Setting off, that sheer grip to the wheel, bags packed, pumped with excitement as that feel good feeling finally strikes. Whilst boarding the plane I observed the differentiating dialect with the kiwi accent, being greeted with a pearling new white smile expressing “Isle 13F, to your right sir.” The greets and beats kept on rolling in, as Jordan and I were frothing…..stepping off the plane hearing the native mother tongue left right and centre.
“Awww yeah bro”…….. here to hire the beast known as Jumbo George, picking up the van to be, we felt weightless. Throwing our bags in the back, hyped up on giggles we drove away from the hire place, stoked to breath in the crisp air that New Zealand was to offer. Lost within 5 minutes, the adventure began.
As we drove in the dark not seeing anything, we decided to park up and rest assure to find out where we were in the morning…Parking our van in a gravel doey (Donut) rink, we set off to find a beer in town as the need to sample the fresh nectar, was essential. Stumbling across a pub called ‘The Junction’, we parked our tooshies down, cheering to the start of an epic adventure.
Two down, money conscious, beat boxing as we walked from the joint, we were greeted by two big friendly Maori lads. “Awww Bru, wanna chop?”…….”Sick Beat boxing ay!” I was frothing, and took them up on the old chop scenario in an abandoned car park out the front of Pack ‘n’ Save. Little did I know, these lads smoked a lot of weed, and I was used to rolling little prima puppies mixed with whacky tabbacky and tabbacky itself. “Hey, bruu…..We do it your way”….getting out a ciggy and mixing it with what looked like $50 Aussie bundle. Packing it straight up……Flick…..Lit…..Toke……Down…. DOWN……Held it…..Held it……Release, this lad looked like puff the magic dragon…..piece of piss for him. I personally hate bongs, but it was a cultural experience right….Pack ‘n’ Save experience. Well away I went….Flick…..Lit…..Toke……Down…. DOWN……Held it…..Release….Nailed it.
I swear……it was about 30 seconds and he had packed me another monster that i passed up on…..and hes like……”Naaaahhhhh Brahhhh…..Toke da Chop Bru!” Talk about peer pressure…Flick…..Lit…..Toke……Down…. DOWN……Held it…..Held it…..Release…..Cough……Cough…..Cough……(Repeat). Passed it on…..30 seconds later…..It was at my finger tips again………this time I was saying….”Naaaaahhhh Brahhhh……YOU Toke da Chop bru!” Sure enough he did……he did another 3.
Standing up right and out of the car, I needed a leaning post as the Skunk/ hydro definitely gave me that car park Pack ‘n’ Save cultural skunked out experience I ever longed for. Leaning back against their broken down automobile was when the real reality sunk in, as I was one of the lucky fuckers in this life time to fly out into a cosmic imperative…..have a 20 minute conversation with Noam Chomsky about you know….Philosophy… not going to deep, and I visited my dog Decoda in heaven, talking perfect spanish.
Little did I know…..Blacking out surrendering my soul to life, did I not slide off the car, smack my head, and get knocked out for 10 seconds…… However, I swear on my life that those exact 10 seconds was inevitably the most peaceful state I had ever experienced on my whole cultural expedition around the world. Blessed by a brother, to soul search back into my consciousness and to be woken with a Tap! Tap! Tap!
Opening my eyes, in a car park where Pack ‘n’ Save had just given me a blessing, were 3 men standing over me, ever so stoked to see me back to reality.
After expressing my thank you’s for the Chop, significantly meaning it, Jordan and I walked back to the car where i felt my night was complete. With the skitzy dreams that followed that night, I woke so early….No hangover……Feeling on top, frotttthhhing on how nice the day was and our doey rink car park camp over. Today was a new day, and a new day comes with it a new tale.
Hitting the high roads and coast line from Thames, we were heading north up and around the peninsula, where the roads wrapped around the rocky cliffs and the bays were ever so enticing to the eyes, with pull over bays to capture a snap shot of its beauty. Coromandel come as a surprise, a little town that had the wrap of tourism, with divine farmers stores throwing slashed prices of fresh fruit out with signs, that was irritably hard to drive by. Stocked up on fruit, we parked Jumbo George, and hit the hills for a hike….
Above was pretty dreamy…..Floating brothers with smiles on our dials, we breathed in the fresh lock hit of O2 and feasted our eyes on the scenario. The climb down was a piss take.
Back to the van man…..Rolllingggggg!
We were off…..Up and around the amazing hills, backing ridges of spectacular views, observing the green lush grass…..and SHEEP! Yes, sheep….We seemed to see sheep loads, chowing down their daily diet of dirt and mother natures strands of goodness (Grass).
But that comes as no surprise, considering 80% of driving time you view wacky sheep in fields.
The drive from Coromandel to Whitianga brought with it winds and waves of whinge, to sing alongs, chit chats and stop overs as we cranked up 107.5 and buzzed along to corny pop music until we arrived. Arriving in Whitianga was amazing, as we skipped down town, to be greeted with the vibrant youth of travellers vans, skate parks and cool cafes.
After chilling out and grabbing a cup of sweet bean, we were creving down the freeway, off to Hot Water beach where the name says it all. As the brisk sun descend over the mountains ranges, and our eyes feasted on another stunning coastline. The moons rays blinded the cat……as it hissed out of the clouds showing no signs of bashful actions, this moon was out to stay, and it lead the way towards 2 days of soul sending freedom. POP…..Yet again, aporached by travellers in the car park this place looked bliss. The moons rays opened up the evening light and the glow from the waters edge was nothing but a shimmer with ripping waves rolling through. The surfers all caught their last waves as the temperature drops with ease, cooling the sand to numb the feet as they paced themselves to the car park. Looking around with a roll of the eyes, we both looked at each other and spun around laughing as we took in all of its beauty. “Joogs…….Lets cook up some grub mate, this place is epic.”
Epic it twas indeed! Steak burgers in the dark car park, people started to poor in.
After talking to one of the surfers for a while, asking him where some epic spots are, he gave me the local run down, such an nice lad from Auckland. He was travelling with his girlfriend at the time, and they were frothing on the full moon, and explained how they had a few good nights on blue stalk beauties. Whilst chowing down, they threw a bag of quality shrooms on the table and said, “If you like, heres a good night”.
I was stoked, Joog’s was like ‘Ahhh shit, here we go again’, never having tried the goodness of shrooms for desert before. Once again significantly thanking the Kiwi couple, and continuing to much our dinner, we washed up and went for a moon walk down to the ocean (Shroom-less). The water was misty and there laid steam coming from the sand. Boahh. As we dove our hands down to feel the water, it was coooooking. We were bubbling with excitement as people were walking down the beach with shovels, towels and boardies on. It was show time. We ran back to the car……grubbed up and ready to roll, we made it a night. Board shorts on, towels scooped up and over our shoulders, we jogged down the beach to be using our hands to scoop dig some good old fashioned hot pool holes. Enticed by the springs warmth, travellers rocked in all night digging holes, chilling and drinking beers, and just conversing with good old stories.
To be continued….