Cape Reinga Road Trip: Part 1 (Too big for this rig)
Lately I’ve been day dreaming about a good road trip. There’s something enticing about jumping in a car with a friend or two and letting the scenery roll by at the pace you want it to. My last road trip was with Erin to her cousin’s wedding in the Okanagan. It was a great trip, and I wrote about it, but I do believe one of my most memorable road trips was to Cape Reinga in New Zealand.
I landed in Auckland, New Zealand at about 10 am local time and Erin met me at the air port. We then went to the hostel and checked my luggage into their little storage closet. I was exhausted but we couldn’t check into our room until about 3 pm. Currently, I hadn’t slept for about 24 hours, which was also somehow 3 days ago thanks to the time zones that I still cant do the math on. Despite being exhausted, we decided to burn up the hours before my afternoon nap by going for a scenic walk around the city and checking out the museum, I highly recommend both of these things. Afterward I finally got to go to bed, and it was everything I hoped it would be. The next morning I woke up early, because sleeping patterns dont travel with you I find.
Once Erin and I had some breakfast we decided that the first thing we should do on our trip is go to Cape Reinga, the northern most tip of New Zealand. We weighed the pros and cons of taking a bus vs renting a vehicle and staying in hostels vs renting a camper van. It was a quick and easy decision. I really wanted to try driving on the left side of the road, because I’m a man child, also Erin and I both enjoy camping. Camper van it is! We called the rental agency and asked if we met the age and licence requirements to rent a camper van. They said we had to be 18… Check! The driver also had to have a standard drivers licence… kinda check, maybe.. Erin and I at the time both had what is known as a GDL (graduated drivers licence) which meant that we had completed the road test, the only difference between it and the full licence is that with a GDL there’s half the demerits allowed, you can’t teach someone to drive, and there’s zero alcohol tolerance. I wasn’t sure if it was acceptable, which meant I wasn’t sure they would let us rent a camper van. This left me in a weird way, I didn’t want to ask and point it out but I also didn’t want to break the rules. I thought about it a bit and realized that I was comfortable bending the rules a bit if it was for the sake of adventure.
The following morning we walked into the rental facility, picked out the sweet van we were going to rent and filled out the paperwork. The entire time I was sweaty and nervous, it probably looked mighty suspicious. Eventually they gave us the keys and sent us on our way. We had gotten the van for just a few days, and pre-purchased the last tank of gas. Basically we didn’t have to refill it before we returned it, it ended up saving us money if we returned it with less than half a tank of gas… supposedly. I carefully climbed into the ultra compact van, first I sat sideways on the seat then spun around and carefully wedged my left leg under the steering wheel and against the dash, then rammed my right knee into the corner of the door and the dash. Over the next few days I would learn to do this at a much faster rate. This van clearly wasn’t built for a man of my height and throughout the entire trip I had this fear of getting in a slight fender bender and breaking both my legs. Luckily that never happened. After my contortionist routine, we pulled out of the garage went a block east and then headed north on the freeway.
Its A Little Less Roomy Than It Looks
Let me just make a side note here and talk about driving on the opposite side of the road you are used to. Most vehicles in New Zealand have a manual transmission, which is fine, I actually prefer a manual. The part that fouled me up was that I was shifting with my left hand, it just felt unnatural. They also have the wiper switch and the signal switch on opposite sides that I’m used to, every time I pulled up to an intersection I turned the windshield wipers on. You’d think that eventually it would stop startling me, but you’d be wrong. Driving on the opposite side isn’t too bad because all of the traffic is doing it so it feels a little less weird. The real problem I had was in parking lots when passing oncoming traffic my instinct is to pass on the right hand side, naturally I got some funny looks until they saw the side of the van displaying the fact that I was a tourist. Also coming out of lots onto the road, I tended to hug the right side of the entrance/exit which again led to strange looks. Lucky for me New Zealanders tend to be a friendly people with a sense of humor.
Shortly after escaping the city we crossed a bridge with a beautiful river underneath it. I decided I wanted to get a few pictures so I pulled the van over onto the shoulder and climbed out. Erin and I each grabbed some nice photos and jumped back into the van. I went to take off and the tires just spun on the wet grass I had parked on. Immediately I started to worry and wonder how the hell I was going to explain to the rental company that I got their van stuck. Luckily, as I am a pretty typical Canadian, I know a thing or two about driving on slick surfaces. I put the van into reverse and was able to get enough traction to back up a few inches. I then was able to get a bit of forward momentum to get me a few more inches forward. I eventually rocked the van back and forth and eventually off of the slippery grass. My blood pressure dropped dramatically once all the wheels were back on pavement. Erin of course thought it was all kinda funny, she doesn’t seem to worry quite as easily as I do.
Late that day we made it to Cape Reinga. We had done the drive from Auckland to the cape in one day. Normally its only a five and half hour drive, but I might have gotten lost a few times. Luckily I’m the one telling the story so I can leave stuff like that out.
I parked the van in what was maybe a camping spot, either way it was relatively level and under a nice tree so it worked for me. We then ran down to the beach just in time to see the sunset.
A Lovely New Zealand Sunset
Once it was dark out we headed back to the camper and had some ham sandwiches. We then went and got some water. There was a lovely sign hanging saying something along the lines of “boil water before consuming”. We headed back to the camper and pulled out the little stove and pot that came with it to prepare our drinking water. For the life of me I could not find anything to light that stove with. We tore the van apart looking for matches or a lighter. Erin and I were debating what the risks were of drinking the water as is vs not having any water when two guys walked passed our camper. I walked up and started a conversation, in my usual friendly way. Turns out they were also Canadian and more important to the story, they had a lighter they were willing to lend us. We boiled a bunch of water and put it in my, then new, stainless steel water bottle and left it to cool.
The next morning we actually got to see Cape Reinga. The main attraction was a beautiful lighthouse that overlooked where the Tasman sea and the Pacific ocean mixed. It was very scenic, but also very windy.
View From The Lighthouse
The Ocean and The Sea Mixing
We then hopped back into the little van for the trip home. It ended up being far more noteworthy than the ride there, which was mainly used to determine where we wanted to stop on the way back. But this story’s getting a little long, I’ll tell you the rest next week.
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Christmas Catch-up 2: Wannabe Ski Bums
This is the follow up to last week’s post. If you’d rather skip it, the short version is that Erin and I got engaged and went to some Christmas parties… Also I got very sick at some point. Now that you’re brought up to speed, let us begin.
