End Times

Ten months ago I left the comforts of OR to face the trials of whatever NZ and Maruia Springs could throw my way. Overgrown mountains, snowstorms, housekeeping, isolation, korean veggie-men, endless rain, cuts, burns, sandflies, obscure orders, midnight rescue, earthquakes, vegans, shoddy butchers, rockslides, waking up to couples in the neighboring private bath, and so much more. It may seem like a list of terrible experiences, but without these happenings the good times wouldn't have been nearly as enjoyable. So, I'll revise the list: Clean air, peaceful mountains, snow in July, friends, fox 'n ferret, skateparks, steamer fire, Reefton, FIFA '09, mountain summits, Eels, the Professor, Dontel, pies, Stoke, goslings, sunsets, misty, chibi, Jon G, Nooow, fermentation, generator room, the knife, the language, the bath, and of course, white devil.

Meaningless words to most, but to me, they will forever spell out the highlights of 2011.

Ten months ago, I could imagine neither my looming 22nd birthday, nor going to Japan months later. Now they've both drifted by along with the subsequent months, like seed spores on the unperceivable wind that is time at Maruia. Come and gone before I knew it, and now life in the mountains near Lewis pass is over. My last night the staff saw me off with countless drinks, lasting well into the morning. Unsteadily, they packed me onto the bus and sent me off down the winding roads to Christchurch.  As ill as I felt, it couldn't hope to measure up to the exhaustion coarsing through my veins. Waking up only for fresh air in Culverton, I somehow managed to get to the airport after the bus dropped me near city centre. (Which has been closed since February)

A cramped flight up to Auckland, followed by a 40 min bus ride into town left me in no mood to be friendly. At the hostel in downtown Auckland I grumpily checked in only to have my foul mood worsened by the room. Like a pungent fist, the stench in the room nearly knocks me on my ass. One other guy is currently in the room but judging by the amount of luggage piled against the wall, every bed was taken.

"Hi, I'm Jesse. What in the hell is that smell??"

"Sven. Smells like ammonia. It's coming from those bags over there. I think it mouse piss."

Fueled by our disgust for the unknown others, Sven, from Frankfurt, and I quickly became friends. Along with a Dutch guy, Pancho, we went out for dinner and a few drinks.

You're probably asking yourself, how I could have gone out for drinks after beginning my day with a nauseous, drunken bus ride?

Believe me when I say, no living, or dead for that matter, person could ever fall asleep in that room without a few drinks to knock them out.
I'm meeting my parents in Auckland in the morning for more travels.
Will update when I can.

Farmer John

Excited about my day off the following day, I asked Eisuke if he was going anywhere as it was his day off as well.  Since it was raining and had been for the previous few days, skateboarding was out of the question. He told me that he and a some of the girls from housekeeping were headed over to check out John’s farm. There was one seat left in the car so I decided to go too.

First let me tell you a bit about John. John (no idea what his last name is) is a typical west coast New Zealand farmer. Pete had been telling me for months to get over to his farm, but I never got the chance. John shows up at Maruia Springs every Thursday morning and hauls away our trash. I have absolutely no idea where he takes it, but it seems that he has been doing it every week for some time.

So, it’s early morning, and we’re headed to Farmer John’s. Yes, Farmer John. Like every children’s book his name is Farmer John and he a big fluffy white beard and a sheep dog. John welcomed us with a friendly smile mostly hidden behind that beard of his. His dog, Boss, came trotting up as well. He and Boss led us around the back of their house to the garden where three little lambs were at the fence shouldering each other aside to get a better view of the oncoming visitors. At 6 weeks old, they stood maybe two feet tall, and were absolutely adorable. We hand-fed them some milk, and let them get back to their prancing around the garden. While Farmer John stepped inside, Boss led us around the other side of the house where an ostrich was stretching her big brown wings. John returned with an ostrich egg. Easily the size of a softball, I had but one question on my mind. “How big would a fried ostrich egg be??” Boss and John hopped into his old, tough as nails, Hilux and we followed them down the road to his barn.

Though it had been raining the previous few days, this particular day was blue skies and the true beauty of NZ farmland revealed itself. We hopped out of the car as Farmer John and Boss were walking up to the barn. John called out “Pigs!” and moments later seven or eight piglets came running out their short little legs. That sight alone made my day. We fed the piglets and the big pigs, and then went into the barn where we waded waste deep through a room full of sheep. John opened the barn doors and the sheep spilled out into the sunlight only to be rounded up by the awaiting Boss. John also had a herd of deer, and around 50 head of cattle. Before leaving John told me about a cave up the hill from the cows, so hopefully I’ll check it out soon.

