And now friends, the thrilling conclusion, as promised....over a year ago. We told you we were great at cliffhangers!

While it's unlikely that anyone besides us will read this, we figured, nearing the two year anniversary of our arrival to the other side of the world, it was high time to wrap up the telling of our adventures in Aotearoa, the land of the long white cloud! When we last checked in, we were leaving Rotorua and heading up to the Northland for one last adventure.

After spending a view nights in the bustling metropolis of Auckland, making travel arrangements and attempting to sell our beloved Smaug, we finally decided that our time would be better spent if we found one last relaxing destination to spend our last few days in the country. We could worry about selling our car later, like when we were on our way to the airport. So as a tropical storm was waylaying the northeast coast of the North Island, we packed up and prepared Smaug for one last feat of strength as we set off for the small town of Russell in the Bay of Islands.

Consulting our handy atlas, we decided we would take the Old Russell Road, because it was clearly the most direct route. Under normal conditions, and if it were a normal road, this might have been true, but soon after we left the highway, the pavement disappeared, the ocean began falling from the sky, and the windy dirt "road" we chose was quickly littered with downed trees. However, being as accustomed as we were at this point to transportation woes, we navigated the minefield, and a short two hours of white-knuckle driving later, the clouds parted and the setting sun presented itself to us as we gratefully rolled into Russell. (Soon after our arrival, we learned that there was a free ferry that we could have taken, saving us 2 hours and loads of stress, so next to time you find yourself in the Bay of Islands en route to Russell, look into the Opua-Okiato Ferry.)

We only had two nights and one day before we had to head back to Auckland to fly home, giving us just enough time to tick off our final must dos:

1) Eat fish and chips wrapped in newspaper on a boat converted into a restaurant - check

2) Improvise a haka next to a Maori war canoe at the site of the Waitangi Treaty - and check

Strange objectives, yes, but next time you're on the boat from Russell to Paihia, brainstorming how to spend your last day in New Zealand, we'll see if you come up with better!

Our few days in the Bay of Islands was a perfect venue to conclude our adventure, away from the noise and stress of the big city we had just left. Another fantastically beautiful and peaceful spot in a country with a seemingly endless supply of them, we enjoyed looking back on the memories we'd created, friends we'd made, enemies we'd vanquished (or at the very least, annoyed) and pondered what future adventures lay ahead.

Our time in New Zealand came to a fairly abrupt end, due to a number of intersecting circumstances, but ultimately, we knew the time was right. Winter was moving in, and we had enjoyed having a year without it, so the call of summer in the Rocky Mountains was too strong to deny. After a hectic day traveling back to Auckland, fortuitously selling our Smaug en route to the airport to some fellow travelers beginning their adventure, before we knew it, we were over the Pacific ocean, on our way to Colorado.

And here we have remained. We've enjoyed two beautiful, fire-free summers in the Rocky Mountains, and now once again gratefully embrace the cradling calm of winter. We've settled back into mountain life, in an old stone house in the hills southwest of Denver, at the foot of Mount Snerpus.

These days are restful and rejuvenating, but all of life is an adventure, and we're always looking to our next experience. Sooner or later, we may exhaust the beneficent graces of youthful freedom, but hopefully that day will sail by us without our noticing, and life in Neverland will proceed, uninterrupted.

To all who have followed along, thank you! For allowing us to share our journey with you, for your words of encouragement and support, for the persistent nay-saying of our so called friend Jay Lewis, whether actively following along or occasionally checking in, we hope you've enjoyed our story, and inspired you to plan an exploit of your own!

 Until the next!

Roto-Vegas

Up until a few days ago, we'd been living in Rotorua for close to three months, and we recently realized that we've hardly said anything about it. Well, we'll give you the same introduction we were given to the city from our guide book as we traveled across the North Island en route to our new home: "You can smell Rotorua long before you see it." Awesome.

Fortunately, after years of living in the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem, the sulfur stench is one to which we we've grown accustomed. However, the strong whiff of eggs you experience when you pull into the parking area for Black Dragon Cauldron shocks less than the olfactory headbutt the same odor inspires when you open your door in the parking lot of the Countdown during your weekly grocery shopping, the difference spouting from the realization that you're living in a good size city that's been built atop a volcano.

