A Look Inside Bazils

Come on in folks, everyone gets a look.  Step right up!  Take a tour of the world’s best campervan.  Maybe our next adventure will be inside a three ring circus.  Greg will charm snakes with Bazils’ water hose and Ash will perform contortionist positions inside the campervan’s nooks and crannies. 

We logged 5,362 kilometers attaining a dismal 8.14 liters/kilometer.  We consumed 659 liters of petrol at an average cost of $1.70 per liter.  Below is a pictoral tour of our home on wheels. 

The Driving Cockpit (that is what campervan pilots call it), water and LPG (cooking gas) tanks, and Greg’s daily task of filling the H2O:

Storage above table/bed, kitchen with Driving Cockpit behind, and cabinets, fridge, and stove:

What comes out of a tiny kitchen on wheels can be surprising: steak dinner with red wine, blueberry flapjacks, and a continental breakfast:

Bazils backside is beautiful… shots with the hatch popped, table in place, and Ash writing in pretty cursive in the journal.

The multi-functional table/bed area.  It can be used as a bench and when the sun sets the table doubles as a bed frame.  Ash loved to read prior to sleep, oh, and run down the campervan battery.

Campervans come in all shapes and sizes.  Makes and models.  New and old.  Bazils was perfect for us in every way and it was quite hard to say goodbye. Sob.

- Greg and Ash

Majesty of Milford Sound

One twisting road in, one twisting road out. But what ended up truly twisted were our minds. How on Earth could a place so incredible exist?

The mountain villages of New Zealand’s Southern Alps were tough to leave. There is the hip town of Wanaka that seems to be Queenstown’s little brother. Less people, but just as exciting. Not to mention you can rediscover your youth and imagination at Puzzle World. The Great Maze is 1.5 kilometers long and the average undertaking requires three times that distance. We were average on this day. The room of illusions made our brains ache. Lake Hawea’s shores were passed en route to Queenstown, the sensational adventure capital. Jet boating, zorbing, bungy, sky diving, white water rafting… all yours if credit card debt is not intimidating. Our most cherished campsite was a 45 minute drive outside Queenstown on Lake Moke. While not the easiest place to find, perhaps that is what makes this gem unspoiled. Alas, we tore ourselves away and motored to the famed Milford Sound.

Already overwhelmed with the incredible beauty rushing past Bazils as we navigated New Zealand’s twisting roadways, we were unprepared for imminent sensory overload. Without a shadow of a doubt, the two lane highway leading to/from Milford Sound is the South Island’s most scenic drive. Pull over, initiate hazard lights, scan the vista, tip nose up like a mutt, inhale sweet aromatic smells, take mental snapshots. Rinse, repeat… 35+ times. A rambling mountain creek seemingly followed us for hours, its shores surrounded by magnificent purple flower blooms. When the creek abandoned us, a rushing river of white foam accompanied us with evergreen trees standing tall. Then the pristine forest was relieved by a marsh that reflected the snow capped peaks. Then fog enveloped us and small droplets appeared on the windshield. Rats!

Rain nor menacing clouds could ruin the experience. Rather, Mother Nature was simply flexing her muscles and turned an already stunning canvas into a masterpiece. Mountaintops choking in dense fog and countless waterfalls appearing from the heavens. Ash and I took turns hollering, “holy smokes, oooh check that out, whoa.” All five senses working overtime. Next we came to a tunnel that resembled the entrance to a bomb shelter and after ten minutes the signal invited us in for a look. Though the tunnel was a bit unnerving due to lack of lighting and heaps of moisture, the darkness made the exit that more dramatic. Here we were, surrounded on all four sides with sheer cliffs of rock topped with ancient snow. How much more of this can we take?

Caught up in the drive itself, we nearly forgot our intended destination. Pulling into the main parking lot of Milford Sound, our eyes pulsated. The combination of late afternoon light, fog, and blackish water created a moment neither of us will ever forget. Mountains jutting out from watery depths, waterfalls providing background noise, the air a mix of recent rain and the sea. After learning the only campground in Milford Sound was full, we gladly settled in along the shore for the night. Who cares we smelled like yetis.

