WWOOFing in New Zealand

Here’s a scattered post about my experience wwoofing in New Zealand so far. The wwoofing expectations are these: work 4-5 hours each day, get meals and a place to sleep. Within those loose parameters, anything goes. You might leisurely work 4 hours and then lounge the rest of the day, or you might works from 9 til 7 because it would look weird for you to lounge while the farmers are toiling away. You’ll always have breakfast on time, but never any other meals (this is a constant at each place I have been). 

Coffee break is pretty normal, dinner is sometimes called tea. You can plan ahead for the wwoof spot of your dreams, contact the farmers months in advance if you want. But as this is my blog you all know that I definitely did not do it that way, I have been doing it anywhere from two weeks to a few days in advance, which actually works well. Some hosts are so used to wwoofers flaking our on their plans that they don’t even let you book a spot until the date gets close. Wise, because plans change here so much, depending on who you meet, the weather, and just how you’re feeling about working on a farm versus exploring the country. 

I am currently writing from my 3rd wwoof spot of my trip, and I plan on having 2 more. I am lying on some cushions next to the wood stove, it’s 8:40 pm, and I just did a load of dishes at the sink after saving the house from burning down, I am a hero! Sort of kidding, but I did walk in to the house right when the pot of butter on the stove went up in flames and I put a plate on top of it and took it outside. My host has an 8-month old baby you see, and was trying to put her to bed and was also trying to cook dinner at the same time. Here's a pic I took of the cosy-looking house that was actually a kitchen fire.

 I volunteered my dish washing skills on my wwoof profile, and I have been cashing that in at this spot even though I’ve only been here 3 days. There is no running water here because they’re still getting set up, so dishes involve filling a jug from the tap outside, boiling some in the kettle, pouring it into the bucket on the sink because the sink isn’t attached the the plumbing, soaping things, then rinsing, then dumping the bucket outside somewhere. Honestly a four bucket trail crew system would be easier, but alas I only have the one bucket. Anyways enough about dishes, the view at this place is absurdly beautiful. My tent/ palace overlooks a stunning mountain range and the nights have been clear enough for the Milky Way. I have walked down to the Dart River 4 times in two days for cell service and bathing and admiring the views, and because it gives me something to do. 

 Basically the purpose of this wwoof site is to bide my time until I do a 4-day tramp in this area, and to live cheaply and learn something during those extra days. My previous site was to experience a working sheep and beef farm, which is what so many farms in New Zealand are. I suppose my first wwoof site was just chosen for location convenience and to try out wwoofing for the first time. They all have served a different purpose for me in my travels, and I’m glad for each spot. You really get a taste of family life in this country, and a sense of opinions and politics and natural history and customs.

Update: now it’s three weeks later and I’m just gonna post this as is, because I am with a friend with a computer and in good WiFi, a great combo! Of course there is a lot more to say on this subject and more interesting stories I could share, but you’ll just have to ask me in person!

Tramping: Hut Edition

Often whilst hiking I have a lot of mixed feelings throughout my journey. Why am I doing this when I could be chilling? Why am I subjecting my feet and back to blisters and aching? What is the point? My mind wanders, I usually don’t have any deep life musings, and I often just distract myself from the surroundings by singing a song or turning on a podcast if things get desperate. Then I arrive at my destination, and everything changes, every single time. I feel awe for the place I am camping. I feel grateful for my feet and legs for carrying me all this distance and impressed with myself for sticking it out. I feel like an amazing chef when I make my backcountry dinner, and I relish the part when it is totally ok to climb into my sleeping bag at 8:30.

These are my normal feelings when doing backpacking trips in the US. In New Zealand, it has been pretty much the same except for the addition of the array of huts to stay in each night. At the time of sitting down to write this post, I have stayed in 5 different huts for a total of 8 nights. Hopefully I will get a few more nights in because I bought a 6-month hut pass for 95 bucks and so far I haven’t stayed enough nights to make buying the pass worth it (edit: have now stayed 4 more nights, got my moneys worth!). There are a few types of huts. The Great Walk huts must be booked in advance and are crazy expensive, and you can’t use your pass. There are popular huts that are not on the great walks that you also have to pay for and cannot book in advance, but they are reasonably priced (20 NZD a night, and in really cool locations). Here is Lake Angelus Hut, makes sense the it's a popular one!