The day after Nikki’s party I drove Erin, Jason, and Shannon to Lake Louise for a ski trip. We met up with two more friends of ours Amber and Ryan. We arrived late in the day and sat in the hot tub before getting some food at the last restaurant in town still open that time of night.
The next day we hit the slopes. It was cold, about -25C in the morning, but luckily we all have good gear. I’m especially glad I had my Icebreaker Merino wool base layers and socks, worth their weight in gold when its cold outside. After a few runs together we decided to split up, simply because we are all at different levels of skill. Jason, Ryan, and Erin disappeared onto the mountain. I hit the green runs because that’s all I can do, and it wasn’t uncommon for me to bump into Amber during the day. Shannon made herself comfortable in the Chalet and read a book. It was nice knowing there was always someone there to relax with if you got tired… or injured. The chalet there is quite beautiful. On my last run of the day my recently purchased helmet paid for itself. I was going down the easiest run on the hill, its labeled as such. I was carving on my board and I went over backwards, I slammed my tailbone onto the hard pack snow then my head whipped and the back of my helmet smucked the ground. I laid there with a sore rear, a sore neck, and a head that felt okay. All I could think was, why was I so stupid as to wait til now to buy a helmet. I should have bought one years ago. I slowly made my way down the mountain to the chalet and waited for everyone else to filter in. The hot tub felt good that night. For the next few days I had to sit down slowly and when lying flat on my back I couldn’t lift my head up without using my hands for help.
Photo courtesy of Erin
Photo courtesy of Erin
We intended to hit the slopes the next day as well, but we woke up and read -30C on the thermometer and decided to head home instead. Good thing as I was still rather sore from my spill the day before.
The next thing on the schedule was New Years. We started the evening at Erin’s parents discussing the wedding and various options… Friendly heads up, fellas: if you ever propose, the next year of your life will be all about weddings. After that we headed to a friend’s cabin to visit more friends, see some New Year’s fireworks, have a chat with some friends around the fire pit, and then head home for sleep. I had a long day ahead of me.
We stayed just long enough for me to get this awesome selfie with Jason
The next day was the drive to Fernie, it was me, Jason, and Ryer. We arrived late in the day and I was amazed at how nice of a town it was at night. The Fernie Alpine Resort, the little community on the mountain side, looked like a miniature village in a department store window… they should consider adding a train. We checked into our room and realized that three guys, will have to share a room with only two beds and no couch, it worked out that each guy got one night with the bed to himself.
It was small, but at least it was clean and ski-in ski-out
The next day, we hit the slopes. I was amazed to see how big the hill was. I was limited, by my skill, to about one sixth of the available runs, maybe even less, and that was still enough for me to have a great time for two days. The first day was mostly me plowing down the green runs, lucky for me all the staff were super encouraging. I got a few thumbs ups when I made it off the chair lift without finding my way onto my rear. Actually everyone there, staff or patron, seemed to have the same “we were all knew at some point” attitude. It really takes the pressure off. Towards the end of the day I was starting to be able to carve. I still had a bit of spook in me from my spill at Lake Louise though.
At least I look kinda cool in all my gear
I didn’t think to take a lot of pictures, I was too busy having fun
That evening we drove into the town and had dinner at a steak house. I got to try a swordfish steak, it was delicious. We then went to a pub but found that the DJ was somewhat lacking. So we moved on, somehow we found ourselves at a reggae bar. At first it didn’t make sense to me but then I remembered that there is a lot of snowboarders who love reggae, honestly, I kinda like it too. Ryer was laughing, to us, at the old white guys dancing and stated “if I’m ever that guy, kill me” he then had a few more drinks and joined them… I was wondering how serious he was earlier. Jason and I debated weather or not we should put him down. We opted not to, for now…
The next morning Jason and Ryer seemed to be having trouble getting out of bed or moving quickly. Funny how that happens sometimes. We eventually found our way up to the hill, I returned to my green runs, while Jason and Ryer made their way farther up the mountain. Towards the end of the day though, Jason decided to hit some of the easier runs with me. I was able to find a few pockets of deep powder and really go all out, since powder makes falling a much less painful affair. I must say I was really impressed with my progress, a few more days and I might have been willing to hit a blue run, maybe.
There were two notable crashes on the trip, both in quick succession. The first was when Jason tried to stop short when I was sitting down with my board on. He would have stopped in time but he hit a very small sapling barely sticking out of the snow, instead of falling on me he opted to jump over me. He landed on his side and the ground exploded in a cloud of snow, limbs and skis. He didn’t get hurt so it was hilarious. We regrouped, and I explained where the deep powder was a little further down the run, I also warned him of the ruts. He took off ahead of me and in the distance I saw his skis come about a foot off the ground. Maybe he wasn’t listening when I told him about the ruts. He landed like a champ, it was very impressive, I thought he was headed for a second crash. I came into the powder with some speed and carved like a wild man. I was very pleased with myself until I tipped over and punched my fist into the packed snow underneath. I buried my hand wrist deep but my board and body kept moving. It was pretty painful and I’m not sure how I got out of it without a broken wrist. I certainly let out some noises and words that I hope the kids in the nearby ski school didn’t hear. We finished our run and got to the bottom just in time to see the chairlift close. Oh well, we had a good time while it lasted right? We headed to the hotel to find Ryer having a nap, I guess for some strange reason he decided to pack it in early. Maybe he wasn’t feeling well. We made fun of him a bit, and hit the hot tub.
That evening we went out for dinner at a place called “The Brick House” we had tried to get in both nights before. The first they were closed and the second they were far too busy. We were all hungry after a long day on the hill so we may be biased, but we all agreed that that was the best meal any one of us had eaten in a long time. I didn’t realize french fries could be that good, they’re french fries… how many recipes can there be? The service was also very good. We decided to hang around after dinner. Ryer and Jason enjoyed a few pints, we swapped some funny and embarrassing stories as well as recapped our days. Then we headed back to the hotel for some sleep. The next morning we were sad to see we weren’t snowed in and instead we had to go home. Ryer also made a point of informing me that I snore very loudly and that Erin is a saint for putting up with it. We loaded up and hit the road. I was happy to be in my own bed again, but I’m already dreaming about my next snowboarding trip. I would like to go back to Fernie, especially once I’m a better rider, it just looks like there’s a lot of mountain to see there. Maybe Erin and I can find some time to go before summer hits us.
