a certain rythym

In life you need another,
a sister or a brother,
a father or a mother,
but ultimately a lover,
to roll with under cover and together you can discover,
that life can be sublime and in time you will find that its pure,
you can be sure that the sea will meet he shore,
and a wing will find the wind and it will soar for evermore.
Because life is free for you and me,
to be whatever we can see,
inside our heads or on the street,
just feel the beat and rythym and soul of life,
strive to achieve your goal,
stay off the dole,
stop diggin holes,
stand tall,
be bold.
Stop being a sycincal fucker,
this life can be pucker,
just grow some balls and your gold.
When you grow old and your warmth grows cold,
you want to look back and stories told
should be big and bright and beautiful, you can say 'yeah I was dutiful,
the seeds i planted were fruitfull, my boots were full,
I was fancifull and frivolous, full of wonderlust and whimsy,
supercalifragically.
Life is pushed on by the mystery,
42 never quite sat with me,
too easy,
it made me queasy,
like the universe was teasing.
It cant be so simple to find the answer,
we're just human,
maybe dancers
on that great stage god built for his amusement,
or we invented as our bemusement
and confusion needed solutions.

whats wrong with my beard??

I was asked for ID for the first time today in New Zealand. Having a good bush on the face is primary in avoiding getting your passport out. Despite my orangeness and the satanic parantage people assume go with it, my facial fuzz has done me more good than harm. It keeps me warm in the winter and keeps me looking rugged in the summer.
 In our glorious english summer i faced a point where i had to shave the whole damn thing off. After 3 festivals, cold rain and wind told its own story across my bedragled face. When reaching camp bestical i happened to glance in the wing mirror of a 4x4 and realised i had suddenly become homeless.
A beard can be a magnificent thing. Sir Ian McKellan, Sir Richard Branson, Rolf Harris have all defined their carriers through the use of facial hair. Not to mention the infamous Chuck Norris, who I hear has not a chin beneath his beard, but yet another fist.
As I was perusing the contract and staff handbook handed to me by 3 time kiwi golf champion Grant Hattaway this afternoon I was struck by the clause stating that 'all employees must been clean shaven'. Having come face to face with my down trodden self in Lulworth Cove I immediately took razor to face and came out a clean and respectable young man. To which my collegues responded with cries of 'what the fuck have you done" and 'get some prit-stick, put it back'. Hairless, I resemble a 14 year old Paul Bettany, which would be excellent news if I was 14 years but any thing under the age of 18 not only seems a little weird but will alsmot certainly get me put in jail.
I don't think i will ever go back to 'baby' smooth shaven again. I keep trim and tidy and the opposite sex seem to enjoy it. If i turn up to my first official day of work on Tuesday and I'm asked to shave I shall tell the restaraunt manager to shave it herself, if she can..

Holy shit it's snowing

Lets keep this short and sweet-

Wellignton - Spent the night at another base, dressed up as women tog et free booze. Got the ferry over to picton in the morning

Hanmer Springs- Drove down the east coast, asked for directions and went the other way. Ended up a mountain holiday resort, chilled in some hot springs. casually climbed a 1500m mountain in 24 degrees. stupid. nice waterfall though.

Christchurch - Arrived, got lost, left.

Arthurs Pass - Drove to west coast in the early evening via moonlight through teh mountains. stopped in hick town. met some locals. met some giant parrots. nice place. fucking cold

Franz Josef Glacier - WEt, cold, cloudy, big block of ice.

Fox Glacier - Sacked it off, too much rain

Queenstown - 5 hours and 500k later we arrive, go boarding, get sunburn, then drink our selves silly for two days with Stef from Auckland. I like this place. weathers a bit mental. sunbrun to trenchfoot, then its snowing in town this morning. Job sorted in posh bar, really want second interview for less posh fun bar. watch this space.

are you sure what side of the glass you're on?

