I am not an addict.

If I had the capital, I would open Clif Company, NZ.  I would integrate the same business model, recipes, and environmental messages into a socially conscious infrastructure designed specifically for the people of New Zealand.

I started to compose this email in my head during the second week of my six week trip.  Professing my love to an energy bar does sound a little strange, but it is tough to hold back when the passion is strong:

Hi,

I just returned from a six-week epic adventure through the magical lands of New Zealand. I feel compelled to write and let you know how much I love the Clif Company -- the hero of health, hunger, and habitat. I am sure you receive tons and tons and tons of emails that clog your inbox with all sorts of ridiculous yet practical musings, so here is one more:

I purchased my first Clif Bar in 2000 from the Cornell Campus Store.  You had me at Carrot Cake.  I am vegan, and have been since 1997, so I was beyond excited at the arrival of portable healthy, delicious food at a university that valued its impact on the world but offered little for its starving, studious, library-living vegan students. Since that first unveiling in the middle of Ho Plaza, the Clif Company has always been there for me: through 7.5 years of undergrad + grad school, a USA/Canada music tour with destinations too punk rock for healthy food, the San Francisco Marathon + many other races, travels to Europe and the Middle East, and most recently, my trip to New Zealand.

Because of the length of my New Zealand trip and the minimal amount of baggage I traveled with, my Clif Z Bar supplies (for kids? No way!) ran out in less than two weeks. The adventurer in me was not worried. I thought it would be fun to try some crazy foreign energy bars in a country that embraces nationwide sustainable practices; prioritizes the current/future well-being of its land, culture, and people; publicly supports small farms, local industry, and organic agriculture; and is the birthplace of bungy jumping.  I traveled both the North and South Island and had the best time ever! But I cannot begin to describe how much I missed every single product you sell.  On every hike, on every long drive, on every fiord, I missed the Clif Company. 

In New Zealand, you can amp up on Powerade and Red Bull, throw yourself out of an airplane, hike 3,754 meters to the top of Mount Cook, save beached whales, and then eat a muesli bar. That's right, the only bars they sell are of the muesli/granola/breakfast variety. One day, devastated and hungry, I  recognized the bright sparkling wrapper of a Larabar. I bought it for $4.50 (NZ) ... not the same.

I will be traveling back to New Zealand at the end of the year and staying for a few months. I will go to all lengths to obtain an address where I can receive shipments of Clif Bars, Luna Bars, Z Bars ... and I will spread the word to anyone who will listen.

Have you ever considered selling your products in New Zealand? I see from your website that you have established markets in both Canada and the UK, but in my humble opinion, New Zealand is a country waiting for the introduction of an energy bar as amazing as yours.

Thank you.

Sincerely,
Jessica Wolkoff
San Francisco, CA

After sending Clif this email last week, I wondered how much money I have given them in my lifetime... 
Let's say I have been eating these bars for 10 years or about 3,650 days.  There have been days/weeks I have gone without bars and there have been days/weeks I eat two, or four, a day.  To make it simple, I average a bar a day.  I know, totally absurd haha, it's not like that's really the case or anything.

3,650 bars. 

Estimating the cost is a little more confusing. The Z bars I buy are usually $.49 but I have purchased Clif Bars and Luna Bars for as much as $2.00, sometimes more! Usually though, they seem to hover around $.99 to $1.50.  
Average, round, add, add, add, add, divide, equals about $1/bar -- oh wait, that is the easiest math ever!

There is no doubt in my mind that I have given the Clif Company $3,650 in the last 10 years. I also have no doubt that number is a gross underestimate.

Milford Road, NZ

Snow, mountain, avalanche. This is why Milford Road is often closed. [Taken from inside the bus]

Milford Road, NZ

I wanted to run to the mountains, as usual, but was not allowed, as usual. 

Mirror Lake, NZ

On the way to Milford Sound, the bus driver let us out for exactly ten minutes. This was barely enough time to fight other tourists for the perfect view.

Queenstown, NZ

Chaffinch, my bird. I probably have 100,000,000 photos of chaffinches I met along the way.

Lake Wakatipu, Queenstown, NZ

tufts

South Island, NZ

A few branches.

 

Reprogramming

"Turtle's keynotes are motherhood, longevity, and awakening to opportunities ... She reminds us that, by using the resources we have been given, including our common sense and knowledge, we can right ourselves even when the world turns us upside down ... She reminds us to think things through before we act.  She also reminds us that we need to find a balance between swimming in the Water-Source of Creativity and coming out onto the land to apply what we've learned.  She has to find the way from birth-sand to the sea essentially on her own. 