After only two snowboarding trips I can really see why so many people choose to live the “ski bum” lifestyle. Working on the ski hill and snowboarding all day seem very enticing and I can’t say I would ever look down on someone who chose that lifestyle.
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Christmas Catch-up
As is a common problem with most people, I found myself quite busy over the Christmas holiday. I may as well just bring you up to speed, some of this is interesting, some is just relevant, and some just.. is. If you want the short version, just scroll to the end and read the italicized part. This post turned out really long, so I split it in two, this is obviously going to be part 1, part 2 of course will be out in about a week. Anyhow here we go.
My work was done and I left location as though my tail was on fire, about a week before Christmas. I was sad to not be at work or making money, but I was also glad that I could be home for all the various Christmas celebrations. On the docket for the holidays were: Erin’s immediate family Christmas, Erin’s mom’s family Christmas, Erin’s dad’s family Christmas, my step-dad’s family Christmas, my mom’s family Christmas, then a get together with our friends a few days after Christmas, a ski trip to Lake Louise just before New Years, a friends party on New Years, and then a ski trip for me and two friends at Fernie right after New Years. Its all kind of a blur so I’ll try and put it in the right order, but no promises.
The family Christmases were all fun and friendly. My step-dad’s family had their celebration on the same day as Erin’s dad’s family. I opted to leave Darrell’s party a little early to make it to Erin’s. It was great catching up with both families, I got to see both of my step brothers which is an unfortunately rare occasion, especially at the same time it seems. Erin’s family was quick to show me just how bad I am at poker, despite her very young cousin “helping” me by pushing in most of my chips on every hand. Her scheme of bet big, win big was working okay until Erin’s dad decided to clean house.
The following day was Erin’s immediate family Christmas dinner. It consisted of her parents, siblings, grandparents, and an aunt. We had a delicious turkey dinner and lovely conversation. Immediately after dinner I began to feel unwell and excused myself to the bathroom for the remainder of the evening. It turns out I had caught a stomach flu. I hid in the washroom on the brink of vomiting while Erin, her parents, and siblings opened their presents. Shortly after the somewhat rushed get together, on account of my condition, we went home. I spend the night in the bathroom, quite literally. I was so ill that by the time I made it back to bed I would have to return to the bathroom. So I grabbed some blankets and a pillow and slept on the cold linoleum floor. That night I was so sick and feverish that I became somewhat delirious. I had recently been reading a family history book my mother gave me that told all about her family and their forging of the prairie west. I had lost track of my place in time and for a portion of the night was worried that I would be too ill to take care of the homestead in the morning…. I live in a duplex in the city. I was also vomiting so aggressively that my dry heaving would make it difficult to breathe, seemingly, for long periods at a time. This coupled with my recent listening to a podcast about the first World War which described in detail what chlorine gas does to a person, which is surprisingly close to dry heaving to the point of suffocation. All this managed to give me weird nightmares about trench warfare, sleeping on a cold hard floor probably didn’t help much either. Three days later when I was able to make it down the stairs and out into the world I was joking with Erin that I had traveled through time, started a homestead, and died in The Great War. I was basically Doctor Who.
Christmas eve I was able to attend Erin’s mom’s family Christmas. I was a little shaky from my recent flu. but I survived the evening. It was another great evening and I was concerned that all the laughter would be hard on my still recovering body.
Erin’s family knows how to party
Christmas day came and the plan was to drive from Erin and I’s house to my mother’s, then to my mom’s brother’s for Christmas, then back to my mom’s where we would spend the night. Christmas morning we were informed that my mom had a flu very similar to what I had just recovered from. I hope her homestead did better than mine… Erin and I decided that we would just drive to my Uncles and back that day, two hours each way, instead of staying at my mom’s. No one wants company when they’re sick. Once the plan was made, Erin and I got out of bed to open our presents, she got me a spork and a camouflage Buff. I got her socks, a bottle of Bailey’s, and an engagement ring… Did you see that coming? She sure didn’t, she thought I was kidding.
I proposed with this cheaper ring, then her and I could pick out a ring we both really liked
This is the ring we decided on and are currently waiting for it to be re-sized
Erin was a little mad at me for going over budget on Christmas, but she forgave me pretty quickly. We decided to stop in at Erin’s parents before going to my uncle’s to show her parents the ring and tell her siblings. Her parents weren’t surprised, since I asked their permission previously. We called Erin’s grandparents and aunts etc, and everyone was very excited, there was a lot of joyous yelling on the speakerphone.
We made the long drive to my uncles and called a few close friends to give them the good news. We informed my family when we arrived and naturally everyone was excited. We had some dinner and played some cards, Erin won.
We hit the road before it got too late and made it back in time to visit Erin’s family at her uncles house. He was busy working Christmas eve and missed the big family get together, because Firemen have unfortunate schedules. I was happy to finally get to bed after that long day.
A few days later it was our friend Nikki’s Christmas party. We had asked people not to tell anyone about our engagement, we wanted our friends to hear it from us first. We arrived first with Jason and Shannon (our roommates and friends). Erin had her ring on, but Nikki didn’t say anything. Eventually Nikki handed Erin a napkin for her food and leaned in and whispered “I see that” We all laughed because at the moment Nikki was the only one in the room who hadn’t been told. She was excited for us and we told everyone else as they filtered into the party.
We exchanged funny Christmas stories, played some games, and had some drinks. A friend of ours had brought some homemade apple moonshine which tasted just like apple pie, and went down about as easy. I was driving everyone home that night and couldn’t have more than a taste, luckily I won a bottle of the stuff in the gift exchange. I am currently saving it for a special occasion, for example: the day I decide to drink a bottle of moonshine. At some point someone suggested we play twister, everyone was wearing either denim jeans or a dress. Lucky for us Nikki had a surplus of short shorts, which she handed out to all the guys and gals, and for some reason we all put them on and played twister. It should come as no surprise that I’m not good at twister… also short shorts are not a flattering look for me.
The next day we hit the road to Lake Louise. Which was the start of a whole other series of adventures that include a new years party at a cabin and a trip to Fernie. This post is already getting a little long so I’ll tell you all about the rest later.
So the short version of this story is that I got engaged and went to a lot of Christmas parties . I am now going to be very busy planning a wedding, any suggestions for venues?
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Globalization and Travel
This post was originally much longer. I split it in two, on Erin’s suggestion, to make it more digestible. If you do or dont like this let me know, so I know if I should post the other, longer, half.