By morning the battle between sunshine and clouds was settled. Rays of light appeared abundant making Milford Sound look wholly different under mostly sunny skies. It was hard to decide which we preferred: veil of mysterious clouds or sunkissed vistas? Regardless, we boarded a seaworthy vessel and floated in a place once occupied by glaciers. Seeing large boats dwarfed by waterfalls and mountains emphasized the enormity of our surroundings. Hugging the southern coast of the sound, the mixture of the dark sea, cascading water, and towering mountains was mesmerizing. At one point, as I was running around the boat acting like a National Geographic photographer, my eyes met Ashley’s and our mutual wonderment was recognized.

Slowly, the width of Milford Sound grew larger and the Tasman Sea appeared. The whitecaps cresting in the open ocean reminded us of the protection provided by the snow covered mountains on either side. Now moving along the northern coastline and back towards the boat slip, numerous seals contended for prime sunbathing space on the odd boulder. Passing waterfall after crashing waterfall, four kayakers overflowing with ingenuity had fashioned a downwind sail out of a yellow tarp tied to their oars. The boat captain skillfully maneuvered the vessel into port with the paying customers exhibiting faces of a recent religious experience. Milford Sounds is that enchanting.

Morning brought even more sunshine the next day and short hikes allowed elevated views of nature’s beauty. The tide had moved out, which provided the opportunity to explore the sound’s seabed of round stones covered in slick green moss. From this vantage point, Mitre Peak stood proudly among the other towering peaks. The chilly water with an Antarctica origin provided a welcome drink and a brisk head shower.

One more mental snapshot, one more breath of the mountain/sea air, and one more soundbite of lapping water and the gentle wind. We bid adieu to this wondrous place vowing to someday come back and witness the majesty once more.

- Greg and Ash

Learn From Our Footsteps:

1. There is exactly one campground in Milford Sound and is booked solid by 9:00 AM everyday. The nearest alternative is one hour in the direction just traveled. Though prohibited, the parking lots fronting Milford Sound are full of campervans. There is no need to retrace your steps because the “no overnight parking” policy is rarely enforced. If a shower is what you are after, the lone campground charges a modest amount to use their facilities.
2. Do yourself a favor and plan ample time for the drive back and forth to Milford Sound. Numerous points of interest like The Chasm and Mirror Lakes are worth a quick hike. Not to mention, you will feel compelled to absorb your surroundings every ten minutes.
3. Several Department of Conservation campsites can be found about one hour outside Milford Sound. These are among the most scenic and remote. From these campsites, it is possible to take day trips to Milford Sound and avoid the crowds.

Mount St. Helens: Volcano Villarrica Scare Revisited

Months have passed since that terrifying November afternoon in Pucon, Chile.  Yet I think of the experience often.  The near misadventure hit home a bit harder after reading about the Mount St. Helens tragedy on February 15, 2010 (thanks for the heads up, Steve).

My first plane ride was at age 12 during a family trip to America’s Pacific Northwest and Canada.  Mount St. Helens was a highlight for all four of us and left a curiosity of volcanoes with me.  Though the infamous 1980 eruption claimed 57 souls, the majestic stratovolcano remains dangerous.  The lastest victim was 52 year old Joseph Bohlig, an experienced climber.

Reading about his fatal climb of this Pacific Ring of Fire volcano left me shaken once again. The similarities are numerous. “Boom, it busted off and I saw him clawing for the edge with a startled look on his face, and then he disappeared. I was looking right at him, he was only 10 feet away, then he just disappeared,” said fellow climber Scott Salkovics. Falling 1,500 feet onto rock and ice, Joseph is presumed to have died from trauma related to the fall, no autopsy required.

