Wow, now that I think back on the last six weeks, the only daylight I’ve seen (aside from my days off) is the walk from my room to the kitchen. In the shadow of the mountains, I catch my only glimpse of the sun, frosty mountain peaks and the lush green forest that extends for so many miles around. Day after day I’ve walked the same path up the hill, through that swinging door, paint worn by countless hands pushing in the same spot. Leaving the kitchen well into the dark, I forget about how remote a place I live in. Rain pours for days on end. Though most of the Japanese here despise the incessant rain, I can’t help but be pleasantly reminded of home. The sound, the smell, the soaked pant cuffs, it all takes my mind thousands of miles across the ocean, right back to Oregon. That walk is easily the most relaxing part of the day.
After a month .5 of cooking, sleeping and cooking, finally the opportunity to get out of the mountains presents itself. The early morning drive west to Reefton was familiar, but from there we headed southwest to the coast where the mouth of the Grey River spilled into the Tasman Sea. The aptly named town of Greymouth was our destination. Katsuya, two of the girls from housekeeping and I split ways once we had parked in the centre of town. Katsuya and I walked the length of the main strip, stepping into interesting shops and exploring a place rather different from our place of residence. I can’t tell you how wonderful it feels to see the vast world of human interaction, people who aren’t Japanese (even though I’m in New Zealand!!) or being able to walk for more than a few minutes without stepping into wilderness. For the next few hours the two of us explored the town, did some shopping, and I got a haircut. We checked out the local skatepark, but I didn’t bring my board with me. Maybe next time…
The sun was setting and Katsuya and I wanted to head to a spot 45 klicks up the coast. A geological formation known as the pancake rocks rise out of the sea. We raced the setting sun to Punakaiki in order to get some decent shots of the rocks and the setting sun. Just as the sun was sinking into the water, we parked the Tercel as close as we could get. Before the engine was off I was sprinting down the path to the shore. All I wanted was a shot of the setting sun and the rocks. Just my luck… Clouds blow in and cover the sun, completely ruining any chances of getting a good picture of the sunset. Oh well, I managed to take some mediocre shots of the rocks and the crashing waves. I’d love to go again to get some crisp shots of the waves. Steadily darkening lighting conditions meant any shots of the waves bright enough to see them meant a shutter speed too slow to capture the details.
I took the wheel for the drive home. My first multi-hour quest in the left lane went rather well. It felt like I was in a perpetual state of overtaking, but driving from what felt like the passenger seat began to feel natural after an hour or so. The tiny Tercel hatchback was a decent little car.
Since I’ve been back in the mountains it has been 3 consecutive 10+ hour days in the kitchen. Easter weekend is the busiest time of the year, so we have been booked solid and have been crazy busy in the kitchen. I’ve been managing the kitchen operations, and working both European and Japanese sides of the menu. I guess I’ve been pulling through cause Chef Pete praised me on the last few nights of work and gave me his culinary school textbook. It was really a nice gesture and it makes me look forward to many years of cookery!
As a day of seemingly endless work in the kitchen was winding down it was time for a bath and a beer. I went out to reception to verify what needed to be prepared the following day. Much of the staff was standing around by the front desk in a panic. It was 9 pm and the girls who left for a day hike hadn’t been seen. They were due back around 5 and it was now well past sunset. Having been up the path they had gone up, I loaded my pack and went to see what the plan was. All that had been done so far was to go to the trailhead with lights and to do some shouting into the forest. Dissatisfied with the lack of effort, I went back up to reception to see if there was any news. Someone was already on the phone with the police, and it was decided that a search dog would be on its way momentarily. Forced to wait an hour or so before the dogs arrived, I reloaded my pack a bit more efficiently and added a few things; warm clothes, some food, and a couple pairs of gloves. The police arrived first and I gave them a description of the area the four girls had gone to; really steep with a poorly defined path… I know. Great description right? When I went back to the staff room to grab my pack it was suddenly a lot heavier. Looking inside I found a pile of food, and a 5 liter jug of hot liquid. The other staff had added a few things for when I found the girls. Annoyed, I said thanks but there is no way I am carrying a giant container of liquid up a mountain. Plus, it was doubtful that I would be the one to find them. I kept some of the food just in case though.