It was late morning by the time we left Farmer John to his work. We all had the day off, so we impulsively decided to go to Greymouth and see the ocean. Although it was a holiday and most of the shops were closed, we had fun walking around town and down by the ocean. Eisuke and I found a spot where the waves crash on the rocks below and sprayed well above head height.

The vast spread of the ocean horizon was a most welcoming sight, compared to the foggy mountainous horizon I have become quite accustomed to. 

 Hungry Lamb

Through the fence

Super sized 

Piglets!

Mouth full of dirt...

NZ farmland

Farmer John

Back on Board

In the days previous to leaving OR, I had planned to leave my skateboard behind. Honestly, I thought it would be an encumbrance, since I would be living in the mountains there would be no place to use it and if I found a place to skate then I’d just buy myself a new one.

Fortunately the Nicks both insisted that I would be miserable if I didn’t bring it. They kept saying how much I would regret it whenever I saw anything remotely skate-able. Reluctantly I gave into their banter, and strapped the damned thing to my bag. As expected, it was a nuisance. They made me put it in a big plastic bag and tape it up. Basically it came out the other end looking like Chris Farley’s “suitcase” in Tommy Boy.

Nuisance and all, I couldn’t be happier that I brought it. My first day in Auckland, I found countless spots and a few skate parks. Nearly every city I’ve been to, big or tiny, has had a skate park of some sort. Also, skateboards here cost twice as much as they do back home and for the most part the selection has been terrible.

The most recent addition to the Maruia Maintenance team, Eisuke, saw my board and told me he too skated when he was younger. Next time he went to town he came back with his own board and we’ve been taking regular trips to skate parks since. Though it means my scab collection has increased exponentially, it feels so good to have my feet back on the board.

The following may be meaningless to most, but for those who might understand…

Reefton Rollerpark (love the name) is a huge for the size of the town. Twice the size of Ashland’s and everything is huge. Steep hips, weirdo 25 foot wide miniramp (all but 3 feet of one side is a spine), two bowls (one is a 7 foot square, the other has three sections: 6, 7, and 8 feet) crazy funboxes (managed to front lip the flat down), ledges, rails, and more.

Moorehouse Park in Christchurch is my favorite so far, but the vibe sucks. Lurkers all over, and kids drinking and asking for cigarettes and/or pot. As with any other park of the sort, we got there in the early morning to avoid the pests. The park is fantastic. Medford sized. Nearly 100 feet of 3, 4, and 5 foot perfect mini ramps, perfect hip, step up with ledge that can be hit from either side, multi level manny pads with ledges (best trick I saw was kickflip onto pad, nollie back tail 360 front shuv out. Bolts.), punkwall pocket, and so much more. I’ll take pics next time. I was too stocked to hit the miniramps when I got there and by the time I remembered to take some shots, it was overrun with lurkers and scooters.

There are little parks and miniramps scattered throughout Christchurch, but we only had time to check one out. It was just out of town, practically empty and super fun. Weird little figure eight “bowl” (it was 4 feet but pretty damn fun), sketchy hip, up-down rail, flatbar, two foot ledge, traffic barrier, and the craziest little nipple in the “bowl.” I’ll get a picture next time.

Also, the scooter scene in NZ is crazy! They outnumber boards at the park 4 to 1 at least. Makes me sad to see the lack of skaters, but there are some kids who can seriously rip. 

Sweat

Two weeks in the humid Japan summer and I became very familiar with sweat. Other than the days I was soaked in rain I spent the remaining days soaking my own shirt. One day in particular stands out from the others though. My final day in Tokyo, I woke up with a headache; a result of the previous night. All you can drink, and all you can eat Korean pork belly, for a couple hours and anybody would be staggering as they walked out. The next morning however, I had a mission to take Chloe to Yokohama to visit my family and witness the monstrous size of their cat. 