To anyone reading this, I beg you to seek proper advice before setting out on a snow covered volcano. You simply don’t know the thickness of snow/ice whether in a flat area or on a cornice. Joseph was an experienced climber. Ashley and I had two guides. Accidents like these do happen, sometimes with horrific consequences.  Our thoughts and prayers go out to his family and friends.

Read the Mount St. Helens story HERE

Read our original Volcano Villariaca, Chile post HERE

- Greg

3… 2… 1… Action: 440 Foot Bungy Jump

Watch and listen as we recount how New Zealand’s highest bungy jump scared the dickens out of Greg and barely raised Ashley’s heart rate.

Greg is up first and is all nerves:

Gravity proved strong on the way down and now that same force is draining all of Greg’s O+ blood to his cranium:

Ashley’s smile is genuine… she has no fear:

Taking in the private canyon views, Ash reflects during the ride back to the gondola:

- Greg and Ash

Learn From Our Footsteps:

1) After coughing up the necessary cash to own our experience on DVD, we regrettably discovered that the disc didn’t contain files that could be copied to computer.  Thus, the video below is taken from this tedious sequence of events: hook up external DVD player, position video camera to computer screen size, record video, save on thumb drive, upload in Internet Cafe to Flickr, post to FOF Blog.  Save yourself these headaches by ensuring that your adventure footage on DVD can in fact be copied onto a computer.  If not, the excursion operator may have an online option.

Elastic As A Lifeline

“Sweet as Bro.”  That’s the carefree Kiwi term tossed around like an American Football.  But our hearts and minds were not carefree at the moment.  Not when hundreds of rubber bands are affixed to your ankles and 700 feet below you lies a shallow creek with jagged rocks ready to impale you.  3…2…1…Jump!

Ash’s Bungy Experience

This time last year, my friend Jacalu said to me, “Ash, you have no fear.”  If only that were true.  I fear Greg’s gaseous mornings, dinosaurs, and dirty cutlery.  Bungy jumping never made my heart palpatate like dancing to “Stairway to Heaven” in 7th Grade with Evin Beck.  Once New Zealand made our shortlist of must see countries, I longed to throw myself off a Kiwi bridge, platform, or gondola.  That longing transformed quickly to a tight knot in my stomach after watching a brunette gal scream bloody murder as she bolted downward head first.  And this was from the viewing platform affixed to solid rock.  Boarding the cart which ferries thrill seekers to the actual jump gondola added fuel to the fire.  The blustery wind (our 12:00pm slot was rescheduled for 2:30pm due to gusts), the increasing height, and tight quarters were a potent mix!  Once on the gondola, my nerves cleared like a late afternoon thunderstorm.  Watching Greg prepare to jump made my heart race, but once he was back safely, everything was hunky-dory.  Even while being fitted into ankle harnesses and receiving imperative instructions, I was cool, calm, and collected.

Shuffling to the plank edge didn’t even create anxiety.  Three seconds later, all bets were off.  Falling, falling, falling.  The rocky stream below and the surrounding canyon rushing towards my blue eyes of terror.  Panic.  Wondering if the bungy rope would ever engage, I experienced something never felt before.  My body had an overwhelming feeling of preparing for a shock.  This seemingly infinite fall was my kryptonite.  But oh so softly, my descent slowed and my confused body joyfully joined the increasingly slackened rope.  Upon realizing the bungy had been engaged, both my hands instinctively were placed on my head and I breathed for the first time.  On the second bungy, I performed the midair situp and released my shackled ankles and flipped around into a comfortable repelling position.  The canyon walls and river below no longer resembled heartless killers.  Back on the platform, my thoughts/feelings were processed and I came to understand that in panic situations like this, your brain lacks the required time to make rational decisions.  Your body simply reacts.  The intense feeling of bungy jumping is wholly different from skydiving because the proximity of the ground makes eventual outcomes happen in an instant.  The experience was unforgettable, but one I plan not to repeat.  When wanting an adrenaline rush at terminal velocity, I will stick to skydiving.  Strange as that might be.