Julia White teaches that turtle people are loving and nurturing ... They make haste slowly, being careful that their thoughts and plans are fully investigated and explored before being put into action. They take their time about things for they know there is no need to rush, for turtle is also the mark of longevity ... Turtle people are true survivors, and have sharply honed senses to assure their survival on both the physical and spiritual levels. They have acute hearing; they are very sensitive to vibrations; they have the gift of clairvoyance ... Turtle is encouraging you to use your own head and heart to be all that you can be. Listen."

http://halcynn.net/leighslodge/spiritguides.htm 



Me: I don't really consider myself a spiritual person ...
Denise: You are SUCH a spiritual person!
Me: Na ah, no way.  I'm not spiritual. I don't believe in anything.

Last night, while researching the symbolic representation of an elephant, I came across the website quoted above.  If the site did not boldly state it was last updated in January 2006, I would think a very intelligent person viewed my blog, made some massive personality interpretations, and wrote about the anthropomorphic turtle. C'mon, "make haste slowly" is MY tagline.  I did not ask to be a turtle; a turtle asked to be me.

Fine. I believe in magic. I see the world in grayscale.  I ask a lot of unanswerable questions to the Universe. The turtle is my spirit guide.

I would write more but for days now, there have been mischievous gnomes trampling on my brain, giving me headaches. How about some pictures:

Tranzcoastal Train, Pacific Ocean

Tranzcoastal Train,  South Island

 

mountain tops  Kaikoura, NZ

 

Lake Pukaki, NZ

vineyard Tranzcoastal Train

Pancake Rocks  Punakaiki, NZ

Lake Ruataniwha, NZ

Scout's Honor

SF DPW is doing construction on the 23rd Street overpass near my house. This is my main access into and out of my neighborhood. It is also the way I start my run almost every day. 

I have only a few options for the first leg of my run: uphill, uphill, dangerous road, 23rd street. Starting a run uphill is something I am used to but not something I enjoy. The view is good, the burning pain not so much. 

The crew was setting up cones, signs, and standing around when I began my run today. I put my head forward and ignored everything. I looked for cars without making eye contact and sped across the bridge. Sadly, it is the only way through the field of unwanted attention. This is not meant to be a comment on sexism.  In general, I feel uncomfortable when I run by people who are stationary. If you are biking, rollerblading, running, etc, then we, the people in motion, share a temporary rite of passage. This connection is typically marked by a quick wave, a nod, a smile, a quiet "hey." It is the secret handshake that isn't a handshake. For a second, we belong to an exclusive club of mostly obsessive outsdoorsyish pain seeking guilt ridden goal oriented health freak endorphin rushed crazy people. It's awesome! For the five years I have lived in San Francisco though, this secret society is, in my opinion, a little too secret. 

Silence. 

Maybe no acknowledgment is the new acknowledgment. I would hate to lose credibility if I wave - "hey" - nod to another runner.  I guess this is more of a rant than a concern because I rarely see anyone else running.

As I approached the bridge on my return home, I saw an older woman on her knees on the sidewalk, trying to lift herself up with the support of the flimsy safety fencing. I could tell she had fallen and immediately ran over to her. I was confused: 'there are about 20 construction workers loitering around, does no one see her?'  I gave her my hand and helped her to stand up. I laughed uncomfortably as she smiled. She brushed off her pants and insisted she was fine. We were just outside the hospital, but she seemed more embarrassed than injured. I ran home.  

Running will either keep me strong for life or destroy my joints. Even though I will never get old, someday I might fall.

I was originally going to write about power -- like, telephone poles and turbines -- but I got sidetracked, as usual. 

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Desert Road, North Island, NZ

Desert Road, North Island, NZ

Lake Taupo, NZ

Denise: What's that?

Me: That's hail. 

Oh, you cute Floridian.

We stayed in Rotorua too long and left Rotorua very fast.  In fact, we had initially eliminated Rotorua from our itinerary but added it at the last second. As awful as that town smells [ewww sulfur], it was fortunate that we stopped. I was benched, forced to sit on the sidelines watching the days go by and our plans get slaughtered. Stupid shoulder stupid cave rafting.  I am not one to hold onto physical pain for long but oh yes, bring on the emotional torture -- I felt tremendously guilty for ruining our upcoming adventures.  

And here is where the storm comes in: some of our adventures were canceled anyway.  