From the moment I headed out for Yokohama, I began a sequence of events that would lead to the worst sweat of my trip. A hurried lunch at the family home, pictures with the cat, and off to the train station. At this moment I was calm as can be, hopping from train to train all the way to Akihabara. I’d left my big bags in a locker there, but had to go out to Chris’s to pick up my computer and skateboard. At Chris’s I jumped in the shower so I wouldn’t spend the next many hours feeling disgusting. After a quicker than I would I would have liked goodbye with Chloe, I ran for the train station, a panic slowly setting in. I took the train to another stop, where I had to wait for the fast train to Narita Airport. The Skyliner Express didn’t reach the airport until 5:25. My flight began boarding at 5:45, and of course, I got off at the wrong terminal. By the time I made it to the proper terminal it was 5:48. This was when the sweat really set it. A 44 liter pack on my back, a 22 on my front and a computer bag in hand, I checked the screen for which check in counter to go to. Counter B. I dreadfully looked up at Counter L. Nearly bowling down fellow travelers while sprinting to the proper gate I had only one repeating thought, “I WILL get on that plane. I WILL get on that plane.” Counter B was deserted. No Air New Zealand signs, and only a single person behind a computer. Wide eyed she looks at me and timidly asks, “Auckland?”

Pouring sweat, I paced while she called up baggage control and frantically checked me in. They took my luggage and I sprinted for security.

No more than 15 minutes from when I stepped off the bus between terminals, I sank into aisle seat 24J.

Half an hour after takeoff, we hit violent turbulence. The kind of turbulence where I could only envy the sleeping people. The kind of turbulence where I could only wonder about the irony of sprinting to this plane.

Sweat from panic, sweat from fear, sweat from physical exhaustion. 

I’d experienced them all in a matter of an hour. 

Needless to say, I needed another shower. 

Naptime

Kanazawa

Toyama is to Tokyo as Portland is to New York City; Smaller, and a lot more my speed. Spending the days lounging in the air conditioning or exploring Toyama in the sweltering heat, life in the mountains of NZ quickly left my thoughts. Chloe taught English by day, while I puttered about, eventually making dinner on her weirdo cook top.

One day we took the train over to Kanazawa to meet a friend of mine. Yasu (former Maruia Springs maintenance man) met us at the train station, before leading us on a walk up to the castle and the famous Kenrokuen gardens. With only one umbrella between Chloe and I, I took the brunt of the sudden downpour. In the refreshing summer shower, I took shelter only to protect my camera, and get shots of the beautiful garden. The latter however, did not work out to my full desire. Damn you rain...

Kanazawa Station

Battle at the Castle

Kenrokuen

Oldest fountain in Japan

Big pond

To Toyama

After a few long nights in Tokyo, usually ending in an early morning drunken stop at the MacDonald’s breakfast menu, the coast to coast train ride was a relieving pause.  These long distance Shinkansen rides are where my JR rail pass really came into fruition. While the thousands of other people around me buy tickets or scan their 'Pasmo' to squeeze through the turnstiles, I simply flash my pass to the attendant who invariably nods and waves me though. Any JR train, anywhere, anytime. Brilliant.

As much as I was looking forward to the few hours of tranquil, expedient rail travel, it couldn’t compare to the joyous anticipation of seeing Chloe after seven long months. 

toy blocks in a Toyama mall

cream filled seal pups

fish stick

Toyama from Chloe's top floor

Dino Chloe

Toyama evening

Chloe's ancient train 

I spy the Starbucks!!

Lone, Magnificent Starbucks on the river

(glowing structure to the right)

To Tokyo

I spent my initial days with family in Yokohama, I heaved bags onto my back and hopped aboard the train to Tokyo. As would be repeated countless times throughout the trip, I went forth without any phone numbers or way of contacting the friend I would be staying with. I hadn’t even bothered to jot down my families home phone number. And of course it was moments after waving goodbye to my parents that I realized the predicament I had gotten myself into. Speeding down the tracks bound for the capital, I was completely lost in my own thoughts of how on earth I was going to pull this one off. I had one phone number in my notepad and they didn’t know my friend. When I reached a pay phone I called anyways. My thoughts were to get a sequence of telephone calls from person to person originating from my payphone, hopefully to the person I was staying with. I got the answering machine… Somehow confident that it would all work out eventually, I got myself out of the dreaded heat and into an pleasantly air conditioned bar. Sipping on what very well may have been the most refreshing beer not only physically buy psychologically, I was struck by a new plan. After hastily throwing the rest of my beer down my throat, I heft my immense load back onto my shoulders and ran to the payphone. To my relief the phone is answered and my plan is set in motion. Half an hour later I’m in the shower, so happy to have that weight off my shoulders.

Yokohama Station Joinus