The internet is on of the most amazing thing humans have created. It has ushered in the kind of globalization no one would have ever thought possible. My great grand parents on both sides of my family came over from Europe around the turn of the century, or earlier. Everything they heard about their destination was likely the result of pamphlets and word of mouth. They traveled thousands of miles over several months in hopes that they hadn’t been mislead or lied to. On my mothers side, in particular, I remember hearing the story of one of my distant relatives. He was my maternal grandmothers paternal grandfather (my mom’s mom’s dad’s dad). He came here before his wife and children to work and start building a farm. He threw himself out there on faith and hope, his only contact was via the postal service which was slow and unreliable during the homestead days. After two years of setting up a home he was ready for his wife and children to join him. Plans were made to meet at the train station. Unfortunately she missed the train and had no way of telling him she would be on the next one.
He wandered around the station probably in a daze of confusion and fear that I could never begin to comprehend. He saw a woman and children sleeping on a bench. He ran up to them and embraced the woman…who was not his wife. Talk about awkward. He and his wife eventually found each other in the station. My guess is there was something on the passenger list denoting not making it on and a protocol to catch the next one. I imagine it was the longest wait of his life, between the two trains. Upon being reunited, he learned that all three of his children had been taken by influenza. His wife didn’t have the heart to write him with the news. They would later have five more children. The strength and resilience of some people will never cease to amaze me.
I like to think about things like this to help put my life in perspective. How would I have operated in those times? I could go that far via airplane for the weekend if I wanted, and it would barely be a footnote in my life. Does that mean I’m lucky to have such and adventurous life? Or devoid of being able to have a true adventure? Do I have the kind of strength to leave my family behind and maybe never see them again in hopes that I could build a better life so far away? Could I spend two years away from Erin with only a slow and unreliable postal system as our only means of communication? We almost had a disaster when our phones wouldn’t work while hiking in Jasper I can only imagine trying to orchestrate a round the world trip to meet me at a train station in a land where both of us barely speak the language. Don’t get me wrong, I love globalization I think its great that we can travel nearly anywhere in the world on a whim (yet almost none of us do). When I traveled around New Zealand and Fiji it seemed almost at all times I couldn’t help but think what my great grand parents would think of these places. In their day a trip that far was a once in a life time ordeal. It was long and dangerous. Live or die you likely weren’t coming back, and remember you didn’t have the internet to tell you what to expect when you got there. In a way I am jealous of the kind of adventure a person was able to have back then. Of course that’s kind of looking back through the lens of nostalgia. I’ll take modern medicine and soft toilet paper over dangerous treks through the jungle to find head hunting tribes. But it sure does sound like a hell of a good time, and I often catch myself day dreaming about it when I find myself trapped in a traffic jam on my way to work.
So whats the point of my story here? I guess I dont have one, I was just rambling out my thought process that was sparked by something that got me thinking about technology and globalization. Then I was thinking about a few family members not wanting me to go on a trip I’m planning. It got me thinking about what it must have been like for all those pioneers just before they left the home country for the last time. What would my parents say if I told them I wasn’t coming back? It also got me wondering if all of our globalization and technology has, in a way, taken all mystery out of the world? There aren’t a lot of blank spaces on the map these days. I know its for the best, but deep down, for selfish reasons, it kinda bothers me that I know I could never have “Explorer” as a career title.
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Hiking A Yasawa Island
Lately I’ve been spending all my time at work, but I would still like to post somewhat regularly. As is part of my writing tradition I often complain to Erin about having nothing to write about, then she’ll say “Why don’t you write about that time we _____” Some of my stories aren’t exactly fresh, but usually they’re at least funny.
Erin and I, as part of our Fijian tour, did a trip along the Yasawa Islands. The Yasawas are a chain of islands off the coast of Fiji and many companies have small hotels on the little islands.
When I Say Little I Mean Little!
We got a package that gave us, if I recall correctly, five days on three islands, none of which were quite as small as the one pictured above. Of the three islands I can only remember what happened on two of them, I completely forgot about the first one we were on and so has Erin, we don’t even have pictures from it. The other two islands I don’t remember the name of, instead I just remember the accommodations and activities.
The first of the two, remembered, islands was quite large and seemed to really stick high out of the ocean it had nice private bungalows and terrible food, a common combination in Fiji. On the first day Erin and I kayaked to a very nearby island in two clear plastic kayaks. I was very excited to see all the marine life below me, but was quickly disappointed when I saw the kayaks were far too scratched up to see through. I still enjoyed myself but Erin, who often complains about lacking upper body strength, seemed to have a very hard time kayaking on a windy ocean, I asked if she wanted me to tow her home she replied with “No its fine! Leave me alone” my relationship senses tingled. To my knowledge “its fine” is usually my cue to get as quiet and far away as possible. We next opted to relax and do some reading while lounging in the hammocks… because life is so hard when you’re on vacation, its important to relax. I had long since finished my Capstick book, but I was unwilling to trade it in in the book exchange. Luckily Erin had an old book for me to trade in, the selection was limited and a lot of it was German, but I picked the best of the worst, a book titled “Perfume” and it was certainly…. not something I would read again. The next day we headed to the final island where we would spend the majority of our time, and make the most memories.
We arrived to find we were staying in undoubtedly the nicest accommodations I have ever received. This was the first time during our trip that we stayed in a place that looked like a post card from Fiji. It was a large private bungalow with a small main room at the front and a large bedroom and bathroom at the back. We settled in, grabbed some borderline OK lunch, and read our books at the beach, I finished that terrible book and was thoroughly disappointed. Erin started reading my, now favorite book, “The Last Ivory Hunter.” We then had some dinner and made plans to go on a short guided hike in the morning.
We arrived where they told us to meet the “guide” and found that Erin and I were the only two people who showed up. We paid our guide his fee, about $3 each, and we headed up. As soon as we started walking the guide started talking on his cell phone, this would continue the whole hike. I brought my backpack and Erin and I both wore our hiking gear. Our guide brought his cell phone and machete and climbed this mountain barefoot, it was very impressive. A few minutes into the hike I saw what I think might be the most frightening thing I can think of, off in the distance in a small clearing there was a spider web that had been built horizontally, it was about 6 feet in diameter and what ever was in the middle of it was heavy enough to pull the trees in towards it. I didn’t go investigate, in fact I picked up the pace a little. Just as we came above the tree line we found ourselves walking through some very tall, lush grass, about 10 feet tall. I read a lot of safari books and they always talk about long grass and the dangers of following a wounded animal into it, until this time I had never fully comprehended the lack of visibility and just how tall this grass really was, I just couldn’t picture it in my mind.