In anticipation of bad weather, we left Rotorua and drove straight to Wellington.  

Desert Road is a segment of Highway 1 just south of Lake Taupo that runs through Tongariro National Park and into the Rangipo Desert. It is often closed due to inclement weather -- mostly snow. 

Storm's a brewin'. 

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Wellington to Picton

Energy

Langs Beach, NZ

Fishing for clouds

Pacific Ocean, east coast, South Island, New Zealand, Tranzcoastal train

A single popcorn cloud, comin' right up!

Mythconceptions

Home.

I like having my own space. I like it a lot.  I like quiet. I like clean. I like things the way I like them.  I often grumble about how much I hate people. Because I do. But since I am usually stating this to a friend, it becomes very obvious very quickly that maybe I'm a liar.  

Okay, here it is: People fascinate me.

My own life is relentlessly dizzying ... and yours? There is the big picture and the fine detail -- and the connections from where it all began to the streams, twists, and knots encountered along the way.  As someone who is on the slowest, most spastic journey, I have a curious urge to decipher the patterns that comprise [and drive] a minute, an hour, a life.

For this past month, I loved having a partner in time. I was going to say crime, but we had more endless days than criminal days.  I met a lot of people on this trip, asked a lot of questions, eavesdropped ... and, yeah, people are alright.

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I have not even finished going through one half of one memory card. I'm also trying not to give it all away at once.  It's not that I'm a tease, but someone[s], somewhere, is going to be forced [kindly] to sit through my entire slideshow and I really want it to be fresh and exciting.  Seeing it all now means a lot less "WOW" at show time.  That would be unfortunate. 

#1

90 Mile Beach

 

#2

90 Mile Beach

It is all very peculiar. 

90 Mile Beach is really only 55 miles and the blatant use of the non-metric "Mile" remains a mystery. After Cape Reinga, we cruised along the west coast of the North Island and navigated the tides of the Tasman Sea. We conquered this sandy terrain by coach bus. It is difficult to grasp, but take a standard tour bus and place it in this scene. You can see tire marks in the first photo. After all, 90 Mile Beach is a designated highway. 

The second photo is special. It is the only one I captured of the site where we went dune riding. After I snapped this, I sprinted out of the bus into the pouring rain with nothing but a tank-top, jeans, and a toboggan. Ugh. 

But wait! Can you spot it? Do you see it?

I spy: the faint tracks of previous dune riders. 

I spy: a man holding a hot pink toboggan climbing the dune.

I spy: a dune rider riding.

Put THAT in perspective.

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Mangawhai Heads, NZ

 

Mangawhai Heads, NZ 

In New Zealand, landscapes change abruptly. From snowy mountains to rainforests to forests to pastures to rolling hills to rocks to white sands to black sands to ocean. Above, layers of clouds move across the sky capturing and releasing sunlight constantly and inconsistently.  What is there now is not there later; the land is in perpetual motion.

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Waitomo, NZ

Waitomo, NZ

Meet Wonky! And the other one! I have so many pictures of sheep + lambs from all over New Zealand, oooooh! But these two guys had recently been rescued and were staying at the farm where we were staying. Neighbors! Also, there was a pig.

Waitomo, NZ

I know, I know. Right about here would be something about glowworms and cave rafting. I'll get to it eventually. Since I have no photographs of these events, sorry,  I was thinking I might draw a diagram instead. 

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Mmmm, the smell of sulfur ...

#1

Rotorua, NZ

#2

Rotorua, NZ

What planet am I on? 

Planet Rotorua. 

The first photo was taken in Waimangu Volcanic Valley, the world's youngest geothermal eco-system. With a little over an hour before the trails closed, we walked briskly along the steaming path. In this one small segment we witnessed unbelievable expressions of nature. I can only imagine the massive crayola box used to create the rest of the region.  

The second photo was taken when we visited Te Puia -- New Zealand Maori Arts and Crafts Institute. We watched a cultural performance [Haka dance!] followed by a stroll over to the Pohutu Geyser.

Foggy lens. True colors.

For Tension

Transitioning is like a rock skipped into the lake: gliding, dropping, and sinking. As exhaustion sets in, clouds roll over the past six weeks. I don't feel here in San Francisco or there in New Zealand; I am still circling for some place to land.  