A (expletive deletive) Road Trip

After hunting around all across the internet, through pages of back packer guides and forums, we popped into Jucy campers as he happened across it in Auckland on Sunday. We went through all the spiel with the guy at the desk and came out with a quote for a 'budget camper' for $648 for ten days from Auckland to Queenstown. This we decided, though a little pricey seemed reasonable compared with every where else we looked. Still, we held off on booking until the following day. Que Josh, the aussie travel agent at Base. After spending an angry 20 mins on hold to Jucy he calls the boss and asks him to sort us out. 15 mins and a fag later we have a relocation camper for $9 dollars. Total. The only difference between this and the others was that it was missing a fridge and tv, and it wasnt painted the delighful Jucy Lime and Pink. Sold.
So we hang around Auckland for one more night, get an early one (after tequila at 5pm) and hit the road after 11am heading south. Mid afternoon on Monday we hit Rotarua, look at some steaming holes in the ground and choke on the sulphorous fumes. Then we head for Taupo and the glorious lake. New Zealand has a huge camping scene and as such there are tons of 'free camping' spots where you can park up and sleep without paying a penny. So we park in the wrong spot immediatly and get woken up at 11pm by the wardens.We wake up 3 m from the edge of lake Taupor, photograph some ducks then hike to Huka falls. Mindblowing waterfall.
We then take a dip under a thermal waterfall on the banks of the river. You would pay thousands for a jacuzzi and view like this at any resort
We hit the road, back onto the highway 1, the road that stretches from Auckland all the way to Wellington in the South. WE skirt lake Taupo and Alex nearly takes us into the water he's so taken by the view. We then get close to the mountains. A heavy mist decends and we can barely see anything around, though we can see looming shapes in the distance. We hit the desert road, a landscape reminiscent of Nevada, desolate and sandy brush. Slowly the mist begins to clear and to our left we see rolling hills covered in heatherish substance, and to the right....2500m of snow white mountains, Ruepehu, Tongariro and one i cant spell. The road then immediatly changed again and the landscape opens out into rolling green hills, undulating across the distance. The road takes us up and down, round and round, from valley bottom to mountain top in minutes. at every turn a breathtaking scene opens before us.The battery on my camera is rapidly flattening, every time i put the lense cap on something takes me breath away and i fight to get out teh window in time to capture it, often getting smacked in the head by the lense cap as it gets caught in the wind.
We reach Palmerston North and Robert and Alison kindly take us in for the night, feed and water us and give us a bed. Thank you both. We dont stay long and get back on the roadbefore 8am. WE decide the highway is boring so we take a 'detour' i assume is a cut through the mountains. Turns out to be a cut UP the mountains, taking us at least 1000m up and over the range, with sheer cliffs on one side and a single track road. oh and its pissing with rain which only gets worse once we get into the clouds. none the less, the view is incredible as always, except for the car we saw 200 ft bellow us buried in a tree in the ravine. made me a little nervous. Wellington today, Picton and the South Island tomorrow. 600k down, 800 to go...

The new queen of beer pong

. Saturday sawme in bed by 9, but kept awake most of the night by a Spanish guerilla looking d due with a snore like a bear drilling holes in a coconut while driving a combine harvester across a scrap yard.
Sunday saw us finally venture out into the sunshine and Auckland city.
We strolled through som random streets, aiming for the Auckland domain (hill) which I knew existed just not where. We spied a mountain in the distance and decided a small hike would do us some good. We reached the summit of the volcano (yes, volcano) and arrived at the most stunning 360 degree view of Auckland and half of the north island peninsula. Across the water we could see a rain storm over Waikiki island. "oh look" says Alex, "it's raining over there". Within 5 minutes It was "oh shit, it's about to piss it down here" and we sprinted down the mountain.Then we climbed another 'mountain', saw some ducks and stood in reverence of our glorious dead.

The rest of the afternoon was spent vegetating, followed by amazing sushi in a Japanese restaurant round the corner (I will never eat Tesco sushi again). Then we went for a quick beer....6 hours and 7 games of beer pong later we finally get to bed. tomorrow the road trip begins, once we are both safe to drive...

there may be 50 ways to leave your lover, but only 10 ways to exit this plane

Im feeling a little special today. jagerbombs and jet lag have muddled me up fantastically. After 30 hours of hell in the air (tin foil plane food withstanding) alex and i hit the town straight away, 10 beers and a $200 dinner later and 'special' doesnt even cover the feeling i have at this moment in time. alex is wollowing in a darkened room and his own self pity while i struggle with the english language. usually, once the shit filters off and my fingers hit the keyboard the whimsical nonsense flies from my digits uncontrolably. Today, I am seriously having to think which is hurting considerably. I think I may leave things here for now. the adventure has only just begun...

God Bless British petroleum

It's 06:00 and I'm stood outside the urban retreat hostel in Taupo, cold and knackerd despite the early night (god damn english football fans). Chris the Swiss rocks up with a coffee in his hand and I'm close to taking a swing at him and running off with it. Turns out even 120000 miles away from home you can always rely on BP and The Wild Bean Cafe to be open 24/7 365.


The coach rocks up and we hop on. We're informed b our overly enthusiastic driver that we have a good hour to drive then we swap coaches to get kitted up. Be cruise round the lake and an just about glimpseTongariro, mt Doom and Ruhapeho in the distance, shadowy reminders of New Zealand's violent geological history.
Thanks to some minor for thought and planning I only have to take boots, crampons and an ice axe for the trip. The latter two items surprised me, worried me a little but ultimately excited me. Finally, some adventure and best of all some snow before I go.

We hit the track at 08:30, and told to get on with it and that our gides would meet us in an hour before w e start the 'interesting' part. Having long legs and a long standing habit of speed walking I'm one of the first to reach the first checkpoint. By this time, with thermals, hat, gloves and a snowboard jacket I am sweating my balls off. Only the distraction of the realisation that I am treading in Frodo and Sams hairy foot steps keep me going without too much bother. I can't moan too much, I am all too aware of how much the weather can change just a few hundred metres higher, though the sun is holding strong in the sky and the clouds seem more afraid of Mt Doom than Hugo Weaving.