Two dogs arrived along with five search and rescue specialists. Apparently a helicopter was on its way as well. Four of the people stayed behind to get a lift to the top of the mountain with one dog while the other guy, Katsuya and I took the other dog up the mountain.
By this time the girls were over 7 hours past their planned return time and had been in the dark for nearly 5 hours. We knew they weren’t wearing appropriate clothing, had no source of light, and three of them were inexperienced hikers. The other is girl not so inexperienced, but is by no means a survival expert either.
Larry, Katsuya, Namu (the dog) and I hefted our packs and headed down to the river. Larry, the tracker, was already on the trail, spotting shoe prints in the soft soil. After fording the river, we walked through the tall wet grass until we got to the trailhead. Already I knew it would be a rough climb. The torch they gave me looked like one of those pseudo-lightsaber flashlights from Tomb Raider and it hardly lit the ground around me. Equipped with not but a failing torch and the camera light on my phone I followed Larry, expert tracker, up into the dark trees. From the dog’s actions we knew the girls had trouble finding the path from the start. Namu would head off the path a bit before returning to the path and continuing up. Larry told us this meant the girls had taken the same route before finding the correct path. This continued for the next hour. We followed the dog and tracker higher and higher up into the forest. As expected, the path was steep and slippery. To say Larry was fast would be an understatement. The man was a mountain goat. Though in his 50’s, he kept up a pace that few could match. Every time Katsuya and I would look up, Larry would be even farther up the path. Though it was a chilly night and Katsuya and I were bundled up, Larry was wearing a thin shirt and short shorts. Again, to say these shorts were short would be an understatement. Being downhill from these shorts was cause for a rather unpleasant sight. As we climbed higher and higher into the darkness and I was sweating through my pants, I began wishing I had a pair of these butt-shorts myself.
Every couple minutes we would call out into the blackness.
HEEEEEEEELLLLLOOOOOO…
Climbing and calling, sweating and slipping, higher and higher we climbed. I could hear Katsuya breathing heavily behind me. Neither of us could keep up the pace Larry was setting for much longer. Katsuya called out.
OOOOOOOOOYYYYYYYYYYYY…
That was when we heard it. A faint, high pitched, heeeeeeyyyyyyyy…
Katsuya and I immediately looked at each other. HHHHHEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLOOOOOOOO….
Heeeeeeeeyyyyy….
Another moment of cognition, and we knew were both thinking the same thing. ‘Thank God. We wont have to climb any higher!!!’
“LARRY!! WE HEAR THEM!!” Pausing to relay the GPS coordinates through the radio, Larry told Katsuya to remain on the path and keep shouting to them while he and I left the track. We could hear girls calling a little ways away. They sounded like they were across, and possibly down hill. Larry and Namu led the way with me on their heels.
The path was steep with slippery rocks and moss. Where we were was treacherous. Hardly able to see with my failing light, I followed Larry and Namu deeper into the brush, the sound of the girls and Katsuya’s yells echoing over us. I called out to the girls and got the reply, “Don’t come over here!! Its too dangerous!!” I translated for Larry and we agreed, regardless of the terrain, we had to get to them. Through the darkness we crawled down through roots of fallen trees, slipping on moss and crumbling rocks. We called down to them, telling them to move away from directly below our lights, so as not to be hit by rocks we might be knocking loose. All that came back was, “We cant…” Confused, Larry and I kept descending. The hill became so steep and unstable that even Namu (who it turned out was the #1 search dog in New Zealand) couldn’t continue on. Namu’s cries joined Katsuya’s and the girls’. She obviously wanted to keep going. We were slowly lowering ourselves from small tree trunk to tree trunk. Larry slipped and dropped his flashlight. As he clung to the trunk of a small tree, we watched it tumble down into the darkness. Suddenly it was no longer tumbling. It was falling. A couple seconds later, we heard a sharp squeel as the torch landed directly on the head of one of the girls. That was when we realized why they had said it was too dangerous. Larry and I were next to each other and what we had previously though was the hill extending in front of us was not what it seemed to be. A few feet ahead of us, the steep hill became quite a bit steeper. We managed to lower ourselves a little further before being forced to stop. The dirt and moss was no longer there. My foothold was the final small tree above a sheer drop. I couldn’t move to either side and Larry was above me. It was so steep that though he was standing next to me his shoe was inches from my face. Practically hanging from the tree above and standing on one foot, I maneuvered myself around so I could point Larry’s back up light down the rock face. Thirty feet directly below me I could see the girls. We had found them. They were in a small pocket of rock. Luckily none of them were hurt. Apparently they had been unable to find the correct path down and ended up coming down a dry riverbed. (Not unlike the one from my previous post) Pushing through my fear of heights, I clung to the tree above while Larry radioed the chopper. We had heard them flying low over the mountain with their spotlights. We had determined there was no way to get to them or walk them out. Just as I’d been hoping for from the start… It was time to bring in the winch.