As I wandered down Valencia this afternoon, I noticed a sign at Lost Weekend for a Superchunk show.  I immediately assumed they were making a play on words when really, they were referring to one of my favorite bands. I read and re-read the sign, turned 180 degrees, looked at my phone for the time, looked back at the poster, and continued walking down the street.  Too easy.  The venue was across the street and the show started in one hour.  If this is what happens when I am not paying attention to my place in time, then I'm going to stick around in the stratosphere for awhile. I stumbled into an evening with Superchunk and it was tremendous.

I finally sort of almost started looking through my pictures.  On those crappy computers abroad, the resolution was low and color distorted. There is a rough truth that emerges as I scan through the photographs on my own computer. There are a lot of photos so there are lots of truths. 

Random, today.

 

somewhere green  North Island, NZ

 Every place has a story.  This story is not one about the photograph but one within the photograph. Haze and scattered light set the scene for a fairytale. I'm sure it's a heart-warming tale but I have no idea what's happening in those green hills. I was only passing by.

Bream Bay, NZ 

... and about 30 seconds later, I took off my sneakers and ran into the ocean. 

 

Paihia, NZ

 A bridge across the mud flats on the hike to Haruru Falls.

Paihia, NZ

Walking through the mangrove forest made me think of my friend Bo's thesis project. She researched the mechanisms that allow the mangrove to flourish in salt water habitats as a model for architectural responses to the rising sea level in Bangkok. [Did I get that right?] My first mangrove.

I walked the path first with my video camera and then without.  The grey-brown field of aerial roots, each about six inches tall, displayed a fascinating triumph of survival.  Life thrives in this dirty system -- there is the frenetic mangrove crab and the audible 'poppopclickclick' of an oyster. Oyster? 

shhh, in the middle of the night

My house is the sound of nature at nighttime: the whirling of the fan is the chirping of crickets and the highway is the ocean. The associations linger but the appeal is fleeting.  Really, the fan is irritating and the highway pollutes every attempt at silence. My apartment is a chronic clash between comfort and stress -- this is normal. I am home.  

Time traveling resulted in two enjoyable October 13, 2010s. Someday though, I hope they figure out a better, faster, more efficient way to travel back in time. Staying awake for 32 hours is painful. And here I am, awake at 5am after going to bed at 1am. Broken body clock.

Updating my blog feels far less profound now that I am home. But, I like the mundane and seemingly unimportant so I will continue to post. Besides, there are stories lurking around, waiting to be adopted by my adventurous "YES." Sign me up, my shell is big enough for it all.

Evil Eye Twins

Pohara, NZ

They gave us the stare down so we pulled off the road. "Hey, hey, we're just passing through.  Not looking for trouble or nothin'. We'll be on our way now, thank you."

Rainbow Connection

Wharariki Beach, NZ

As I bent down to put my camera away, I heard Denise screaming through the vicious winds. Denise yelled many times since stepping into the desert storm and her words now [if any] were faded by the pelting sand. I conquered the wind and closed my bag, turned my head and saw the rainbow. Rainbow! It was there for less than a minute, most of which I spent getting my camera back out of my bag.

This photo belies the pain of the sand storm. Rainbows are colorful and pretty and sand storms are not colorful and questionably pretty. The vivid setting on my camera enjoyed the moment a little too much. But so did I so that's okay. 

Flight of the Navigator

This is my last post from New Zealand but most certainly not my last post about New Zealand. I have a gatrillion photographs + many words, bits, pieces, paragraphs, rocks, shells, lambs, and maps that I am excited to compile into suitable blog [book] format. Sharing is caring and I care a whole lot.

My trip to New Zealand brought form to the unimaginable and momentum to life interrupted. Nothing is perfect but everything is right.

baby fur seal SO CUTE! Abel Tasman, NZ

drift tree Pohara, NZ

sand storm Wharariki Beach, NZ

best hike ever Wharariki Beach, NZ

friendship Pohara, NZ

goodbyes

My newest best friend is a Sea Monster. I met her at low tide on Pohara Beach.  She's super duper friendly and we spent hours collecting shells together, telling stories, and floating around.  I am going to miss her a lot because New Zealand biosecurity will not allow me to take her on the airplane.  

Soooo, I am leaving New Zealand and coming back to the United States. Oct 13. 

Really? REALLY?

Yes, I am. 

For now. 

But not for later. 

See you again soon Sea Monster!

slow roll

The Grove, Pohara, NZ 

Franz Josef Glacier [note: he is eating chips]

Kayaking, Abel Tasman National Park, NZ 

HOLY !@#$%^&^(%^!!! Little Blue Penguins, Pohara, NZ

[they said we wouldn't see any ... we braved a storm ... THREE!]