Rotorua bears some similarities to northwest Wyoming in the area of geothermal activity. Lake Taupo, about an hour south, sits atop a large caldera (not a super-caldera, mind you), which erupts like clockwork every 1-2 thousand years. The last eruption, which occurred about 1800 years ago, is considered one of the most violent global eruptions of the last 5000 years, and correlating historical records in countries as far away as China and Italy report the sky turning red around the time of the eruption. Almost 2000 years later, you can still smell it. 

But the town isn't merely a smelly mud pot. It's a recreational wonderland situated ideally to explore some of the North Island's best offerings. And if one benefit exists to working in the hospitality industry, it's that we often have the opportunity to experience awesome activities for significant discounts, if not for free. Considering the abundance of such opportunities in our new neighborhood, we set out to take full advantage of the biz. The vast majority of these offerings were some form of hot-water-soaking-mud-bath-leave-you-smelling-like-hard-boiled-eggs-for-a-week activities, and there's not much to say about those. 

Sure, each spot was unique, impressive and enjoyable in its own way, but ultimately, we just sat there. However, a couple of our outings over the past few weeks have stood out as memorable experiences, starting with our reunion with our old South Island buds, Jess & Eli!

When we left Fox Glacier, we made preliminary plans to meet up in a few months. We left at the beginning of March, and their obligations had them remaining until the end of April. Once May arrived, they were on the road, and on their way to Auckland before flying back to the States, and they made time to stop in and see us for a few days!

On day one, we did a short hike out to Okere Falls (which is the highest commercially rafted waterfall in the world; more on that to come), and we had a nice stroll through Rotorua's expansive Redwood Forest. On day two, an event that all (or at least the boys of the group) had long anticipated: a trip to Hobbiton!

About an hour from Rotorua, just south of Matamata, sits the Alexander Farm, the site chosen to be transformed into the Shire, where today you can explore 3-4 dozen reasonably well preserved Hobbit holes. Both parties had long ago decided that we would pay a visit before we left the country, so on this fateful morn, we formed a caravan, queued up one of the movie soundtracks in each car, and set out for Westfarthing!

We had a pretty rainy day for our visit to the Shire, but we still had a great time listening to all sorts of inane LOTR trivia and barging into Bag End (on official party business, of course). Sadly, the end of the day also marked the end of our time with Eli and Jess in New Zealand, as they were heading off to Hamilton, the Coromandel, and finally Auckland to fly home. But we'll catch up with them in Missoula some day soon!

On our next weekend, we thought “Hey, remember that big waterfall we saw with Jess & Eli last week? We should see if we could can ride a boat over that!” One of our coworkers had told us about the rafting when we first arrived in the area, but until now we had forgotten about it. A few phone calls later, we were booked in for the next morning.

Although winter has arrived here, and we've experienced some near-freezing temperatures, we enjoyed a mild morning, a surprisingly beautiful float through native bush and the best whitewater rafting we've ever experienced. The climax of the trip was the aforementioned plunge over Okere Falls, a 7 meter vertical drop which, according to our safety disclaimers, results in the raft flipping over and everyone falling out roughly 5% of the time. As exhilarating as it was, we can't really say the fall was particularly enjoyable. We fell fast, collided with the pool below, completely submerged the raft and smashed our heads together. It hurt, but we got some great pictures out of it!

Our guides, Nigel from New Zealand and Stefan from Wales, had a blast intimidating and taking the piss out of everyone. No, they didn't ask us for urine samples, that's just a Kiwi colloquialism for making fun of us. Or maybe when you take the piss you're being made fun of. Or you're drunk. We haven't really figured it out. Either way, we ended that trip with empty bladders, figuratively.

You can check out the full album from the day here.

The rafting probably ranks at the top of the list for our Rotorua activities, but we've done all sorts of other fun stuff. When we first arrived there, we were treated to a Maori cultural show & dinner, where 20 or so loincloth-clad warriors with face tattoos perform a haka (which is the inspiration for probably the most intimidating pre-game ritual in all international sports), explain a lot about Maori history and tradition, and finally serve everyone an earth-cooked hangi feast. A few weeks later, we went on a canopy tour, which is an elevated series of zip-lines through a preserved patch of virgin forest, mixed with a series of interpretive talks about native flora and fauna and local conservation efforts. And we've soaked in mud and all manner of hot smelly substances.

