About to call the hostel I stayed at in Taupo (an hour south of where I am now) to see if maybe they have my camera, because I sure don’t. And then I leave Rotorua with Isaac and Melanie, headed for Kerikeri.

7 hours of driving may be the longest of the trip.

Also, I jumped out of a plane on Wednesday, even though I didn’t have to. In fact, I paid for the experience. It was strangely exactly what I thought it’d be, which takes nothing away from the event. Whoa.

It is strange to climb 6k up 750m of stairs. But this is how it is, if you want to get halfway up Fantham’s Peak. The upside was the great view of Mt. Taranaki and the surrounding area. Currently, my legs don’t really work.

I’m back from the rainbow gathering and in Takaka at a little backpackers.

Too much happened to write about (maybe I’m also tired) but when I get home, if you ask, I will tell you stories.

Right now, it feels strange to be back to civilization.

Also, my beard is the longest it has ever been.

And it looks like I have chicken pox from all of the sand fly bites.

And my toes are tan for the first time since ever.

And I have a sty that is taking over my eye.

Also, you guys, it’s 2010. Holy moly.

It’s Christmas morning here in Karamea.

I went to the beach twice yesterday. Christmas Eve with beers and the sunset, followed by a bon fire out back.

Today the forecast calls for clear skies and a temperature of 20c(68f).

We’re having a big potluck at the backpackers, and I’m going to make a green bean casserole thing.

It doesn’t feel like Christmas. It’s like all those times I would listen to the Charlie Brown’s Christmas soundtrack in June.

Red Crystal Earth

Being in the wrong place at the right time > Being in the right place at the wrong time

Glow worms in caves like on the TV

Playing Sun Ra on the radio

Being brave and not being brave

Finishing books you really loved

Different and the same all at once

Old habits

Church Of Yeah

No one seeing the Southern Cross

The pretty tone of the siren for the fire brigade at 4am

I just had a lot of fun.

The hostel I’m staying at has a radio station. And they let all the guests here have complete control over what’s played. And so just now, like 5 minutes ago, I finished up an hour long set of music from the northwest. I’m happy to say that Karamea, population 700, just got to hear M Women, Gazzelle and Iji. And a bunch of other NW bands off my iPod.

This place is amazing. Come to Rongo Backpackers. There is no disappointment, even on gross, rainy days like today.

Today i walked into two caves, and walked THROUGH another one.
It is amazing up here.

There is an old man named Paul who is around. I’m not sure if he’s booked at the hostel or what, but he’s around.
And he uses meditation to reach higher levels of being, and talks a lot about aliens (he calls them ET’s) that he connects with. It is interesting.

Also:
I really like Madonna from the 80’s.

Sorry Wellington, my New Year’s plans are off. I’m headed to the World Rainbow Festival instead.

In the meantime, I’m at Rongo Backpackers, at the very northern end of the west coast highway, in the tiny, tiny town of Karamea.

Things are clicking again.

A few hours up the coast now in Greymouth at a backpackers, looking forward to night 13 in my tent. (The one night I spent passed out on the floor at The A-Teams lodging was pretty close to sleeping in a tent. I was on the floor, afterall.)

Maybe I could just say, night 13 of no beds. There, that clears this all up.

Well, time to go eavesdrop on some germans. If only I spoke german.

It was sad leaving Christchurch behind, and sad leaving Oamaru, and sad leaving Fox Glacier. The places themselves have their individual charms, but it’s the people I miss.

My 10 days in Fox were weird in a great way.

Thanks be to the A-Team for all of our adventures.

Who will I meet next?

Gandolf?

The Black Stallion has been repaired.

Fox Glacier, it’s been real. Real wet.

Tomorrow I head for Greymouth.

Yesterday’s rain was weird. It rained and rained and rained and rained. When it seemed like it had let up, it was still raining hard. Spending 1 minute in the rain insured a head to toe drenching. I was running down the street as to spend less time in the rain and was splashed by a car driving by. The puddle was probably 8 inches deep and the wave as tall as I am. It was like on TV. I just stood there with my hands raised like, “Really?” And then I laughed out loud the whole way back to my tent. And then spent 10 minutes mopping up the water that had gotten in.

Allison, Allyson and I went out to the only open pub in Fox Glacier last night and proceeded to meet every young person here. And two old guys. It was amazing.

We went out because last night was supposed to be my last night in town, but at the pub I was informed that the part never came in. Probably because of the rain.

It has been raining so hard for basically the last day. Pretty much the hardest I’ve seen it rain, ever. I’m glad my tent works. Maybe tonight I’ll try something new and keep my boots IN my tent.

My noble stead, Black Stallion, broke down in Fox Glacier on Sunday, so I’ve been marooned ever since. He should be back on the road tomorrow night. Fox Glacier is tiny and if it weren’t a tourist town, I’m sure the locals would be starting to wonder about the weirdo with the dirty jeans and orange touque wandering between town and campsite. Raised eyebrows, stroking their chins thinkin’, “Must be lost.”

Glaciers are impressive for at least 30 reasons, most of which revolve around the fact that mountains stand no chance. No chance at all, mountains, so don’t get any funny ideas.