After the grass it became much rockier, and elevated. I didn’t really think about all the elevation we gained while walking through the heavily treed areas. Suddenly the trail ended, but the guide kept walking, right across a sharp ridge with a nice steep smooth rock face down each side. Erin, without flinching, walked right behind him and then remembered my dislike of heights and looked back and if I recall she offered some encouraging words. I wasn’t about to quit, but like I always do with heights, I crawled slowly across on all fours while calculating what events and time frame would be required for me to get to the hospital if I fell. At least I knew for sure the guide had cell service. On the other side of this knife edge walk-way was a large natural platform at the top of the island and the official end of our hike. Erin and I took a lot of pictures and she went on and on about how proud she was of me for making it across that rock… I then realized I had to go back over it..
That’s Our Resort At The Bottom
Erin And I Just Climbed A Mountain On A Fijian Island!… Our Guide Had Just Another Normal Day.
Erin and I were taking in the view and talking about how glad we were that we took this trip and various other lovey dovey things when it happened… Possibly the longest and loudest fart either one of us had ever heard! We looked at each other, with eyes wide open, then looked at the guide 20 feet away from us, chuckling on his phone. This hike will forever be known as “the Fijian hike with the farting guide” and we laugh about it all the time.. even years later we still laugh about it.
I crawled across the rocks and we made our way down, all the while trying not to burst into laughter about what happened. We made it without breaking into hysterical laughter like teenage girls, barely, we thanked our guide and returned to our bungalow to shower, laugh, and then grabbed some lunch.
A lot of other interesting things happened on that island, we saw a man climb to the top of a very tall palm tree and cut down coconuts, he went up without any harness or safety gear and those coconuts came down like cannon balls, luckily no one was hurt. On another of the nights we met a nice group of Australians wearing sailor outfits, they seemed intent on perpetuating the stereotype of attractive Australians, they were very successful. Before the night was through we ended up somewhat befriending them, we ate together and got very drunk. I remember at one point they were all singing a drinking song to me while I was chugging a beer, it was great. A few also did a very impressive choreographed dance to a Taylor swift song. I wish I had gotten some contact info for them, Erin and I are planning a trip to Australia and I wouldn’t mind bumping into them again.
The next day I was a rather slow moving unit, on account of my recently discovered enjoyment of gin and tonics. We decided to spend the day reading and recovering by the pool. I took in that awful book I had finished and looked for something to trade it off on. I combed through the collection and the only thing that seemed to stand out to me was an old dime store western. It was titled “Longarm and the frenchmans gold” or something along those lines. I like westerns, so I figured I would give it a shot. I sat beside Erin at the pool and began reading. The first few chapter were slow and poorly written, so I assumed it was a book for young teens, that would explain the rather… ahem, chesty woman, depicted on the cover. I was wrong, very wrong. Around chapter three it turned into a very graphic adult novel. I suddenly felt very embarrassed, like when a sex scene comes on in a movie you’re watching with your parents, kind of embarrassed. I slowly closed the book and set it down, I must have had a strange look of surprise on my face because Erin took one glance at me and asked “Whats wrong?” I casually picked up the book, opened it to the appropriate point, handed it to her, and said “here, read this.” She thought it was hilarious, so did I, but I was annoyed that I had to go try and find another book. We also still laugh about this and occasionally joke that we should have kept that book as a memento for such a funny story. Good literature is hard to come by when you’re travelling I guess… So hopefully when you go out into the world you can still access my site, right?
On this trip I learned the importance of bringing a good book, otherwise you end up with some mighty strange stuff. Also if anyone knows some goofy, attractive Australians who visited the Yasawas while dressed as sailors during 2011, send them my way. Honestly even if they aren’t the people we met, if they meet that criteria I want to be friends with them.
Posted in Hiking, Travelwith no comments yet.
Reflections On A Fijian Mud Bath
As many of my friends and family are well aware, and tired of hearing about. Erin and I took a trip to both Fiji and New Zealand in 2011 and I am still telling stories about it. Occasionally in the wee hours of the morning, when night shift has a firm pull on my eyelids, my gaze finds its way to my computer screen saver, and I am reminded why I subject my body and my sanity to this job. One word: Adventure.
Erin and I, in our ramblings across Fiji, found ourselves at a small hostel in a town who’s name I cannot remember. In fact I remember very few details about the hostel we were at, but here they are:
1. There were a lot of cats and dogs, especially cats that had suffered some form of trauma, I vividly remember at least one cat with only three legs. I remember one of the workers there telling me he had rescued several of the dogs from kids who kidnap stray dogs in the city and sell them to rural villages to use as bait for boars. One can only imagine the story behind the cats.
2. I was amazed by the pool table, the balls were about half the size of the ones I was used to. Using it was a bit of a pain because it required Australian quarters which were sold (or possibly given, I dont fully recall) to us by the front desk. When travelling I am always interested in the different types of electrical outlets, light switches, placement and organization of bathroom fixtures, and other small details of daily life… look I rarely claim to be an interesting guy.
3. They had a room filled with dozens of bikes for rent.
One of the few days we had spent there, we had heard from the staff that there was a hot spring and mud spa a few miles down the road. Being on vacation and having nothing else occupying our time, we decided to go check it out. We rented the bikes for a very minimal fee, somewhere in the neighborhood of $5 Fijian per bike for the day, I’m not sure the conversion rates to Canadian or US dollars but trust me that’s not much.
Erin and Our Trusty Steeds
The bikes were nothing special, which was clearly reflected in the price and honestly I often find myself drawn to old banged up modes of transportation anyway (as my car ownership history will show). We grabbed our bikes and headed down the typical rough and potholed Fijian road. After a short, and very pleasant, ride we found our destination. It was a small fenced in area that to my rural Albertan eyes looked an awful lot like two dugouts and an old barnyard shed. All at once, in that moment, looking at what was in front of me. I felt I was home, on a warm summer day, looking out at an old farmyard that time seemed to have forgotten. I had spent so much of my youth rummaging through and admiring the old books and rusted tools, all the while hoping to find something that resembled treasure…but I’m getting off topic now.
We paid our $2 each and wandered into the structurally questionable shed to get changed. I was glad to see they partitioned off separate sides for guys and girls but I was a little concerned that you could see daylight between, literally, every plank on the sides. As I was changing out of my shorts and into my… swimming shorts, three Japanese men struck up a conversation with me. Well it was more of them talking at me and asking some questions.
