Running on Empty

What. A. Day. Let’s just start from the beginning. I slept like crap last night. It was hot, the little bed and pillows were super uncomfortable, and every time I moved I’d wake up in pain from the scratching of the sheets on my sunburned limbs. No bueno. I woke up tired, hopped in the shower to wake myself up, slathered aloe gel all over myself again, and opened the windows to let the light in. Apparently my cow friend Bella kept her party going all night because I was face-to-face with about 8 cows alongside my deck, a welcome scene at least (fun fact – I went to grab my phone to snap a pic of them and while I was struggling with the damn door lock I apparently took a long slow-mo movie of my boobs. Hah!). I didn’t have much time to get ready and head out since before falling asleep last night I had made a reservation to have high tea at 10:15am. And the place was an hour away. I had done a small load of laundry last night since I was out of clean socks and figured I might as well take advantage of having a washing machine. Once again, there was no dryer. And, once again, even after sitting out all night my clothes were still damp. Of course. Once again, I turned the backseat of my car into a drying rack (stuff dries really well in car FYI), packed up, blew a kiss to my cows and my little pony, and headed off.

I was headed to Zealong Tea Estate. My Maori dinner friend, Sophia, had told me about enjoying high tea there earlier that week. It was just outside of Hamilton, roughly on the way to where I was headed today I think (I’m really not sure actually, I just went for it) and I love both drinking tea and enjoying High Tea so I had to go. One brief stretch of road had a series of small undulating hills back-to-back bouncing the car up and down. They reminded me of the drives to Vegas with my dad as a young child, there was a stretch along that road that my dad called “padot bouncers” – padot is my phonetic spelling of an arabic word for a man’s bits and pieces, hilarious. As I drove through Hamilton on my way I realized how much I’ve grown to love the roundabouts they have on the roads in New Zealand (theirs are done very well, not like the crappy poorly marked ones we have at home) as Hamilton was the biggest city I’d been in since my arrival in Auckland a week ago and I was plagued by being stopped at red light after red light. Zealong was indeed a beautiful tea farm with a proper tea house. The High Tea meal was decent; I’ve had better, I’ve had worse. A few items were absolutely delicious, a few were eh. I tried two types of tea with my meal and they, however, were both delicious. One being their take on an earl gray and the other being the Lady Gatsby with hints of rose petal. I love rose flavored foods and drinks! By each table there was a little tea pot stand with a heating element on it that your tea pot sat on to keep the water at the perfect temperature. I took my sweet time enjoying my tea and planning my route for the day. Here I also bought the only “souvenir” I’ve bought this entire trip, four boxes of tea to take home as they aren’t available in the States.

I left Zealong with my bounty and started the 2+ hour drive to The Coromandel to see Cathedral Cove. The Coromandel is the eastern peninsula of the North Island. At one point I had planned to stay over there my last couple nights but changed that up obviously. It would mean a long day of driving for me but I hadn’t stuck my toes in the oceans yet in New Zealand and EVERYONE I talked to said it was worth the drive. So off I went. I don’t recommend drinking an entire pot of tea before you embark on such a drive. As I was thinking about that mistake I happened to glance down and realize that my gas tank was LOW. I had less than a quarter of a tank of gas left. I did some mental math figuring how much I’d driven since my last fill and estimated I had about an hour left on the current tank. Surely I would come across a gas station within an hour. As Waze and google maps took me twisting and turning down country roads I was starting to get nervous. As I continued driving through rural areas the gas tank continued to drop (duh). About 40 minutes in the speed limit changed from 100km to 50km, a sure sign I was about to come into a town, towns have gas! The road took me through Turua and I excitedly scanned both sides of the street and down all the side streets (most of the rural towns here encompass only one main road and a side-street or two). No gas. Shit. I kept driving and the possibility of running out of gas was getting more and more imminent. I’m not a praying type of person, in fact, I’m basically an atheist. But I prayed to anyone and everyone who would listen; Allah, Buddha, Apollo, you name it, I invoked them. I was really stressing over the situation as the needle dropped close and closer to the empty line. And yet, somehow I knew it would be ok. I came up with a plan for when the gas finally ran out. The plan mainly involved sitting behind the car and waving my arms frantically at anyone who passed by. I kept driving, and the needle kept dropping. I did everything I could to conserve gas, car in eco mode, air conditioner off, cruise control set at just under 60 mph. And when I came to a turn where I had to stop to yield I made sure to gently pump the gas, never letting the car come to a full stop. I finally saw a sign indicating that the town of Thames was only 7km off. I had seen Thames on the map; it was written in larger letters so surely it was a bigger town and would have gas. I started coming up on the intersection, there were a couple buildings on each side, my maps told me to turn right. I did and then realized that the only buildings down the street were industrial and I was about to be turned down another country road. Nope, not an option at this point. I flipped a bitch in the middle of the highway (my apologies to the motorcyclist I almost took out, but he should have been paying better attention too – the world would be a better place were lane-splitting illegal) and decided to test my fate with the buildings in the other direction. As I flipped around, the gas tank hit empty and the gas light flipped on as well. Oh shit, this was really happening. I drove back the other direction towards the Thames sign, and about 200 yards from where I had just turned off was the most beautiful Mobil gas station I have ever seen. By the time I pulled up to the pump I realized I was shaking and my heart was racing (my heart was well over 100 bpm) as I was preparing to be stranded on the side of the road. Note to self for next road trip; start looking for gas when I hit the halfway mark! At least the stress of the empty gas tank made me temporarily forget about my full bladder.

