to help me out. Moments of elation at the scenery quickly soured toiling up hills, but overall I was plugging along at a decent rate.
Then, of course, it started to rain. Then it rained harder. Pretty soon it was coming down steadily and my clothes started dripping. A rain jacket is great, and I've very glad that I had one, but when it starts dripping into your face and down your neck that can be a problem. I passed two road crews who seemed to enjoy the sight of a cyclist pedaling against the elements; they probably don't get a lot of action on that road, so a soaked cyclist is hilarious. The main problem with the rain, actually, was how much I had to break going down hills. Its all well and good to go up a hill slowly, but when you have to go down it slowly too because you're worried about slipping and breaking your neck its seriously bad for morale.

By the time I actually made it to Picton I was wet, frustrated and happier than I have ever been to see bleak industrial shipping yards. I bought my ferry ticket, changed clothes, walked to a cafe and had the most delicious hot coffee that I have ever tasted at the Dog and Frog. I'm sure, in retrospect, that the coffee was in fact relatively standard, but at that point I couldn't think of anything more luxurious.

I Survived Getting to Havelock!

Perhaps that exclamation mark makes it look like I'm surprised that I survived my bike trip to Wellington, which doesn't exactly speak well of my sanity or sense of self-preservation. I never thought I would die, of course, but I will say that there were times that I thought the trip might be a really, really stupid idea. Mainly because, after biking only a handful of times in the past few months, I'm not precisely fit. Biking over 50 miles in a day is easier when one actually has the leg muscles for it, I expect. Hills do not make it any easier.
But I did make it! On Monday I left later than planned, and from Stoke rather than Orinoco, after derailleur adjustments got delayed, and a bike rack needed components to attach to my bike. I set off at approximately 1:12pm, eagerness outwaying apprehension. Unfortunately, with an inauspicious headwind greeting me right from the start, my confidence quickly plummeted. It also demonstrated that in its own way wind can be worse than hills for a cyclist. Luckily, my stubbornness outweighed any self-doubt, which is an advantage to being pig-headed. About an hour later I had made it around the coast and was facing a very tall hill after turning inland. Unfortunately (or fortunately) while we were driving over this same hill on the way to Okiwi Bay I had fallen asleep in both directions, so I only had the haziest idea of precisely how endless and twisty it is. It is very endless and twisty. I think what got me up it was both stubbornness and a sense of superiority to the vehicles that were passing by, who were not enjoying the scenery in the same intimate way that I was experiencing it. Of course, they probably thought I was insane. But the scenery only become more stunning as the road climbs, especially where native bush has been preserved from pine forestry.
Still, climbing endlessly isn't exactly wonderfully enjoyable, and after I reached the Rai Saddle (the highest point on the road) around 5:30, I literally burst into song. The main theme of the genius lyrics that I composed during my descent was 'I made it' repeated quite a few times, along with a melody that probably owed most of its structure to the influence of musical theater, particularly 'Into the Woods'. It will never be repeated, but it was incredibly satisfying.
From there on the trip was mostly downhill, through the Pelorus Valley following the river of the same name. The strip of relatively flat farmland that I biked through was bordered on either side by hills rising steeply from the valley floor, usually covered in the ubiquitous pine trees (weirdly, on the way to Rai Valley I saw a particular tree labelled 'Douglas Fir, Planted 1966. Why is this tree special? Because its older than any of the other trees grown to be harvested? But I digress). It was lovely and scenic and, most importantly, mainly downhill or flat. It was certainly the most enjoyable part of the trip from Stoke to Havelock which is, by the way, the green lip mussel capital of the world. So now you know, in case anyone asks.
By the time I caught my first sight of Havelock, at 7:36pm, I was incredibly ready to be done for the day. Even biking through the lovely pastoral countryside was not quite enough to make me forget that I had been biking for over six hours with only the occasional short break. This, by the way, is not quite the best way to bike tour. Next time I will go slower, take some of the mysterious tracks leading off from the main road, have a nice lunch. I will also bring bug repellant, take a map, consider camping, and have a better bike. Still, despite my mistakes, when I pulled into the hostel twenty minutes after my first sight of Havelock it was a beautiful evening with the sun setting over the Sounds, and I had gotten through and even enjoyed myself. I had seen beautiful native bush, a wild mountain goat, geodesic markers, weird art on road signs, waterfalls, big trucks, desperate flowers holding on for their lives on hillsides, picnic areas, tempting sidetracks, baby pukekoes, and much more. And all at a speed where I could really enjoy them.And the next day I only had twenty miles to go to get to Picton!