Myself and 9 others arriving close by are put into group one with our guide for the day Terry. Reminds me alot of Taggart from Eureka, chirppy aussie with a penchance for dangerous activities.After an hour cruising across boardwalks and hopping streams we finally get to some seriouselevation. The track is fairly narrow, the ground uneven but not much snow. We climb for a good hour continuously till we reach a small plateau where we promptly collapse then crack out the food and water. Terry has somehow managed to talk the whole way up while I struggle to breathe but it's good to see he's also got a good sweat on. At this point you have two options, head north towards Tongariro, or east up Mt Doom. 16 Americans had to be rescued last week from Mt Doom, needless to say the felt rather sheepish. We head over south crater where the snow really shows, it's ice and hard packed crunchy snow. The crater is flat as a pancake and surrounded on all sides. We stop a short way across and it's crampon time.
I have never worn crampons before but they are a shitlot of fun. Once strapped on to your boot you feel indestructible, with 8 steel spike on each foot you can't slide on the ice if you wanted to. We jog around a bit and do star jumps to make sure we are all strapped in safe. We look like a bunch of mountainous lunatics.

Then we hit e first part of the Devil's staircase. This is slightly hard than the previous climb but not all together that bad. TE crampons and ice picks (I felt like and icy ninja) made it almost effortless, aside from all the effort. We hit another plateau and the view....from where we came we can see all the way down the valley and south across the national park and Mt something (I am not good with kiwi names) over 140km away, it's white peak poking above the smaller ranges surrounding. In front, another valley, to the right Mt Doom and just peeeking out behind it is Ruhapehu, also covered from head to food in the glorious white stuff. Everyone stops for some more food and another round of 'look at me, I was here' photos. Since buying a camera only two days before I am forced to admit it would be nice to finally have some photo evidence of this so I let someone have a snap at me.

The devils staircase continues and it is hard. The incline is sharp, the way is narrow and our guide up front has to carver the way with his axes to we have some decent footholds to follow him.

We finally reach the top of Tongariro and red crater, and my Christ what a sight. We can no longer see where we came from besides our track across the south crater in the snow. Doom is still looming over us, with Ruhapeahu slowly edging into view. But now we have the incredible view of Central crater, not an actual crater

But just a flat bit that looks like one. To the west side the is blue lake, a glimmering mirror nE styles in between peaks, to the east and down two turquoise lakes behind a steam vent where we are stopping for lunch. No snow here due to the heat from the vent and from the sweltering sun. Someone in our group drops his camera case and it begins to roll, and roll, and roll. It goes for atleast 200m down hill, hits the corner gathers some more speed and carries on. Luckily half tour is off down that way soon. I slam my ice axes in the ground and hook my bag onto it.

Our group sneaks off from the rest, being the faster More agile groups of youngsters we are taken the fun way down past the lakes. It's longer and harder but we each relish the challenge and secretly enjoy the special status we have earns ourselves.

We catch up with the last group over the final valley at the edge of the snow. We de-crampons(?) ourselves and get cracking. Unfortunately as we have now mashed together with the last and slowest group we have no choice but to hang about behind or amongst them. The track here is narrow and the drop to the side is in places unforgiving. The old folks and nervous women stumble across rocks and slide nervously on ice patches with mere inches and certain death awaiting them below, as the rest of us hop skip and jump around like mountain goats. The view from this side is as spectacular as the other. Lake Taupo stretches out in the distance behind small ranges, ahead of us directly a valley of bush and scrub much like the Scottish highlands.

After another hour we reach a small cabin, another foods and rest stop. The guides congratulate us and tell us it's only another 6.5km an hour and a half and we can get on with it as soon as we like.a few of us jump up and get cracking. E long and winding road snakes between the scrub and as we slowly ascend it seems the road wwill never end. We are however, confident, surely as with most walking times it's an estimate for the average person ambling along snapping off shots left right and centre at a slitly different angle of the same view. 45 mins later we reach a bench and a sign post, 3.2km to go and 45 mins. Our small band collapses, disheartened, we were really going for it and we're sure to get all the way down within the hour. After a quick smoke we get back on it, this path won't walk it's self. Now we hit jungle/rainforest, a stark contrast to the desolate tundra we crossed a few hours ago. We snake through, the tall canopy blotting out the sky, the sun flashing throu the trees at a rate hi enough to give you a sesure if your not careful. We walk, and walk, and walk, and walk and finally we reach the end of the trail, our bus idling in the car park. We return our borrowed gear and flop onto the bus, I pass out and awaken only once the flashing street list of Taupo reach my weary lives and hour later. I'm shattered beyond belief, my feet our pounding, my legs aching, but I can already taste the sweet amber nectar waiting fro me across the road as I drag myself from the bus.