blogging torpor

Kia ora,

So you will note that my last post was dated September 2006 - and of course now it is April 2009. Do not fear, I hadn't abandoned the blog, I was merely swept into another branch of that river that is my life, which sent me downstream, whirling through eddies, resting in backwaters, and enjoying the cool and pleasant place that is my country. that's right, for the last two years, I have travelled the length and breadth of Aotearoa, filming a little wildlife series, called "Meet the Locals". And what an adventure it has been. Two years of my life, travelling, meeting wonderful people, seeing incredible places, and learning every day about our precious native wildlife, and the perils it faces. I can't possibly sum up that experience in my first rusty attempt to hit the keys again, but you can have a look for yourself here and maybe enjoy some of the places I have experienced.

http://www.doc.govt.nz/locals

Essentially, having the opportunity to research, write and present Meet the Locals meant that I was plucked from behind my desk, and dropped into a world outside that I knew was there, but never truly experienced, sucked up the air, spent time being in the environment, and now, I'm really not sure how I'm going to quietly shuffle back behind a desk.

Don't get me wrong, the MTL experience was far from serene. It involved a whirlwind tour, averaging shooting two stories a day (sometimes three, and on our busiest day, five!), and literally running from one location to the next. So in some ways I have been incredibly lucky to be able lift the lid on wonderful nature initiatives happening from Kaitaia to Stewart Island and everywhere in between, but always in such a quick bite, it was a wrench to leave each place and always left us wanting more time. The flipside of that is that I now have a huge list of places I must go back and visit properly, and an even longer list of places I know I will in all likelihood never experience again.

Anyway, I am sure I will eventually be able to comb out the tangled thoughts that are knotted up in my head, and write clear and bright stories of many of my experiences 'on the road'. For now though, this is a re-introduction, a courtesy call, an "I'm still here".

I had been filled with horror of giving up my transient lifestyle spent face to face with kiwi, kakapo, weta, geckos, kauri trees and kokako. The idea of spending two years in a well-established routine of half-packed bags by the bed ready to go, of early starts, and long hours in a four-wheel drive with the MTL crew, who have by now become my whanau - and to give it all up for a desk in an airconditioned open-plan office has been slightly repugnant to me. I needed something to remind me I was still free. That I could continue my adventures, Meet the Locals or no Meet the Locals... and I found it.

While idly flicking through Trademe items late last Wednesday night, I came across a campervan. I'd always toyed with the thought of having a van, throwing the dog in it (and the bloke!), and heading off somewhere. I guess it harks back to my childhood, year after year spent camping in the wee pop-top caravan with my family - holidays that I suspect forged the love for nature that burns so brightly inside me. I had for nostalgic reasons, been looking at the very same model of pop-top caravan, perhaps in an attempt to recapture those wonderful summers. But for practical reasons, the idea of having to tow a caravan didn't really appeal. It was then that I saw it. The PERFECT vehicle.


It was a 1996 Nissan Camper, and had obviously spent a lot of time on the road. It had a bed that folded into seats and a table, a wee sink and cupboards and plenty of storage. But that wasn't what sold me. When you see it, you'll know why.

So. that's Morrison, my new Van. The bloke went halvies with me, which was an extraordinarily brave move for him, given that he is usually far more cautious than to throw money at a clapped out campervan. However, he admitted to me that he'd always wanted a campervan, and given our professions (he raises native birds for a living), he had to agree that this vehicle was 'meant to be'.

Negotiations took places fairly rapidly. The vendors had already promised the van to another buyer, but with some canny bartering (let's just say I will never be a business leader!), we made it to the top of the pile. The next hurdle? Morrison was located in New Plymouth. By now it was Thursday, and the next day would be Good Friday. "Brilliant," I said "I've never been to Taranaki". In fact, it had always irked me that while Meet the Locals did to take me to every region in the country, we had never made it out to Taranaki, and I had never experienced the shadow of Mt Taranaki. So, before we knew it, the tickets were booked and we were flying to New Plymouth first thing on Saturday morning. Very spontaneous for a pair who tend to like to have things planned out for them!