Larry and I clung to the thin trees. I was standing one-footed on a small outcrop mostly made of moss. The more I moved my quickly numbing foot, the more the moss would crumble. Gradually I swung my pack around on the hip straps. I dug out two sweaters, some gloves and a small blanket and tossed them down to the girls below. They had left before lunchtime and as it was past 1 am, they had to be hungry. I showered them with bundles of pizza that the other staff had packed.
Finally the heli and their night vision found our lights and proceeded to lower a man down to the girls. Larry and I still precariously clinging to the wall above them were caught in the downwash from the helicopter’s rotor blades. Blinding lights illuminated the rock face and tremendous gusts of chilled night air shook our handholds violently. Not a pleasant feeling. The girls were winched up two at a time, rapidly spinning as they rose above the treetops. I figured this was my chance. I called down to the rescue guy. “So I’m next right??” Completely forgetting my fear of heights, I wanted nothing more than to get winched up through the trees in a midnight rescue op.
However, it was to remain but a dream. Maybe next time… Tonight, we were hiking out… Larry and I waited for the rescue guy to get hoisted up before turning back. This is when it got scary. My foothold was finally giving way. Larry had to move higher before I could move. I don’t know how we made it down so easily, but the trek back up was not so simple. The entire hillside was made up of moss and crumbling roots. My pack kept getting caught, my feet fell through roots, my face was constantly pressed into the dirt and moss to hold me in place, I was soaked from the waist down, and I was fully aware of my fate should any of my foot or handholds give way. Larry, Namu and I finally managed to scramble back up to the path. Sliding down the track, again at Larry and Namu’s mind-bending speed, and crossing the river, we made it back to Maruia at last. I emptied my boots, changed into dry pants and waved the heli away.
Finally, everybody is home safe and warm.
Time for that bath and beer.
Namu, standing between my legs while Larry relays GPS coordinates
I thought I'd take a minute to address the diminishing frequency of my updates. Perhaps its because I havent left Maruia Springs some time. Maybe its due to my unvarying daily life. Lately my days are just filled with sleeping, eating, exercising, and cooking. And of course the unavoidable morning and night soaks. I figure nobody wants to hear about the food suppliers forgetting our shipment of monkfish for two consecutive weeks, or the amateur butcher who literally 'butchered' our last shipment of lamb and pork... Well, I guess the first signs of winter on the mountain peaks is somewhat interesting...
Aside from the monotonous daily occurrences, life in the mountains has its occasional rousing times. Last week during a particularly vicious rainstorm we lost all power just as the sun was disappearing behind the mountains. The hydrogenerator didn't have enough water coming through the intake up on the mountain, so we were forced to rely on the emergency lighting system. After a short period the emergency lights ran out of juice and we were plunged into darkness. I've only experienced this kind looming blackness in the depths of a cave. No star or moonlight could pierce the thick rainclouds. The buildings grew steadily colder as the heat escaped through open seams in the old building. The only thing that can be done is to bundle up, sit in the darkness, or the shimmering light of candles, and wait. Wait for the rain to ease up. Wait for the maintenance crew to determine and solve the problem. Wait for them to get the back up diesel generator up and running. Hours go by and not even a flicker of electricity. The diesel generator won't start up, the hydrogenerator still isn't getting enough power. A few of us scramble up the sloppy path up the mountain to where the intake is. Thirty minutes later, covered in mud, we see the problem. Branches have clogged the intake and only a small trickle manages to filter through. An hour later, soaked to the bone, the water flow is normal, and yet, no power... The generator isn't producing very much power. Only enough to maintain power for a couple minutes. Just as our eyes adjust to the sudden blinding light, we are hurled back into the blackness.
