I like having my own space. I like it a lot. I like quiet. I like clean. I like things the way I like them. I often grumble about how much I hate people. Because I do. But since I am usually stating this to a friend, it becomes very obvious very quickly that maybe I'm a liar.
Okay, here it is: People fascinate me.
My own life is relentlessly dizzying ... and yours? There is the big picture and the fine detail -- and the connections from where it all began to the streams, twists, and knots encountered along the way. As someone who is on the slowest, most spastic journey, I have a curious urge to decipher the patterns that comprise [and drive] a minute, an hour, a life.
For this past month, I loved having a partner in time. I was going to say crime, but we had more endless days than criminal days. I met a lot of people on this trip, asked a lot of questions, eavesdropped ... and, yeah, people are alright.
I have not even finished going through one half of one memory card. I'm also trying not to give it all away at once. It's not that I'm a tease, but someone[s], somewhere, is going to be forced [kindly] to sit through my entire slideshow and I really want it to be fresh and exciting. Seeing it all now means a lot less "WOW" at show time. That would be unfortunate.
90 Mile Beach
90 Mile Beach
It is all very peculiar.
90 Mile Beach is really only 55 miles and the blatant use of the non-metric "Mile" remains a mystery. After Cape Reinga, we cruised along the west coast of the North Island and navigated the tides of the Tasman Sea. We conquered this sandy terrain by coach bus. It is difficult to grasp, but take a standard tour bus and place it in this scene. You can see tire marks in the first photo. After all, 90 Mile Beach is a designated highway.
The second photo is special. It is the only one I captured of the site where we went dune riding. After I snapped this, I sprinted out of the bus into the pouring rain with nothing but a tank-top, jeans, and a toboggan. Ugh.
But wait! Can you spot it? Do you see it?
I spy: the faint tracks of previous dune riders.
I spy: a man holding a hot pink toboggan climbing the dune.
I spy: a dune rider riding.
Put THAT in perspective.
Mangawhai Heads, NZ
Mangawhai Heads, NZ
In New Zealand, landscapes change abruptly. From snowy mountains to rainforests to forests to pastures to rolling hills to rocks to white sands to black sands to ocean. Above, layers of clouds move across the sky capturing and releasing sunlight constantly and inconsistently. What is there now is not there later; the land is in perpetual motion.
Meet Wonky! And the other one! I have so many pictures of sheep + lambs from all over New Zealand, oooooh! But these two guys had recently been rescued and were staying at the farm where we were staying. Neighbors! Also, there was a pig.
I know, I know. Right about here would be something about glowworms and cave rafting. I'll get to it eventually. Since I have no photographs of these events, sorry, I was thinking I might draw a diagram instead.
Mmmm, the smell of sulfur ...
What planet am I on?
The first photo was taken in Waimangu Volcanic Valley, the world's youngest geothermal eco-system. With a little over an hour before the trails closed, we walked briskly along the steaming path. In this one small segment we witnessed unbelievable expressions of nature. I can only imagine the massive crayola box used to create the rest of the region.
The second photo was taken when we visited Te Puia -- New Zealand Maori Arts and Crafts Institute. We watched a cultural performance [Haka dance!] followed by a stroll over to the Pohutu Geyser.
Foggy lens. True colors.