Greg’s Bungy Experience

Ashley just loves to recount the tears welling up in my eyes when recounting my experience.  Oh how she loves embellishing a tale!  For the record, this is not an accurate account.  However, riding the “trolley” across the abyss below to the gondola suspended between two towering mountains, I was having serious second thoughts.  If AJ Hacket (bungy operator) would have said, “you may opt out, 100% refund, you are a sissy,” who knows what I would have done.  But they didn’t and here I was standing on a floating hulk of steel, my thoughts confused due to the reverberating Top 40 music blaring over tiny Bose speakers.  Order of bungy jumper is done by weight, so Ash watched intently as my harness and ankles were rigged with the elastic rope.  Sitting in the dentist chair, as they called it, I was near panic.  The time had come.  Ankles knotted together, my feet shuffled themselves to the edge of the thin plank.  Foolishly, I took one glance down.  Then applied all focus to the mountain top ahead and listened closely to instructions from the curly haired Jump Master.  Sensing my sincere fright, he turned the screws on me by messing with the countdown and assuring me it had been a long day, that he wasn’t sure the rigging was correct.  Hilarious.

3…2…1… My knees bent then sprung.  My shaking arms formed a crippled swan dive as I screamed at the top of lungs.  The most terrified I have ever been.  It had been ninety minutes of nerves since we departed Queenstown and they were dashed in a blink.  Pure terror now pure bliss.  The free feeling was like no other and as I plummeted to the Earth, I didn’t want it to end.  Gently, I came to a stop and slowly bounced toward the origin of the jump.  Clapping, screams of joy, huge smile.  I had conquered my #1 fear (not sure what has replaced it).  On the second recoil the jumper is supposed to release their ankle harness and flip around into a seated position. No such luck for me and with every drop of blood rushing to my head, I was pulled back to the gondola, upside down, for what seemed like an eternity.  Back on the jumping platform, I spied Ashley and gave her a smile from ear to ear, my eyes now severely bloodshot.  Once we decided to pursue our dream of traveling the world, bungy jumping in Queenstown was cemented as a must do.  Now twelve months of worry was over.  Way over!

- Greg and Ash

Learn From Our Footsteps:

1) Greg – If you have a fear, tackle it head on.  Easier said then done, so I thought.  It was a liberating experience, one that I will draw in the future when needed.
2) Ash – Don’t be intimidated by other jumpers nor let their fears cloud your mind.  Focus on the jump itself, step up to the platform, do not hesitate, then make the leap!  Hesitation is paralyzing, as we saw first hand.

Water Table Claims ‘No Vacancy’

This is the perfect place to retire as a meteorologist.  40% chance of rain, partly cloudy.  This is my forecast for the next 365 days, tune in next year.  In fact, the South Island’s West Coast is lashed with rain almost year round at a predictable rate. 

40%?  Try 72+ hours of straight precipitation.  With the unrelenting rain pouring from the gray sky for three days, the Kiwi soil could absorb no more.  The water table claimed ‘no vacancy’ as fields turned to swamps and roads became streams.  At one such washout along the two-lane highway, we watched an ambulance push a helplessly stalled station wagon from a watery grave.  Creek banks failed to corral the onslaught of water as tall trees were reduced to mere shrubs due to the height of the rushing brown tide.  It was a remarkable sight one moment and worrisome the next.  But the merciless clouds above could not care less.

Regardless, we took in the coastline at Cape Foulwind watching seal pups bark and splash.  The Cape is just one of many spots along the coast blessed with staggering cliffs being pounded by the Tasman Sea.  Further South, we directed Bazils onto a deserted beach at Dolomite Point and made a luxurious lunch of ramen noodles and peanut butter sandwiches.  The sea was angry on this day.  With the wind howling, rain falling horizontally, and waves crashing like the equity market on Black Friday, the spectacle was viewed from our dry campervan bed.  As Ash watched, I dawned my GoLite rain jacket and went in for a closer look at the surf.  Bad idea.  Driving in just boxers as my “go to” shorts dried in the back was not my cup of tea.  Though Ash got a good laugh.  Ha ha. 