“you’re so tall!”
“uhh thanks”
“wow you have green eyes! what color are your mothers?”
“umm blue?… I think”
“and your fathers?”
“kind of grey… maybe”
“Whats your name?”
“Tyson”
“ooooo big strong american name! Twyason! Like the boxer!”
“Well I’m Canadian, but, yeah I guess”
“What about your girlfriend? how tall is she?”
I raised my hand to just above my eye level.
“oooOOOOoooo. And what colour are her eyes?”
“Green”
“oooooo”
“well I’m done changing so I’m going to head out, you guys have a good day”
A lot of big smiles and hand shakes etc. Erin had overheard a bit of the conversation through the “walls”, and thought it was hysterical but she was kind enough to not laugh about the adorable grown men until later in the day.
We then were escorted to the first station at the “spa”, a mud bath, again… essentially a muddy hole in the grass about the size of a good swimming pool. The hole was about five feet deep with about three feet of muddy water in it with a very muddy bottom. We climbed in, and so did the person working there, he dunked a bucket in and scraped a pile of muck off the bottom and told us to rub it on ourselves. It seemed kinda hokey to me, but what ever, I rubbed some on my arms etc and so did Erin, of course our guide tried to help Erin rub some mud on her arms and other places but she was quick to politely refuse his help. I then realized that this is probably a sweet job for that guy, helping (mostly female) tourists in bathing suits coat themselves in mud. We then, via the assistance of our guide and a nearby tree root, made the difficult and slippery climb out of the mud hole. The guide then showed us the outdoor shower where we could rinse the mud off before climbing into the hot spring hole. He offered to snap some pictures of us covered in mud. We got some funny shots of us with mud mustaches and other funny face “paint”, showered off and then headed into the hot spring.
That’s The “Mud Bath” Behind Us
I Mustache You Not To Draw On My Face.
From the showers we walked across the grounds to a smaller slightly cleaner pool fed by a little spring. We swam around a bit and tried to wash the last bits of mud off, I didn’t really feel clean until I was back at the hostel and able to have a more thorough shower, but that’s besides the point.
At Least This One Had A Set Of Steps
After what felt like the necessary lengths of time, we pulled ourselves out of the pool, dried off and got changed. We biked back to the hostel, I honestly preferred the bike ride over the mud baths. It was a long time ago now so I dont fully recall what happened to the rest of the day but its a pretty safe guess that we showered off, played some miniature pool and petted a bunch of formerly stray dogs…. but that’s just an educated guess based on my personality and our circumstances.
When looking at old pictures of my various adventures I often like to ask myself “what would I have done then, if I was the person I am now?” Try it sometime, it can illicit all kinds of emotions. In this instance what stands out to me are the bikes and just how much fun I had on them that day, and how much I enjoy cycling now. It makes me think that I may have missed a golden opportunity for us to buy a couple of cheap bikes and pedal our way around that little island. Maybe someday I’ll get another chance to, or maybe I’ll someday find myself on another small island nation and have the ambition to see how far my legs can take me. Worst case I can still tell myself that I did technically go biking in Fiji.
Posted in Mountain Biking, Travelwith no comments yet.
Vancouver
I had just finished school and decided it was time to move on from my retail job all at the same time. I sometimes look back on both of these ending as a rather unfortunate state of affairs and generally regard them as poor decision making on my part. However the past has past and will remain in that state and I must always remember that remembered time is vastly different from actual time. Hence the common action of looking at the past with rose coloured glasses. It was luck, coincidence, and a touch of planning that resulted in Erin getting back from her two month trek across Central America and as luck would have its she didn’t start her new job for another few weeks. She has always been the type to plan ahead that way, I on the other hand had no real plan for employment, again… kind of regard that as a poor decision on my part. We decided that this was about the best chance we were going to get to go on a trip together for a very long time so it was settled and done. We would drive my recently acquired truck, full of gear, to the west coast and enjoy ourselves.
We set out early in the morning and thoroughly enjoyed our scenic drive. We spent the first night in Banff. I had awoke to find that when I had done an oil change on my truck before the trip I hadn’t quite tightened my drain plug on enough. As beautiful of a town as Banff is, it is amazingly difficult to find a wrench in that town. We eventually found a hardware store and I climbed under and snugged things up so we could resume our trip. Along the way we made a brief stop at the Revelstoke Railway Museum, which I highly recommend.
Sweet rig at the train museum
We arrived in Vancouver, this had been my first time visiting, and my ever so handy GPS device led us to our hotel via Hastings road, the poorest postal code in the country. Sadly in reflection of my character I was nervous that our hotel was in the area, in hind sight I worry that being afraid of the down trodden makes me a part of the problem. Luckily for my nervous and poor character, our hotel was a touch outside of the area. We promptly checked in and I did my best to park in the unfortunately congested city, I was then showed where the hotels rear parking lot was. We promptly checked into our wildly inexpensive hotel, did our best to ignore the smell and went to bed. I should clarify that the hotel wasn’t that bad, it was just a budget hotel, with a kitchenette, that smelled kind of like someone else’s cooking.
The next day we opted to take the local transportation rather than have me attempt to drive. Our travels found us at a place that I was excited to see and had only hear rumor of for many years: The Museum of Anthropology. It was everything I ever thought it would be. We then took in the city for a few more days including a delightful visit to an old friend of ours who had recently taken a job promotion which required him to relocate to a rather suave apartment in downtown Vancouver, I got the impression it wasn’t exactly against his will that he moved there.
Museum of anthropology
Outdoor exhibit
I’m not much for the city but it sure is pretty
It was during the next day that Erin began to notice the big city life was starting to take its toll on me. I firmly believe that people should not be crowded in as close as they tend to be in cities and I find it makes me a bit edgy and claustrophobic. Erin, light of my life that she is, came up with an award winning idea, we should make use of the “just in case” camping gear crammed into the vehicle. So we pulled up stakes and caught a ferry to Nanaimo on Vancouver Island.
We spent our first night, on the island, in a very quaint house that had been converted into hostel it was homey and cozy my only complaint would be that the bed was barely a twin size and creaked at an unreasonable volume every time I would move and calling me a fidgety sleeper is certainly an understatement.