Other than our weekend outings, we lived and worked at a beautiful huge lodge outside of town. All hospitality work is generally the same, so that part of our lives was just business as usual. However, the lodge sits on a beautiful piece of farm land, and we had lots of great critters to play with everyday. We had a donkey (Merlin), a fence-hopping goat (Lili), two kune kune pigs (Grumpus & Rumpus), cows (Bessie and Roxanne), four chickens (unnamed) and an obnoxiously spoiled but loveable Labrador, Sonny. We enjoyed our time there, but have since moved on to one last exploratory mission to the Northland!

And now friends, we have neared the end of our time in New Zealand! We had very few plans when we embarked on this adventure, and figured we would just follow our instincts and trust our intuition to tell us where and when to go. Though we've had a handful of challenges and headaches, our outlook has served us well, partially because of our willingness to take some plunges, and largely because of the remarkable kindness and generosity of some of the Kiwis we've been so fortunate to meet. But now, our gaze has been turned back to the Rocky Mountains. We've got a few gaps to fill in, so stay tuned for the thrilling conclusion! 

Volcano Love Triangle

Since we'd arrived on the North Island, we've been eyeballing one of it's most famous walks: the Tongariro Alpine Crossing. The nineteen kilometer walk starts just north of the ski village of Whakapapa, heads east to a saddle between Ngauruhoe (aka Orodruin aka Mount Doom) and Mount Tongariro, and then descends to the north towards Lake Rotoaira. Little did we know (because little homework do we ever do) that the Crossing had been closed since November 2012 following an eruption of Tongariro, which we learned is a volcano, which we learned is a mountain that breathes fire and closes trails. However, we learned all of this after we made our plans, and none of it mattered anyway.

In the weeks leading up to our trip, the weather rarely encouraged outdoor endeavors, so when we saw a few clear days on the horizon, we asked for the time off and started making plans. This is when we learned about the eruption, and then immediately learned that the day we had requested off to do the hike was going to be the official re-opening day of the trail! Huzzah! This meant that the trail was likely to be crowded (and it was), but we would be among the first allowed to complete the full crossing in 6 months.

On the morning of our hike, the air was cold and the sky was crystal clear. The locals told us it was one of the best days the park had seen in months. We were shuttled out to the trailhead early in the morning, just in time for a special reopening ceremony. The heads of the local Maori tribe came out to bless the mountains, and some Department of Conversation officials came out to be boring.

The mountains of Tongariro are tapu (sacred) to the Maori people, and during the ceremony, one of the tribal leaders tol us their legend of the mountains. Long ago, seven mountains surrounded the area south of Lake Taupo. All were powerful warrior mountains, except for the beautiful Pihanga. One day, Taranaki and Tongariro, two volcano warriors, engaged in an epic battle for the favor of Pihanga. Tongariro came out victorious, and Taranaki threw a tantrum as he retreated to the west coast, tearing up the North Island on his way, forming the gorges and canyons of the Whanganui River before he finally took a break on the west coast, where he sits all alone today, in Egmont National Park, likely plotting his revenge.

Taranaki, planning his payback, or "pullin' a Dantès" as the kids say these days.

After a great story like that, listening to the DOC talk about all the cool government stuff they were planning on rolling out over the next 150 years was pretty dry, but eventually, they sent us off. We held back for a few minutes to let the crowds disperse a little bit, and up we went!

We don't have loads to say about the hike itself. We enjoyed a beautiful day. The views were spectacular for most of the day, and after the first hour or so, the crowds had thinned enough that we didn't feel so much like we were on a cattle drive. Shortly after the saddle, which was nearly the highest and coldest part of the hike, some clouds finally started to move in, but not before we had plenty of opportunity to enjoy expansive views of the wide valleys on both sides of the mountains.

Not since the Fiordlands had we really had an opportunity to wander up into the mountains, so we thoroughly enjoyed the opportunity to spend the day in one of the North Island's finest alpine environments. Next up, we'll tell you all about how we've familiarized ourselves with Rotorua and some of the great recreational opportunities in our backyard!

