Chapter Six

"We chased the high tide, walked on pancake rocks, forgot hats, stepped on wood and catched the moon rising"

It's morning. And we're ready for the high tide chase: our first stop today will be at Te Miko, and in order to see the blowholes and the waves crashing against the pancake rocks, we'll have to be there around ten-eleven. So we go, following the Route 6, crashing our eyes against the sea. Hansi drives, I read the map and Jesper plays the guitar in the backseat.



Everything is under control, crew. And of course, pancake rock's just like Hønefossen back home, which means buses stuffed with tourists, cars, vans, souvenir shops and cafès all around. The rocks are not deceiving, though. They become more and more spectacular as we walk along the path, and no, it's really impossible to describe the strenght of the noise of the waves and of the wind, trapped into colors that are as powerful as the currents. It seems like a bunch of whales are having a school reunion between the rocks under our arses.







We climb the pancake stairs, good material for our chemist - and temporary geologist, mr. Hansi. We observe with scepical looks the interpretation that others have given to the rock-drawings in front of us, laugh and give our own ones, probably even more insane.



The boys buy some icecream, Jesper forgets his newly-bought Volcom beanie in the cafè, and whoom, on the road again. We pull off following a smaller side road, and we get to a beach that seems spilled out from some kind of dream you could have had after eating loads of delicious chocolate ice cream before going to bed. It's amazing. It's the three of us and nobody else, not a mouse, not a dinosaure. Us, and the weird shapes formed by the woodstocks, and the smooth stones. The kids wake up in our eyes, as we run around and breathe in sun.





It seems almost unreal, everything is so calm but also so exciting. I'm excited, and smiling just for the smile's sake. And because of the circus we seem really, and the lines of laughter we paint on the transparent air with.



The road is there again, frying the wheels of our Chariot of fire. Whoom, and the music fills the car. I get the news I need on the weather report and bang bang bang and take your money, you were a child crawling on your knees so take only what your need, you better you better you bet so pop goes the world and out here in the fields I don't need to be forgiven. Pull off the road again, near a campervan of retired germans. I can't keep the energy inside, I just have to run up and down and jump around for a couple of minutes. And than we're like Jesus or like Deep Purple's smoke, dancers on the water.





The mountains starts appearing again, thousands of meters straight up from the ground. It's beautiful, and now we start looking forwards (litterally), to try and see Mount Cook. And a cow observes Jesper and Hansi on the seesaw.




We reach Franz Joseph glacier while the shadows are slowly sucking it and pushing towards the evening. A short walk up to the glacier takes us to a quite interesting sight. But the last bit of road is still waiting for us. We leave tons of ice behind our shoulders, and start the Chariot up.



It's a race against the turning around of the world and against the arc of the sun. We want to get to Fox glacier before the sun slips down, we want to get the last rays on Mount Cook.



It feels like being in an action movie, when we stop (iiik!!) in front of the tourist information. The boys run in and get out after a few seconds, waving a map in the hand. We have a spot, and few minutes to get there. Whooom, again, while the sun sinks behind the horizon. When we reach our spot, mr. Sun is just begone. And than we look up, towards Mount Cook. The moon is rising. And the colors are simply incredible. Some weird birds make some weird noises, and it starts getting really cold. But the silence that finally covers everything, the darkness floats in intense, unique.









The night takes Fox Glacier bite after bite. We order interesting salmon pizzas, hide in an internet point with internettt axes card and finally push our babychar on the side of the road to try and get some sleep. Some can see the stars through the windows, I can see the moon. It's seriously hypnotizing, although I guess Hansi and Jesper would say I'm simply obsessed with it. Never mind, tomorrow it'll be gone.

Chapters Four and Five

Chapter four: "It was cold in the tent, than it started raining and we drank fine wine"

It's about finding comfortable, cheap and fast solutions to our 11 p.m.ish accomodation problem. And, in my modest opinion, that is one thing we've become seriously good at during our road trip. This is one of the first nights out though, and we're still experimenting. We go for the tent solution. Two of us sleep in it outside, and Hansi gets the Chariot. Yeah, no, it's alright I mean. Pretty cold, we'll have to try something else next time.



We wake up on the side of the road with some others 4 or 5 camper-vans parked near to us. We salute the grey morning with a little walk, looking at yellow and red trees. And the road is there again, sliding under our wheels, offering some splattered possums here and there. I'm not kidding, I've never seen so many roadkills in my life.

When we stop in Nelson the clouds bend a bit down starting to pour down rain. The mood isn't at its best. The gods are pissing on us, we're hungry and our kayaking-in-the-sun plan will obviously not work out. I also get to know about something terrible about an earthquake in Italy, without having any details. I try to contact some people via sms, and after I've done that I know there isn't much else I can do. It may sound a little cynical and little unsensitive, but the distance shapes thick, invisible walls to alterate the perception of tragedies. I don't really realize anything as I should, not even the most tragic event.

Everything seems as black as the sky, but sometimes a breakfast in a seriously cool pub can save your day. We get some information about cool winetours in the area, we do find a hostel, and half an hour later there we are, sitting on a small bus driven by an oldish kiwi lady with a new-married australian couple, a Hamilton-couple and two irish ladies with a little girl. The tasting is fascinating, it's a mixture of constant laughter and increasing of blended flavors and alcohol in the mouth. The tastings happen through the ironic and mocking smiles and laughs of the kids, and that's alright, it actually makes the tour. (Punktum)



We get fooled into buying a red Montepulciano - pretty good really - by a really fun farmer that pulls out some stories about rubies and wives forgiving husbands. In and out of the bus, starting to get quite tipsy, and a brewery is our last stop. By this time we've become friends with all the people on the tour, especially with Nick and Lisa, the australian couple.