Still motoring South, we reached the much talked about Pancake Rocks.  How this geological phenomenon came to be is still unexplained.  Once again, the parkas were deployed.  In addition to the rocks that begged for Mrs. Buttersworth, there are several blowholes that fiercely propel water upwards at high tide.  Sadly, we missed the nature show by a few hours.  It was a quick stop as the weather was unrelenting, particularly the wind.  Wet again.

Southbound once more, hoping the intensity of the rain hadn’t decimated the Franz Joseph Glacier.  Our pace had slowed considerably because many of the roads developed a phobia of rainwater management.  Having talked with fellow travelers who had experienced both the Kiwi and Argentinian glaciers, our expectations were tempered.  But any glacier is an incredible site and the controversy surrounding these “advancing” masses of ancient ice piqued our interest.  To our delight, the observation point of Franz Joseph was a mere fifteen minute hike through dense forest.  We marveled at the crawling body of ice and watched trekkers the size of ants traverse the jagged surface.  Leaving the car park en route to Fox Glacier, we picked up our first of many hitchhikers, none of which turned out to be calculating killers.

If Finnish Chris and I were having a wet t-shirt contest, he won hands down.  After hiking New Zealand’s Southern Alps for four days, we should have wrung him out and created a profitable bottled water business.  Ash even offered Chris one of her prized cookies from the Makana Chocolate Factory.  Once again, the point of observation was a quick walk.  Though the lion’s share of Fox Glacier is obstructed due to a pesky mountain, one can still admire its beauty.  Different from Franz Joseph, Fox Glacier has a wide glacial stream that captured out attention.  Its wild nature keeps the National Park staff busy as it changes path frequently and landslides only frustrate the situation.  The cement colored water carried large chunks of ice downstream while smooth rocks fought to hold on.

Ash thought better of my idea to preserve a piece of glacial ice in Bazils’ fridge and with that we drove to New Zealand’s most photographed inland body of water, Lake Matheson.  Has the rain been mentioned?  The hiking around this rather small lake was sensational, but Mother Nature ruined any hope of snow-capped mountain reflections on the still water.  I was bummed and fed up with the rain, though no amount of complaining would usher in blue clear skies.

So my daily forecast of 40% chance of showers would have suffered under the actual conditions.  It seems meteorology won’t pave our way into the golden years. 

- Greg and Ash

Learn From Our Footsteps:

1) Having had an unforgettable journey around the incredible glaciers of Argentina Patagonia (http://followourfootsteps.com/2009/11/22/a-real-page-turner/, http://followourfootsteps.com/2009/11/13/patagonia-el-calafate/), we opted to save money and not take a trek onto Franz Joseph or Fox Glaciers.  In our judgment, most glacier day-trips are similar and unless a lengthy period of time has passed since your last icy adventure, your money is better spent elsewhere.
2) When driving over a section of road turned stream be sure to turn off your automobile’s HVAC.  The air intake pipe associated with this system can suck in water thereby flooding your engine and drowning your budget.  This lesson courtesy of our friend, The Dog, who flooded his family’s BMW convertible while crossing an inundated dip in Cincinnati.

Farewell North, Hello South

2,000 kilometers were logged as we explored the North Island along beaches, muddy dirt roads, asphalt, and green pastures. Next was the vehicle bay of the 450 foot Bluebridge Ferry. Ash and I both fancied driving the campervan onto a boat, that was until we engaged the parking break, stepped onto the metal deck and took in wafts of stale urine. Once comfortable in the passenger area, we settled in for the three hour ride across the Cook Strait to Picton on the South Island. Though the rain and clouds were persistent, the scenery was worth the price of admission.