Finally, many hours after the initial power loss, we managed to to maintain a steady flow of electricity. Time for a well earned soak in the tub. After peeling of the soggy layers I was ready for a shower and a bath. Just my luck. The water wont turn on. Naked, freezing, cursing the heavens, I toweled up and went to tell the maintenance guys. Luckily it was a quick fix and ten minutes later I was laying in a simmering tub, core temperature slowly returning to normal.
...Havent even picked up my camera in a while.... No new pictures... Some Nelson pics perhaps?
Just concluded my first solo busy night in the kitchen. Though the last few nights I have been Chef's assistant plating the european menu, and being kitchen commander (ordering the other cooks to make things and yelling at the wait staff for being too slow), tonight I was back on the Japanese menu. A slow night at first, Peter and I just talked about '80s action flicks and told jokes. Many thanks to Andy for most of the jokes I remember... Abruptly, the printer began a maniacal printing spree and simply would not give us a break. Damn that little machine. At one point I had three nabe on the stove, dumplings in the steamer, calamari and agedashi tofu in the fryer, and I was rolling a salmon roll. It was overwhelming at first, but somehow I managed to get everything out at the same time. On top of that, Peter complimented me on my sushi, saying it was better than the cook who's been here longest. Admittedly it was my best one to date, but I'm happy to say it was rolled in the midst of a culinary frenzy. I was slightly bummed that it was the last order, cause I was ready for more!
A few days ago on my day off I took a hike above the intake. (Intake of water powering the hydrogenerator and supplying our plumbing) Exploring the area above, I felt like Bear Grylls climbing through the brush to reach the next bend in the river. I managed to make it as high as the river would allow. There was a split in the 'path' and leading straight up the steep hill was a dry river bed. Looking back I know this is where I made wrong decision. I made my way up the treacherous path with a strong desire to reach the mountaintop. With every step up the crumbling surface, I could hear the rocks I had been standing on moments before tumbling down the hill. At times it was like being on a treadmill, the rocks simply sliding down and not allowing to make any progress. Up and up I went until I came around a bend and 50 feet in front of me was a 150 foot cliff. Impenetrable forest closed in on either side and I quickly realized this was the end of my climb. As scary as the climb was, the decent was truly the most dreadful part of the journey. I could hardly keep my feet under me as the torrent of rocks and gravity swept me down the hill. Twisting my knee, cutting up my legs and bruising my butt was nothing compared to the fear of getting caught in a landslide. Luckily I made it back down to the river with minor cuts, but as I forded the freezing river, my knee started to hurt. Navigating the slippery rocks with a bad leg was difficult, but I was just thankful to be off the dry river of death.
Knee feels fine now, but I dont think I'll be going up there anytime soon. I'll have to find a different path to the peak...
The sizzle of steak, the hiss of steam, the curses of Peter. These are the sounds that usher me into the kitchen. The last two weeks of manipulating food into edible meals has been superb. I have been stationed on the Japanese side of the menu, learning a lot of new recipes, and an extensive list of techniques. From skinning fish, rolling sushi, making gyoza from scratch, to frying tempura and agedashi tofu, and preparing seafood nabe, I am kept busy far longer than when previously in housekeeping. Nightly oil burns and scalding fingertips will never deter me from being in the kitchen. Even the rest of the staff have been joking about how much happier I seem now that housekeeping is behind me.
