this is long. grab a cuppa and throw your feet up people.
i said that time was in freefall, but i dont think that i really understood the gravity of the situation until recently, and ironically, while i was lying flat on my back, not moving at all. my muscles were spent, stretched and pulled one way or another until i was reduced something similar to 'flubber,' only minus all the bounce - which had decided to take residency in my mind. it was the very end of the yoga session (Jankowskis - save the gay jokes), where everyone lies down in a dark room, and just relaxes. my body was praising the mercy of the instructor, but i let my mind wander for a feed, grazing in the pastures of images from my recent escapades. it was in this state, with my mind sucking its memory thumb, that i started to become aware of the pangs of attachement that have grown within me since my time here. NZ has been an exceptionally choice time. ive grown a lot during my time here, and not just my waist line from all the mean feeds that ive received. honestly, apart from the tread on my shoes deteriorating to the point of zero recognition, everything has expanded, from the holes in my socks, to the beard (or weak attempt thereof), pushing its way outwards, to my eyes, expanding as the blinders of pre-conditioning are bent outwards. as much as i look forward to future endevours, its sad to think that i have to leave so soon, and is safe to say that i have felt at home here. the reason for the ease of my travels, and subsequent reading of a constant "10" on the fun meter, has laid within the people that ive shared my path with, if only for a few kilometers on the highway. the outlandish hospitality that ive received from complete strangers has made the last 2.5 months seem unrealistic. people have shouted me meals, a place to stay for the night, and the promise that there will always be the same outstanding offer if ever i should come around again. durr i will. ive been spoiled to the point that i expect it out of people. im the biggest self-admitting mooch ever. the only meal that i bought at a resturaunt in NZ was sushi. half a roll at 2.50$. NZ dollars. granted, my peanut butter quota has been more than filled, and my grape expectations met (2 litres of 'wine' for 10$ - cruisy eh?), but the only way i feel i can get close to thanking these characters fully for their charity and knowledge is to spread the word of their unconditional compassion. Unfortunetaly there are two many to throw out, but I would like you to meet one very large fish in the sea of hospitality...
i was hitching out the recommended location of castle point, without the faintest idea of the remoteness of my target. thats when a mamssive man picked me up, talking even faster than he was obliterating his footlong sub. warren. the big dub, as ive affectionately, and without his knowing, nicknamed him. after a few go rounds on the conversation circuit, he drops the holy grail of a phrase for a hitchiker - "oh you can just stay at my place tonight." Cha-Ching. The gang (his dog Zach made moves with us too), made its way to Castle Point, which reminded me of portugal, specifically the rugged western coast thereof. massive whips of water reared and lashed the rocks, pulverizing them at a metronome-like rate. how there was anything still standing there, i dont know, but the boulders took it like some champs. to the point that im surprised jay-z didnt shoot his entire 'dirt off your shoulder' music video at this location. Big D provided the wheels, zach provided the photo ops, and i provided the little kid awe. i felt so insignificant, so tiny in the presence of nature. we then returned to the newly built, wooden beachouse that overlooked the water from a sureveillance point of not more than 300 metres. he had spokeny keenly about diving for paua, or 'ebelony' as most american blokes dub it, and my shown intruige resulted in his finding of a wetsuit that i could just squeeze into. skin tight does no justice. my cramming accelerated as i heard the engine of the fourwheeler emerge from its cave of hibernation, roaring loudly. the hunt was on. we sped over the sand, the wind hurtling toward us from the left, and continuing past and on toward the sea, where it combed back the crest of each wave, sculpting everest-like plumes of spray from their peaks. at first appearance, the waves seemed angry, but when closely observed, one could see the pretty girl, hair streaming behind as it danced steadily forward, or maybe a wedding dress as it made its grand walk toward the shore. everything was set - the tide was low, the wetsuits were tight, the wetsuits were really tight, and the seal was utterly confused by our motives as we did donuts around its awkward flopfest of a return to the water. we meant no harm, rather we were caught in the raw excitement of the moment, of adventure, one that is so often accompanied by such a proximity to the swells, and of being on a primal mission to gather ones own sustenance. either that or the pure level of badass that comes from trumping rocks on the beach with a fourwheeler. pine trees smiled and waved their branches on the left, but no time for small talk as we flit past. as we rolled to a stop, the previous domination of the growling motor melted away to reveal many more subjects in the arena of sound, as the collision of the waves on rocks, linebacker to offensive lineman, took center stage. we made our way clumsily over the heavily encrusted rocks, each one supporting an individual eco-system on its back. but we were going for the kill, and the soft underbelly was our point of attack, as paua latch onto the very bottom of rocks. the lack of visibility through brackish water demanded we use our hands as sensors to pry the creatures off with knives. think of these badboys as scwarzenegger mussells, as they dominate the palm of your hand easily, and sport a beautiful shell, a tourquoise and silver swirl, with patcvhes of red fighting to peep through its superiors. schwarzenegger and beautiful dont swirl together too well, but i assume theres enough intelligence out there to decipher a bit on your own. the trouble isnt finding these buggers, but staying on your feet long enough to pry them loose from their mooring point. the waves didnt care where they threw us, as long as it was away from the deep, as if they were the bouncer for the dark unknown. we didnt bother with any of that though, clinging to the rocks like seaweed ourselves, oftentimes grasping the strands themselves. final count = 12.
man hungry. man hunt food. man catch food. eat food. good.
i copped the 'guest' bedroom, which would have passed for 'master' in my book any day. so, warren and i, both completely comatosed after a monster feed and a decent side portion of some red splash, pulled the classic crash at 9:30 routine. that night was the best sleep of my entire nz experience, as my cocoon decended deep into the sheets, my mind even deeper, a warm ball of good food, soft dreams, and a great appreciation for the man in the room next to me. even if he snored.
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