Fleece sleeves covering our noses, we fired up Bazils and drove down the steel ferry plank onto the South Island. One quick look at our trusty atlas and we were off to Marlborough wine country. Having started New Zealand’s booming wine exporting industry, the area is known for Sauvignon Blanc. The region’s capital, Blenheim, is flanked by numerous vineyards so we started with one of New Zealand’s largest exporters, Cloud Bay. The grounds and tasting room were top notch, but the wine… not so much. Framingham’s grape goodness made up for the previous winery’s shortcomings. The wine cellar was reminiscent of a medieval dungeon, which I thoroughly enjoyed. Last wine stop was Bladen, voted Marlborough’s #1 cellar door. The charming tasting room that adjoined the family’s humble abode was surrounded by blossoming vines. Twas a blissful setting to whet our pallets once more. Before embarking on our jaunt up the South Island’s Northwest coast, we feasted on every imaginable creation at Makana Chocolate Factory.

Golden Bay, the Northern tip culminating with the world’s longest sandbar at Farewell Spit, is a scenic drive with few vehicles navigating the hilly and twisty terrain. After an hour of seemingly endless uphill hairpins, it was down the equally steep backside of the mountain towards Able Tasman National Park. In the distance was billowing white smoke. Somehow amongst the verdant green hillside, a small fire had broken out that threatened nearby homes. After a long day of driving, we settled into a campsite on Parapara Beach. Wine glasses in hand, we strolled along the sand and rock as the sun turned the blue sky into a beautiful array of pinks and purples. A nightcap was had around a child’s abandoned campfire.

With a warm cup of Joe providing wind for our sails, it was off to Te Waikoropupu (Pupu Springs) early the next morning. The remarkable springs known for the clear water holds spiritual significance to the Maori People. They used the pure water to bless departing and returning travelers, thus the history of the spring struck a chord. Besides the spiritual importance, the water holds the world record for fresh water visibility: 207 feet. If that wasn’t impressive enough, this clarity is achieved while water is discharged from underground caverns at a rate of 3,000 gallons per second, enough to fill Ashley’s coveted bathtub 40 times. On such a sunny day, the white sand bottom of the eight springs magnificently reflected blues and greens. A magical place.

As Bazils headed for the West coast, we hugged the Buller River, New Zealand’s longest stretch of inland water. This expanse of road offered amazing views, yet again. The Buller River meandered alongside the asphalt pavement as it approached the Tasman Sea in Westport. Progress was slow to our destination when we felt compelled to stop every ten minutes to soak in the scenery. At every turn, we collectively gasped at how picturesque this country can be whether sunny or dumping rain (more on that in the next blog entry).

Pulling into Westport as the skies opened up, it was clear this day was not meant for hiking. Anxious to be relieved from our tight quarters in Bazils, the sage advice of a local was sought. Next thing we know, the sweet smell of barley and hops was in the air. Touring New Zealand’s oldest craft beer maker, Monteith’s, was a rewarding experience. Our friendly Kiwi guide showed us the thirteen steps to produce what we hoped were delicious suds. Thankfully, the tour climaxed at the brewery bar where the sampling of eight varieties took place. Jackpot. Ash had a hard time keeping up with myself and four other beer aficionados as the tasting amounts were hefty. Once through the tedious process of taste testing, one by one we found our way behind the bar and poured our favorite pint. Ash loved the Cider and I preferred Monteith’s Black. What better way to finish a brewery tour than some fish and chips? Unwrapping the Westport News, our fingers now black from ink, we dug into the local catch, salted to perfection.

Hello South Island.

- Greg and Ash

Learn From Our Footsteps:

1) There are two ferry companies operating the Cook Strait: Bluebridge and Interislander. Bluebridge is generally cheaper. Regardless of the operator, booking early will save money, but reduce your flexibility. You must pay for each person (about $35) in addition to a vehicle (about $225 for a 22 foot campervan) if you have one. Don’t be duped by campervan rental companies offering you a discount on the Cook Strait, purchase directly with the ferry operator.
2) When checking into a campground in the evening, inquire if there is a late arrival price. In towns where you have multiple options, some Holiday Parks will offer a reduced rate assuming they have spots to fill.