The Rest

Some things: We took the day off in Queenstown. It is a day of nothing and it is fantastic. Except for the part about my phone breaking. That was so so. 

I love kiwi fruit. 

Before skipping town, we bike ride on the Frankton track, I run the Sunshine Bay trail, and we horseback ride in Glenorchy. Chester, biggest bully smallest horse. It was cold and rainy but I got to see where the Battle for Helm's Deep took place and the spot where Boromir was killed. 

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Sandfly bites are the worst ever. 

Waterfalls are lightning bolts in 2D. 

Everywhere we go I collect rocks and shells. 

Hiking a glacier is hard work. 

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Me: 'Can I get an americano?' Lady: raises her brow, 'I can only make what's on the menu.' She points to a small sign on the wall. In Westport I buy a $5 soy latte. There is nothing in Westport except for this store and an abandoned playground.

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Those really are penguin crossing signs. We pull over to the side of the country road and turn off the car. Up up up at the stars. Who brought the planetarium? Where does the moon go at night?

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Abel Tasman is a special day. It is special because it is spectacular. I am grateful for every single second of this trip. Tonga Island Seals kayaking and "Un"guided Walking trip is a best day. 

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Staying in a cottage studio on the beach in Golden Bay. ON THE BEACH! We awoke this morning to jellyfish on our chairs and all my shells were missing. Caught the culprit, an eight year old wild child.

Sounds Like

My updates have fallen severely behind and I apologize to the approximately two people I know who read this regularly [Hi Mom and Dad!]. Just rest assured that everything is awesome. 

It would be pointless for me to write about all these days until now -- it would blow your brain to chunks. I will tell you some things though:

Milford Sound receives 7m [23 ft] of precipitation every year. It rains 2 of every 3 days. 

Today, it is sunny. Duh.

We pass tree avalanches and snow avalanches. Car to Te Anau; bus to Milford Sound; boat ride around the sound. I refused to move from the front of the boat for the entire ride. Got great photos! And I also got sea sick! Totally worth it.

----------

Doubtful Sound is where clouds are made. Water rolls down the mountainside taking shape from the strength and direction of the winds. Each gust connects a drop of water to the next until a cluster can stand on its own. Then, it's launched into the atmosphere and summoned to different parts of the world.

After traveling all the way to the edge of the universe just to take a deep breath, I stood in the darkness and could not breathe. The Doubtful Sound crushed my soul.

Remind me to tell you about the claw monster and being epically scared. And also remind me to tell you about everything else.

 

Milford Sound, NZ 

 

Milford Sound, NZ

Kissing Turtles

 Doubtful Sound, NZ

Dead Turtles

Current Location: Motueka, NZ

Abel Tasman = fantastic!

At a computer with a broken card reader. So sorry there are no new pictures. I have many to share. 

I will try again later. Promise.

Here's an old one:
--------------------- 
9/26/10 

Queenstown. 

Last night, another motor camp. We really lucked out though. Because it was raining, we got to park in the mud. Tramping through thick brown sludge to get to the bathroom is great fun. 

The first thing we do in the morning is trade in the van for a car. Damn right. After purging a couple of tons, I felt crazy tired but at least I looked good in my new red Mitsubishi. 

I have to admit -- I wasn't that excited about ziplining. We took the gondola to the top of the mountain in Queenstown City Centre and walked over the Luge to the Ziptrek meeting place. I figured right about now was a good time to ask Denise what is ziplining. I know the premise ... flying ... but ...

It was a small group: two guides + four of us normal folk. Denise + me and a mother + ten year old son. Ahh, if a kid can do it, I can do it. After getting geared up, we push the kid off the ledge first. I so got this. 

Soaring through the vast forest of Fir trees ended up being super awesome. The Ecotrek company is all about sustainability. As we went through the course, our guides told us about saving the world and the consequences of being homesick. In New Zealand, for instance, those intrepid early settlers planted non-native species like Fir trees to remind them of the motherland. Nostalgia kills plants and animals. 

Oh, and I flipped upside down and let go of the rope like a big kid. I wasn't a Dead Flat Turtle, or whatever they call the zipping equivalent of a weak handshake. Having fun AND saving the world! 

Staying at a place called Reavers Lodge. Um. Um. Aren't Reavers those cannibalistic scary evil horrific monsters in Firefly?

Do you believe in magic?

Haruru Falls, NZ

Snout Track, Picton, NZ

Lake Pukaki and Mt Cook

 

Milford Sound, NZ