Observation

On our second day in New Zealand, I awoke to the sound of birds chirping happily outside my window. (It was a bit like being in a Disney cartoon. Had I not been so delighted to be in New Zealand, I might have been forced to make a snarky comment about this. However, when you’re on holiday somewhere as amazing as New Zealand, you’ll forgive the saccharine moments and actually rejoice in them.) Bits of puffy white clouds broke up the brilliant blue of the sky, and I had to smile as I stretched my limbs in bed. After being teased by Robin and Rich’s landlord about the pallor of my skin the night before (working my Minnesota-pastiness to its best!), I was determined to get a bit of color.

Robin and I ventured off to explore McLaren Falls after breakfast. It was a lovely area that looked almost as if it could be part of the midwestern landscape to which I am accustomed. It wasn’t as piney as Copper Falls, a hiking trail and waterfall I visited several times in my youth in Wisconsin, but it had similar elements. We used our “can’t touch the ground” skills from the previous day’s rock-skipping adventure, but now with greater consequences. On the first day, slipping off meant you might touch down onto a beach of shells. Sure, it might sound like you’ve crashed through a plate of glass, and you might even get a few scrapes, but at McLaren Falls, you ran the risk of getting wet at best, or taking a nasty tumble and potentially injuring yourself as you skidded down rocky ledges, perhaps breaking a limb or cracking your skull open.

I was game!

The climbing was very successful. We didn’t have many threatening moments--there were many safe places to climb since it hadn’t rained for quite a while. (Robin tells me that when she and Rich first arrived, they drove to McLaren Falls shortly after an enormous bout of rain and couldn’t even see the rocks we were climbing.) Not long after we arrived, a cluster of young Arab men came to the falls. They were jovially taking large group pictures. Our two groups didn’t really intermingle--we all had our own agenda. However, it seems we were the subject of some observation. Robin and I were finding our way back up a pile of rocks, and she managed to just barely make a sizable grab to pull herself back up. Being somewhat shorter, I couldn’t quite hoist myself up the same route. It seems the group of gentlemen noticed, despite all their group picture-taking, and they asked in broken English if we were ok, just as I was looking for an alternate route back up. We thanked them for their kindness, but showed them that we had found another route.

Which leads us to this.

Right. So . . . This picture shows a flatter area of the falls. Naturally, Robin and I were attracted to the brightness of the sign, and the fact that it read “CAUTION” in huge letters across the top. Robin told me to pose in fear. Somehow, I came up with something that looks more like a salute. Perhaps this in homage to the great sirens that could warn us of imminent flooding danger. “Oh, great sirens, please don’t sound whilst we are here.” (Yup. That works.)

After we climbed, we went to the Mills Reef Winery. It was a winery. We sampled several wines. They were good. We bought a bottle to take home. It was a Shiraz.

(Remember this detail for future entries.)

After a brief detour to put on our “togs” (Kiwi for swimsuits) and pick up Rich at the house, we headed back to Maunganui and sampled the beach. I just about had a second layer of sunscreen on (remember the aforementioned Minnesota pastiness? I have a tendency to turn as red as a lobster without proper precautions in the sun. While I wanted some color again, red was not the goal.), when I decided to go for it and jump into the water. At about shin level, it felt quite nice. Apparently Robin and Rich were watching for that moment when you realize that it’s actually a bit chilly. They got their moment--it hit about thigh level and my jaw dropped open. However, it wasn’t enough to deter me--it was simply a little cooler than anticipated. I waded in further and eventually just dove forward. It was great! I hadn’t been in the ocean for ages! There is a different current here, and salt water adds a whole new level of fun for swimmers. (Don’t open your eyes! And for goodness sakes, don’t open your mouth! Good lessons I remembered not too long into my swim.)

We dried ourselves in the late afternoon sun and proceeded to take a little hike up a cliff to see the spout, an area where the water rushes up and spits upward like a whale spout. It was now our turn to be the observers. There was a whole pack of teenage boys jumping off the edge of a nearby cliff straight into the ocean. This was a mighty tall jump, and might have been tempting had the tide not been so strong. We watched as some miscreants who had jumped in tried to swim up through the spout. Let’s just say that was a bad idea on their part. (They were bright enough to turn around and go back another way. Thank goodness. Much as they weren’t my favorite blokes in the world, I didn’t need or want to see any particular harm come to them. I’m not much for carnage.)

“So, Gillian,” you ask, “why do you categorize these youths as miscreants? Perhaps they were just adventurous.” Indeed--some of the teens were simply thrill-seeking in their jumping. However, the two who attempted the spout were definitely deviants. After the sadness of seeing the expired little blue penguin on the shore the previous day, we were elated when Rich first spotted a live one swimming near the cliff, and positively squealed when we too caught a glimpse. (Rich has some keen vision! When Robin and I couldn’t see it, she insisted that he must have made it up just to torment us. We were absolutely giddy when he proved her wrong.) The delinquent teens earned their standing because of this little penguin. Prior to their jump, they were cheering for the penguin to get washed into the spout and crash upon the rocks. Not cool, boys. Not cool.

(No penguins or ruffians were injured during our visit.)