3…2…1… Action: New Zealand (Part I of II)

The beauty of New Zealand surpassed our expectations.  Of the places visited to date, Argentina and this incredible nation have left a lasting impression.  We hope these videos exhibit the variety of landscapes New Zealand offers.

1) Driving to New Zealand’s tallest Mountain, the majestic Mt. Cook with Lake Pukaki adding sparkle.  Don’t adjust your computer monitor, the shaking is Ash’s nervous habit when I drive.

2) Our favorite campsite of all: Lake Moke outside Queenstown.  The fog, sheep, and windy roads when arriving at night tested our nerves.  But my oh my was the view in the morning worth it! 

3) The rocky North Island coast at sunset along Cape Foulwind.  Greg on entrance vocals, Ash on Canon SX10IS. 

- Greg and Ashley

RTW Photo / Video Gallery

Ashley likes to call Greg “Hideki, her Japanese Tourist.” This loving nickname on account of all the photos he takes. Perhaps she is correct… it has been five months and 4,728 Photos and 37 Videos have been uploaded to the Follow Our Footsteps Flickr page. Don’t worry… there are plenty more in the queue! Content is uploaded in fits due to fleeting access to Internet while on the road.

At the very top of the FOF homepage is a link called “Gallery.” Click that and you will be taken to a custom webpage with four tabs from which to choose.

1) Photostream: these are the latest photos that have been uploaded to Flickr. They are not sorted.
2) Photosets: arranged alphabetically by country name, you may choose sets of photos from particular areas of each nation.
3) Collections: arranged alphabetically by country name, a mosaic of 12 photos is displayed with a short description of where the photos originate. Clicking on the picture arrangement will allow you to choose particular Photosets to view.
4) Interesting: if you can explain the rhyme or reason on this tab, be sure to let us know. Best we can tell, it is a random assortment of 1000s of photos.

Of course, you may also access the FOF Flickr page (and see full-sized images) by clicking on photos within blog posts.

We hope everyone is doing well and you enjoy the amateur photography.

- Ashley and Greg (aka Hideki)

Learn From Our Footsteps:

1) Uploading photos / video can be time intensive.  Once you have content to upload to your online storage provider (Flickr, Kodak), place it on a Thumb Drive.  Carry this small hard drive in your pocket and as you visit Internet Cafes, plug the small devise in the USB port and upload it as you can.

2) When you come across hostels / hotels with Internet included, use this opportunity to upload large files like video.  We like to let our netbook run at night to process lots of content.

3) When your memory card(s) are full, be sure to back them up.  DVDs are your best bet because they hold ample media and are light enough to send home economically.  If you are carrying a laptop / netbook, back up pictures there too.

Wine Cellar On Wheels

Our campervan lacked a theme.  Sure, she had a rad name: Bazils.  But at the end of the day, she was an ordinary home on wheels.  She wanted an identity.  Enter wine connoisseur, snob, and gulper: Ashley Miller.

Seven days on the North Island went by in a flash and too many kilometers were logged.  A day with absolutely no driving was in order and Ash found just the spot: Martinborough.  This inviting municipality is located just outside Wellington where the North Island terminates.  A peculiar component and one of Ashley’s favorite past times drew us to this quaint town.  The avenues are named after places the founder had visited including some US States.  Oh, and there are numerous vineyards.  As my buddy Can Can wrote me via electronic mail, it seems our destinations all have something in common… wine.  Ashley’s purple teeth certainly verify this fact.  With Ashley foaming at the mouth, Bazils stopped short of a fence abutting a polo field and we hit the pavement after quick showers… it had been a few days!