Whunky Whreaky Whitianga

Whor the last whive months, we've been whootloose and whancy whree, whloating whrom one whine wheature to the whollowing, whree to whind the whairest whate to whall bewhore our whervent whingertips. Whirst and whoremost, we wheel whully whortunate whor the whantastic whrivolity we've whelt thus whar....Whorgive us; we recently learned a whonetic Kiwi quirk: they pronounce their "wh" with an "f" sound (not all "wh" words are pronounced this way, just the ones used in Maori place names). So the coastal town Whakatane would be pronounced "Fah-kuh-tah-nee." Now give that first paragraph another try!

On a recent weekend, we took a long-awaited trip to the Coromandel Peninsula just a few hours north of Rotorua. We'd been looking into taking a trip up there ever since we arrived on the North Island, as the area boasts lots of forest park land and small coastal towns. It seemed like the kind of place to enjoy some nice scenery and coastal relaxation. We certainly found that, and a few more fun surprises...

Our phonetic lesson came from an unplanned stop to a winery/pizzeria that we learned about in the way that most great discoveries are made whilst traveling: a flier placed on a bulletin board by a ladybug tack. The winery was on the road between Hahei, where we were staying, and Whitianga (Feet-ee-ahn-gah), where we were going for dinner, so we figured we could at least check it out on the way. Well, honestly, we didn't think much of it at first sight. Actually, it looked terrifying from the road, and even more so from the parking lot. But we figured, “Hey, we already drove from the road to the parking lot, we can't turn back now.”

We approached the run-down, enormous log structure like we had been planning on visiting the place for months: few of the raucous youths cavorting around the entrance could sense our trepidation. We walked in, greeted the proprietor, and without uttering five words ourselves, we were given a full introduction to everyone on the premises, had a pizza order placed on our behalf, were shown into the tasting room where a barrage of wine and fruit liquors were laid out in front of us, and, finally, heard an impressively rehearsed monologue from our host, a Dutch/Chinese New Zealander, listing each of the forty or so North Island towns where feijoas are grown, all of which start with the kiwi "Wh." After several rounds of his family's various home brewed beverages, delivered over a horticultural and ethnobotanical lecture on feijoas, he informed us that our pizza (which he had ordered for us) was ready, and that we could proceed with our private tasting after our meal. Naturally, the wood fired pizza was the best we've had in New Zealand (pizza is slightly weird here), and the bizarre evening of unexpected camaraderie was one of the most surprisingly enjoyable evenings we've stumbled upon. The lesson in all of this is that we should all structure our lives around bulletin board flyers.

But we didn't drive all the way up this peninsula for a social experience. According to our guidebooks, we had sights to see. First on the agenda was Cathedral Cove, a beautiful beach and cave near Hahei, which is reached via a 30 minute walk along oceanside cliffs. We quickly figured out that we weren't the only tourists with guidebooks, as the trail-head parking lot was pretty full. Fortunately, we caught the majority of a great sunset, found our pizzeria/winery flyer, and decided that we would pack a breakfast picnic and come back in the morning for sunrise. Our early-rise plan was handsomely rewarded, as we had a beautiful morning and the beach to ourselves.

Our next point of interest was the famous Hot Water Beach, just 15 minutes away from where we staying in Hahei. The beach sits on top of a hot spring, which is heated by volcanic rocks hundreds of meters underground that are still cooling off from an eruption that occurred many, many millennia before the last Moa was battered and deep fried. The hot water filters up through the sand, and if you come out at low tide with a shovel, you can dig your own hot tub right in the middle of the beach.

In an attempt to avoid the crowds, we once again planned to make our excursion during an odd hour of the day, this for the late low tide, around 11:15 at night. Since the moon was nearly full and the nights were getting cold, this would be the perfect opportunity. However, we didn't count on the fifty odd 20-somethings who decided to hijack our idea to film an episode of MTV's The Grind (that show still comes on, right?). Well, you can't win 'em all. Even though the party crowd took over all of the "Hot Water" portion of Hot Water Beach, we were able to enjoy a bright night in a beautiful corner of our temporary home.

After so many years in the mountains, we've pretty easily transitioned to being beach bums. But that couldn't keep up forever.

 Next time, we make a long awaited trip to the mountains, and journey through the North Island's volcano country!