We waited patiently at the New Plymouth airport, and while I experienced a mild panic "How will we know who they are?", and was gently reminded by Zooman that we could hardly miss a van with that paint job, we saw it roll into the carpark.

Excited, we strode over to meet the couple who were selling it (who were lovely, and the woman in particular was very attached to it and gave it a cuddle before they left), and took possession. Then the shock set in. What had we done!? We'd bought an old, well-travelled van, sight unseen, on the word of the previous owners. What if it didn't get back to Auckland!? Sitting up in Morrison, the reality of the beautiful van of our dreams set in. According to Andrew it was a bit of a 'brick' to drive, and the seats could really do with re-upholstering. The beautiful artwork, had taken plenty of hits presumably on gravel roads, and the tyres could do with filling.

Still, it was our van. Our key to freedom, our source of adventure. I blithely settled into getting to know Morrison, warts and all, while Zooman took a more apprehensive approach, assuring me that it would just take him a bit of time to 'bond' with Morrison.


A quick trip to New Plymouth, refuelled with a late eggy breakfast and freshly squeezed orange juice, we took advantage of the Easter Sales, and after a speedy shop at Kathmandu and Briscoes, we had Morrison decked out in camping finery, and we were both feeling better and excited about what this van might have to offer us.




Late in the afternoon we headed South of New Plymouth, to find a campspot at Oakura Beach... No need to ring ahead, we thought we'd chance it, and see how we got on. After all, if we didn't find a campground, we would simply sleep in the van, no issue there! As we left the sunny seaside town of New Plymouth, we glanced up and saw the iconic peak of Taranaki piercing the low cloud. What a wonderful sight. No wonder people love living in New Plymouth.

Oakura beach was beautiful, and as luck would have it, a campsite was available, one on the corner of the campground, so that we had a whole site to ourselves, i.e. no neighbours. Brilliant!

We rested in the van for a while, both a little exhausted from our early start, and perhaps from the apprehension of what we had taken on, and listened to the birds. As is my tradition, a nearby piwakawaka (NZ fantail), flitted over to see our van, sat on an unfurling koru of a punga that shaded Morrison, piped a few high-pitched chirps, and headed off, satisfied with what i was currently up to. I have always felt that the tiny but forthright little birds are my kaitiaki, and I am constantly amazed at the times and places they show up. More on that another day i think.

A walk on the beach past the surfers, and watching the 'fingers of god' stretching from the clouds down to the gently rolling surf did us good, and worked up enough of a hunger for us to enjoy a pizza and chips and a couple of speights on the beach for dinner. A perfect evening meal for the day we had shared.

Off back to Morrison, and we snuggled down into the new flannel sheets, drew our duvet over the top of us, and were very soon asleep. (we had some concern about a party of teenagers who were having a 'right old time' over the hedge from us, but true to teenager form, they had drunk themselves silly by seven o'clock and not a peep was heard from 8.30pm). A morepork called above us, and a late night pukeko gave the odd screech.

The next day we woke happy and excited (and to be honest, a little sore, the foam squabs are not the most comfortable for sleeping on!). However, we brushed the numb hips aside, and made plans for our trip home. Freshly showered and teeth brushed, the 'bedroom' converted back into a 'lounge', we made our way North, through New Plymouth, past the Mokau River, and through the Awakino Gorge. All of it was beautiful, and I was thoroughly enjoying breathing in a part of the country I had not experienced before. Zooman however, used to fast cars, was not enjoying Morrison's reluctance to go uphill. I noticed that he was leaning forward as we shook and shuddered our way up hills as if somehow that might help provide momentum for Morrison. Downhill and on the flat, Morrison happily zipped along (if by zipping you mean just under 100km/hr!), and we made our way towards Otorahanga to visit the Kiwi House there - talk about a busman's holiday!

After visiting Otorohanga (packed with a plethora of native birds and wildlife, the highlight of which was watching a female great-spotted kiwi at feeding time!), we meandered home, and made it to Auckland with only a slow leak in one back tyre to complain about.

Happy times were had by all, even zooman was making future plans for Morrison, and we truly look forward to our next adventure.