I blew Mobil a kiss and drove way with the tank full and my bladder empty. FYI – I’m a damn good estimator. The light came on almost to-the-minute exactly one hour from when I estimated I could get an hour out of it.

The last hour of my drive to the Coromandel was windy and narrow as I climbed back into the hills. To the bicycle fanatic who thought he’d cross that journey of his bucket list; you’re a fucking asshole. The roads are dangerous enough with their narrow, windy, blind corners without having to worry about scooting into the oncoming lane to pass you. My plan on the Coromandel was to visit both Cathedral Cove and the hot water beach. And then turn around and head back to Auckland. There is only one small lot at the Cove itself so they’ve actually closed that off and turned a large field area into a lot, providing roundtrip shuttle service for $5 NZD so there aren’t crazy traffic jams in the little beachside town. Smart. I changed into my bathing suit and board shorts in the back seat of my car, threw some water and snacks in my backpack, asked the lady getting out of the car next to me if she wouldn’t mind tying my top for me (she gave me an odd look at the request, but obliged) and waited for the shuttle to take me the remaining mile. The shuttle dropped off at a little lot atop a cliff and I was ready to head down the stairs and see this wonder that everyone had talked about.

What I wasn’t ready for was the sign indicating that it was a 40-minute hike there! What the helll?! Again, I hadn’t done my research and was not prepared for this. I would be a sucky boy scout. It was already 2:30pm by this time, my plan had been about half an hour at Cathedral Cove, then half an hour at the hot water beach (a few minutes further down), and then arriving in South Auckland in time to shower, change, and get downtown by 7:30pm. Oh well. Off I trekked down the path wishing I was at least wearing real shoes and not just flip flops. At this point, it’s fair to repeat how much my body hates me right now. It is not only burnt but still in some pretty major pain from Tongariro. At one point while I was making the trek to Cathedral Cove my left knee was starting to buckle. At another point I realized I had a crazy numb feeling moving across my right shin, calf, and foot. I promised my body that I would make it up to it for all the pain. As many massages, epsom salts, and painkillers it wants as soon as I’m back home. The views from the hike were stunning. It was a cloudy day so the pictures don’t look amazing, and I’m not taking time to filter any of my photos from New Zealand, but trust me, it was gorgeous.

The hike to Cathedral Cove actually drops you at Mare’s Leg Cove and then you walk down the beach, through a giant granite archway. After negotiating with my body to make it there I descended onto Mare’s Cove Beach and was met with more beautiful sites of an incredible granite formation balancing on the water. My feet and legs were in heaven with the cool (not cold, but the perfect temperature of cool) ocean water lapping against them. The sand was so fine and so soft.

I walked through the archway to Cathedral Cove and it was equally beautiful. I took in the sites, let my lower body soak up the salt water, and then found a rock to perch on and reflect for a while. Now a note on pictures… I believe it is perfectly acceptable to ask someone to take a picture of you and whomever you’re with. In fact, every time I see people taking pictures I stop and inquire if they would like me to take it for them so they could get in the picture. I am happy to provide this service of helping people preserve memories. And I am happy to oblige when folks ask me for help. But when you walk up to every other freaking person on the beach to ask them to snap your picture, and then look at the pictures and give them more direction, over and over again with person after person; then you’re just an asshole. But I digress. The water temperate in the cove was pretty much the most perfect oceanic beach temperature I have ever experienced. I was in heaven. I tried to pluck a shell from amongst the rocks for a little souvenir but those suckers were practically cemented on there and not going anywhere. Oh well. I had to do a lot of convincing with myself to leave the Cove, I could have stayed there forever, but it was getting late and I needed to hit the road. Very very very reluctantly I left and started the trek back, again apologizing to and negotiating with my tired, achy body. You will note the amazing tan lines on my legs from the Tongariro. Still not sure what to do about evening that out! And normally I hate any kind of feet pictures but by god these feet and legs have served me well this week!

On my way I took a tiny detour to see Stingray Cove. About halfway down the path I stopped at a little lookout spot and it was stunning as well. And this little cove was completely empty, not a person to be seen. I desperately wanted to spend all day there but didn’t have time. I didn’t even let myself continue all the way down to the beach for if I did I was’t sure I’d be able to pull myself away again.

