Month: April 2012

When You Wish Upon A Star


It is pitch black as there is absolutely no fissure for natural light to seep through. As I look up, it appears as if the sky is filled with tiny stars; a mini Milky Way almost. The small boat I’m in glides along the river avoiding hitting the narrow walls. In the distance I can hear rushing water. The further we travel on the louder it gets. I know I’m safe but I can’t help but think at any moment we could go over the edge. Due to the darkness the only indicator that we would have reached it would be my terrorized scream, if it were even possible to get out.

It turns out to be okay though. The raft taps gently against a board of wood that was positioned deep into the cave for the very purpose of prohibiting us from travelling any further. We turn back in the direction we started and once the boat brushes against the platform I know that this short journey is over. The tiny elements in the sky are still lit though, but my turn is done. I step up onto the platform and flip on the small headlamp attached to my helmet.

It’s impossible for stars to be underground, which is exactly where I am in the Waitomo Caves in the North Island of New Zealand. In fact, with my headlamp on its clear that the millions of “glow worms” lighting the roof of the cave aren’t even in fact worms, they’re maggots. I don’t want to think about it though so I turn my headlamp off and stare at the beauty all around me while I wait for the others to complete their journey through the luminary tunnel.

The small town of Waitomo, famous for the unique underground limestone caves and illuminating creatures that reside inside them, primarily survives on caving tourism, in addition to farming, mining and forestry. Waitomo is a Maori (the indigenous people of New Zealand) word made up of two parts, ‘Wai’ which translates as water and ‘tomo’ which means entrance or hole. Evidently 30 million years ago the entire Waitomo region was under the sea.

Most famously many adventure seekers come to Waitomo for black water rafting trips in which they explore the caves in complete darkness aside from their headlamp, and use a rafting tube to drift through the various passageways and swim through underground holes. Others begin with a 30 meter abseil to the bottom of the cave floor, and include many other climbing, swinging, and rope oriented maneuvers.

I, however, took the cruisey tour and booked with Spellbound, who provided a relaxed look into both the geological formations and the glow worms. The first stop was The Cave of the Spirit (Te Ana o te Atua). The clearly delineated path had lights that could be switched on as we went deeper into the cave to take a closer look at the various stalagmites and other formations.  I was told that it took 3 men 7 months to carve out the section of the cave we were able to visit, although I was assured that engineers do tests often to ensure it is structurally sound. Resting amongst the beautiful natural arrangements sat several types of decaying animal bones, including those of the known to be extinct Moa bird.

Before moving on to our meet and greet with the infamous glowing insects we made a quick stop at the cafe, or to be more realistic a wooden shack sitting atop the underground world to share in some instant coffee, hot chocolate and biscuits while looking at interesting fossils found in the area. To my luck there was even a toilet positioned further away in the grassy area, and when my guide jokingly told me to not fall in, I understood why after looking down into an endless hole I was meant to squat over. Yikes.

Then it was time to put on our retched smelling, unsure if they’ve ever been washed, I hope I didn’t pick up lice, helmets before entering the second cave. The glow worms, Arachnocampa luminosa, are apparently unique to New Zealand, however not just to caves, as they typically live in forestry environments. Being a “glow worm” is just one stage of four that the fungus gnat fly completes in its life cycle.  Despite what they are, experiencing the stunning phenomenon of watching the stardom of their poo glow is quite an unforgettable experience.

It is hot, hot, hot.


Each day during low tide as the sea drifts away from the mainland masses of tourists rush to the coastline. A shovel can be rented from the small general store for the sole purpose of pitching it deep into the sand, then chucking the fine grains over your shoulder, digging deeper and deeper until the water starts to rise from the ground. When it does, watch out, because it’s hot baby!

Welcome to Hot Water Beach, located on the east coast of the Coromandel Peninsula, New Zealand. Within two hours on either side of low tide, the water beneath the sand turns into hot pools, creating an exciting phenomenon drawing tourists and local families each day.

Before arriving I wasn’t sure what to expect. Really, what was all the fuss about? But as I walked from the car park to the beach, then rounded the corner to the left passing the large rocks forming off of the cliffs I was amazed to see the plethora of people. Many had already dug their pool and were sitting soaking in the geothermal haven. Others proudly did the dirty work, connecting one pool to another then another so others could share the thrill.