Back to the hostel and out in town again. We walk to "our" pub (simply the one cool we ate breakfast at) to have dinner there. And hey, Mac's red is the choice. And heey, Nick and Lisa enter the pub. We sit there talking their jobs, and about ...stuff, 'til they have to go. We reckon it's time for us too to drag our arses back to the hostel. It's gonna be a long day tomorrow.

Chapter five, "This place looks like eden and oh making tacos in a camping kitchen is such a great idea"

The currents in the water are too strong, we are too late, they are too expensive. Basically, no kayak today, my love has gone away. Instead, we drive up to the beginning of the Abel Tasman National Park. And wow, do you remember what I wrote about Eden falling down and such stuff? Well I was wrong, this is actually Eden. The words can only drag you into the feeling of warm air on the skin, of sea perfume and of bird songs and fall sounds in the air. Your eyes and imagination will have to do the rest.








We walk through a path that takes us to some quiet beaches where the colors seem to dance with each other, blending within the canvas without ever disappearing. Jesper trains for his future job as a circus acrobat, and we all sneak into holes in the rocks and jump around.






Yes, we get pretty obsessed with the incredibly cool rock over there. As we play around the bushes and the shells and the grains of sand and everything observe us silently, probably smiling inside. About five minuets away from the car it starts raining. We're so soaked it's not funny, but still, we laugh.


The rain, of course, stops as soon as we've reached a roof under which we can hide. Well well, as I said before I really am found of this weather's sense of humor.



A few hours later we're still driving southwards. Our goal is to reach Westport tonight, and possibly have something to eat. The landscapes slide through the windows, and there they are, the most important altough silent and discrete beautis of this trip. Everything outside. Clouds, sky and earth, flowing in the opposite direction of our dear Chariot, hitting the eyes 'til they're filled with too much beauty.




In Westport we find an ok camping, and we get ready to make dinner. Jesper and I smartly suggest "Taco!!" as the main course. Now that is smart and easy to make in the kitchen if a camping with no frying pan and almost no utensilens. Considering the circumstances I'd dare to say we actyally did pretty well. Than it's bedtime. A quick look at the bible deposited in the recycling case (have a look at Jesper's blog for further information), and goodbye pork pie. Tomorro we are gonna walk on pancakes of rock, and do car-slalom between lakes!

The Kids Are Alright - Chapters 1,2,3

Chapter one, "We're gonna take this damn car down to Invercargill! Or to the gas station next door."

It's around seven a saturday afternoon. It's sunny in 40, Mansel ave. The kids hug Bendik and wave and smile, and such. They drive away.



And stop at the gas station about five-hundred meters away from home. They check the car, and find out something is leaking. A little fountain of an unknown liquid (is it water, oil, beer? Who knows.) pumping out from somewhere in the motor makes Jesper, Hansi and Maria suspicious. Jesper puts a little tube back into a place where it looks like it's supposed to be, and after filling the car up with oil and fuel, they drive away. To ignore the problem is the best solution when you're dealing with the Chariot. The amazing thing about it is that I'm not joking. The chemist and the "media-people" drive towards south west, listening to music and laughing, disappearing in the dark of the night, passing Taupo, still driving southwards.

Chapter two, "Of when they woke up in the middle of somewhere"

The Velvet Underground play Sunday morning, and we open our eyes. We're laying inside the car, the sun is raising. Wellington is not far, the air is cool.



We devour the remaining road, and enter the capital. We book the ferry for tomorrow through the hostel, and suddenly there we are, walking in a whole new world, like those who appear day after day, when you travel from place to place. We enter no museum, we stop under no church. We enter and exit shops and streets, emptying pockets and filling eyes and hands.








We stop in front of a cinema, and a new journey of laughter starts in front of the big screen. Monster Vs. Aliens 3D is definitely recommended. We fall asleep knowing that a ferry and a whole island are waiting for us tomorrow.

Chapter three, "The narrow streets of Wellington and the dark ones of Picton"

Wellington is the most windy city I've ever seen. The clouds fly by like birds on red bull. The kids leave the hostel for a last tour through what we still see as a pretty chaotic city. I like though, it's a chill chaos.






Hansi, Jesper and I walk through shops and streets again, up narrow and strange stairways, clicking and pulling focus though tagged walls and autumn-painted leaves.
The chariot gets packed and ready to float. At six O'clock the Jespers sir drive the car into the ferry, and the waterrooute is set, destination: Picton, South Island.





Our first thought when we bought the ferry ticket was "Ooh, yeah! Leaving at six p.m. we get to see the sunset on Cook Strait!". Yeah right.
A few minutes later we're floating in what I'd call with little or no doubt "pitch black". We don't really get to see anything at all after leaving Wellington. The view of the city at night from the sea is pretty cool though.


We drive through Blenheim to drive towards the Abel Tasman and Nelson (it takes me a little while to get that we're driving in the wrong direction).
After being stopped by the police because of not turning the lights on after having stopped for a little while in the center of town, we get on the right route again. Westwards!