The next step down is a serviced hut- they have running water and sometimes flush toilets and are generally slightly nicer, these are 15 per night and are first-come first-served. Then your standard hut, which usually has water but could run out, but as far as I can tell still has the amenities of a serviced hut but is only 5 per night. Then there is basic, which I have not yet encountered but I assume it’s just a cabin without much else. Some are really just run-down shacks, but hey it's better than a tent! None have lights, some have solar charger ports, all have an excellent porch and bunks with mattresses. 

So that’s all the boring hut stuff out of the way, now it’s time for some observations and stories. When I walked into my first hut experience, I felt pretty awkward and nervous. Everyone turned to me and asked where I was coming from and how my trip was and I felt the need to announce that this was my first time ever staying in a hut so let me know if there’s anything I should know about. Their main advice: just be yourself. The other hut expectations are to clean up after yourself and to go to bed when it gets dark. Pretty simple rules to follow! I did find it pretty comical on my first night when everyone climbed into their bunk exactly at dark and all of a sudden it was quiet time. People are generally up early to tramp, and it just makes sense to go to bed when you can’t see. Also all the mattresses are touching each other so you can really tell when someone climbs in or out, and you don’t wanna be that person. Some huts have candles to extend bedtime and to enable me to lurk outside and creep on these trampers.

I think the biggest luxury of hut life is to stay at one for two days in a row. You can claim your bunk and not pack up your sleeping bag and upend your mattress in the morning, what a treat! And then you get to actually explore the area you’re in. While I was on my most recent tramp, I got to leisurely stroll out to a huge glacier!

I feel incredibly lucky to have had the hut experiences I’ve had so far. Each stay I’ve met really wonderful people and have had great conversations, learnt something, and felt at ease. And maybe that’s just normal here, but to me it feels novel and fortuitous. My favorite experience that I’ve already gushed about on my instagram is about my stay at Bungaree Hut. I arrived to the remote Stewart Island (the 3rd less traveled and known island in NZ) not being totally sure of any plans- I had hitchhiked there from Dunedin, taken a ferry, camped at a hostel, and then showed up at the visitor center on the island with grand ideas to do a burly loop that were quickly squashed by the staff there. Four nights was not enough time, and a water taxi was quite expensive, and was I prepared for the mud?? It was their job to instill fear to prevent unprepared people from taking on more than they could chew, but still I felt miffed that they were doubting my abilities. However, as most things tend to play out, I’m so very happy that my planned loop didn’t work and that I did an out and back tramp where and when I did. And it all comes down to people. Scenery is grand too, but the humans that I interacted along the way made my long journey so very worth it. I was having quite a slog of a first day- 13 miles in, starting at 11 am in the rain, and once the track left the gravel of the Great Walk sections it was rugged. Like, clambering over roots down and up steep gullies and boot-deep mud pits and fallen trees kind of rugged. I was feeling all the aforementioned doubt, and then I emerged on a beach and saw a plume of smoke coming from my hut, and I felt instant relief. 

A fire to warm myself by, and probably some awesome people. What was different about this hut was that it was overtaken by a 10 day hunting and fishing party. Initially I was wary- so many people sharing a small hut? And will these guys be up late blasting music and partying? Turns out that yes they were big partiers, but it was one of the most hilarious parties I’ve ever attended, and the most welcoming.

Instead of being separate from the stinky tired trampers, they welcomed us into their circle. They had brought extra chairs, beers, and food for trampers. They even offered us use of their hot shower set up (imagine being on the trail for a whole week like some people had been and then stumbling on a camp with a hot shower and a cold beer... holy moley). They passed around actual silver platters of fish and chips, and the fish was caught that very day. Next came a platter of fried oysters and scallops, and I was somehow forced into trying an oyster even after declaring my great dislike for them. 

At some point after dinner and before the decadent pavlova with fresh whipped cream and berries, one guy brought out a razor and shaved a couple heads and beards, and hilarity ensued. The rest of the night continued in a ridiculous manner, to the tune of country music Wednesday’s on the boom box, sporadic rain showers that forced us to take cover a couple times, and then we were serenaded by another tramper who stood on a bench and sang Etta James. Nights like this are not the norm for hut travel, but meeting genuine warm-hearted humans here has been a constant. I could write a separate blog post for every night of a hut, and for every person I’ve met... there is just so much good to reflect on. But for now, the end!