Steam rose from various pockets across the small area on the beach where the inquisitive visitors gathered. We only had 5 spades between 15 of us, so I let the boys do the digging. As I stood around, feeling a bit guilty and quite lazy, a Canadian girl from the group had struck gold on the far side of the beach and was sitting in a pool abandoned by its creators. I ran over, cautious not too draw too much attention to our sweet find, but to my ignorance was shocked as I stepped from the sand into the small pool.

Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch! Perhaps they should rename the beach Really Really Hot Water Beach. Man, in mere seconds of my feet touching the water, instantaneously I pulled them back, did a bit of a hop, skip sort of dance, and rushed them into the cool ocean which was less than a few feet away. After that I had my fair share and had lost interest in actually submerging my entire body into the pool, saving the few spots that were vacated for the more eager guests.

Past the masses lay a long stretch of empty beach. Carrying my flip flops in my hands, letting the scorch simmer in the refreshing ocean I walked along, spending a few moments to myself. As it began to turn dusk a few surfers made their way down the path and geared up for the evening swim. I positioned myself on the dunes, with the geothermal chaos to my right, the surfers paddling out in front of me, and endless beach to my left. Pretty neat little place.

Flashpacker Alert!


Slowly I’ve evolved into what can only be deemed as a flashpacker. It took 15 years of individual travel, nearly 30 countries, and a variety of food, accommodation and day tours but it was on my most recent trip over to the North Island of New Zealand that my flashpackerism came into full recognition.

Guilty Flashpacker

One part backpacker, sleeping in hostels, joining adventure tours, trekking solo through unchartered territory but also one part flash. Flashpackers have been described as independent backpackers who like to travel in style, according to the Sydney Morning Herald. Typically over the post-college buzz and have established careers which enable them to opt for alternative options. Put it this way, backpackers don’t habitually have options as it all revolves around the cheapest, which could also mean the longest route and unclean bed. I like having options.

I scanned the top shelf of my bedroom wardrobe contemplating which type of bag I should pack for my 10 day last minute trip over to New Zealand. A weekend over the shoulder bag would be too small, however packing my carry-on size Tumi wheelie would just scream flash, so as with my usual oversees trips I reached up and pulled down my backpack wheelie.

The backpack wheelie is the best invention on earth. You see, most backpackers typically travel for extended amounts of time with everything they own within that time allotment strapped onto their back. I’ve gone one step further, and made the decision 3 years ago before my trip to Thailand to purchase myself a backpack for the same convenience factor however mine comes with wheels. Genius. The thing with traveling is you never know before arriving if you will spend nonsensical amounts of time wandering around trying to figure out which way to go, can’t check in to accommodation for multiple hours, have inconvenient flight times, etc. so I never bring more than what I know that I can personally carry, and the flexibility of the backpack wheelie makes it even more suitable for all terrains.  There’s nothing worse than that friend who brings the BIG suitcase that they can’t maneuver up and down stairs, or drag around cobblestone streets in Italy’s small nooks and crannies. Don’t be that friend.

Arriving in Auckland my first decision to make was to get from the airport to downtown. With cabs costing around the $60 mark, I wasn’t too proud to opt for the $16 airport bus into the city. With luck a friend was in town on business so I was able to take full advantage of her company perks as well, and checked into the 2-story suite at Hotel De Brett, a 25 room luxury boutique hotel for two nights.  The extravagance of someone else’s work expense account meant that we could dine at renowned Ponsonby restaurant SPQR at night while visiting the wineries of Waiheke Island by day.

Saratoga Vineyard, Waiheke Island

But then the weekend arrived and it was time to move on. We rushed out of the hotel doors to discreetly meet Adventure Tours out front of Nomad’s hostel for our trip up to the Bay of Islands. On the 4 hour journey up north we stopped in Parry Kauri to hug a giant Kauri tree, Warkworth for breaky at a cafe, Goat Island  to snap some photos of gorgeous scenery, Whangarei for lunch, then to the famous Hundertwasser toilets in Kawakawa before arriving in Paihia. Once in Paihia our lovely guide was on a mission to find cheap eats for the night, but truthfully my friend and I wanted to relax, have a glass of wine and a decent meal so we opted to refrain from the group dining to treat ourselves to exactly that.