Be it Napa, California or Mendoza, Argentina, wine producing areas share a common problem: one must drive or ride bicycles because of the distance between cellar doors.  Each mode of transportation presents its own problems like budgetary constraints, DUI, and safety.  Ahhh, the shoe-string-express cures all ills!  A handy “Wine Tour” brochure provided a colorful map and an ambitious assault plan on four wineries was created.  The first battlefield was cleverly named Martinborough Vineyard, but the grape juice was anything but bland.  Despite me pointing out that Bazils was quickly becoming a wine cellar on wheels due to tastings a few days prior, Ash couldn’t leave without their 2008 Te Tera Pinot Noir.  Let it be said: we already had five bottles of vino on board.

Not needing a designated driver (Ash refused to drive Bazils, so this was a moot point), we tasted ten wines at Margraine.  Starting with champagne and ending with port, our taste buds were on a runaway train.  At this point, we were hoping the vineyard name was not indicative of our general health in the morning.  During the tasting, several Europeans and the wine provider herself started ganging up on us two Americans, saying we as a nation don’t enjoy laughing at ourselves.  Never before had I thought Jeff Foxworthy would be helpful when defending America’s reputation.  Boy did he suffice.  Our heads held high, we departed with a Pinot Rose.  Ash insisted this one would be consumed on a Fijian beach.

A leisurely stroll down one of Martinborough’s rustic streets and we arrived at Ata Rangi, one of the original cellar doors in this simple town.  Walking up the drive to the vineyard was sensational with wildflowers blooming and rose bushes marking the start of each row of grapevines.  Interestingly, wine producers plant rose bushes here to protect the fruit because if disease begins to spread, the beautiful flower will show signs first.  Once the distracting environment released us, six wines met our awaiting pallets.  Once again, it was hard for Ashley to simply walk away.  Lest the two previously purchased bottles were getting lonely, a 2007 Celebre variety provided some company. 

Already impressed with the quality of wine produced in this picturesque region of New Zealand, the best vineyard was the finale.  Again, the approaching walk was a delight with horses and an eternity of grapevines.  Vynfield was situated at the foot of rolling green hills and a cream colored home looked incredibly inviting.  Before imbibing on more fruit goodness, we learned how the domicile came to be.  Similar to how Ashley’s parents created their home in Kansas, the house was moved in separate pieces from the country and reassembled at its present location.  Quite amazing really.  Wanting to enjoy the pleasant aesthetics, we chose to drink from flights outside in the garden area.  Perhaps all the wine and fresh air had gone to my head, because this time it was yours truly that wanted the 2007 Pinot Noir Reserve.  It was a real treat on Christmas Day in the South Pacific.

Four bottles of wine to add to our growing collection… that was enough for one day.  So we headed into town to find some street signs.  That is what you do after wine tasting, of course.  This city boy from Cincinnati, Ohio and country gal from Claflin, Kansas must be meant for each other.  Low and behold, the streets of Ohio and Kansas intersected!  Ash was so excited that she climbed on top of the neighboring white picket fence to get her petite body under the KS sign.  Not wanting to be imprisoned for loitering, our time beneath the street signs was limited to ten minutes. 

With bag ‘o wine in tow, we joyfully meandered back to Bazils where Ash cooked green pepper burgers and pasta for dinner.  One guess what she served to drink. 

- Greg and Ash    

Learn From Our Footsteps:

1) Most vineyards in Martinborough charge a fair price of $5 NZ per person to taste their wine.  However, they will waive that fee if you purchase a bottle.  Thus, that $17 NZ vintage doesn’t seem so expensive when you count your tasting fee.  All but one winery we visited waived both of our tasting fees with a purchase.  Thus, a $7 NZ bottle of wine from the cellar door is dang good. 
2) We purchased ten bottles of wine while in New Zealand.  It is that good.  But the ones we drank in Fiji or later in New Zealand developed a slight vinegar taste as a result of storing them in a hot campervan.  If cruising around with wine in a vehicle for an extended period of time, find a cool/dark place to house them. 
3) New Zealand’s most popular wine region is Blenheim on the South Island.  While the product there is good (we purchased three bottles… put the wallet away Ashley), we both prefer Martinborough not only for the quality of wine, but the layout as well.