The East Cape

March, 2009 Gisborne to Opotiki 3 days 334 kms

I could barely decide what to do- go see Dad in Auckland or not? What about riding? What about quitting? I was meandering Wellington in a daze, thinking too much and getting blown about by gusts of wind whipping through Cook Strait. Ever one to things the hard way, I got a haircut and had it styled to lovely to go out onto the streets and have it in my eyes, mouth and knots in minutes. In the end, I decided to take a bus to Napier, no, Gisborne and try to ride the East Cape in 3 days and bus over to Auckland by Saturday night before he left Monday morning.

Why was I so conflicted about everything? I had plenty of time to think about in miles and miles of cycling, and a 10 hour bus ride. I read another book, "Down Under" by Bill Bryson and liked his arm chair travelling formula. Basically, research about the place, and then arrive in town, eat, get drunk and make a living writing books about it. Simple! Absorbed in Australia, I finished 400 pages by the time I made it to Gisborne. Which by the way, is a recommendable surf town meets arts community in Maori country.

Impressions of the north island versus the south island first and foremost is it is way more Maori and multi-cultural. In simpler terms, everyone is not white European. Cool! I saw women with the chin tattoos, men with full face tattoos and girls practicing dancing with the hand waves and buggy eyes. Many towns were small, and not centered on either tourists or something you could discover by driving through quickly. I felt people were a little rude to be honest, but had my first camping on a lawn in someone's house. I had done this tons in Europe but with the ample campground facilities, never saw the need; however, I found myself exhausted in a Te Puia Springs and the hotel was closed because the owner died- so what to do?

Luckily, the tourist center called her friend Chickadee and I camped on her lawn. She was gracious to let me watch TV, make me dinner and tea, and invite her friend over so we could chat a bit about the area. I wanted to ask so many questions and learn more about the traditions; but again, this was not something so readily available on the surface. I would need to stay longer. I thought it hadn't been anything that special, but was touched when Chickadee insisted I call her until I reached Auckland so she would know I was safe.

I really burned it out to make Opotiki in 3 days. I pushed myself much harder than I have the whole trip. I wavered between thinking, "I am finally in shape!" and "I want to scream!" Another key difference in the North Island: "rolling hills." That sounds so sweet, doesn't it? "Gentle undulations" and "ups and downs." Yes, bloody hills from hell. Although the book said this was THE most beautiful coast for cycling the world (that's why I decided at least I have to see this area), I wasn't sure it was that awesome. It was pretty, and I really felt I achieved something when I made it to the beaches and at last, Opotiki. Tired, sweaty, smelly and with legs bulging like Popeye, I wasted no time to get a bed in a backpackers (hostel).

Now, I was a simple bed in a sweet Victorian house with free Internet, a homey kitchen, books and NO INSECTS! Yes! And I don't have to set up the tent! So, maybe I am just sick of camping, or being alone, or sick of the rain, or who knows what, but I wont go home just yet although I have been spending a way too much time day dreaming about a beach bungalow I will one day rent in San Diego with a full body tan (not just bike shorts to sock tops).