Kauri Tree hug

But oh how quickly the tables turned. After dinner we found ourselves in line for entry at the various backpacker bars in town, scoring cheap drinks and chatting with other friendly travelers before I tucked myself comfortably in to the top bunk of Salt Water Lodge hostel’s shared dorms. When responding to the tour guide’s question regarding where we ended up finding food the previous night she replied smugly, “Oh, the posh place.” Looks like we’re not off to a great start.

The next day however had us in full on adventure mode, after taking in the scenic Bay of Islands on the Dolphin Discoveries boat, in which we encountered heaps of dolphin pods, in addition to hyperactive school children, and then spent the night in cabins on Urupukapuka Island. There were less than 20 people who stayed on the island for the night which gave it a sense of a sleep away camp (something I was never fond of as a child). After a full day of hiking, kayaking, and soaking up the sun we had a lovely group dinner of fish and chips, and sat around sharing stories and sipping wine from the much appreciated bar.

Urupukapuka Accomodation, #14

It’s time to travel back to Auckland and the tour guide wants to know which hostel to book us in. Fortunately for us, or should I be more specific and say lucky me, we had one more night in Auckland on my friend’s expense account which meant a stopover at The Langham, another 5 star gem.  She even opted for the upgrade, which meant complimentary drinks and canapés in the Club Lounge.

The next morning it was time for me to move on and take on the next seven days of the North Island by myself, well, under the – can you even call it – supervision of Stray Travel, another backpacker tour company. Luckily it’s filled with mostly single travelers as well. Here’s the difficult part though, getting on the bus at 7 am after a night of fine wine in the Club Lounge had me feeling a bit hairy, but first impressions count, especially when I’m in dire need to make some friends for my next week-long adventure, so it was all smiles downing bottle after bottle of water.

As I built relationships with various travelers from the UK, Germany, Brazil, Canada, India…it dawned on me how unprepared I was for this trip. I was initially meant to be in Fiji and my head was still a bit in full on island mode – especially when I packed at 10 pm the night before my flight. I hadn’t mentally put myself in backpacker gear, and it slowly sunk in when I realized…they all have proper hiking boots… we’re in New Zealand…my Toms and flip flops will not cut it in this terrain. They have waterproof jackets…it’s raining…my pocket sized checkered Totes umbrella will not withstand this wind. They all have fleeces…its winter…my one pair of jeans and black hoodie will not be fresh by the end of this! Flashpacker alert.

Being economical while backpacking for weeks on end, most travelers cart around food in a reusable grocery bag after making a stop every few days at the grocery store. So, before arriving in the famous surf town of Raglan (a home to muscian Jack Johnson and featured in the film Endless Summer), our driver Oskar, aka Mud, stopped the bus at a large shopping center and told us we have twenty minutes if we want to pick anything up for lunch or dinner. Sure…so I hop out, as usual aimlessly wander around the store feeling anxiety over what I can buy that will cause me no effort to consume, and walk away with two apples and box of cereal bars. As we make our way away from town towards our accommodation Oskar tells us about the great place we are staying, Karioi Lodge, how it has both beach and mountain views, a famous surf school, and more or less, we’re set deep into the bush so if anyone wants to participate there will be trivia happening that evening as there’s not much else to do.

Um…like the bush, bush? Like the middle of nowhere, far removed from town? Hmmm, I kind of was hoping to take myself out for some sushi tonight, yeah, but all I have here is this apple. Yes, that bush! I made my way over to reception to kindly inquire if there were any shuttles going into town anytime that evening but the receptionist curtly replied that there were no more shuttles that day. So I went over to Oskar to inquire if he had any need to go into town. He looked at me, as I chomped away on my apple, and said, “Don’t tell me all you have to eat is that apple!” “It’s true!” I said. And so he asked, “Well, what do you normally do, what do you normally eat?” And I said, “Well, secretly I’m not a backpacker!”

Oskar takes me to town

Oskar gave in and took me to town, and better yet, I convinced him that I’ll buy the food if he cooks it. Win-win I tell ya. I learned my mistake from then on, and always bought extra snacks just in case!

There’s a reason why I straddle this double life, enjoying the luxuries that I’m fortunate enough to afford however crave the experience of what you encounter when it’s just about simplicity. There’s no need to talk work, or petty drama, or bills. It’s just experiencing great company, amongst beautiful scenery and endless opportunity. I’m just nervous for when I get too old for it to stay this way and I have to give up the backpacker part of the flashpacker.

Taking it all in.