After checking in we set off to make our travel plans. We began where many adventures begin, at the local sporting goods store. It was actually the local branch of the store I had just ceased to be an employee of. Naturally I enquired if my employee discount was still valid, it was not. I then proceeded to pick the brain of the local fishing counter gents as I had recently purchased a fly rod and was itching to try it out. One of them jumped at the chance to help us and immediately named off several useful flies by name, as well as a few useful lures for the small spin caster rod I was going to buy for Erin. To his expert knowledge I replied with a blank stare, I had never heard of these hooks before. Bless him and his patience he walked me around the store showing me what I needed, Erin and I then asked about good local camping spots and it was decided we should go to Cowichan River to camp.
After another long night of me attempting not to move and create a bed creek that sounded like cats fighting over a coyote call, we set off to our campsite. Again the drive was wonderful and scenic and naturally I got a little lost trying to find it. We eventually found it and set up our tent. We then set off to the edge of the river and began casting our new gear. My casting skill was certainly… lacking. After standing in the icy water and not catching much I considered the possibility the spot was not the best for fishing.
Me doing an impression of a fly fisherman
It was then agreed that we should drive off to the nearby lake to try out our recently purchased inflatable kayak. Again I managed to get us frustratingly lost but Erin with her perseverance and patience, the kind required to date a man like me, got us to location. We unloaded all the fishing gear that was on top of the rolled up kayak and began attempting to build and inflate it. It is worth mentioning that it did not come with instructions and those things are surprisingly complex. After a lot of time confused we noticed a few rather large cuts along the side that prevented inflation, I presume a packing error in the plant. So with sadness in our hearts we packed it back into the truck and drove to the camp site for dinner, liquor, and roasted marshmallows. Which are pretty much all anyone needs at the end of a difficult day.
Erin making a gourmet dinner
After dinner I excused myself to the washroom on the other side of the camp site. On the way back I sparked up a conversation with two of the campground’s staff members who were cleaning up debris on another campsite. I have a habit of talking to strangers, but don’t worry, I developed this habit as an adult. As with most of my conversations it eventually led around to my love of fishing and eventually me asking them if they had any suggestions for where I should fish. They told me of a great spot within 50 yards of where I had been fishing before. The catch is that those 50 yards were composed of a rather cold, deep, and fast running river. Lucky for me they gave me directions to the spot that involved a bridge.
Late that night I awoke from a dead sleep and shot up in my sleeping bag to ask Erin if she had put her fishing rod back in the truck after we had failed to construct the kayak. We then promptly searched the truck and found it was not there. I could picture it in my head clearly. We…ok I… had left it leaning gently against a short wooden post at the lake, I blame our grief over the premature death of our kayak for our forgetful behavior.
The next morning we drove to the lake to retrieve our lost fishing rod, of course it was nowhere to be found. Some lucky individual had just found themselves a beautiful fishing rod with less than half a dozen casts on it, my only hopes are that they needed it and made good use of it.
We then drove to the trailhead of our fishing spot. I packed the essentials in my big orange backpack: camera, fly rod, fly reel, flies, chest waders, snacks, water, and beer… Erin also made sure I brought sunscreen. We then set off on our voyage through the pines. It was a beautiful mossy path filled with thick trunked trees.
Big downed tree on the trail
We found the fishing spot, a little gravel island with rushing water on one side and a nearly stagnant, deep, crystal clear pool on the other. We walked atop mossy logs and muddy ledges to get around to a fallen tree that led us to the island our own little piece of paradise. Erin promptly lied down a towel and relaxed in the sun while I did my best to cast my fly rod. It wasn’t pretty but the hook was landing away from me and some days that is all it takes to feel good. Erin took a brief break from relaxing to put on my oversized waders and try her hand at fly fishing. Her first casts were certainly better than my first casts, but in the end she decided to just lay back and soak up some sun. Most of the morning went on like this occasionally interrupted by a sip of beer, or our staring at a nearby family of otters.
My best angle
Erin showing me how its done
Family of otters
No fish were caught until later in the day when I opted to remove the waiters and stand on the far side of the 20 meter island away from Erin. She was fast asleep camera in her hands when I watched my fly sink into a deep pocket of water and my rod bounced excitedly at the tip. I began pulling in line and almost died of laughter when I pulled out a fish the size of my index finger. I called to my companion to come get a picture, but between the water flowing and her snoring I doubted she could hear me. I began walking towards her barefoot on the gravel. I quickly realized that at that pace both, the fish and I would expire before I got to her. So I released my miniature catch without ever having photo evidence of it. I resumed casting optimistically in the same location and sure enough my rod bounced with excitement again and I pulled out an absolute monster this one was nearly the size of my middle finger. In my laughing shame I carefully placed the fish in the water and slowly walked back to Erin with the awkward hilarious mosey that only walking barefoot on gravel can provide. I told my recently awakened partner all about the pair of monster fish I had caught. We then decided that we best start heading back to camp and start to prepare for the long drive home the next day. The drive home was just as wonderful and scenic but that being said I still opted to let Erin drive while I slept. It was a wonderful trip and I would do it again any day but it was certainly nice to be home.
Posted in Fishing, Travelwith no comments yet.
YouTube Channel!
Hey, I know I usually do a nice long story on Thursdays but today I was busy… Busy starting a YouTube Channel for the few videos I have and for all the videos to come! Come check out my channel HERE and the latest video HERE don’t forget to like, share, subscribe, and comment.
For those of you who have been reading along to my previous posts you will see the truck from “Unnamed Lakes” mountains from “One Does Not Simply Walk Into Tongariro” scenery from “Fiji Time” and even a bit of “Crypt Lake“. This video as well as a few others I will post, are from a time when the idea of a blog or a YouTube channel were just a day dream that I didn’t take seriously. On this new channel I have also put up the old video I posted called “Pike On The Fly“.
Posted in Fishing, Hiking, Hunting, Travel, Videowith no comments yet.
One Does Not Simply Walk Into Tongariro
All of you who know me are likely getting tired of my New Zealand stories. That said I’m sure a few of my readers (OK maybe two or three) haven’t heard this one yet.
As I have stated earlier, in the spring of 2011 I found myself in New Zealand. Before my trip I had never really done much hiking, in fact the only real hiking I did previously would be more accurately described as a drunken stumble home from the bar… Either way hydration was still a factor. While I was preparing for my trip I was informed of just how important good footwear is. I originally intended to just pack along some slip on skateboarding shoes, since hiking shoes in size 14 are hard to find and a bit on the expensive side. I was luckily persuaded to stop being so cheap and just buy a pair. They proved to come in very handy.