The Sounds

Despite living in Motueka for two years, we never made a trip to the Sounds, and now having been there I'm not sure why. We went to the Sounds to go fish for three days with Aamon, Wendy, their kids and Stu (a family friend), and they are truly stunning. Very much the New Zealand one sees in ads; stunningly clear turquoise water, steep green hills diving into the bay, rocky islands. But instead of being at a motor camp, or surrounded by tourists, we were renting a bach for a few nights in Okiwi Bay, a small fairly isolated hamlet with only a few permanent occupants. Its well known to locals, but off the beaten track enough that its pretty much just Kiwi families that visit to do a bit of fishing, like Aamon, Wendy and kids do a few times a year. My parents went with them a few years ago, and the invitation to join them and Stu was much appreciated this time around. There's nothing like spending intensive time with small children to make one appreciate life, and a few days of fishing, entertaining the young, swimming and eating haphazardly was just what the doctor ordered.

While Aamon and Wendy own their own (inherited) boat, we were on a rental with Stu, who luckily is an inveterate fisherman. He grew up in the area, and regaled us with tips and stories from the fishing he's done in the Sounds over the decades. In addition to fishing we also went scalloping, which Aamon was particularly excited about since the scallop beds have moved closer to shore this year and yielded an unprecedented bounty. According to Stu, though, which the Sounds have not always been known for scallops. Back in the day people didn't really care for or go after them, including Stu and his mates. Then one day, Stu and a few guys were out fishing and noticed another fisherman coming out fo the sounds with a fully laden boat full of sacks. Although he evaded their questions, they could see that the sacks were full of scallops and it piqued their interest. The next day they followed him out and noticed where he was having such luck pulling in scallops, and resolved to go out themselves. When they were successful as well, they told a few other people, like Stu's father, who told a few other people; and you can guess where it went from there. Last weekend, there were over a hundred boats out scalloping, many very successfully.

Our luck scalloping was mixed. The first day, almost nothing. We tried here, there, but only got dribs and drabs. It was enough, however, for me to have my first taste of fresh, raw scallop, scooped from its shell right there in the boat by Stu and rinsed with sea water. My god. I've rarely tasted anything more delicious. Hunger sharpened by sea air and sun, the scallop tasted light, creamy, like ocean foam and faintly sweet, with maybe a hint of apricot. It just melted. It was absolutely perfect. Luckily we got some insider advice for the next day, and our haul was much better, allowing me the privilege of trying cooked scallops as well (just lightly seared in butter, insists my father, or you ruin them. I think he's right). I like the roe better cooked, but the scallop body better raw; either way they are delicious.

But back to fishing. I've been freshwater fishing before, but never in the ocean. It was a complete mystery to me the way that Stu would choose a location to fish; I think it had something to do with depth, and something else to do with the proximity of rocks, but I could be wrong. Yet the first time that he handed me a baited rod, cast it out and gave me a few instructions, I caught the first Cod of the day! Success so early in the game had me hooked (sorry for the obvious pun, but I couldn't resist), and I was quite happy to go for hours. Really, I can see why people do like fishing. Out on the ocean, casting and reeling, waiting for bites, re-baiting hooks then casting again, its meditative and soothing. There's also periods of adrenaline, and periods of sheer beauty.

I returned from the Sounds exhausted by the sun, wind and children, but very satisfied. That night we attended a 7-course Greek-themed going away dinner for our family friends' daughter, complete with plenty of ouzo and wine. And tomorrow, I'm off to start my biking to Picton, to take the ferry to Wellington and soon to Auckland to take the GRE. The adventures never end! Wish me luck on by bike journey; its the longest I'll have ever taken.

And in rememberance of David, whose wake we attended today, a story from my mother. She asked David - a renowned and talented woodworker - for advice on how to get rid of scratches on one of their nicer cutting boards. Smiling, "you know what they are," he replied, "memories". Thanks for everything, David.