By the time I got back to the car it was 4pm. Crap. No hot water beach for me today. I had a 2.5 hour drive ahead of me back to Auckland and was determined to get cleaned up and into Auckland by 7:30pm. For this is Auckland pride week and today the big parade! It was the only thing I found about Auckland on my first day here that seemed like it would be fun and that I should make it back for. I sent my Air BnB hosts a note that I would be there at 6:45 and off I went.

As I drove away I started to really ponder my life. I have had such an amazing sense of peace and calm for so much of this trip. I started to take stock of my life. What did I have? What did I need? What did I desire? What needed to change? This thought process was mentally exhausting. At one point I almost start to cry. Like it physically hurt to make myself hold back the tears. And instead I opened my mouth and let out a long loud scream. If you’ve never screamed while driving down a highway, alone, in the confines of your car, then you really should. It lets out a lot.

The drive to Auckland sucked. For those of you playing along at home, this means by the time I got to my AirBnB I would have driven about 6 hours today. And the last hour to, and first hour from, the coves were a bitch. Slow, narrow, windy, blind. A challenge. My last hour getting back to Auckland was a slog. I was getting exhausted. I have not slept well since a couple nights before the Tongariro and my body is still exhausted from that amazing trek. And those windy roads were putting me in a trance.

I made it to my AirBnB, exhausted, at 6:45pm sharp. I figured I’d have just enough time to drop my bags, rinse off, throw some clean clothes on, and head down to watch the Pride Parade festivities! Upon arriving to my AirBnB I wasn’t loving it. The location was weird and the property felt creepy. The door to the main house where the hosts live was open. I did not see a bell but the garage, with cars in it, was also open and I could hear the TV. I hollered, “hello” and waited. Nothing. I hollered again, “Anybody home?” Still nothing. I stepped into the entry hall and hollered some more, nothing. What the hell? I got back to my car and tired to send them a message. No service. Now what? This was weird, I had a bad feeling. I drove down the street until I found service, sent them a message, and started to look up alternate accommodations, this was not going well. And no luck, no hotels available and at 7pm it was too late to book any affordable AirBnBs. I didn’t know what to do. Were these hosts flaking on me? Would I be homeless tonight? Without an answer in mind I decided to just head into down Auckland and straight to the Pride Parade. I’d do more google research on accommodations while there.

I got into downtown Auckland and immediately felt stress and anxiety wash over me. I was exhausted. Hungry. Smelly. Stressed. And the streets in Auckland were a nightmare, seeing so many people and the dirty city streets was a horrible shock after the peace and beauty in my previous days. And the parade? No way I was going to see it; finding a parking spot within two miles was impossible. And I was not putting my body through any more today. I drove around aimlessly trying to figure out what to do. With all my peace, calm, and inner balance gone, I was being taken over by the stress and anxiety that tends to turn me into an uptight bitch at times.

My AirBnB hosts finally sent me a message, apologizing that he had fallen asleep. It was about 8pm now. I responded and said I would be closer to 9pm as I needed to find food first. He responded right away asking if he could call me. I pretended not to see the message. What the hell was calling me going to do? Just fucking be there. And then it happened. Out of nowhere, I couldn’t stop it, and I started bawling my eyes out driving through Auckland. I hate Auckland, I hate it just as much, if not more, than I hate San Francisco. The dirt, the crowds, the urban jungle. I hate it. I had originally planned to spend most of tomorrow in Auckland proper before I fly home. That’s not going to happen. And at that moment, I also hated my AirBnB hosts. If they had just answered the fucking door, none of this would be happening.

I started the 20ish minute drive back and stopped at a McDonalds for a Cadbury Cream Egg McFluurry. For the record, it was disgusting, I had three bites and tossed it. There is no cadbury cream egg actually involved in the McFlurry. Bastards. I scarfed down a chicken aioli wrap (delicious) and made my way back to this damn AirBnB. This time the man greeted me promptly upon my arrival and apologized profusely. It was hard, impossible, to keep hating him. The AirBnB home is an independent unit attached to their home. I really wanted to keep hating him but I couldn’t. Having food in my belly now also helped the situation. Exhausted and excited to shower I hauled my bags in and surveyed my place for the night.

And then I saw him staring at me through the back slider. A stunningly beautiful longish haired cat. Studies have shown that the simple act of petting a cat brings your blood pressure down. Just what I needed. I went out back and sat with my legs outstretched on the deck petting this beautiful creature and feeling more and more calm return. I could also hear the beautiful sounds of the host playing the piano in the attached house. It was exactly what I needed. I know my reactions today were out of sheer exhaustion.

This is my last night in New Zealand. Tomorrow I have until about 4:30pm to continue my adventure before checking in for my red eye flight home. I’m thinking to take a drive to see Whangarei; the northern most city of the island. And about two hours each way. More than likely I will just catch the ferry to Waiheke Island. We shall see.