Once I arrived in NZ I was informed that we were going to do the Tongariro Alpine Crossing needless to say I was not exactly excited to do a 20 km hike. I was persuaded when Erin told me that the national park was used as the setting of Mordor in the Lord of the Rings movies. Also I’m not a particularly smart man but, I know better than to say no to a woman when we’re on vacation.
We first went to the town of Taupo, got a hostel and got settled in. It was a nice place, big kitchen, sauna, private room, and central heating. I had to laugh that the worker at the hostel felt the need to explain central heating to two Canadians “hot air come out of these holes in the floor, so don’t cover them” “tell me more about your magic Mr. Wizardman” I though in my head, but I’m Canadian so I just listened patiently, nodded and said “thank you.”
The next morning we jumped on an early morning bus which took us out to the trail head. Our journey began and naturally, as per usual, I had a wicked stomach ache, I was glad to find that there was a washroom at the trail head.
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| Ok so its not 20km but very close |
The first bit of trail resembled the prairies with which I am very familiar, however this was a bit rockier and had an amazing view of the mountains. We reached the edge of the first mountain and before the climb began I spotted another washroom… bonus… no wait that’s a no go on the bonus, they were out of toilet paper. I opted to wait for the next washroom since I like my socks and my bandanna a little too much.
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| View from the top of the first climb |
Of course we did some more uphill climbing until we reached a plateau where the trail separated: one way was to continue to trail to the end, the other was to climb to the top of Mt. Ngauruhoe (also known as Mt. Doom for LOTR fans). Sadly given how long it had taken me and my out of shape body to get to this point, climbing to the top of a nearby mountain didn’t seem feasible. I would be lying if I said I didn’t occasionally lose sleep regretting not being able to see the top of Mt. Doom, maybe someday Ill get another chance. At the plateau there were a lot of people taking a break, grabbing a snack from packs, and taking photographs. Erin and I took a few pictures of ourselves until a kind stranger offered to take a photo for us. He snapped one, looked a it and said “wait let me try again” he did this a few times until he got one he was happy with. I am eternally grateful to this kind stranger because it got me this.
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| I can’t think of a photo I like more |
We then continued along the plateau as it dipped down into a large geological dish as we approached the far side I saw a rather narrow uphill path covered with snow. I noticed something kinda funny, there were a lot of people struggling up the center of the path on the snow that had been trampled into ice and nearly no footprints on the light powder along the edges. As a woman slipped and struggled on the ice I walked past her and politely mentioned that the snow, despite being deeper, would be easier and safer. I felt kinda like a jerk offering tips to a grown woman but I get the impression she wasn’t too familiar with the dynamics of snow. The top of this portion of the trail rewarded us with a beautiful view of most of the trail.
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| Emerald lakes and seemingly endless mountain ranges |
From here the trail continued as a snowy downhill path, I glanced at the snow-challenged hiker, then at Erin and decided to ride down on the snow as though I were tobogganing, at first I tried just sitting and going, and that worked well, but then I realized my backpack had a toboggan feature… the salesman never mentioned that and it sure worked well. Naturally everyone who saw assumed I was crazy, and who am I to say they’re wrong.
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| It was so fun I almost went back up to do it again |
We then continued along another gentle flat portion toward yet another emerald coloured lake. Along the way something in the ground caught my eye, a funny looking white rock that just seemed out of place, naturally I picked it up, to my surprise it was actually a necklace. That’s right folks I found jewellery in Mordor! Its not a ring, but Ill still take it. Here’s a photo of it after I cleaned it off a bit.
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| My precious |
We then found our way to the lake on the far side, me still talking about how cool it is to find a necklace. We opted to stop for some photos and some lunch.
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| This photo took more tries than you would think |
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| Kind looks like a weatherman in front of a green screen |
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| Ham sandwiches taste better at higher altitude (I might make that my new catch phrase) |
Our hike now lead us downhill… about time I say! It lead us along a narrow mountain ledge where we encountered people doing to trek in the opposite direction, I’m told this takes longer and is harder to do. This led to a few slight traffic jams as the trail get a bit narrow at points, but everyone survived so that’s good.
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| Erin’s on the edge! |
The path eventually led us to another set of bathrooms, that were again devoid of toilet paper… I now pack my own everywhere I hike for fear of repeating this event. We continued on our way and eventually the narrow mountain trail turned into what resembled a tropical rain forest… oh wait… is it actually a tropical rain forest in New Zealand? Ill look into that later. Either way there was a lot of vegetation and it was beautiful.
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| Nearly at the end, very encouraging |
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| Here, let me open that for you |
We eventually reached the end of the trail and I was “relieved” to find they had fully stocked washrooms.
Posted in Hiking, Travelwith no comments yet.
Photo Drop Part 1 (Fiji Stuff)
I decided when I started this blog that I would post stories on Thursdays… if I have any. But lately I have been thinking maybe I should just post photos once in a while. So here’s my attempt at that, no long stories, just some photos I like and a short write up of what they are and why I like them.
I took this photo on Erin and I’s Fijian vacation. We arrived at our hotel after dark and nearly trampled a herd of these. I’m not sure if they are frogs or toads (sadly I don’t fully know the difference). I do know they are very docile and about the size of a computer mouse.
Keeping with the Fijian theme. The western style food in cheap hotels, hostels, and restaurants is typically not good. The easiest way I have found to describe it is to say “Its like they were shown pictures of western foods and are doing their best to duplicate it.” My favorite example of this was one hostel had a “Pizza night” which was normal pizza crust with ketchup, chopped carrots and celery all topped with cheese… The usual travel trick of coating food with cheese to make it taste better is brilliant except that I am lactose intolerant. Needless to say during our trip I was hungry and craving good food. At home I eat a lot of red meat, which is expensive and rare on a small tropical island. The photos you see here are of quite possibly the best meal I’ve ever eaten (it competes with my Fijian shore lunch which I have already blogged about). This meal took place in a remote village along the river that we arrived at via jet boat as part of a tour. We were not told there would be lunch served and I certainly did not expect it to contain some of the best tasting pork sausage you can imagine. I believe there was also fried coconut and tapioca… just imagine an extraordinarily delicious hash-brown. The usual tasty fresh fruit was also included, but that sausage was the star of the day. It also made for some joking between Erin and I… Because of Fiji’s distant historical tradition of cannibalism that even our tour guides were often willing to joke about… Which I’ll admit was a bit unsettling at first.
Posted in Photo Drop, Travelwith no comments yet.