Grape Juice Goodness

After what must have been one of the smoothest crossings of the Cook Straight in the history of Cook Straight Crossings, we decided to take a few days to relax and enjoy the city where are journey began. Nothing much had changed in Wellington, except the weather was nicer. Also, a rugby team was selling hot sausages as a fundraiser on Tory St., and their work apparently drew the attention of the same disapproving lady who haunted the dreams of Buttercup in the days leading up to her forced marriage to Prince Humperdink. Surely we don't need to explain this reference.

Sausage Sizzle!!! Boooooo!!!

Other than that, all was well in Wellington, and our sorrow over leaving the South Island was lifting quickly. After all, we had a whole new island to explore, and we still had a few days before we had to arrive at our new place of employ, so we planned one last splurge of a trip to the most Art Deco-tastic city in the eastern hemisphere: Napier!

Now, you're probably wondering "Why Napier?" Well, if you'll cool your jets, we'll get to that. As some of you may know, New Zealand has a booming wine industry. As far as wine-producing nations go, it's still pretty new to the game, but the country has made a big name for itself in a short amount of time. Also, as some of you may know, Kelcy & Matt enjoy their beverages. We are still fairly young in our wine expertise, but since we quit smoking, our taste buds have recovered enough that we can tell they put some grapes and stuff in there, and that's all we need to consider ourselves sommeliers. Napier lies in Hawke's Bay, a terroir of growing distinction that is producing some of the finest wines in the world. And if you show up to the cellar doors with a proper shirt and shoes, you can get it free, and you ain't gotta spit it out or nothin!

So after a few relaxing days in Wellington, we began our journey up the much more crowded North Island. On the South Island, you regularly go an hour between tiny towns and villages with little but farmland in between. On the North Island, many stretches feel like you never leave some sort of populated area. Or at least that was the case for the first few hours. As we neared the east coast, the sprawl thinned out a little bit as we entered the beginnings of wine country, until finally, like the green light at the end of Daisy Buchanan's dock, Napier appeared as a beacon in the distance, heralding a promising era (or weekend) of free wine and 30's architecture.

On a quick historical side note, Napier is dubbed the Art Deco capital of New Zealand. This is not, as we originally thought, because Napier used to be in Miami, but because in 1931, the city was leveled by an earthquake, and when the time came to rebuild, Art Deco was the hot new style, and if you drive by the McDonalds in modern-day Napier, it still is.

On to the free wine. We picked up a handy map from the local information site that mapped out the bountiful array of local wineries and set out to take our taste buds on a fantastic voyage. Our first stop was at one of the larger New Zealand wineries. We drove up to a large estate house that wasn't very clearly marked as to where you were supposed to go, so we just uncomfortably strolled through the biggest doors we could find. Being our first foray into the classy world of free booze, we weren't exactly sure of the decorum. Were we supposed to sign up somewhere? Did we have to pass a breathalyzer first? If we tried something we didn't like, could we ask for a free sample of something better? Was it tacky to ask if there was any free beer available as well?

We quickly discovered that cellar door wine tastings are not as similar to Señor Frogs as we had imagined. The bartender doesn't line up shots of Viognier, you aren't given a funnel at the door that'll later be used to pour Marzemino down your gullet, and nothing you imbibe is set ablaze before it is served to you. What does happen is you have to do a lot of listening and nodding along and saying things like, "Yes, I do detect the coriander," or "Mmmmmmm, tangy!" If you're particularly bold, you may occasionally make an assertion, such as "I'm picking up a waft of broccoli casserole," to which at least one person in the group will adamantly agree: "Yes yes yes yes, I was just noticing rapini on the back of the tongue." "Yeah, whatever."

But enough poking fun at the wine tasting experience. We really had a fantastic time. Our favorite winery was a very small operation which was run out of a barn by a couple with a beautiful yellow lab that hung out at our picnic table while the owners brought wines to us one at a time. We were the only people there for a good portion of our visit, and they were happy to spend time talking with us and telling us all about their business.

We ended up visiting four wineries, and after buying several bottles of our favorites, our free wine-tasting tour quickly became quite expensive. But, we thought it was well worth it. Now we've got enough 2008 broccoli casserole in the cellar to last us all winter!