After a few nights of scrambling about, attempting to keep up with a full house, a 3 table night is a relieving thought to all involved in the mayhem. Of course, my gratitude was cut short when notified that it is finally my turn to make the staff meal. Just my luck... Preparing meals for three tables is a fine sight on the distant horizon when faced with the daunting task of making a meal for 25 hungry Japanese, alone. Dont let their size fool you. They eat a lot. I scanned the pantry, walk-in, and the freezers for options. Finally settling on poached meatballs, roasted veg, and garlic bread, I began a frantic chopping spree. Long story short, my conversions from american to metric, then multiplying for 25 were a bit off and I was left with A LOT of meatballs and not enough sauce to poach in. Poaching some, roasting others, and frying the rest, I managed to put food on the table in time for the vultures to feast. Needless to say, I was quite relieved to know that only three tables would need to be fed.
An hour or two later, across flaming pans, and steaming pots I see Peter give me a joyous arm pump. The third table isn't coming. We. Are. Done. The two of us scrub counters, mop floors, and store our mise en place between loads of the dishwasher. Suddenly, without warning, the dishwasher doors explode open and fly off the spring loaded hinges nearly crashing through the window. We look at each other, aware of the curses that are inevitably racing around each others minds. Its happened before. Not an easy fix. Especially with two people.
An hour of pinched skin, cuts from metal edges, and irate roars, the previously dismantled dishwasher was once again washing another load. (Although it was covered in numerous bloody fingerprints...) A bloody high five, a quick cleanup and we walked out of the kitchen, straight for the beer fridge.
Oh yeah, I almost forgot. After Take and Yasu (real name, not Yasu clone) left today, Daichi, who moved into the camper after me, and I rock-paper-scissored for the two newly vacated rooms. Victorious, I moved my things into the bigger room, complete with queen size bed, and vaulted ceilings. Much better than living between the toilet and the girl who regularly makes weird unexplainable noises late into the night. Too bad for the new guy who comes tomorrow!
After my first week in the kitchen, I was in need of a break from the mountains. Needless to say, Christchurch isn’t in the condition to be a day trip destination, so instead, I went west. The town of Nelson sits on the west coast of NZ, about 3 hours northwest of Maruia Springs. Unlike the drive to the east, the journey west doesn’t change in scenery all that much. That is until you break free of the mountains, and catch sight of the ocean. Though I was there for only half of a day, just being at the beach for a few hours, and exploring a new place on my own was enough to satisfy my hunger for an alternate surrounding.
Like many of the towns here in NZ, central Nelson consists of older buildings, occupied by new and old businesses. As you move along the coast, the houses become larger and much newer. Many seem to follow the same modern motif, of solid colors and right angles. They looked quite nice, just not my style. It seemed like they belonged somewhere much more tropical. I may have gotten that feeling from the low hanging clouds that lingered for much of the day. As much as I love cloud cover and fog in the mountains, a sunny beach can’t be beat. Having said that, the evening’s sunset coupled with the breaking clouds was one of the best I’ve seen in some time.
Waterfall on Maruia River. Caused in a single day by an earthquake. (not the recent one)
Though it's been around a week since my last post, the happenings here at Maruia Springs have been rather monotonous. My daily regimen of waking up early, exercising, eating, working, eating, free time (usually filled with reading, swimming, dreaming of skating (maybe some flatground in the grass), watching tv (in today's case, MacGyver!) or going hiking), eating, and the inevitable soak in the bathhouse have become quite routine. I've been here for exactly one month, and I've been in housekeeping the whole time. Those who know me are aware that housekeeping and I rarely see eye to eye... Despite this, I've found the repetitive movements of making a bed, or ironing a seemingly never ending pile of yukatas (casual summer kimono) surprisingly relaxing. I think it's the identical fresh looking products that result. However soothing these processes may be, as of yesterday, as long as I am here I won't have to do any of it again (knock on wood...). Starting Wednesday, I'll begin my new position as... (drumroll please).... cook!
Finally, knife in hand, I will be sweating over burners and smelling those sweet smells once again. Day after tomorrow I'll be donning my new chef's coat and checkered pants, hoping my skills will meet chef Peter's approval. Until then I have today and tomorrow off to relax. (though i'd rather be in the kitchen asap!)
